Amie in Africa Box Set 1

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Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 55

by Lucinda E Clarke


  The mall was as Amie had remembered it and after driving round it a few times she pointed to one of the roads leading away from it. “Turn right here,” she said “then take the first left. Yes, Poinsettia Drive, this is the one. Number 17, I think.”

  As they pulled up outside, she took a deep breath before climbing out of the car and approaching the house. At the exact moment she reached the gate it was flung open and she came face to face with Denise Matheson who stared at her in amazement.

  “Amie,” she shrieked, and air kissed her cheek. “What a surprise! We were expecting Jonathon soon, but not you! Come in, come in. I was on my way out, but that can wait. Tea, coffee?”

  Amie resisted her efforts as she tried to propel her up the driveway.

  “Mrs Matheson, wait, wait, I’m not alone,” and she pointed back to the car.

  “Bring them in, bring them all in,” Denise said cheerfully, but when the ragged crew climbed out, her face fell.

  “These are your friends?” she said faintly.

  “Yes. I know we are a mess but it’s a long story, and I can explain …” For a horrible moment Amie thought Denise was going to send them all away.

  Denise gawped at the bedraggled group and her eyes went wide at the sight of Hussein, in his blood-soaked shirt still tied to Ben. An Arab was not a common sight in Atari and she didn’t know what to say.

  “You’d better all come in. I’ll get Mavis to see to uh …” she pointed to Hussein. “No, introduce them when we’re settled in the garden. Go round to the back, there are tables and chairs on the veranda,” and she disappeared into the house.

  Feeling both unwanted and unwelcome, they trouped past the perfect lawn, around the sparkling pool and into the back garden, where another immaculate expanse of grass stretched to the far boundary wall.

  Denise came out through the French windows and beckoned them up the steps to the patio. They looked at the clean, frilly covers on the chairs and hesitated, afraid to sit down, except for Shalima, who plonked herself down on the nearest one. Swiftly Denise whisked the cushions off the remaining chairs, took them inside, reappeared and urged them to relax.

  “You must excuse me,” she said, “it’s such a surprise, I wasn’t … wasn’t …” she was lost for words.

  Mavis came out of the house carrying a tray, but when she saw the assembled group she stared in amazement, particularly at Hussein. The tray wobbled dangerously in her hands and Denise Matheson quickly took it from her.

  “That will be all Mavis, thank you. And no gossiping, do you hear me, no gossiping at all!”

  While Denise poured fruit juice into glasses Amie introduced everyone.

  “Mrs Matheson …” she began but was interrupted.

  “No, Denise, please call me Denise,” her hostess smiled.

  “Denise. This must come as a bit of a shock, and I don’t know what Jonathon told you when he was here last, but a lot has happened since.”

  Amie felt instinctively she should not tell the whole story, so she simply introduced each of the party by name with no explanation of who they were or how they’d ended up on her doorstep in Atari.

  Denise regarded looked at each one of them in turn and nodded.

  “I suspect your story is a long and complicated one,” she rose. “I think it’s best you all change out of those clothes and rest up. There’ll be time to talk later.”

  Relief washed over Amie. She was exhausted, and a shower and sleep would give her time to get her thoughts in order.

  “The company guest house is next door; we don’t expect our British visitors to stay in the hotels around here and it’s empty at the moment.”

  Amie smiled, remembering her experiences in the Grand Hotel in Apatu, where you paid for everything, even the towels.

  Denise guided them through a gate in the wall into the next-door garden and summoned Mavis to help get them settled. She insisted Amie stay in the main house, but when it came to Shalima she paused.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m happy to stay wiv this lot,” Shalima waved her hands towards Mrs Motswezi, Ben, Angelina and Hussein.

  “Ah, yes, quite,” replied Denise. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here. Plenty of bedrooms.” She bustled about collecting towels from cupboards, opening doors and smoothing down bedspreads.

  Amie was about to protest and insist they all stay together, or at least keep Angelina with her, but she was too tired to argue and agreed to everything her hostess suggested. All she wanted to do was sleep. Waves of exhaustion engulfed her. Even while she peeled off her filthy clothes and stepped into the shower in Denise’s guest suite, she battled to stay awake.

  The next thing she remembered was Denise gently shaking her awake. She’d no idea how long she’d slept, but it was dark outside.

  “You’re needed in the lounge,” Denise told her. “Come, you can wear this robe for now, Mavis has washed your clothes but they’re not dry yet.”

  Amie sat up in bed and focused on her surroundings. For weeks she’d been on high alert, intent on survival and operating on adrenaline. Now she was back in a normal situation, she felt as if she was falling apart.

  To her delight, Denise Matheson had left a tray of coffee next to the bed, and she poured herself a cup, thinking it was the best thing she’d tasted since Jonathon had brought some back to Dirk’s camp. She was also ravenously hungry, and ate every biscuit on the plate her hostess had thoughtfully provided. But why was she wanted in the lounge?

  There was only one way to find out.

  As she walked into the main sitting room, Amie did not feel at all confident. To start with she was dressed only in a towelling robe, and Denise hadn’t thought to provide her with any underwear. She tied the belt tightly around her body and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Liam Matheson and a man she had never seen before were sitting on the sofa. Liam rose to give her a hug. “Hello Amie. It’s great to see you again, but not, maybe, in this condition. You look like you’ve been to hell and back.”

  Amie managed a wry smile. “Yes, yes I have. And the others too. Denise told you …?”

  “Yes, and I’ve met them all. They’re welcome to stay as long as they like.” While he was talking, he guided her to a chair set at right angles to the sofa.

  The other man also rose to greet her, but he didn’t offer his hand or give her his name or tell her why he was there.

  Liam sat on the other side of Amie, which made her feel as if she was the chairman of some company board, sandwiched between two directors as they both fixed their eyes on her and gave her their full attention.

  “Can you tell us your story?” Liam asked her gently.

  Amie nodded, it was pointless not giving both of them the whole truth, so she started from the beginning; from when Jonathon had returned to the camp. The only thing she kept back was the bit about Ben abducting her. She didn’t want to get him into trouble. She had no idea why she didn’t feel comfortable with this discussion, or was it an interrogation?

  “So,” she finished, “I know Jonathon was, is, a spy,” she hastily corrected herself. “It’s no good pretending he was an ordinary engineer building a desalination plant in Apatu. I know that’s why we were sent out to Africa in the first place, only no one thought to tell me.”

  “There are various levels of ‘spies’ as you call them Mrs Fish,” said the man, who had still not introduced himself. “Many expatriates agree to report back snippets of conversation they might hear to their local embassy. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Amie surprised herself at her boldness. “I think Jonathon was far more involved than you’re suggesting. To start with, you lot had him somewhere up in Scotland for a year, and he wasn’t practicing the art of eavesdropping, was he?”

  The stranger looked uncomfortable, but only for a moment. He asked, “You know where this camp is? Could you find it again?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Amie replied without thinking, pleased s
he knew something this rather pompous man did not. Then she understood what this might imply. “Oh no, no, no. No. I’m not going back there, it’s too dangerous.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you go alone,” the man replied. “And I’m not suggesting you go on the ground either, but if you were in the air, that would be quite safe wouldn’t it?”

  “Oh, well, yes,” Amie couldn’t think of any way of refusing.

  As if to push his point home her interrogator added. “In return, of course you’ll need our help. For example, getting another passport?”

  Amie did not like the way he put the accent on ‘another’. They’d given her a hard time before when she’d nothing to prove who she was or where she’d come from. She’d left the embassy fuming at the way they’d treated her, as if she looked or spoke like an illegal alien trying to worm her way into England. While she might still be of some use, she decided to push the advantage.

  “What are you going to do with the others?”

  “As I understand it, only Shalima Jiskani is a British subject. We have no responsibility for any of the others because they’re foreign nationals. They’re not under our jurisdiction. If they need help, they must apply to their own embassy or consulate.”

  “Even though they helped a British national to safety?”

  The man was not interested. The others were obviously of no concern to him or his office.

  “What will happen to Shalima? She doesn’t want to go back to her parents. I don’t think she even wants to go back to England.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t discuss another case, it would be quite improper. I shall be speaking to Miss Jiskani later.”

  “You’re not going to tell me what you’re going to do with Hussein either?” Amie wondered if Shalima’s aggressive behaviour had rubbed off on her. She’d spoken rudely to this man who she now disliked more than ever. What had happened to her? Where was the shy, well-behaved English girl from the outskirts of London who had nice manners, respected authority and always tried to do the right thing? After everything she’d been through, it wasn’t surprising she’d changed.

  The questions started all over again, but this time in more detail. How large was the camp? How many men? What kinds of weapons did they have? What number of vehicles? Could she guess what country they were from? Any idea from where and why the women had been abducted?

  It went on for hours, or that’s how it seemed to Amie, until at last Liam frowned at his visitor and suggested Amie still needed to rest. Denise had prepared a meal and the guest was very welcome to join them.

  To Amie’s relief he declined and rose to go, cautioning Amie on his way out, not to leave Atari and keep in close touch with the Mathesons. Just like they do in the detective series on the television, Amie thought as Liam showed the obnoxious man out.

  When he walked back into the sitting room he sat next to Amie and took her hand. “You’ve been through so much,” he said softly. “Don’t let Edward upset you, he’s only doing his job.”

  “So, his name’s Edward,” she said. “He might have introduced himself. He was pretty rude,” she added, preferring not to admit she hadn’t been all that polite to him either. He started it, she excused herself.

  “Come, let’s have supper. I think Denise has found something more comfortable for you to wear.”

  By the time the meal was over, it was close to midnight, and far too late for Amie to go next door and see how everyone else was faring. She’d have to wait until the morning. A full night’s sleep, in a comfortable bed under a cooling fan, would help unscramble her brain and relieve some of the aches and pains from the bruising she’d sustained on the drive.

  The following day she was up bright and early, but not as early as the Mathesons. Lying on a chair next to her bed was a dress and, thankfully, a set of underwear and some flip flops. Another shower scrubbed off a little more of the ingrained dirt, and she felt almost human when she went to find Denise, or better still, the kitchen. She was starving.

  She found Mavis buttering toast and the smell of the freshly brewed coffee was tantalizing. She noticed a pan of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove and her mouth watered.

  Mavis smiled at her. “I go to take food for other people too,” she said. “You go in dining room, your breakfast there. I bring now.”

  “Thank you, Mavis,” Amie replied. She did as she was told and the moment she sat down at the large, polished table, the maid appeared carrying a typical British breakfast; bacon, eggs, tomatoes and toast.

  Amie stared at it deciding what to eat first. This was such a treat. As she ate, she looked around at the decor. The room was typical of many expatriate houses, not as modern as many homes, but comfortable, with large pieces of furniture, which at one time had probably been shipped out from England and passed through a number of hands. The table, chairs, sideboard and occasional tables were all polished to a high sheen, and Amie suspected Denise Matheson made sure her house was spotless at all times.

  She’d only just finished her meal, and was pouring herself a second cup of coffee when the lady of the house entered the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Amie glanced up in surprise.

  Denise sat next to her, helped herself to coffee and took Amie’s hand. She looked almost furtive and a lot friendlier than she had been yesterday.

  “I am going to tell you something I shouldn’t,” she said. “I thought long and hard about this last night, but I think us girls should stick together and I don’t think it’s fair you’re being kept in the dark.”

  15 TAKING TO THE AIR

  At last, thought Amie, was she about to find out the real truth and have all her questions answered? Her heart pounded.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “What’s really going on,” Denise replied. “This whole situation is a lot more complicated than you think.” She gave a short laugh. “I heard how Edward brushed you off last night and wasn’t prepared to talk to you, and frankly that made me angry. I think you have a right to know, don’t you?”

  Amie nodded in agreement. “And you can tell me more?” she asked.

  “You already know most of it, but often the men talk and they forget I have ears, even if I’m not in the same room.”

  Amie could imagine Denise listening at keyholes and she bit her lip to stop herself smiling at the pictures in her head. “So, what’ve you heard?”

  “When Jonathon was here a few weeks ago he had a lot of meetings; some with men who are based at the British Embassy. There was a lot of talk about IS and the worry of how they could contain them.”

  “Jonathon told us he’d seen stuff on the news about several incidents, people getting beheaded and villages being burnt.”

  “He didn’t watch any television while he was here, all the information came from higher up in the embassy. It seems IS is a much bigger problem than anyone wants to admit publicly. They’re afraid it will set off a wave of xenophobia in places like England where there are large mixed-race populations. In fact, they’re trying very hard to keep the lid on it. As soon as anything is shown on YouTube or anywhere on the net, the western countries block it and take it down. Of course, some information gets out and the investigative journalists have a field day, but most of the stuff they record is never shown on any media.”

  “If I’ve got it right,” Amie said, “IS is a fundamental group of Muslims who want to convert others to their faith.”

  “It’s more serious than that,” Denise responded. “Not all the Muslims are united. They’re divided into two main factions, the Sunni and Shia, and the split goes right back to when the Prophet Muhammad died. There was disagreement about who should take over, with some believing a new leader should be elected, those were the Sunni, but the Shia believed the new leader should come from the Prophet’s own family, and to this day they don’t recognize the authority of elected Muslim leaders.”

  “But we’ve had a split in the Christian church as well,” Amie said. “Surel
y we should be worried about the fanatics. Which side do they come from?”

  “Sunni Muslims, make up about 85% of all Muslims, but both factions have given rise to fanatics who are prepared to kill themselves to force their beliefs on others. It’s all very complicated and the West is also to blame for interfering in other countries for one reason or another. Many people say that’s what started this latest wave. But it’s growing, and several western countries are very alarmed, including the British. That’s why they sent Jonathon back to investigate the rumours of camps being set up in Togodo.”

  “He knew about them, even before Ben came to Dirk’s camp and told us!”

  “That’s the reason he remained in the bush and wasn’t sent on to another contract somewhere else. He was more useful to them where he was.”

  “He often disappeared with Charles for several days on hunting trips. So that’s what they were up to,” Amie shook her head. She’d suspected Jonathon had a second career, or was it a first one? Now she knew for certain. She didn’t know how she felt about that. It was all very well watching exciting spy movies on the cinema screen, but to be married to one in real life was a different prospect altogether. What were the chances they would ever settle in one place and create a stable home life with children, only to have him running all over the world poking his nose into dangerous situations? She was beginning to wonder if he had returned to Africa to look for her, or had he been sent back for quite a different reason? She put her head in her hands and shut her eyes tightly to hold back the tears.

  Denise put her arm around Amie’s shoulders. “It must be tough for you.”

  Amie was angry. She’d given up so much for Jonathon, she’d loved him, agreed to go with him to Africa, even though the idea scared her stupid, and what was she? A cover to make him look part of a normal family? If he wanted to play these dangerous games, he should have stayed single and only put himself at risk. Thank goodness I didn’t know all this when I was in prison in Apatu, she thought. But did they guess? Is that the information they were after? Well she hadn’t known then and she wished she didn’t know now.

 

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