Free Promise the Night by Michaela MacColl Page A

out of this one.”

    “Don’t try. Let them leave.”

    The Captain sighed. “Emma’s doing a lot of good around here. She’s made this place a proper British home. Besides, I thought you liked Arthur.”

    Beryl thought about it for a moment. She remembered how Arthur hadn’t tattled on Beryl to his mother. She owed him. “He’s all right, I suppose. It’s not his fault he’s ‘delicate.’ ”

    A grin flashed across her father’s face, replaced by a grim expression. Grunting a little, he bent down and lifted Simi’s limp body. “Get cleaned up and have Emma look at that cut. I’ll take this into the forest. The hyenas will take care of it.”

    After he left, Beryl sank down on the porch steps and breathed deeply. This time she had not cowered on her bed while an innocent victim was hurt. She had not stayed out of harm’s way while someone else fought the battle for her. She had met the enemy and won. She couldn’t wait to tell Kibii.

LOCATION: Elstree, England

    DATE: 3 September, 1936

    After two thousand flying hours in my log, I knew I was ready to fly the Atlantic Ocean. The Water Jump. Tom wasn’t so optimistic. “It won’t be simple. You’ll have to carry a whacking load of fuel. The weather in autumn is against you. You’ll be alone for a night and a day. No radio—and no one to hear you if you had one. If you misjudge anything, you’ll end up in the water.”

    “You’re still acting like my teacher,” I accused.

    His intelligent blue eyes stared me down. “If you pull this stunt off, you won’t be anybody’s pupil.”

    “So you’ll help me?”

    “Beryl, it won’t be easy.” He rubbed his hands and began to set up my regimen. “No drinking, no smoking. No late nights. Exercise every day. You’ll have to train like an athlete.”

    And I’ve trained as hard as I did when I was a child, when my heart’s desire was to jump higher than my head. For this challenge, I’ve left nothing to chance.

CHAPTER NINE

    BERYL SHIFTED IN HER BED, WINCING AT THE SORE SPOTS WHERE Simi’s throw had landed her against the wall. She willed herself to fall asleep, but something wasn’t right. What could it be? The leopard was dead. Simi was dead. Her hut had a sturdy wooden door. Where else could danger come from?
     
    She concentrated, sniffing the air as Arap Maina had taught her. Fresh air was coming in where fresh air had no place to be. Someone or something had moved the flap of cloth hanging across her window opening. Careful not to make a sound, Beryl ran her hand under her mattress for her knife. Suddenly a head blocked the starlight—a long, elegant shaved head.

    “Kibii?” Beryl whispered. He had never visited her at night before.

    “Who else?” Her friend’s low voice was matter-of-fact, almost surprised that she had asked. “Come out. The dancing will start soon.”

    Beryl threw off the spread, pulled the mosquito netting aside, and reached into the crate next to her bed for khaki shorts and a dark shirt. Buller rolled over on his back and began to snore.
     
    “You always were a lousy watchdog,” she whispered. “Sleep well, friend. I’ll be back later.” She picked up her boots and hauled open the heavy wooden door. Beryl inhaled deeply; the cold air was raw in her throat. Kibii’s white teeth gleamed in the dark. She grinned back.

    “Where are we going?” she asked.

    “The Kikuyu village. There’s a ngoma,” he replied. He glanced at the boots in her hand and shook his head. “Your shoes will make too much noise.”

    Beryl had always wanted to go to one of the native dances. She dropped the boots.
     
    Suddenly a child’s cry cracked the night. Beryl and Kibii shrank against the wall of the hut, peering toward the main house. Squares of light floated in the darkness. Beryl realized it was not as late as she had thought; her father and Emma were still awake.

    “It’s Little A,” Beryl whispered. “Even though Simi is dead, he’s still