Girl with the Golden Voice (15 page)

For the first time she could remember she felt trapped. She was sixty-eight. How many years did she have left? Why was she still vain about her looks so that she was very careful about everything she ate, everything she put on? Who was she trying to impress? For the first time in years she wanted to be in an Italian village church for the great mass. She longed for the candlelit altar, the stained-glass windows, the painted statues, the incense, the robes of the choir and the clergy, the ancient ritual which as a young woman she had begun to find boring.

From a south-facing rise she saw the low spread of the buildings of Rusinga farm. She pictured Bertie and Ewan in their beautiful living room. Bertie had been very excited that for the first time he would be able to spoil his son with proper Christmas presents. She helped him decorate the room in the English way. Father and son would be over by midmorning, the first guests to arrive at Londiani for Christmas dinner.

But this would be for the very last time. She resolved to do her part to make sure it was a memorable occasion. Please God, he would be the same Bertie that everyone loved so much.

Rafaella quickened her step and moved over to the sandy grey edge of the lake. She closed her eyes and began an exercise of rhythmic deep breathing. She and Mary had performed this routine scores of times. Even before she reopened her eyes she could sense all ‘round her the glorious Rift Valley light and the freshness rising off the flat-calm, dark surface stretching away to the north.

When she did open them and turn she saw her first people of the morning. The Kamaus were on their way to the early service at the Presbyterian church in Naivasha town. They were making slow progress along a path under the light canopies of acacia. They were a good way off and already past their sightline towards her, so there was no exchange of Christmas greetings. They looked very smart. Stephen's dark suit set off the colours of the dresses, all no doubt made by Angela. Stephen had his arm across Rebecca's shoulder. The sound of his voice but not his words carried to her across the still morning air.

Rebecca herself was another potent reminder of Don, the only girl they ever sponsored. Don would never accept that the sponsorship had been a success. ‘Housemaids don't need A-levels. We may have done harm here.' But Don had never spotted and she had never told him how things were with Rebecca towards Tom. And it was only since his passing that there had grown in her a longing to have this girl as a grand-daughter.

Amazingly to Rafaella Angela was back at Londiani within the hour working with Maura on final preparations in the kitchen. There was a lot of singing and laughter about the place There was no sign of Rebecca.

Another memorable Christmas meal at Londiani (lunch, dinner, the traditional dispute remained unsettled). First came the whooping and screaming at the exchange of gifts. They ate out on the veranda, decorated for the occasion and with a special table for the very young and their ayahs down on the lawn in front.

After the first serve of the pudding, Tom slipped away from the table. Angela was the only one present who knew that he had not gone on an errand to some other part of the house. It was she who had given him the message, a little reluctantly. Rebecca was waiting for him up by their acacia.

‘Let me see your face.' She scrunched up her face and through narrowed eyes examined every corner of his face and head, without touching him once. ‘What about your arms, your body. How many hurts there?'

‘Do you want to check?' He made as if to pull his shirt off.

‘No. Why do you do these foolish things? These Rubais are dangerous people …'

As Rebecca went on with her list of warnings and anxieties, he was not paying full attention. She was worrying about him. That was all he needed to take in. She was worrying about him.

‘I cannot stay long. I have to help with the party in the village. We like to wait until the sun has fallen behind Eburu. But I had to see for myself.'

Inwardly Tom was trembling with excitement. He had Rebecca back. He was overwhelmed with surprise, but tried not to show it. How? Why? He didn't care. She was back!

‘What do they put in the communion wine over there?' She snorted her mild disapproval. Her eyes gave her away. That quick downward glance told him that all was not as well as it seemed. He didn't want to push that. He put his hands on the balls of her broad shoulders and looked into her face. She kept on about the party.

‘It will be a noisy time. Perhaps we will keep you awake down here …'

‘Rebecca.'

‘Yes.' She looked serious, apprehensive.

‘Merry Christmas!'

She smiled. The eyebrows were slightly raised with the head tilted forward and the lips stretched just enough to show a glimpse of white teeth. ‘Merry Christmas to you, Mr McCall.'

‘Present.'

It was a small package wrapped in silver paper. She caught her breath and hesitated to take the gift. ‘But I have nothing to give.'

‘Yes, you do. You're here. Best Christmas present ever.'

She took the gift. ‘Tom, they're beautiful. I love earrings.'

‘I know. Put them on.'

There came the little display, turning her head first one way and then the other. Then she held out her hands. Tom took them. He closed his eyes, the better to focus on the sinewy texture of the strong fingers, the cool, firm palms. He looked up. ‘Now, how about this? I want to take you by the hand and …'

‘No, you're making me shudder, Thomas.You are not ready. I am not ready. Thank you for being nice to me but …'

‘Course, I haven't spoken to your father properly.'

‘Mama and he have spoken of this. They are afraid. A lot of things have happened in a week. I think maybe, in the end, I, well, perhaps it will work out for the best.' She quietly withdrew her hands. ‘I may be glad.'

Tom winced as he said his next words. ‘Even Julius Rubai?'

‘No, but at least I can talk about that now. When I was in church this morning, it was like a small miracle. Papa got a dozen girls to pray for me. They stood around in a circle touching me. I was embarrassed. Until Papa began to speak, then a brother from Limuru and a lady from Nakuru. Perhaps one day …'

‘Try me now.'

‘Thomas, on my way home I began to feel hope. Look, I must go. And you must return to your guests.'

Her face darkened and she turned away. ‘It was Erik who came to fetch me. I didn't mean to spy, but when I saw the two of you, you and the English girl … on the ground, holding each other. Thomas, you must love her. And what if there is a child?'

Tom was stunned. ‘You were there! You watched! Why didn't you … Rebecca, you should have thrown a rock at me.'

‘Tom, I envied her. I wanted to be under your body.'

”Becca … ‘Becca,' he gulped. ‘I'm … shocked … embarrassed … ashamed. I was drunk. Yes. I thought I'd lost you. Yes. But it was lust. I wanted a woman's body. So I used Lucy.'

‘Yes, I know.'

‘You know!'

‘It's my fault. I should have been like the other girls. Too late now.'

‘What's going on here? You're not doing this to punish me, are you?'

‘Punish?'

‘No, not you. Most women would have …'

‘But I'm not most women. I'm your woman.'

‘I'd just like to know what went on in that church this morning!'

She put her finger to his lips to seal them.

‘I'm coming to the coast tomorrow.'

‘Yes, Dad's flying the twins down.'

‘I want to travel with you and Lucy.'

‘But your mother is going down with Grandma and my mother. There's a seat.'

‘I won't take much room. Only a small bag.'

Without warning she started to move away, quickly. She was taking the route through the trees, out of sight of the Christmas guests. Before she disappeared she turned and ducked under a branch to wave to him.

‘Don't worry, Mister Thomas, I won't embarrass you. I'm looking forward to my family in Malindi and Lamu. Perhaps you will make a visit.'

* * *

‘How's about a sundowner, folks?'

There was not a lot of enthusiasm for Tom's suggestion.

Rollo reminded him. ‘You're supposed to go outside for a sundowner. Climb a hill or something.'

‘Well, this is going to be a veranda sundowner. I'll do the pouring if you like.'

It was well past six o'clock and all the guests had left. Bertie had returned after seeing Ewan and his ayah home to Rusinga. After all the chatter and noise of the afternoon, the silence should have come as a blessed relief, but the atmosphere was heavy with gloom. Tom had plenty to make him happy. Little memories of his time with Rebecca kept popping into his mind, but on the surface he had the same sickening, sinking feeling that everyone else was suffering.

For a time nothing much was said. There were bits about arrangements for next day's travel but none of the usual excitement or anticipation that the annual trip to the coast brought on. Had the tanks been filled with petrol? Had they packed enough books? And there was the final decision to be made about breaking the journey in Nairobi at the Muthaiga Club. This notion was turned down unanimously.

The sun easing down behind Eburu had changed from liquid gold to glowing red when Bertie could hold back no longer. The tall, slim figure leaned forward in his chair. His dark hair, flecked with grey, was as immaculate as ever, but the usual cheerful almost boyish expression was gone. His face wore a grim, hunted look.

‘Don't think of me as a traitor. Please, not that. You know that you are the dearest people in the world to me, bar one.'

He stopped and looked across the veranda towards Alex.

‘It's bloody painful, but I've got to take this chance. For the boy's sake. I owe it to him and Anna.'

Rafaella rose and moved to the back of his chair. She smoothed his hair. ‘We love you, Bertie, you and little Ewan. Nothing will change that. It will break my heart when you go, but … we can't always have a happy ending. We both know that.'

Eddie chimed in. ‘Look, Bertie, I'm just a kid and I just don't get this. Well, you talk to any of the kids from here away in school or college. They can't wait to get back.' He pointed over at Tom. ‘That's why half a dozen girls would marry an ugly bugger — whoops, sorry Grandma — a bloke like Tom tomorrow if he wanted. I say stay and let Ewan go to Pembroke and one day take his turn at running Rusinga. I suppose Australia is a great place, but this is where you and Ewan belong.'

Bertie managed a smile. ‘Eddie, you'll have me crying before the night's out. But … we're going. I've talked to your dad about this.'

Alex was for saying nothing. He would have liked it if everyone else could have held back, but perhaps if it all spilled out now when they were all relaxed and receptive it would work out for the best.

Bertie was ready to try to explain himself to the boys. ‘Tom Mboya. Remember the name?'

‘I've heard Dad mention him.'

‘Rollo, that man was a hero to me and your dad. Where do you think your brother gets his name? And Rusinga, his home town. He was a Luo. He had everything — brilliant mind, good-looking and the people adored him. I was in Nairobi the day they got him, gunned him down like a rat. Kenyatta and the rest of our enlightened rulers, they couldn't stand to see a giant in their pygmy land.

‘That was the day when this country began to die. Nineteen sixty-nine, six years after Uhuru. They've gunned down a few more since then, but he was the best. After that the hands were never out of the till.

‘Poor Africans, robbed every day of their lives. And people breeding faster than malaria. Aids, TB can knock them out. I'm sorry. Forgive me for going on. Alex, my friend, pass me a stiff drink!'

‘When, Bertie?'

‘I'm not sure, Rollo. Probably after Easter. I want to make sure the money's got to Perth. American dollars.'

Tom wanted to be angry but was afraid and knew it would help no one. And he loved Bertie and Ewan so much. But it was unbearable to see this strong man giving in. Perhaps the memories were killing him. But he wanted to ram it down the throat of this beloved man that he was selling more than just the one farm. Unless some Kenyan had the guts to knock Rubai off, he would keep chipping away until he had the whole lake for himself. Then God help everyone!

* * *

See the puffs of dust thrown up by three vehicles speeding along the empty road on Boxing Day morning and climbing gently along the eastern flank of the Rift Valley. Headlights were pointed arrow straight. No one in the cars saw the few bits of game flicking an ear and peering through the last darkness of the night to see if there was danger in the noise. Tom set the pace in the slowest mover, the blue Land Rover. Lucy sat next to him and Rebecca by the half open window. Maura had Rafaella and Angela for passengers in the Land Cruiser and Bertie bowled along behind in the white 504. Doris had a lively Ewan under control in the back seat. Rollo had changed his mind about flying and he was at Bertie's side, this time with no sign of a gun. The rifle and box of ammunition were stowed under the top layer of clothes and kit in the boot. Bertie had reminded himself that when they stopped in Nairobi on the way home he must go in search of some suitcases.

After the Italian church the road became steep as it snaked its way out of the Valley. On the top they joined the dual carriageway that would bring them down to Nairobi. Rebecca knew this road very well from her schooldays down in the city, but she had rarely been on it so early. Small townships lined both sides of the road and she enjoyed seeing the growing numbers of people out and about starting a new day and the thin columns of blue smoke rising from the little chimneys of the houses and the dukas. She hated the deep piles of garbage. She hated but she understood. It will rot away — eventually.

Breakfast had been ordered at the Muthaiga for seven o'clock. Tom was not surprised when Rebecca turned down the offer to eat in the famous L-shaped club dining room. She stayed with her mother and Doris and later took Ewan for a walk on the wet fairways of the golf course.