by Mick Finlay
‘He thought you were arriving in London tonight,’ said the guvnor. ‘Why did he come to your hotel so early?’
‘There was a report in the newspapers this morning saying we’d arrived yesterday.’ She drew in a big load of breath, pulled her shawl tight around her long neck, and turned to Napper. ‘Are you finished with us now, detective?’
‘Yes,’ said Napper. ‘And count yourself lucky.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘What about me?’ I asked.
Napper waved my question away. ‘There’ll be an inquest, but you’ll be fine. You were assisting me. He was about to kill Miss Kunene.’
The guvnor patted my knee, but I knew from his face that he was troubled. I was troubled myself. I’d never killed a man before, and had a bad feeling I’d been too quick to pull that trigger. I went through it again and again in my head, trying to convince myself Mabaso had been about to kill Thembeka, but there was a doubt I couldn’t shift.
We climbed down at York Road and watched as the Black Maria turned and took the two coppers and their quarry back over the river. A two-wheeler was approaching from the west, driven by a couple of lads on the ran-tan shouting insults at everyone they passed.
‘William!’ came a voice from across the road. We turned to see Ettie, pushing her perambulator. She waited for a night soil cart to pass, then crossed over to us. ‘Mercy wouldn’t settle. I thought some air might do her good.’ She smiled at Thembeka. ‘Hello, again.’
Thembeka gave her a quick hug. ‘Hello, Ettie.’
Noticing her forlorn expression, Ettie frowned. She turned to Princess Nobantu. ‘Good evening, Your Highness.’
The princess looked puzzled.
‘May I introduce, Ettie,’ said the guvnor. ‘My sister. I’m afraid we played a trick on you, Your Highness. She’s not an artist. The woman she was with speaks Fanakalo. We wanted to know what you were saying to each other.’
‘Ah,’ said the princess. ‘I wondered why neither of them could draw.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ettie. ‘What happened?’
The guvnor quickly explained. When Ettie’d heard I’d killed Mabaso she touched my arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Norman. You must feel awful.’
‘Mabaso wanted to kill Senzo and Musa, didn’t he, Your Highness?’ asked the guvnor. ‘It was more important than getting the gold.’
The princess looked at him, her lips pressed tight together as people dodged and bustled around us on the pavement, heading for the station and home, or out to Bankside to drink and dance.
‘Well, they’re all dead now, Mr Arrowood,’ she answered at last.
‘Why?’ asked the guvnor.
She shook her head.
‘You don’t have to worry,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to report this to Napper. He wouldn’t be interested anyway. But we’ve worked ourselves to the bone trying to get to the bottom of this case. We’ve tried to do our best.’
She put her arm around Thembeka and squeezed her. She thought.
‘Come into the hotel,’ she said at last. ‘I need a drink.’
Chapter Forty-Six
We parked the perambulator by an empty table in the back corner, out of the way of the loud crowd by the bar. Mercy was sleeping. When we were all seated, the guvnor asked, ‘So, was I correct, Your Highness? Was Mabaso here to kill Senzo and Musa?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘For betraying the Ninevites.’
‘No,’ said the princess, her eyes shining with sadness. ‘For betraying our people. Senzo and Musa were native intelligence officers. They were spies.’ She paused, looking at Thembeka. They held each other’s gaze.
The guvnor blinked, looking from one to the other. ‘Spies? For who?’
‘They worked for the colonial authorities,’ the princess continued. ‘They’re paid to spy on the blacks, to report any signs of protest or rebellion.’
‘But…’ Arrowood shook his head. For once he had no idea what to say.
‘One who comes with the horses, that’s what we call a government spy,’ the princess continued. ‘Would it surprise you to know there are many Africans who don’t want the British to rule us?’
Ettie shook her head.
‘We don’t want to be told where to work, who to work for, where we can and cannot live. We want our land back. The whites in Natal are terrified that we’ll come together and rise against them, and so the colonial authorities watch us. If a movement begins to grow, they stamp it out with great and sudden force. You are a violent people, you know.’
‘That’s not fair, Your Highness,’ said Ettie.
‘Really, Miss Arrowood? Look in your papers. You’re fighting all over the world. Just this year you’ve had battles in Sudan, Zanzibar, South Africa and the Gold Coast colony. War is in your nature.’
‘Commerce is in our nature,’ said the guvnor.
‘War and commerce come together in the empire. My people have suffered, and we cannot hide our eyes as you can.’
He nodded. He wasn’t insulted or surprised: I’d heard him talking about these things in the Hog with Hamba and his Lascar mates many times. It’s just that there was no satisfaction in ending this case and I could see he found that hard.
The princess continued: ‘The government are afraid of the Ninevites because they’re well organized and have many men. The Regiment of the Hills, that’s their other name. They even wear army uniforms. Senzo and Musa had managed to get inside.’
A small gob of spit had formed at the corner of her lips as she spoke. She took a lug of brandy and pulled off her coat. Warmed from the fire, I did the same.
‘But the Ninevites are a gang of bandits,’ said the guvnor. ‘Why shouldn’t the police investigate them?’
She laughed softly. ‘Things are never just one thing. Just as commerce can come with violence, crime can come with rebellion.’
‘But Delphine said they rob your people as well,’ said the guvnor.
‘Yes, they’re criminals. But they show the people that blacks can defy the government.’
‘They break the law, Your Highness,’ said Ettie. ‘That cannot be right.’
‘If your choice was to slave in the mines or become a bandit, what would you do?’
‘I wouldn’t kill innocent people,’ said Ettie.
‘It’s a shame your empire doesn’t have your principles, Miss Arrowood.’
‘Who was Mabaso?’ asked the guvnor.
‘A hero,’ she said softly, fingering the handle of her mug. Thembeka was listening careful, but her head was bowed like she was ashamed. Ettie signalled to the barmaid for brandy; I took out my pouch and rolled a fag. The doubt I’d had the second I pulled the trigger was suffocating.
The princess took my baccy from the table. ‘May I?’ she asked.
I nodded. Feeling short of breath, I took my air in slow, holding it, letting it out.
The princess spoke as she rolled. ‘A month ago Senzo and Musa gave information to the Natal authorities about a group of rebels working with the Ninevites to build up an armoury on the coast. The leaders were executed, the arms taken. The Ninevite commanders knew somebody had passed on the information and Senzo and Musa were afraid they’d be discovered. That’s when they were sent on the Kruger raid.’
She paused as I offered a match for her fag.
‘Did they shoot the guard and the child?’ asked Ettie.
‘I don’t know. There were six men on the raid. The other four bandits were killed by the guards, so I suppose we’ll never find out. When Senzo and Musa found themselves the only ones left, they saw a chance to escape South Africa and make themselves rich at the same time. Mabaso said they might even have shot the other bandits themselves. Anyway, Senzo knew I was coming to England to do exhibitions with Mr Beaumont. He asked us to transport the gold and meet them here. I didn’t know then that they were government spies or I’d never have agreed.’
‘When did you discover this?’ asked the guvnor.
‘Today. Mabaso told me everything.’
‘Did he mention Mrs Fowler?’
‘The white lady?’
‘Who was killed, yes.’
‘She arrived when he was executing Musa. She said she was going to get the police. If she did that, then he wouldn’t find Senzo. He had to kill her.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Ettie. ‘He chose to kill her.’
‘There are always casualties in war. Do not judge my people for fighting yours.’
‘You called him a hero. He killed an innocent woman.’
‘Many of your colonial heroes are men who have killed innocent people. I doubt you were ever this concerned about their victims.’
‘Actually, I…’ Ettie began, then stopped. She dropped her eyes. If there was one thing you could say about Ettie, it was that she was honest with herself.
‘Why did he risk taking her body across the city?’ asked the guvnor. ‘Why didn’t he just leave her there with the others?’
‘He told me he had to make a quick decision. He was in the Meeting House with three corpses and had to get out quickly. If he tracked down Senzo and killed him there’d be a fourth murder, and that would mean more of a chance of being caught. He decided to make it look as if Senzo killed the lady, then Senzo would be executed by the British courts. That would be safer for Mabaso, and since he was working with the police, he could arrange it all. He hid the body somewhere until he could find a way of moving it.’
‘How did he know they were hiding in the Meeting House in the first place?’
‘He read about the court case in the paper. He paid a white boy to go to the court and follow them.’
‘Did he kill Mr Fowler?’ asked the guvnor.
She shook her head. ‘The gentleman was dead when he arrived. He didn’t care who did it. He thought it would complicate things for the police.’
‘Why didn’t he just kill Senzo in the police station? He was alone with him in the cell.’
‘It was safer to leave the courts to execute him.’
The guvnor nodded slowly. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it. Ettie took a gulp of her gin. She was troubled.
‘How can you be sure what Mabaso said was the truth?’ asked Arrowood at last.
‘I knew the rebels were betrayed by someone,’ answered the princess, pulling her shawl higher around her neck. ‘That was common knowledge. When he explained it in the carriage after he captured me, it all fitted together, the risks he took to find them, the way he spoke. I saw truth in his eyes. But I only knew for sure when he killed Senzo. He could have tried shooting when he saw you running to us. He had two guns. Maybe he’d have had a chance of getting the gold if he killed you as you ran. But the Ninevites do not use guns for their punishments. They cut the throat open or destroy the teeth.’
‘Did you know they were spies, Miss Thembeka?’ asked the guvnor, his voice soft and gentle.
She’d been watching the baby sleep, but now she looked up. Her face was grey, the strength gone from her voice. ‘They told me in Paris.’
‘And you stood beside them?’ asked Ettie.
‘It wasn’t so simple, Miss Arrowood. S’bu needed me. He wasn’t involved. Has he been found yet?’
‘He’s safe,’ said the guvnor. ‘We tracked him to Capaldi’s warehouse. Mabaso gave him a beating, but he’ll survive. He’s staying with a friend of mine. I can take you to him tonight.’
‘Why did Mabaso try to kill you, Thembeka?’ asked Ettie. ‘Are you also a spy?’
Thembeka caught my eye, but said nothing: it told me all I needed to know.
‘You had to do it, Norman,’ said the guvnor, putting his hand on mine. ‘You couldn’t risk it. Not after what he’d done to Senzo.’
‘The judge would have sentenced him to death even if you hadn’t,’ said Ettie.
The serving girl came over with two bowls of oysters. Everyone began to eat, all except me and Thembeka.
‘What will you do now, Miss Thembeka?’ asked Ettie.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. I’d never seen her so tired, so uncertain, and I wondered what Senzo really was to her. ‘I’ve had enough of showmen. They only use us. I didn’t like performing in Paris, all the shouts, the stupid things they made us do.’
‘Then you and S’bu must join us,’ said the princess. ‘We’re doing three weeks at the Alhambra here in London, then our contract with Mr Beaumont is finished. We’re going to manage ourselves. We’ll tell them the real history of our people and what is happening now in South Africa. Half the show in Qwabe costume and half in English dresses and suits. We’ll write our own pamphlets, perform the dances we choose. No cooking. No pretend battles. No yipping. We’ll present ourselves the way we really are, and we’ll take all the money. There are so many cities we can go to.’
‘What about Mr Capaldi? We have a contract.’
‘He won’t pursue it,’ said the guvnor. ‘After what we saw in that warehouse, he won’t want to attract any more attention.’
‘But are you sure this is permitted?’ asked Thembeka. It was the same question she’d asked the guvnor the second time we met. She just couldn’t seem to believe it.
The princess smiled. ‘This is not South Africa. There are no native laws here.’
When Thembeka still didn’t look convinced, the princess turned to us. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’
The guvnor nodded. ‘You can manage yourselves.’
‘Chang and Eng did it,’ said the princess. ‘They left their manager and ran the shows themselves. They made a fortune.’
Still Thembeka didn’t seem to believe it. She rubbed her nose and sneezed, and with it came a sob. Ettie passed her a hanky.
‘We’re stronger together,’ said the princess. ‘And we’ll make a lot of money. Talk to S’bu.’
‘Yes,’ said Thembeka, dabbing her eyes. ‘Yes, we will join you, but only for a year. I don’t like performing. I don’t like people looking at me. I’ll do it until I’ve saved enough to buy a beershop. My sister and I used to sell beer in Johannesburg, you know? That’s what I want to do. Buy a beershop here in London.’
‘Of course,’ said the princess, touching her hand. ‘Whatever you want.’
Thembeka’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would it be better to have two shows?’
‘Two shows?’
‘I know some ladies who perform as Capaldi’s Wonders. Big crowds. They’re unhappy with their manager. Maybe they want to join us too.’
The princess smiled. ‘Yes, ask them. We’ll build a new Barnum’s.’
The princess’s companions, the bearded man and the short woman, arrived from upstairs just then, and they all began talking in their own tongue. Though Thembeka’s eyes were strained with sorrow, it seemed important she make plans then and there for herself and S’bu.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ettie took Mercy back to their rooms, while we hailed a four-wheeler and brought Thembeka to Lewis’s house, where she was reunited with S’bu. There were tears in both of their eyes as they embraced. Lewis set out another mattress and we left her there. Not feeling ready to go back to my room, I returned to Coin Street with the guvnor. It was past eleven. Isabel was awake, sitting in the good chair by the fire, a mug of gin on the table and a telegram in her hand. She seemed relieved to see us return, and even managed a trembling smile.
‘It’s good to see you up,’ said the guvnor, hesitating in the middle of the room. His instinct was to go to her, kiss her, touch her hand, but now he didn’t know what to do.
‘How are you doing, Isabel?’ I asked as I hung up my coat.
‘Managing.’ She breathed in deep. ‘I’m sorry your case ended the way it did. Ettie told me.’
‘Thank you,’ said the guvnor. He removed his scarf, his bowler, his overcoat. ‘Did you hear from your family?’
‘I don’t think they’ll come.’
‘Lewis and Willoughby are meeting us there,’ he said as Ettie stepped inside from the outhouse. ‘I think
Scrapes also.’
Isabel bit her lip and shut her eyes tight. Ettie stepped over and took her hand. ‘Can I get you anything, my dear? Some tea?’
‘No, thank you,’ whispered Isabel, opening her eyes again. She took a sip of her gin.
‘What’s that?’ asked the guvnor, pointing at the envelope. ‘Your sister?’
‘The hospital.’
‘Ah,’ he said, but asked no more. It was clear Ettie’d told him she’d been offered the scholarship over Isabel.
‘What did they say?’ asked Ettie, taking her pipe from the mantel and setting a match to it.
Isabel passed it to her sister-in-law. Ettie held it under the lamp and puffed away as she read it. She looked up.
‘This is wonderful,’ she said quietly. ‘Congratulations. You deserve it.’
‘Thank you, Ettie,’ answered Isabel. There was only sorrow in her voice.
The guvnor took the telegram from her and read it himself. He looked up. ‘But this is marvellous. I can’t believe it.’
‘Why?’ asked Isabel. ‘Didn’t you see me studying? Didn’t you think I had a chance?’
‘No, I can’t believe that both—’
‘We were all hoping so much that you’d win the scholarship,’ interrupted Ettie. ‘You deserved it. You worked so hard.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said the guvnor softly. ‘But—’
Ettie cut him off again. ‘You’ll have to decide when you feel up to it. You must tell them about Leo. They’ll understand.’
‘You’ll make a fine doctor, Isabel,’ I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ettie frown at the guvnor and shake her head.
‘Help me with a cork, brother,’ said Ettie, leading him into the scullery.
‘Tell me about the case again, Norman,’ said Isabel as they left the room. ‘Distract me.’
I sat at the table and started to explain all that had happened that day. Soon, brother and sister returned with some Allinson’s, a plate of cheese, a fresh bottle of brandy. For a while, Isabel listened close, asking question after question. But as the bells of St Andrew’s rang out at the end of the street, we lost her again and she fell silent.
