chance of finding anything out about now. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could feel Claire. How she laughed with us at the children’s shenanigans.
I was stunned. Claire had to be here somewhere. Close by...
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SINGING LIZARDS
A Mystery Adventure set in Africa
Evadeen Brickwood
Published by Evadeen Brickwood at Kindle Direct Publishing
Copyright 2015 Evadeen Brickwood
NLSA ISBNs 978-0-9946916-1-3 (pdf), 978-0-9946916-2-0 (mobi),
978-0-9946916-3-7 (epub)
Kindle ASIN: B013RBN4Jc
Smashwords ISBN: 978-13-11663696
Tolino EAN: 9783739323145
Book Layout: Birgit Böttner
Cover Design by Yvonne Less, www.art4artists.com.au
Image Source: ‘Depositphotos.com' licensed
Discover other titles by Evadeen Brickwood:
This book In the German edition:
Singende Eidechsen
Abenteuer Halbmond
In the ‘Remember the Future’ youth series:
Children of the Moon
Remember the Future Book 1
The Speaking Stone of Caradoc
Remember the Future Book 2
Kinder des Mondes
Erinnerung an die Zukunft Buch 1
Also available as a print-edition at all good bookstores
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
“There is nothing like returning to a place
that remains unchanged to find the ways
in which you yourself have altered.” Nelson Mandela
SINGING LIZARDS
A Novel set in Africa
Chapter 1
Why did I have to think now about Botswana? It had taken only a brief look at my steaming Johannesburg garden through the big window in the study. The tall avocado tree and pink protea bushes were still glistening from the rainstorm the night before. I tried to concentrate on my work: the translation of an urgent divorce decree.
The phone rang. “Hello.”
“Can I speak to Bokkie please?”
“Um, there is no Bokkie here.”
“But this is Bokkie’s number.”
“I’m afraid not. You must have dialled the wrong number.”
“Oh – sorry.”
“No prob — ” The man had already hung up.
I had known a Bokkie in Botswana once… an unpleasant character. There it was again. The thought of Botswana, creeping up on me.
I didn’t even know that this remote African country Botswana existed, before my sister Claire decided to work there. To be honest, I found the mere thought of Africa somewhat unnerving. Southern Africa, with its vast areas of dry and thirsty desert seemed especially intimidating. Claire didn’t mind all that. In fact, it was exactly what she wanted. Then she went missing in Africa on 16 July 1988.
M i s s i n g - such an ugly word. Oh, how much I had missed Claire! I must have been temporarily insane. Why else would I have just upped and left England so suddenly for Africa? It had taken all my courage, but I needed to find Claire, needed to see for myself what had happened.
At first I found the silence there unsettling. I was still reverberating with a western rhythm, an inner buzzing, and it took me a while to learn how to listen to the quiet…
The phone rang again. Why do people always call when you don’t feel like talking?
“Hello?”
“Can I speak with Bokkie?”
“Wrong number.”
This time it was I, who hung up. I sat down at my desk by the window and looked out into the garden. Just outside the window, a yellow weaver bird was busy stripping a palm leaf to build his nest on the tip of a bouncing branch. My thoughts wandered.
It had taken her new employer two weeks to inform us. Two long weeks! They thought she might have taken a few extra days on her short trip to the Okavango Delta. Apparently it was quite normal to be late in Africa. I didn’t know back then that time passes more slowly in a country like Botswana.
A couple of days here and there – what’s the big deal? ‘African time’ they called it. More time passed until the police in Botswana got involved. Then Scotland Yard. Would it have made any difference - the time?
Remembering the year before Botswana was bittersweet. We called each other Foompy. Even at the age of 22. I suppose that’s one of those strange things twins do when they are in their own secret world.
I am Bridget, the older one of us, by two whole minutes. We both have the same blue-green eyes, but Claire is blonde and petite (Mom’s ‘mini-me’) and I am the taller brunette, who takes after Dad’s side of the family. My face is rounder and I have an English rose-and-cream complexion. We were walking opposites really, and Claire was way ahead of me.
She