They drove through the traffic, making their way back to the highway. On the way they came to a service station with a decent coffee shop. There, Roxanna filled with fuel and parked.
"I need some food. Are you joining me?"
He looked at her. "Can we talk?"
"Of course."
He sat at a shaded table and she bought coffees and blueberry muffins. She didn't really want the muffin but knew she needed it to keep her energy up. He was looking pale and drawn, exactly how she felt.
"Here." She put the tray on the table. He was on his mobile phone, checking messages.
"Anything from John?"
He shook his head and took the coffee, stirring it slowly with the plastic.
"Why did you do it?" He asked.
"Curiosity and alcohol. What about you?"
"The same." He sipped at the coffee, grimaced, and sipped again. "Do you have any desire to do it again?"
She thought for a moment. "If I were single, possibly, but I'm not, so no. Are you going to see Jacob again?"
He smiled crookedly. "If I were single, possibly, but I'm not, so no." He put his hand over hers. "What a pair we are, Roxanna Macmillan."
She buried her face in her hands, then looked at him again. "We hurt him so badly. I don't know how we can get back from this. The question is, what do we do now? Do we go home and try to sort out the mess, or stay and give him some time?"
"What do your instincts tell you?"
She huffed a laugh. "They've hardly been my friend recently, have they? I wonder what he meant by, 'now you're just like me?'
Henrik sipped his coffee. "John doesn't have a high opinion of himself. He's so used to fighting his way out of trouble. I think maybe he looked to us as an example of how to be a decent person, and now..."
"He is a decent person! Poor John. Oh god, Henrik, what have we done?"
He covered her hand with his. They stayed that way whilst they ate and drink. She went backwards and forwards in her mind, striving to figure out the right course of action.
"We'll go on," she said finally. "Finish this holiday and give him some time. We might as well. All we'll be doing is walking on eggshells back at Holby, plus people will be wondering why we're back early. It will look better all round if we stay here for another three nights. Less... intrusive inquiries. And we can use this time to talk. Really talk honestly to each other. Maybe we can work out what went wrong and try to fix it."
Henrik nodded. "You're right."
"Are you sure?" She frowned, unwilling to force him into any rash decisions.
"Definitely. Though I need to know what actually happened with you."
She sat back in her chair, hugging her coffee cup. "It's easy to make an excuse, but I was tipsy after lunch. You were reading and I knew he was working. I felt... sexy, but I didn't want to disturb you two. The last thing I want to be is a needy female."
"You could never be that, Roxanna."
"Col came down to say goodbye. We had a drink - another one - and we were flirting a bit. It was very ... exciting being attractive to the same sex. I suppose, like you, I just couldn't resist. Especially knowing she was leaving that day and we'd never see each other again. It was ..." She smiled sadly. "... an ideal opportunity, I suppose."
Henrik nodded ruefully. "Yes, I know about those now. The fruits of the gods are never quite what they seem to be."
"Indeed not. John said he saw me coming out of the room so I wasn't going to lie to him. He was definitely angry but also found it a turn on. He put me over his knee and spanked me, then ... well, you saw what we were doing in the shower."
"One rule for you, one rule for me, it seems," Henrik murmured.
"To be fair, he'd struggle to put you over his knee," she countered.
They looked at each other. The ludicrousness of the idea made them both smile nervously.
"But you're right," she continued. "I can separate sex and love, though I wouldn't do it again when in a relationship. Not in a million years. That was totally out of order. With you it's different because he's put you on a pedestal for years, held you up to be this paragon of virtue and goodness and generosity, but he's just learned you're a man like every other." She glanced at her watch. "Time is pressing on. We need to be at the airfield for four o'clock. Are we continuing, or going home?"
"Continuing." Henrik levered his long body to a standing position. "Though it won't be the same without him."
"No, but maybe that is something we have to get used to." She leaned into him as he put his arm around her shoulder, and they walked back to the car.
THREE HOURS LATER they alighted on a dusty airstrip surrounded by forest. The sea had been a stunning azure blue on the way over, with golden beaches miles long. It was the Wild Coast, skirted with thick forest and intermittent villages, the city of Durban way back in the distance.
An open-air 4x4 was waiting for them and the four other guests on the plane. It had been hard to make conversation and pretend they were happy holidaymakers, but somehow they managed it, Henrik talking more than Roxanna for a change. She sensed a desperation about him, an avid insistence on normality. She was glad when they arrived at the hotel and were shown to their suite.
They were staying in what the hotel called a "bungalow," a charming open-plan building with a thatched roof and their own decking. Each bungalow had been situated a little away from the others, offering privacy, and theirs was right at the end of the row, nearest the river-front. When the tide was out, it was a few short steps to the sand-dunes on the other side, and the wide open beach.
On the other side of the river, and all around them, was forest. The main hotel was a five minute walk up a private road, along the bank of the river. They they could catch a ferry if the tide was in.
"Storm's coming," the driver said, motioning to thick silver clouds approaching from seaward. "Will be windy tonight."
"Nothing like a good storm," Henrik said with false heartiness, then caught himself. They were in a maelstrom of their own making already, without bad weather to exacerbate the situation.
After they checked in, they were taken by golf buggy with their luggage down to their bungalow. From there they could hear the sea, but the windows kept out most of the wind.
The bed was enormous, just as Roxanna hoped, only now ... She pushed the thought away and looked around. The wooden floors and stucco walls were painted white, and the soft furnishings were restful in greens and blues. A partition separated the toilet, but otherwise the standalone, claw-footed bath and basin were on a slightly raised floor, separated from the bedroom by a long, low chest of drawers. A cupboard at the end of the property served as a wardrobe.
"Come down when you are ready for dinner," their porter said. "We serve from six o'clock." He accepted the tip Roxanna gave to him and left them.
Roxanna sank onto the bed. "This is stunning," she said. "I wish..."
Henrik took her hands. "I know. I want him here too but it's just us, Roxanna." He pulled her into his arms. "It's just us."
They settled into the bungalow, then went up to the hotel for a drink. Neither of them were in the mood to talk much but she felt close to him. He kept his hand on her shoulder or the small of her back. She felt his lips in her hair. He was giving as well as drawing comfort in those small touches, and it did make her feel better about being there.
A couple of cocktails, watching everyone else having fun, and the meal followed. The food was not as good as it had been previously on the trip, but neither of them cared. By eight o'clock they were both exhausted and emotionally drained, ready to call it a night.
The storm hit as they were eating dinner. First rain, lashing against the window, then the wind. It was the first time they had experienced wild weather in Africa, bar the occasional fierce desert rainstorm, and it sounded serious.
"We're going to get soaked going back," Henrik commented. "Do you want me to organise a lift?"
"No, we can walk." She didn't care about getting wet.
"All right." He took her hand. "Roxanna, I just want to say... I love you."
Her throat thickened. "Stop it. Henrik. I love you too."
He leaned over and wiped her tears away. "We'll get through this, my love. I don't know how, but we have to."
THEY WERE SOAKED to the skin by the time they reached the bungalow, The rain was so hard, it bounced off the gravel path by the river and soaked them twice, and Roxanna's legs were covered in mud and goosepimples by the time they arrived back.
Henrik locked the door against the weather and kicked off his shoes, then fetched two towels, wrapping Roxanna up in one of them and rubbing the warmth back into her bare arms. Then he began running water into the bath, scattering lavender bath salts into the bottom.
The smell of lavender filled the room. Roxanna remembered the last time she had actually had a bath, rather than a shower, and that had been on the train, getting ready for her first night with Henrik and John as a threesome. A wave of sadness washed over her. How had it all gone wrong so quickly?
"Come on. Get out of those wet clothes." Henrik was gently unfastening her blouse, peeling it from her body. She stepped out of her skirt and panties, and unhooked her bra as Henrik undressed as well.
The bath was steaming, the bubbles rising. Roxanna adjusted the temperature and tested it, then climbed in.
"Room for two?" Henrik stepped into the bath behind her and wrapped his long legs around her. The water rose to a couple of inches from the top, the bubbles tickling her nose. She leaned back against him and held his arms as they curved around her upper body.
It was close and comforting in the warm water, feeling Henrik's body tight against hers, breathing in his familiar scent of cedar wood and lemon balm, coupled with something more musky in the background. His lips pressed against her ear.
"Stop thinking," he whispered.
"I'm thinking that even after all that's happened, I'm grateful we're here together. But I miss him, Henrik. I started this holiday thinking it was just the two of us but when I realised what you had done, it was as if everything just fell into place. And now..."
"Roxanna, please don't." For the first time she heard his voice crack. She held him tighter, tears falling into the bathwater. Behind her, his breathing was unsteady, and she knew he was also weeping.