Girl with the Golden Voice

by Carl Hancock

  By nine am next morning the second X-ray on Tom’s left arm had been taken and checked. No break but heavy bruising. After a ten-minute lecture on the rules he must follow if he wanted to make a smooth recovery and promising to deliver a letter from Angelo Conti to his mother, Tom was free to go. Maria, the doctor’s wife, was happy to drive him to Wilson to meet his father. She had one call to make first, at a pharmacy on Jomo Kenyatta Avenue.

  So, there he was, sitting at the side of a beautiful woman, with his body on the mend and on his way home. Someone, something must be looking after him. He was being driven down Nairobi Hill in thick traffic with hundreds of his countrymen crowding the red earth sidewalks. He was ‘in the midst of life’, but closing his eyes, he transported himself back to the pitch-black of the hut in the forest and to the door of that other hut in the Shimba Hills where two more of his countrymen were sprawled and close to death. Why wasn’t the someone, something looking after them? He sighed, loud enough for Maria to hear.

  ‘All right, Tom?’

  ‘I’m so grateful and so lucky. It’s … unfair, plain and simple’

  ‘Ask your mother about that, Tom. She’ll put you right.’

  He lifted his hand, smiled and drifted back into his reverie.

  After the call at the pharmacy, it was on to Uhuru Highway. For the next four kilometres the traffic was very slow moving on this overloaded road which served as the main route to the south coast, the airports and the largest industrial estate in Kenya. On the other side of the dual carriageway things were moving more quickly towards the casino roundabout and Westlands, but for a few moments both sides were on stop. This gave the young men, walking up and down the static lines and offering their wares of roasted peanuts or religious pictures and scores of other items a chance to make a sale to their travelling customers. The driver of a blue Volvo Estate directly opposite and going the other way was leaning out of his window, giving Tom sight of his front seat passenger.

  A spasm of shock briefly seized his whole body. Maria did not notice this, but she certainly sat up when her passenger clicked off his safety belt and reached for the doorhandle.

  ‘Maria! It’s her … That car! Thanks for the lift … I’ve got to go. Oh, damn!’

  The Volvo was moving towards the next roundabout where the lights were green. Maria screamed a warning (she was already worrying about what Angelo’s reaction would be), but Tom was shouting, and struggling in pursuit of the car that was moving away from him. Hawkers, safe on the central reservation, cheered him on and were doubled up with laughter. Some drivers honked angrily, others stared, incredulous, as he drew alongside them. Green turned red up ahead and Tom cheered wildly when he saw that the blue car had not quite made the cut. He drew level and banged the window on Rebecca’s side. She turned sharply, recognised him and fainted. Alfred Wajiru unlocked the back door to let Tom in. He was calm, as if such things were an everyday occurrence. ‘It’s all right. I know who you are. I read the papers. I’d like to shake your hand, and then we can attend to this young lady.’

  The lights changed and Alfred set off and took the first chance he had to pull into a lay-by. Rebecca lay with her head resting against the neck restraint. Alfred had more to say.

  ‘Don’t worry. She was exhausted before she saw you. I think she’s just sleeping now. And remember, she’s just seen a ghost. You scared me, too, when you … dropped out of the sky like that.’

  ‘She didn’t know?’

  ‘No. Mary phoned and told us to take her home. Let her parents tell her. You don’t want her to go into shock with just strangers around. But …’

  A car pulled up behind them, a BMW.

  Half an hour later and both cars were side by side in the car park at Nairobi Hospital. Angelo Conti now had two patients to check over. ‘If you were a cat, Mr Thomas McCall, I would be reminding you that using up two lives in one week is no good idea. Oh, yeah, yeah, I, too, know all about love and beautiful women. This time, I personally will deliver you to Wilson. What time is your father coming?’

  ‘Noon, I think, but I’m … maybe it was one o’clock.’

  ‘As your doctor I have to tell you that, in addition to your other ailments, you are suffering from first degree lovesickness. Come on, let’s be out of here.’

  ‘Do you think it’s catching?’

  ‘Lovesickness? Of course. I have a very bad case. Caught it from you. Got it for life.’

  ‘Me, too, a very good case, the best, the worst, whatever.’

  Rebecca and Tom were sipping sodas under the umbrella of a small cafe inside the airport complex. They had been there alone for half an hour. Already some big decisions had been made. The wedding had been set for sometime in May. There would be no seeking permission. The shock and pain of the last few days had blown away all fear and uncertainty. They were down to fundamentals, ‘the power that drives the universe’ as pastor, Stephen Kamau, described love to his little flock. Their view was more earthy, but no less sacred.

  The time was free, a whole hour of it until Alex McCall brought in his plane to pick up his passenger for the journey home. Tom and Rebecca held hands but said little. It was conversation through eyes and vibrations. Being together like this was as near to bliss as they could cope with.

  Alex was very pleased with the surprise that he had two passengers to ferry home. It was no surprise, however, to discover within five minutes of take-off that there would be a wedding at Londiani in the next few months. Soon after Rebecca spoke to him about her main anxiety.

  ‘Bwana, how is it with my father?’

  ‘Rebecca, great news about you and Tom, so let’s forget about “bwanas” from now on. Alex or anything that you are happy with except the b-word!’

  ‘Thank you, Bwana …’ She put her hand to her mouth and giggled.

  ‘Your father? Rebecca, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t upset when you went off without coming home first. More bewildered than upset, but I tell you I’d love to see his face when he sees you just now.’

  ‘So he’s all right?’

  Alex turned back to look her in the eye, smiled and nodded his head in a very relaxed way.

  They were leaving the outlying villages of Nairobi behind and Alex picked up the marker he always used for journeys between Londiani and the city, the track of the Lunatic Railway which passed through spectacular scenery five thousand feet below. Rebecca was fixed on those sights and when she spotted a landmark, she squeezed Tom’s hand and urged him to look down. ‘Ooh, we’re right over the crater. What if Old Longonot decided to come back to life right now?’ and, gazing up to her right, ‘Thomas, you must tell me. Is that Mount Kenya? It looks small from here.’

  ‘Yes it is. I’ll take you up there soon but look up ahead.’

  At last, the lake and, somewhere to the right, home. She pulled back and let the tears well up. When she looked out again they were skimming the dark waters as Alex began to line up the dusty line of the airstrip on Crescent Island.

  Angela, alone and happy in the laundry garden, was singing when she turned to see her eldest girl come ‘round the edge of the cei-apple hedge with her arm through Bwana Tom’s. She gaped, she shed a tear, her face burst into a dazzling smile, all in the space of five seconds. In marginally less time her mind had taken in many implications from the scene in front of her even though her thoughts had not formed themselves fully. The tears flowed more freely when mother and daughter held each other in a long embrace. At last, Angela leaned back and looked up into Rebecca’s eyes.

  ‘But, child, how has this thing happened?’

  ‘Mama, it’s a long story, a fairytale, just like those that Papa tells the children of the village. Later we will have a drink of chai and gossip like mad.’

  ‘Papa, we must tell Papa. Memsahib …’

  Maura wheeled forward the heavy old bike that everyone in the household used, mostly to ride up and down to the fields.

  ‘Luka and Eric polished it up ‘specially. And take your t
ime.’

  ‘I can finish the washing, Mama.’

  ‘No, Rebecca, I … please … so sorry, I must tell Stephen. I must hurry.’

  It was many months since Angela had been on that old machine. Her balance and steering were as erratic as ever and her yelps and screams could be heard until she passed out of earshot.

  The workers of Londiani were enjoying the excitement that was coming into their lives on a daily basis. News travelled quickly from mouth to mouth down to the canopies, but today when they saw the wobbling cyclist, they expected something special. Angela’s visits were a rarity and were frowned upon by Stephen who liked to keep a firm line between his work and family life. When they saw their foreman hurry out of his office without his white coat, a rush of knowing nods began. In seconds one quick thinker had worked it all out. ‘She’s back! Did you see the look on his face? Yes, she’s back. Now he’s going to put her across his knee and beat her.’ She laughed as she went back to her weeding.

  Father and daughter did not meet at home. She waited for him on the seat under the trees close to the yacht club. She had walked down with Rafaella and the dogs. Rafaella had bolstered her confidence. ‘I’m so pleased with the news. Tom is a very lucky young man and soon I shall be a very happy grandmother-in-law.’

  He was coming. ‘She’s changed, Stephen.’ Angela’s words stuck fast in his mind as his eyes searched her out. Changed she might be, but she still had a duty to explain all those days away without a word. He paused in the hot afternoon sun and squinted to look under one pool of shade after another. He gave a start. There she was, squatting under an acacia just exactly in the way she used to before she ever went to school, waiting for him to come up the path from the fields. When he began to walk directly towards her she stood up and set off to meet him. Neither hurried to close the gap.

  There was apprehension on both sides, each uncertain of how they would be received. Emotions were held in check. When contact was made, they embraced with a warmth that was studied rather than uninhibited.

  ‘I am happy to see you, Rebecca.’

  ‘And I am very happy to be home again. I have missed you.’

  ‘How was America?’

  ‘It was very different from Naivasha.’

  ‘Those are good clothes you are wearing. Expensive?’

  ‘More expensive than the ones you can buy in the matumba in town.’

  He hesitated before continuing. ‘Why, Rebecca? Why?’

  All the longing and pain pent up in those missing weeks showed in Stephen’s bewildered, hurt expression.

  ‘Papa, it was wrong but … I’m glad it happened this way, except for the trouble I made for you and Mama.’

  Stephen frowned. His eldest was changed. She was more confident, more self-assured. With a pang of deep sadness he understood that things between Rebecca and him would not be as they had been. The thought silenced him. Sensing his discomfort, she grasped his arm and turned them to walk in the direction of the rondavels.

  ‘The lawns in California are very green, Papa, and they use such a lot of water. They sprinkle it for hours and hours, but it doesn’t have our special magic. When I was away I used to think about the stories you told us. Remember, the before times of long ago.’

  ‘Was it Mary Wajiru who persuaded you to go over there?’

  ‘You sound like you think she was doing something wrong. No, Papa, I wanted to … I was frightened, I was lost. When I was down at the coast, I went up onto the stage to sing. I began to feel strong again, that God had given me a gift that I must use.’

  ‘So, you did not forget God …’ He regretted the words at once.

  ‘Papa, how could you? It was you that taught me that God is everywhere … I never stopped talking to Him. I never will.’

  Stephen had become more uncomfortable. The words were not coming from his heart. At least that truth had dawned on him. He came to a halt. He clasped her hand and closed his eyes.

  ‘Rebecca, give me a little time. Some new thing is happening here. I’m not ready for it, yet. You’ve changed.’

  ‘I haven’t changed. Not a single part of me. It’s just that I’m beginning to discover who I really am. And I like me! I have to like me before I can like anyone else. “Love thy neighbour as thyself.” Jesus surely meant what He said. You’d be the first to say amen to that.’

  ‘All these ideas, where do they come from?’

  ‘From you, of course.’

  ‘You haven’t become one of those liberated women I’ve read about!’

  ‘Papa! Papa, we’re coming close to the village. Can I say one more thing?’

  ‘You mean I’ve got a really big shock coming?’

  ‘You think I’m going to have a child?’

  ‘Does your mother know about this?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About this baby.’

  ‘How could you, Papa? There is no baby!. But …’

  ‘But!’ His bewilderment was rapidly mutating into horror.

  She took a deep breath and grasped his large, muscular hand. ‘Someone’s going to come to talk to you, about me. About me getting married.’

  He stopped and turned to look into her face. ‘Young Wajiru, I suppose. Oh, please, no, not Julius Rubai!’

  She had never seen her father so jittery. ‘No, Papa, it’s Thomas.’

  Stunned silence from her father and a few robotic steps. He had been hit with too many shocks in too short a time. His mind could barely cope. Down on the job he prided himself on being ready to listen to new ideas and try out those which might help his people in their work and benefited the farm. At work things changed slowly, but here was his own daughter, calm as you please, presenting him with a one woman revolution.

  ‘Thomas is a white man. He is a bwana.’

  ‘And I love him and he loves me!’

  Stephen let out a long, slow breath. ‘I never could trust those nuns in Santa Maria, and their fancy ideas.’

  ‘Papa, you are a wonderful man, but right now you are in shock.’

  ‘And my daughter is my teacher now.’

  ‘No, but your little girl is growing up. For the first time in a long while I feel free. I want you and Mama to be happy with me.’

  ‘Your mother knows nothing about all this.’

  ‘No, I’m telling you first, like always.’

  He stood still and closed his eyes. His lips were moving. She was used to seeing her father praying like this, but she could not know what gospel story had come into his mind, seemingly out of the blue. Peter had seen his Master walking on the waters of the Sea of Galilee and being invited to do the same launched himself from his fishing boat. Stephen looked at his daughter and smiled calmly, even serenely. ‘Trust, trust when the deepest darkness surrounds you. For sure there is a whole lot of dark confusion around me just now.’ He put his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder and went on. ‘Right, let’s go and find Mama and the girls. We’ve got news for them. Perhaps I’d better do the talking.’

  Rebecca was beaming with joy. ‘Of course, Papa, like always!’

  * * *

  At the end of a very happy lunch at the Big House, Tom fished under the table and brought up a black plastic bag. ‘I want to show you something. Don’t be alarmed. I’ll explain everything.’

  Very carefully he reached into the bag, took out the skull and set it down on the table in front of him. There was a stunned silence except for the involuntary ‘Bloody hell!’ from Rollo which did not bring any reprimand from his grandmother.

  ‘May I introduce my companion in the hut in Kakmega Forest. He, or maybe she, helped save my life. And I made a promise that I would see to it that these mortal remains would be … laid to earth as soon as I possibly could. I want to do it this afternoon. I’ve picked a spot under an acacia in a corner of the garden. Later, I’ll place a plaque, but for now with my left arm not at its best, I’m asking for some help with the digging.’

  Alex stood up at once. ‘Bertie, Rollo, let’s
get the shovels. Ladies, we’ll send for you when we’re ready.’

  Five men plus little Ewan trooped out silently, leaving Rafaella and Maura smiling through tears.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ddie and Rollo had no inkling that an engagement was in the offing. Until the flight when he brought Rebecca and Tom home, Alex had been vaguely aware that there seemed to be something going on between them. Maura had seen the possibility for years but hoped that the passing of time would bring about a ‘solution’. Blinded by love these young people did not think about the social consequences that would engulf them sooner or later.

  Rafaella had been hoping for years and expecting it for three months, even after Rebecca’s mysterious disappearance. She was out for her late afternoon walk with the dogs, just crossing the path which led from the flower fields to the village, when she met Stephen Kamau on his way home from work. They chatted pleasantly as they usually did when their paths crossed. Rafaella sensed an unease in the normally strong, placid Stephen.

  ‘You must be thrilled to have Rebecca back home.’

  ‘We all are, we all are.’

  Why would he not look directly at her when he spoke? Why did his enthusiasm sound forced?

  ‘Is everything well at home?’

  ‘Memsahib …’ He held back for a few seconds before plunging in. ‘When Bwana Don was with us, many a time he and I talked and if I had a problem, I would speak of it and afterwards I always felt better. He was a wise man.’

  Dear, honest, open Stephen could not suspect that these simple words reopened the wound that would not heal, that for a few seconds her Don was with her again only to be snatched away just as quickly. She was too vulnerable, but the unexpected return of the anguish reinforced the tenderness of her heart. She smiled as she replied.

  ‘Thank you, Stephen. You know how much he loved and respected you … But there is a problem, isn’t there? You know, I walk this way every evening with the dogs and this is the first time we’ve met at this little crossroads. Do you think that’s a coincidence?’

  Stephen smiled knowingly. ‘No, I see the Lord’s hand at work here. I was praying a lot down in the fields this afternoon. And then you come along!’ He frowned and looked pleadingly into Rafaella’s eyes. ‘Rebecca and Bwana Tom, do you think it is a good thing?’