by Carl Hancock
‘And may I ask where this journey will take us? I hope it will not be too far. You know that I am not happy driving a car these days.’
There was no hint of sarcasm in Rafaella’s tone. Quite the opposite, Rafaella’s spirits had been given a lift by Angela’s bold move.
‘It is a long way, but I shall ask Bwana Thomas to take us.’
‘Bwana Thomas will be happy to drive two beautiful women to the North Pole, if that’s where they want to go.’
Tom was also excited and wanted to know more.
‘North Pole is too far to go in one day. Too cold for Kenyan people. Last night I sat up by the village fire. You know that Isaac is there every night. He was reading his Bible to me. And we prayed together. Many hours. Many times, over and over, the words came. Every time the same. I spoke to Isaac about these things. He tells me that I have been blessed. I must obey. Rebecca will come, too. And one other.’
Chapter Eight
eorge, the day porter at the Karen home of the Rubai family, was having a busy morning. Since eight o’clock hospital vans and cars had been coming and going. Bwana was coming home in the afternoon. The doctors had warned him about the dangers of leaving the hospital environment too early. Abel had insisted that he was ready to leave and a compromise had been reached which involved temporarily converting a large ground floor room into a hospital ward.
Just after ten, three unexpected visitors had arrived at the lodge gate. George explained to Sally.
‘Yes, Madam, there was a car. I did not recognise it. Three passengers stepped out and crossed the road to our gate. No, Madam, I have not seen them before, but two of the names are familiar. Certainly, Madam. Rafaella McCall and Angela Kamau. The third is a white toto. They will not give his name. Yes, I will escort them myself.’
Sally went to the front door to greet the newcomers. They were not welcome, but she had always been welcomed at Londiani. The least she could do in return was to be polite and hope they would not stay long. And who could the toto be?
Rafaella introduced the little stranger.
‘Ewan Briggs. You have met his father.’
Sally could not hide her shock, but she managed to hold back the angry words that this rude intrusion was stirring inside her. A maid had accompanied her to the door.
‘Alice, take the child into the kitchen. He has come a long way this morning.’ And to Ewan, ‘Child, go with Alice. She has some special treats for boys who know how to behave themselves.’
A bewildered Ewan looked up at Rafaella and when she gave him the nod happily skipped off down the passageway.
Sally was in for more surprises. When the door of the sitting room was closed behind the three of them, Sally was expecting to launch into a lesson on proper behaviour when one was bent on visiting good company. Angela was too quick for her.
‘Madam, I am very sorry for the trouble that has come to your family. I feel the pain deeply. Perhaps you know that recently I thought that my Stephen had been taken from me.’
‘Yes, I know this.’
Sally was not enjoying the coldness she was effortlessly injecting into the tone of her voice. She sensed danger. This housemaid had not dressed up in an elegant blue suit that highlighted the handsome figure and the fine head just to deliver a few cliches about sympathy. Neither did Sally relish what she saw as a disdainful smile on the lips of the McCall woman. In fact, Rafaella was simply standing in admiration at the performance of this new confident housemaid.
Sally tried a counterattack. ‘Ladies, how wonderful to see you both looking so … well. But you will have to excuse me.
The master is coming home this afternoon. He has suffered much these last few days.’
Why did she, the mistress of this house, feel so trapped, so unable to send these two off with a few sharp words? She was about to try again when there was a gentle tap on the door. Alice’s timing was awry. Sally had not wanted the child to be brought into this room. In spite of herself, she warmed to the boy’s enthusiasm and (she hated the idea) his vulnerability.
Angela was in no mood to hold back. She was perfectly aware that her behaviour was not the kind that would go down well in bwana land, black or white. But these were circumstances that cried out for something else. A fine man’s life was in danger, a small boy’s life was on the edge of ruin. Self-pity was not an option.
‘Madam, you know this boy’s father?’
‘Yes, of course. Bwana Briggs. I have seen him in Londiani.’
‘He has been taken. Eight policemen from Nairobi came for him yesterday.’
‘Eight?’
‘So you know?’
Sally had not invited her visitors to sit down. She wanted the meeting to be brief. Rafaella took Ewan’s hand and led him across the room towards a large bay window where he knelt on the cushioned seat. While he looked out onto the terrace and the garden beyond, she watched the exchanges continue from a distance. It was like a scene in a courtroom. On the one side she was seeing a totally new Angela, a woman grim-faced and determined. Sally was uncomfortable under this barrage of relentless questioning, apprehensive about the state of mind of this normally gentle, polite maid.
Rafaella considered stepping in to end the embarrassment. Her attention was drawn away by Ewan pointing to something going on outside. A very large man was moving towards them along the drive, struggling under the weight of a wooden box. The boy was anxious with both hands pressed to his face, afraid that the man would fall. The man passed out of sight to the relief of Ewan.
In her own tense state, her reaction to the brief incident was to remind herself of why Angela was across the room from her, being impolite, being aggressive to the mistress of this grand but ugly house. The wounded master would be returning that very afternoon, the ruthless, murdering power maniac, unchanged by his close brush with death, still in pursuit of anyone brave enough or stupid enough to stand in his way.
The result was that all trace of embarrassment at the way Angela was grilling Sally was gone. She was silently cheering her on.
‘Yes, I know. I also know why this has happened. In this country, you cannot go around trying to kill people because they have offended you.’
‘Madam, you are right. You say you know. But do you know why?’
‘Why do you talk in riddles?’
‘No riddles, Madam. I will tell you.’
Rafaella sat back, fell back onto the support of the window seat and grasped Ewan’s hand. Surely not! Angela, be very careful. No, darling, just be brave.
‘Yes, the father of this child here did fire the bullet that almost took the life of your husband. But at that very moment your husband had a gun in his hands, too, and he was about to pull the trigger and take the life … of Thomas McCall.’
‘That is not true!’
Angela swept on. ‘Oh, but it is true.’
‘You cannot prove this!’
‘In this country, you cannot go around trying to kill people just because they have offended you. There are many witnesses. Bwana Briggs has been taken because he saved a life. I am very sorry to have to say these things to you, Madam. A good man’s life is in danger. Even at this moment we do not know where he is.’
At the end of moments of silence, Angela began again. Her manner was gentle, compassionate but also pleading.
‘You can save this man’s life. You can bring happiness back to this child. This child never knew his mother. You would understand the pain of this.’
Pleading but calculating. It was not only Sally Rubai who knew the teaching about serpents and doves.
On the short walk between the Rubai house and the Daniels’ house where Rebecca and Tom were waiting for them, Angela seemed drained of energy. She offered to carry Ewan, but the little man refused. Angela was not offended by the rejection.
‘I could murder a mug of chai. Plenty of sugar, Angela. How many times has Bwana Alex come into the kitchen and said this?’
‘Murder.’ Rafaella was surprised that An
gela could use this word so casually. But this was the old, familiar Angela. She had followed the instructions of the message. The job was done. Time to move on.
Chapter Nine
bel arrived home late. Even as the porters were transferring him from the trolley to his bed, his doctors were making a last attempt to get their patient to change his mind.
‘Situations can change quickly at this stage of recovery. We may need —’
‘That’s why you’re leaving me two of your top nurses, at great expense, I should add …’
‘Abel, your life could be in danger. Money is not important.’
‘Mmn, not important, Sally?’
‘You know what I mean. I am so pleased to have you back with us.’
Sally was not being entirely truthful. The reverberations from her confrontation with the housemaid of Londiani were still troubling her. Perhaps it would have been better if she could have had another twenty-four hours to absorb them, to deal with their implications. She had spent the hours since the departure of her unexpected visitors on her own. Uncomfortable thoughts had been swirling around her mind. That woman had been so sure of herself. So sure, and so unlike the shy maid she remembered from times when their paths had previously crossed, so driven. Why did she bring the child? She had caressed her own belly, felt the movement of her own boy. In three weeks her new Julius would be with her. This white toto would be back home by now, in a place where he had never known the love of a mother and deserted by his father.
Her own home had been her fortress, but however hard she tried in the loneliness of that dark afternoon, she felt a great certainty that the walls were crumbling around her.
‘Abel! Abel!’ She lay her head down on the open pages of her Bible and wept herself into a fitful doze.
And now he was with her again. Her love for him was as strong as ever. She found it easy to keep desperate thoughts hidden.
Just before the doctors left to return to their other patients in the hospital, a last visitor arrived. He took pictures of her smiling husband sitting up in bed, flanked by his two new carers, and was gone.
‘Sally, tomorrow morning when you send the boy over to Karen Dukas for the paper, tell him to bring half a dozen copies of The Nation and The Standard.
He chuckled to see the big-eyed puzzlement on her face. ‘I can tell you the headlines right now. “Assassination attempt. Big Man survives attack on his life” or some such words. They could not hold the story back any longer. Too many rumours.’ He chuckled again. ‘I was a dead man in most of them!’
They were alone by now. The time for light-heartedness was over. He knew that.
‘Sal, you know how much you mean to me.’
‘I know it.’ She was not ready to meet his gaze. This and the deadpan expression in her voice troubled him.
‘The new boy will be with us soon. Right? So you will have two babies to look after.’
His hearty good humour began to shift her mood, but her tone remained down-beat.
‘Husband, you have never needed anyone to look after you. Even as a young man in Western District. Your mama told me this.’
He changed the subject. ‘They’ve caught the one who did this.’
‘Bertie Briggs. I know it. His boy was here this morning.’
‘His boy!’
At last she had said something to startle him.
‘He was with Rebecca’s mother and the Italian one.’
‘But why?’
‘To sympathise.’ She lied. She did not care that he knew this. She needed to be alone again. She rang the call bell. ‘They have told me that you will need much rest. I will see you in the morning. I will bring the newspapers. Sleep well, Abel.’
‘One last thing, Sally. The house phones will be off for two days. Use your mobile. And there will be policemen around the place. Reporters, too. They will not trouble you.’
‘Thank you, Abel.’ He watched her make her way wearily towards the door. She hesitated before going through as though about to say something more. Nothing. Sally cried herself to sleep that night.
Chapter Ten
hey are holding him in Nakuru police station.’ Inspector Caroline had brought the news herself. ‘John Wambui is still the inspector in charge up there.’
Tom was the first to remember. ‘The one who brought me home in the squad car after my enforced camping night out in Kakamega Forest? Funny chap. Said the plumbing was out of order in the police block. He wanted me to hang on to my filth ‘til I got home. Make him look better as my rescuer.’
‘Yep. Damned sight different from the gang of thugs who took Bertie off from here. Seemed eager to help.’
‘Yes, Alex, but I hate to remind you how he sucked up to Rubai when he arrived unannounced with Sally to cover up his own part in Tom’s … ordeal.’
‘I’d forgotten, Maura. So he’s just another of Rubai’s boys. Bugger! Thought we were getting a bit of good news. Tell you, I’m scared stiff.’
‘But surely Bertie’s got some rights. You know, seeing a lawyer and stuff.’
Paul Miller had a suggestion. ‘No, Tom. They’ve got him. There aren’t many Carolines around in the system. But, what about this? I know Wambui quite well and he will listen. I suggest that we set off for Nakuru straight away and take our chances. Those reports in the papers this morning will raise the stakes for us and especially Bertie, of course. The hotheads will be out looking for the person who tried to take out their beloved - no kidding - beloved leader. When they find out that it is a white man, well, just think about the kind of savagery a little old election can spark off in this country.’
‘So who goes, Paul?’
‘Me for a start. I’m good at waving official looking bits of paper around in policemen’s faces. They rarely read them. Rafaella, could you take another one of these, well, mercy missions?’
Rafaella arched her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Delighted! Thought I was a bit past this James Bond stuff.’
‘It’s my experience that Kenyan policemen always have a respect for, shall we say, European ladies of mature years. Something to do with their country upbringing. And when they are also beautiful … And Tom to drive.’
‘Perhaps he’ll remember me.’
‘Come on. Let’s get going.’
The road between Naivasha and Nakuru had been recently resurfaced. This improvement to travelling conditions had its drawbacks. The large intercity coaches hurtled along the A104 faster than ever. The number one rule for the sensible car driver was to look constantly in the rear-view mirror watching for a Kisii Executive or an Eldoret Express bearing down on you. Rule number two was never to try to outrun these field marshals of the highway. They took no prisoners.
Tom and his passengers used the forty-five minute journey to prepare themselves for whatever they might meet when they climbed those steps to the police building on Odinga Odinga Avenue. On that morning the extraordinary beauty of the Great Rift of Central Kenya was simply a backdrop to help them form a perspective to their thoughts. The familiar sights of the Sleeping Masai, the thick pink border of flamingos feeding on the edges of the soda lake at Elementeita, the lines of jacaranda in full blossom on the long, gentle incline down to the old railway bridge that marked the boundary of Nakuru town were a comfort.
They left the car in the safe haven of the Rift Valley Club and walked through a quiet part of town to their destination. They were almost there when they were hailed from the other side of the road by two women wearing nuns’ headdress. Rafaella knew them well.
‘May and Phillipa. They’re from Ireland, been here thirty years. We must talk to them.’
The chance meeting turned out to be a blessing though it delayed their arrival at the police station. May surprised them, not only with the attractive Limerick brogue that was as strong as on the day she had arrived all those years before.
‘You’ve come to visit. Now, there’s an answer to a prayer. He’s not happy in there. Missing the boy something terrible.
Come inside for a minute. It will be safer to talk.’
The Catholic Cathedral in Nakuru is almost exactly across the road from the police station. Rafaella and the sisters had been friends for years.
‘We meet every month when I come for confession.’
‘Bertie and Anna were married here and the boy baptised.’
‘The saddest day of my life. We haven’t seen him or his father since. Too painful for him.’
‘Until three days ago. Phillipa and I were returning from visiting ‘round the town, just like today. There was a big fuss over there, again! Some poor soul was being dragged from a car. Big, ugly brutes, not our local boys. We know most of them. This one was struggling, shouting. European voice. English.’
‘We got the one look. Anna’s Bertie.’
‘After supper we went over. They usually let us in.’
‘They’ve learnt. We’ve got a great line in shouting and screaming ourselves if we can’t have our way.’
‘Poor man. They’d given him a beating. Worse than usual. But it was his boy that was giving him the real pain.’
‘We hope you can get him out. Bail or something.’
‘Paul, we know a lot about Serena. The father and we often talk about it. There’s a lot of support here. You’re giving us hope.’
Paul was smiling. ‘Ladies, you, too, are an answer to prayer. Bless us before we go over there. As for bail, I’m surprised they don’t give it more often. Think of the money they’re missing. But … I have, well, there are other ways of fighting back.’
John Wambui was tidying his desk when the duty sergeant came in to report.
‘Boss, some folks in the office want to speak with you.’
‘Like who, exactly?’
‘Smart fella, ‘bout your age. Name of Miller. Says he’s a lawyer. Two white folks. The woman don’t look too young, but, well, nice ass, a heavy pair up top.’
