by Saul Dobney
“Is this something Steve's organised?” asked Heather. “A promo for Yanif?”
She showed the picture to Riaz and Tremus but they each shook their heads.
“He didn't say anything,” said Tremus. He stretched and reached for his tea.
Heather opened the newspaper and flicked through the pages in the middle searching for the music section. As she did so Eshe caught a glimpse of the front page.
“Heather what's that photo?” asked Eshe.
On the cover was a tabloid photo of Heather pressing herself close to Yanif outside St Paul’s. Eshe pulled the front sheet off the paper as Heather was reading and turned the page to read the text inside. As she read her mouth opened in shock.
“Is this why we’re here?” Eshe shouted at Heather. “Is it?” She threw the paper towards Heather.
Heather ran her eyes over the story and smiled, glancing at the photos. “So?” she said to Eshe.
“Have you read it?” Eshe picked the newspaper up and began to read. “ 'Heather Cross steps out with her saviour. Heather Cross who releases a new single on Tuesday takes a walk with Yanif the Kenyan Prophet. Rumours are that the two will be engaged next month. Is the man of dreams her dream man?’ Is that your plan. Is that why we’re here? You’re not going to be engaged to Yanif. You’re just to using us to sell records. Was it Steve's idea?”
Heather shrugged. “It’s the way things work.” She raised her hands in a mock apology. “Don’t take it so seriously. Journalists are always adding one and one and making five.”
“So why all these pictures of you at the Cathedral?” asked Eshe. She slapped the pictures inside with the back of her fingers. “You set Yanif up. You’re using him. You’re using all of us. Just to sell some awful music.”
“I am not,” shouted Heather. “You are so naïve. I don’t even know why you are here. You never do anything useful. And don't you ever criticise my music again.”
“But 'in love', 'married' ” shouted Eshe. She ripped the paper away from Heather and hurled it across the room.
“I could be in love with Yanif. He saved my life. What would it matter to you?” retorted Heather.
Eshe cursed and jabbed her finger at Heather. “You are a liar.” She hit her fist against the arm of the sofa and ran out down the hall and into the street, slamming the door behind her.
“Stupid cow,” shouted Heather after her. “This is my house you know. You were only here because I let you stay.”
“I will get her,” said Tremus. “She's homesick. London doesn't agree with her.”
“She's not coming back,” said Heather. “I don't want her here. Riaz, call Steve. Deal with her. She's not staying in my house.”
Heather picked up the guitar and slamming the strings with the plectrum in a cacophony of harsh chords.
Yanif ignored her. He got to his feet and followed Eshe's path out of the house.
Outside the evening was closing in with daylight giving way to the sodium yellow streetlamps and the whites of car headlights. Ahead Yanif could see Eshe, her head down, shoulders slumped, traipsing towards the park and Kensington Gardens. He almost lost her after she turned into the park gates. When he found her she was seated on a bench, crying, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. Yanif sat down and put his hand on her shoulder.
“I hate it here, Yanif. I hate it,” said Eshe. She shivered. A light rain drifted in the air. “This house, the weather. Heather. You can’t say here Yanif. Come back with me. Please.” She snuggled against Yanif’s arm.
Yanif brushed a piece of hair out of her eye and kissed her gently on the forehead.
She held his hand and surveyed the clouds of overcast grey. “It’s not like Kenya is it?” she said. “There you really can see all of heaven.” She wiped the last tears from her cheek.
A plane tracked across the sky, it’s red lights blinking illuminating the clouds as it passed.
Eshe pulled Yanif closer and hugged him, squeezing his fingers in her hand.
“We can run away together,” said Eshe. “Leave London and go back to Kenya. I can take care of you.” She put her head on his shoulder.
Yanif kept watching the plane and in the silence Eshe kissed him gently on the cheek.
He looked at her tenderly and stroked her shoulder.
“It wasn't true you and Heather?” asked Eshe. “She's not in love with you?”
Yanif shook his head. “They are making games.”
Eshe reached her arms around Yanif’s neck. “You do know I love you, don't you?” Eshe gazed into Yanif’s eyes. “I love you Yanif. I really do love you.”
And in that moment, she pulled him close and kissed him, pressing herself against his lips.
Yanif turned away and tried to extricate himself from her grip, but Eshe held him tighter and tried to kiss him again.
Yanif shook his head. He took Eshe's hand from around his shoulder. He held her hand and focused on her. “It is not to be Eshe.”
“Don't say that,” said Eshe. “You mustn't say that. We are meant to be together.”
Yanif shook his head again and placed her hands back in her lap and stood up from the bench. “It cannot be,” said Yanif. “I'm sorry.”
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She looked up at him, imploring. “No Yanif. No.”
He took two steps backwards.
“No,” she shouted. “No. Yanif you can't do this.”
From behind them footsteps raced across the park.
“What's the matter Eshe?” Tremus’s voice was agitated as he reached the bench from behind them. “I heard you shout. What happened?”
“I love him,” said Eshe holding out her hand towards Yanif. “I love him more than all the world.” She grabbed Yanif's hand and pulled him towards her.
Yanif squirmed and tried to loosen her grip.
“Eshe. Stop,” said Tremus. “Leave Yanif alone.”
But Eshe pulled herself towards Yanif, tightening her grasp, trying to place her lips on his cheek. “Hold me Yanif. Hold me. I want to be with you. The world is nothing without you.”
Yanif unclasped her grip and backed away from the bench.
Tremus shook Eshe by the shoulders. “Eshe, you are scaring Yanif. You have to leave him alone.”
Eshe stared at Tremus blankly. “But I love him. I love him Tremus. He is all that I want. And I know he loves me. I do.” She reached out to Yanif’s hand. “I just know you love me Yanif. I feel it when you're next to me.”
Yanif stepped away from the bench keeping his distance. “I love you, but like my big sister. That is all. My love for you is a pure love, a love without desire. A love of friends of family, no more.”
Eshe shook her head. “No. Yanif. No.” Tears returned to her eyes. “That can’t be true. I know how it feels when you touch me, how you make me feel.”
She put her head in her hands and cried, sobbing into her palms.
Tremus sat down beside her, and pressed her head into his chest, holding and consoling her.
“He must love me,” said Eshe. “He must.”
Tremus rubbed the back of Eshe's hands. “Yanif is not the man for you. He never has been. Anyone can see that.”
Eshe wailed then nestled into Tremus’s chest, convulsing as she wept.
Tremus held her and smoothed her hair.
After a few moments Eshe’s breathing became calmer. She took a deep breath and drew herself upright. She smeared away her tears and stood proudly facing Yanif. “Yanif, why do you not see it? Why do you not understand. I have spent my whole life waiting for you. You think you can let it pass or tell me that you don’t love me. My heart feels the pain so strongly.” Eshe stopped and crumpled, and started to cry again. “Oh Yanif. I love you so much. And you can’t see it.” Her head dropped and tears splashed onto her shoes.
Tremus wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Enough Eshe. Enough. You are tired. Come back and get some sleep. I will take care of you. This is just a confusio
n.”
“Leave me Tremus. Leave me. This is between Yanif and me.” Eshe squirmed in Tremus's grip, trying to break free.
“Enough Eshe. Enough.” Tremus picked her up in a bear hug and carried her further down the path.
“I said leave me Tremus. Put me down.”
Tremus let her go.
Eshe turned to scold him. “I said leave me.” She raised her hand and tried to slap Tremus on the cheek, but he caught her arm and held her by the wrist.
“Let me go,” she screamed. “Let me go.”
Tremus held her tight and looked into her face. Then he squeezed her towards him. And kissed her; a hard long kiss pressed against her lips.
When he released her, Eshe stood silent, her eyes wide in shock.
Tremus let Eshe’s arms go and held her head in his two great hands. Eshe froze, lost in incomprehension and fear. Tremus kissed her again.
“You are my queen,” said Tremus brushing her cheeks with his thumbs as he held her. “Do you not know how I looked after you. How I took care of you. Yanif was never the man for you. You need someone special who can protect you.”
“No. Tremus. Let me go. Let me go Tremus.” Eshe pounded Tremus’s chest with her hands.
He tried to kiss her again. “Eshe, I am your man.”
Eshe squirmed in his arms and lashed out with her foot, catching Tremus in the shin with the point of her shoe. He grimaced and let her go.
Eshe backed away watching Tremus like a mouse watches a cat. She unclipped the pearl necklace from around her neck and threw it at Tremus's feet.
“Stop Eshe. I know it's sudden but you'll understand. We just need a little time,” said Tremus, picking up the necklace from the ground.
Yanif started to walk over to Eshe, but she backed away keeping them both in sight.
“No. No. Don’t come near me either of you. I’m going. I can’t stay with you. I’m leaving. Don't follow me Tremus.” Eshe turned and walked away across the park towards the city centre. “I’ll send someone for my things.” She turned and ran, sprinting down the path and into the gloom.
Tremus started after her, but Yanif stopped him, blocking his way. Something dark passed across Tremus’s face and suddenly he pushed at Yanif almost knocking him over.
“You are to blame Yanif,” growled Tremus. “You have stolen Eshe from me.”
Tremus shoved Yanif a second time and, as Yanif fell backwards, Tremus lashed out, smacking Yanif on the side of the arm.
Yanif cowered against a tree, eyes wide open in shock, holding his shoulder in pain.
“You betrayed me Yanif,” said Tremus. He slapped Yanif across the cheek and Yanif stumbled to the floor. “No-one betrays me.”
Tremus stood over Yanif and put his hand on Yanif's neck, almost hissing in anger as he breathed. He raised his hand ready to strike another blow and Yanif turned his face and waited for the punch.
But before the blow came, Tremus stopped and calmed himself. He stood tall, his nostrils flared as he squeezed out his anger and steadied his breathing. He hoisted Yanif upright under his arm and yanked him back towards the flat.
“I will deal with this. And Eshe. But first there is work to be done and you will start by doing as you are told.”
60. Financial dispute
“—and if it keeps going like this,” said Steve continuing his conversation with Riaz, “we’ll be sold out by Friday. And Patsy just sent me numbers of book sales. See for yourself.” He grinned and spun his laptop around on the desk so Riaz and Tremus could review the numbers on the screen.
“Perhaps we should move to England,” said Riaz, laughing. He looked along the long desk in the financial advisor's office. “The people here seem to love you Yanif.”
Yanif turned away and stared out of the large picture window to the office block on the other side of the street.
A young man in a pin-striped suit re-entered the office. “Oh I wouldn't change your domicile if I were you. Tax gets much more complicated if you're a UK resident.” He handed copies of the completed forms to his grey-suited colleague seated on the other side of the table. “These are the agreements for the partnership and the contracts to be signed today. As we agreed, for tax efficiency Yanif's image rights will be held in an offshore company with nominal business accounts in Kenya and London and private investment accounts in Switzerland for security. We'll also process your Chama as a registered charity in the UK and US which will make it easier to channel monies into Kenya.”
“And your sure this is the best way to do it?” asked Riaz.
“Absolutely,” said the man in the grey suit as he stapled the documents together. “It means with Falcon Court's management expertise we can minimise your taxes and help the Chama maximise its wealth.”
“So…?” said Steve, nudging Riaz. “What do you think?”
“It's just perfect,” said Riaz beaming. “Isn't it Tremus?”
Tremus re-checked the numbers on the screen. “We will be able to turn The Retreat into a palace with these sales.”
Yanif was still. The echoes of Tremus and Riaz's voices reverberated through room, bouncing of the windows and the pictures on the wall. In front of him the advisors were collating the documents into neat piles, straightening the edges so the papers lay in perfect squared blocks.
“This is wrong,” said Yanif quietly.
The others did not notice.
“This is wrong,” said Yanif. He banged his hand against the table.
Riaz and Tremus looked up startled by the noise.
“I don't even know why am I here,” said Yanif. “Money. Wealth. This is all wrong Riaz.”
“Yanif,” said Riaz. “You've got to be here. You have to sign the contracts so we can set up the businesses in your name.”
“But we only came to England for Tabitha. And all you talk about is money and more money. This is not right Riaz. I just want to help people.”
Tremus glared at Yanif. “You are helping people. But we have responsibilities. People we can’t let down. Now be quiet and let us work.”
Yanif walked to the window. On the street below, a man in ragged clothes sat on the side of the pavement, a cap laid out before him, entreating passers-by for help. A smartly dressed woman, about the same age and size as Eshe, stopped and put some coins in the cap. She turned to look up to the office window, as if she felt Yanif looking at her.
Yanif turned back to the others in the office: Tremus and Riaz reading through the documents; Steve drumming his fingers on the table; the two advisors arranging the paperwork.
“You can’t do this,” said Yanif. He stared at the picture on the wall opposite. A screen print of Elvis Presleys pointing guns at him stared back.
Tremus lifted his head from the computer screen. “What did you say?”
“You can’t do this,” repeated Yanif. “These numbers, this money. Tremus this is wrong. It has to stop. It’s not what God wants. It’s not what I want.”
“It’s what we worked for. It’s what we do,” growled Tremus. “We have commitments. This is how things get done.”
“No, Tremus. No.” Yanif stood up and swung his arm across the table, sweeping the documents to the floor. “If there is no Chama then we will have no commitments. So I say the Chama must stop.”
“Yanif,” roared Tremus. “Sit down. The Chama cannot stop. It is too important now.” Tremus reached out to pull Yanif away from the table.
Yanif moved out of Tremus’s reach and spun round. “Money. Importance. Are these the only things you two care about. God and love are what are important,” shouted Yanif.
He picked up a stapler from the table and threw it towards the window. It broke into pieces against the reinforced glass. From around the office, alarms sounded in a cacophony of bells and screaming sirens. The advisors dropped to the floor gathering the fallen documents.
“I will not be who you want me to be any more.” Yanif pushed at the chairs, upending them, and pounded out the door, down the stai
rs, out into the street.
The alarm noise was louder outside. Yanif put his hands over his ears. An empty bottle lay by a waste bin littering the street. Yanif picked it up and threw it towards the flashing alarm box above the door. The noise continued.
Inside the litter bin, Yanif found another bottle and he launched that at the alarm, then another and another. A small crowd gathered, staring and taking pictures on their mobile phones.
He reached into the bin again, but while his back was turned Tremus jumped on him and tackled him to the ground.
“You cannot do this,” said Tremus in a hoarse whisper. He pinned Yanif to the floor. His breath harsh, lips upturned. “You cannot take this away from me. Your games must stop.”
Yanif struggled to free himself, but Tremus was too big and too heavy.
Yanif stopped struggling and fixed on Tremus, his gaze unwavering. “I will not be a part of the Chama any more. The Chama will end Tremus.”
“You will do as you are told Yanif,” snarled Tremus. “First Eshe, now the Chama. You try to take everything from me.” He pressed his fist to Yanif's nose. “I will not be told by you or by anyone.”
Tremus yanked Yanif to his feet and they stood eyeing each other, as Steve, Riaz and the advisors emerged from the building.
“Let's get this finished,” said Tremus. He frogmarched Yanif back into the office.
Inside the silence prickled in the air as the documents were signed, but as they finished Steve's phone rang.
Steve answered. He listened for a moment then swore and slammed his hands down on the table and kicked the waste-paper bucket. He walked around the office, banging his hand against the office wall, listening to the voice on the other end.
Looks of concern passed between Tremus and Riaz as they listened to Steve's monosyllable responses.
“Yes. … No. … And? … Go on.”
“What is it Steve?” asked Riaz.
“The police found a device at Heather's house…”
“A device?”
“A bomb or something. The police say they had some threat from a group called the Hands of God because of what Yanif did on TV.” Steve put his phone in his pocket and paced around the office. “Heather's been moved out. She is absolutely terrified and totally furious at the same time. They said Yanif and you should lie low. Keep out of the spotlight.” He tightened his fists and swore. “Damn. I’m going to have to find somewhere for Heather to go. And you lot. We're completely screwed.”
