It was not until mid-July when the day of Harry's leaving was only a week or two away that Gwen realised that she must come to terms with the temporary loss of her dear friend and pay more attention to her husband whose hurt she came to realise and reproach herself for.  From then on she threw herself energetically into helping Harriet complete all her travel arrangements and bravely hid her grief from view.

Two days before Harry was due to leave, Gwen was told by her doctor that her suspicion she was pregnant was correct and this gave her more to think about than her impending loss.  An heir was what this very tradition conscious lady wanted more than anything else in the world - someone to keep the family's ancient line alive for another generation.

She told Harry her good news at the airport.

"You must be the Godmother, my darling Harriet.  We won't have the baptism until you are safely home in dear old England.  Look after yourself, darling and don't forget to let me have your address - I'll write every day - maybe ten times a day.  God bless you my dear!"

The two friends embraced and kissed passionately for the last time for a year. Harriet went into the Departure Lounge and once she was out of sight  Gwen abandoned herself helplessly to her grief.  Jim tenderly wrapped his arm round her shaking shoulders and helped his distraught and weeping young wife to their car and the journey back to Hampshire.

................................................................................................................................

Harriet sank into her comfortable seat in the first class cabin and felt the plane leave the tarmac, headed for Africa and a life of service to others and hard physical work - she could never decide which of the two was the more important to her, most likely the latter.  As the realization of what and whom she had left behind come home to her, her elation faded and a sense of desolaton seized hold of her and she realised that she was crying and feeling every bit as unhappy as her weeping friend, all those thousands of feet below, becoming more and more distant from her with every second.

"Oh Gwen, my darling.  What have I done to us both!"

......................................................................................................................................

On arrival at the capital city, she was met by Simon Westhouse, the local representative of the voluntary organisation she was working for and he drove her to her hotel.

"I daresay you'd like a few days seeing the sights before you get started on the project" he said in a friendly tone.  There's no desperate need to chuck yourself in at the deep end!"

"I came here to work,  Simon.  I'd like to start tomorrow - in fact you can drive me straight there to the site if you like.  I'm not here as a tourist"

He explained that one or two formalities needed to be completed first and she must contain her impatience at least until the next day.  For whatever reason, the said preliminaries were quickly sorted out and on the evening of her first full day, she was being shown her very primitve quarters in the rural settelement that was to be her home for the next twelve months.

Her first act was to write to her friend in England.  She gave the letter to Simon to post when he returned to the capital.  She was to write every day for the whole of her time here and receive reams of correspondence in return, but the missives tended to arrive for both girls in batches of five or more, owing to the irregularity of the postal services in that part of the world.

She had spoken  to Gwendoline on the phone after her arrival and the sound of that beloved voice coming from thousands of miles away but sounding as if her darling were in the next room had almost broken her heart.  Both girls had tried to sound cheerful and positive, but neither was fooled.  Each could sense the pain in the other's voice.  Once again Harry asked herself what, in Heaven's name , she had been thinking of in coming out to this distant place so far from all she held dear.

At the end of the day she went to bed and in seconds, the pillow was soaking as she shed tears for those happy times in the winter, which were now gone for ever.

She awoke in the morning, and went out into the bright sun, already hot  as an English summer at noon.  She recalled her early childhood, spent in a different part of this same vast continent and began to feel better.  It was like a kind of homecoming as she experienced all the old familiar sounds and smells .  True, as a child she had enjoyed a life of privilege and comfort and now she would be working hard all day and every day, having to put up with primitive and insanitary conditions, but this was what she had wanted and the feeling of loss  began to die away - after all, a year is nothing and would be over before she knew it!

The only other English person here was a young, studious looking fellow called Bernard Holmes.  He looked at the well-built newcomer with approval and took her out on an early morning tour of inspection to familiarise herself with her duties.

"I know you want to work at physical labour, Lady Harriet, but there are plenty of locals with muscle - what we have to remember is that we have the expertise and know-how and that is what is lacking here.  You will need to take some kind of managerial role and be responsible for supeervising others as well as working hard yourself."

How fucking patronising, thought Harry - I'm sure these villagers know more about local conditions and needs than we ever will.  She contented herself with nodding and asking Bernard - how unlike the other Bernard - to call her simply Harriet.  "You'll soon learn I'm not much of a lady", she joked.

The first project she was employed on was the laying of water and sewerage  pipes to link up with the main system some miles away.  This would entail  digging, laying pipes and then  replacing the soil..  There was no machinery and all the work would have to be done by hand.  Her spirits lifted as she heard  all this.

The pipes were delivered by truck and the first task was to carry them to be stationed at intervals along the line of the projected main.  Harriet surprised everyone by  hoisting two large sections of the drain onto her shoulders and carrying them  as if they weighed no more than a feather.  The men of the village, who had been inclined to undervalue the woman that had been sent out, began to look on her with respect  as the day went on and her tireless energy showed no sign of wanimg  They even started to wish she would show some sign of weakness and give them a chance to relax.

When she went to bed at the end of her first real day, she felt much happier, in fact she felt very happy indeed.  Only one thing was missing, though.  It had been so much more enjoyable working naked.