Girl with the Golden Voice

by Carl Hancock

  ‘Better yet, I am boldly asking if you would honour us with a song, a few notes …

  Rebecca smiled. ‘You mean you are willing to pay me in cups of coffee? Agreed!’

  No microphone, no accompaniment, she stood against a post and sang ‘Mombasa Moon’. By the time she had finished the audience had grown and was as captivated by her as any at the Flamingo.

  Rose and Naomi were subdued on the walk home. They had witnessed what power their cousin possessed. Naomi struggled to put her feelings into words.

  ‘Rebecca, I’m so proud. I never realised how beautiful you are until … when you were singing, I felt my cheeks wet. God bless you, my darling. There’s such a sadness in your heart. Do I seem foolish?’

  They walked on, Rebecca in the middle, with their arms clasped firmly around each other’s waists.

  There was news for her when she returned to the house. Paul, one of the barmen at the American Bar, had been over. There was a phone call for Miss Rebecca. Someone called Mary wanted to speak to her. She would ring back at eight, which was now in ten minutes.

  On the way to the bar she tried to figure out how Mary knew where she was. She forgot all about this when she heard her voice. There were a dozen or so men in the bar, but there was total silence while she took the call. Rebecca was excited to hear about the concerts at the Bomas. She was eager to be a part of them and was not put off by the shadow of the near certainty that sometime during those days in the city she would meet Julius. It had to happen sooner or later and she was as ready as she ever would be.

  Two mornings later she stepped down at Nairobi Station to be met by Mary. The car took them through the busy heart of town along Moi Avenue to the inner suburb of Muthaiga where Toni and family had their Kenya base. On the way the car was held up at traffic lights. Rebecca was watching the car in front as the sale of a brightly coloured gospel scene was being negotiated. The hawker was animated and clearly not happy with the price being offered. The picture was passed in and out and when the lights changed the sinewy young man had to reach in to snatch his property back. In the scuffle the picture broke in half sending the salesman firstly into a rage. He leapt up and down and got in as many kicks as he could at the speeding vehicle. Then he collapsed onto the central verge, grasping his foot and crying. As Rebecca went past she reached out to him with a thousand shilling note. Forgetting his pain, he leapt to his feet and took the money and ran with them as far as the lights.

  ‘God bless you, Mama! God bless you! But you are forgetting your picture!’

  ‘Get it fixed and sell it again!’

  Mary smiled and reached to clasp Rebecca’s hand. When calm returned, Mary had some news. ‘By the way, the day after the concerts, we’re off to South America. Three weeks. I think we start in Brazil.’

  ‘Lucky girl! I can just picture you dancing sambas and tangos.’

  Mary could wait no longer. ‘Lucky girl. I wonder what that means. Look, I know about what happened with you and Tom. Well, I know and I don’t know. When we got back I phoned Londiani, hoping to speak to you. They put me on to your mama. That’s how I found out where you were. Then she said that you were not going to marry Mr Tom … that I would have to talk to you about it all.’

  ‘Mary, I’m so sorry. I decided to give my ring back to Tom. It was after one of the concerts in the Flamingo. There was no choice. Can we talk when we get home?’

  ‘Whatever you want, darling. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.’

  * * *

  ‘Why aren’t I feeling a sort of horrible emptiness, Mary?’ She sat back in a pensive silence. ‘Perhaps it’s because I know that I’ve still got to go through the worst of it.’

  They were on upright padded loungers under an umbrella on the lawn of the house in Muthaiga. They had gone through half a dozen coffees while Rebecca told her story for the third time.

  ”Becs, I still can’t believe this is actually happening. My god, you cannot possibly marry that vile … creature! No way. You always did have a vivid imagination.’

  ‘Thank God I did this time.’

  ‘You really do believe it about the Rubais, don’t you?’

  ‘They are ruthless. Too used to having their own way.’

  ‘There is another way.’

  ‘Too late!’

  ‘It wouldn’t have suited you anyway. Getting your revenge in first.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Twenty thousand shillings and point him in the right direction.’

  ‘Point who?’

  ‘So, poor Julius has an accident on a lonely country road. This is a violent country, ‘Becca!’

  Rebecca thought for a moment. ‘Then his father’d kill the two of us, for sure!’

  ‘You’d be better off marrying that man back on the road who sold you the picture.’

  ‘Why harm an innocent man who’s got enough problems already? And, don’t forget I didn’t buy that picture.’

  ‘He’ll be at the concert, you know that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  * * *

  Julius and his parents sat in the front row, the McCalls and the Kamaus next to each other, much further back.

  When the band party entered the Bomas for their afternoon rehearsal, the huge dome was cold, dark and empty. Their chatter and a few notes puffed out the brass instruments began to breathe in some life. The electricians arrived and were soon busy with their rigs turning the stage into a temporary building site, noisy with hammering and sawing. Next the band warmed up, a signal to the Bomas staff polishing and brushing the auditorium to take a break, to sit and listen to the concert for free.

  Toni and his people were dressed casually, but there was no sloppily played music. Even a single misplayed note was picked up and its surrounding bars repeated. Mary and Rebecca sang a minimum of each of their numbers, saving their voices for later.

  The rehearsal finished, there were three hours to the moment when they would face their audience. Toni insisted on a light meal for everyone and afterwards the time was free.

  Two hours to go and the house lights went up. Mary led Rebecca to the back of the hall.

  ‘But how do you know all this?’

  ‘It’s Papa. He gets it from people in Serena. Anyway, look.’

  Four seats had little cards with ‘Reserved for the Kamau family’ printed neatly on them and seven with ‘Reserved for the McCall family’.

  ‘I had to tell you but …’

  ‘I tried not to think about it but … and I suppose that somewhere there are cards for my future husband and his family?’

  ‘I’m sorry, ‘Becca.’ Mary saw that Rebecca was close to breaking down. They wrapped their arms around each other and let the tears flow.

  They left the building and found a seat close by where there was shade and a family of colobus skittering about.

  Rebecca felt drained, emotionally exhausted, but the storm was over.

  ‘Mary, I’ve been thinking such a lot lately about Santa Maria, escaping into a world where I felt safe … and hopeful. Remember Sister Sophia and her lessons about the scriptures? One thing she said I’ll never forget. “Ladies, despair is the most terrible sin of them all.” My heart froze for a moment. Despair is where I am right now. Thinking about Tom and Julius in the same room. It’s unbearable.’

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t sing tonight.’

  ‘No, no. There is another word that is stuck in this thing that passes for my brain. Catharsis.’

  ‘Ca-what? I couldn’t have been in class that day!’

  ‘Sister Agatha. She was Greek. She was so beautiful. We used to wonder if there had been some handsome man. You know, the kind of stuff we talked about at night in the dormitory.’

  ‘But this ca-word.’

  ‘That play, Antigone, the terrible story about this princess who couldn’t stick it any more so she hanged herself.’

  ‘No, I still don’t remember. I don’t think it’s a good idea …’

  ‘Catharsis. It’s li
ke washing away pain and tears, but you have to go through it before this … cleansing can happen.’

  ‘So that’s why you are going to sing tonight.’

  ‘We ought to be going back. Do you think there’s a place here where I could take a hot shower?’

  ‘Yes, and I know exactly where it is. Now that is one kind of cart-thing that I do understand.’

  The auditorium was filling up quickly. There was a mix of old and young, most in their smartest clothes, happy that they, too, were on show until the lights went down. The buzz of conversation, the sense of anticipation that they were about to witness something very special mingled until it was creating a euphoria, an atmosphere where the air seemed charged with excitement and goodwill. One of the young backstage crew strode across the stage to make some adjustment to a floor tile and was given a round of applause.

  The lights in the auditorium went down and the stage was lit up. The band was there and even Toni was a little wobbly with the thrill of it all. Two numbers in, Mary in black and Rebecca in white strode on from opposite sides of the stage. Toni had given them ‘Nairobi Nights’ for their first song, a very big local hit, thinking that, if the audience was flat, it might give them a lift. Before they sang a note the crowd was on its feet cheering. For all those on the stage this was a new experience, a not wholly comfortable one. They could sense enthusiasm moving towards hysteria.

  It was the girls who kept the control. They were strong and focused. With their rhythmic movement and their perfect harmony creating the feel of a lullaby the wildness melted away. For her first solo Rebecca had changed into a knee-length red dress and as the band played her introduction she looked out into the audience and, pointing towards the back rows, called out, ‘Remember this, Mama?!’

  Not everyone in the audience was cheering and leaping to their feet. The ones who knew Rebecca best were the most surprised by what they saw. Angela was lost in wonder. These people think she is very special. She moves her little finger and they all notice. I am frightened for her. She was sitting next to Tom. It had been an effort for him to be in the Bomas. On the journey down he had scarcely spoken a word. Being in that vast airy dome was to be part of a dream, waiting in his personal bubble. When she appeared he was close to fainting, overwhelmed by the revelation, over in seconds, that pure love is the strongest force in the universe.

  Julius was not fond of music of any kind. At this concert he enjoyed the distraction of watching his future wife driving his fellow citizens crazy with delight. While they saw a singer giving her all on the stage in front of them, he was fantasising on the first time he would be alone with her in their bedroom. His whoops of pleasure and delight were misunderstood by the music lovers around him. But he reminded himself that there was work to be done. This time he would be careful, disciplined. Restraint now would pay off in the weeks to come.

  The concert overran, but at last the huge dome emptied and the engines of a thousand vehicles were revved and moved off under a starry sky. Many of the passengers, emotionally and happily relaxed, would have been ready to return for the second concert, given the chance. But the seats were sold. Details like this did not affect the privileged hierarchy of Nairobi, even if it was not the music that drew them. So, there was no need for Julius Rubai to rush the next stage of his campaign to acquire the undoubted star of the show for himself. The family name opened many doors.

  Not all the concert-goers had gone home straight away. Eleven residents of up-country Naivasha had been allowed to pass through the strong security guard to go backstage to spend time with the band before the musicians themselves took off for an obligatory but not welcome reception at State House.

  The reunion of the Kamau family created yet another emotional charge. Tears and smiles mingled comfortably as photographs were taken. Stephen embraced his four girls in a tight knot and, while they were close, whispered a prayer for their safekeeping wherever God would lead them. The McCalls for the most part stood close by in their own tearful group. When the time came they greeted and embraced their former wash girl.

  Julius was close by, too, but unseen behind a large piece of scenery. He knew about the break-up of the engagement and he had checked it out in half a dozen ways, but now he could watch and make his own judgement. Rebecca embraced the family of her former employers. He was not the only one concentrating intently on her contact with the son and heir. The embrace was brief but not cold. Those few seconds when the eyes of the pair were locked told him what he wanted to know. The ring was no longer on her finger, but the bond was not completely broken. But Julius had a gift for rationalising events until he saw in them what he wanted.

  So, there was some emotional contact there, but what else could he expect? The break was made, the spell was broken. Perhaps there had been a quarrel. Perhaps she had seen the sense of his advice, understood, at last, where her best interests lay. He would discover the truth later.

  Rebecca was a reluctant guest at the State House reception. She was well aware that the invitation was more like a presidential command. She would do her duty but take the first chance she could to leave and return to the Wajiru house in Muthaiga. And there was Julius escorting his president around the ballroom of his own Nairobi palace. They made a fine pair, revelling in the occasion, being gracious to the guests who were still caught up with the marvellous concert, and that stunning young lady who looked more lovely in the flesh than she did on the screens of their plasma televisions.

  There was a presentation and the ex-headmaster who had spent a lot of his life handing out prizes enjoyed pinning the diamond brooches on the chests of ‘two of Kenya’s brightest jewels’. Rebecca shuddered when the mzee touched her breast as he fixed the clasp on the silk blue blouse. Julius noticed the slight movement and was annoyed with the old man and his fumbling fingers. This was the moment when Julius planned to put his hand under Rebecca’s elbow and lead her off to a private corner, but she was ready with a counter move. She beamed a smile and asked the president if he would honour the band by agreeing to have his photograph taken with them as a memento of the occasion.

  Abel Rubai, never far from the centre of action, raised his eyebrows and smiled to see the smart move. This was no shy one. Julius would find her a spirited partner and, of course, a wealthy woman in her own right, a great asset to the Rubai clan.

  To his surprise he had enjoyed the concert. For a time he had relaxed and escaped from the debate with himself about the best way to move the Abel Rubai case forward. Should he begin the process of moving into the presidency? He always enjoyed working from the shadows, but in his most private moments he was drawn by the idea of settling himself down into the saddle of leadership of the nation. He was close to making a final decision.

  For the first time in a long while Abel was pleased with the perceived change of behaviour of his son and heir. When Sally had announced at dinner recently that Rebecca Kamau had broken off her engagement to the McCall son, he had paid little attention. It was only when Julius had returned from yet another of his visits to the United States that he began to take an interest. Julius became very animated when he discovered that this girl was free again. This time he was determined to make her his own.

  ‘Dad, think about it. She actually came to the house to tell us. Mama says she arrived soaked to the skin. Why did she do this?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure on that one, son, but there is something else which attracts me to this … plan. Can we call it that?’

  Julius nodded enthusiastically. ‘Call it what you like, but this woman is going to be mine!’ He was thrilled that his father, his sternest critic, was interested in one of his projects. ‘This time there are going to be no slip-ups!’

  ‘Bring her into the family and she’ll be a great asset.’

  ‘You mean to have a famous singer?’

  ‘A famous singer who will bring in thousands of election votes.’

  ‘Dad, she’s a beautiful woman, not a prize heifer!’

  �
��No matter, son. Now, how can we work on this together?’

  * * *

  Ten minutes after the photograph of the band and the president had been taken, Mary was not at Rebecca’s side for the first time since they had entered State House and had left her sitting alone in a hallway. Julius, smiling and summoning all the warmth of feeling he could raise, caught her off guard.

  ‘Dear Rebecca, fantastic! The best yet, says Toni, I’m told. I was hoping I’d catch up with you sometime tonight. Be a dear and open that door. I don’t want to spill any of this precious liquid. The best. I know where they keep it.’

  She obeyed meekly, annoyed with herself for being so careless, and found that they had come into a small, windowless room. Julius placed the wine glasses on the small table between two armchairs. He sat down, picked up a glass, crossed his legs and leaned back.

  ‘A toast, to tomorrow night’s concert.’ He raised his glass. She sat down but stayed on the edge of her chair, raised her glass and took the tiniest sip. She was regaining her composure. She could cheerfully have thrown wine and glass into that smug, confident face, but she was protected by the discipline. She had visualised this moment when she would come face to face with Julius a thousand times and remembered that, above all, she must not kindle his anger. Inside her head she was holding a picture of Tom. In his farm clothes he was astride Bertie’s motorbike and smiling into the evening sunlight. She looked down into the pale green liquid in her glass and managed a weak smile. Julius misunderstood and saw the smile as a friendly gesture.

  ‘So, you’ve seen sense about McCall and ditched him. Mama told me. Yes, a really sensible idea, and not only for you, my dear. That clown is too stupid to see the danger he has put himself in. Oh yes, he has many enemies. Now the little colonial boy is joining a political party and standing for parliament. You are a lucky girl. Marry him and you could have been a widow in months. Unfortunately, many of our countrymen see violence as the best solution to any big problem that comes up.’

  He was hoping that his words would help to extinguish the last embers of affection she had for this arrogant whitey. He understood how powerful a tool fear could be in the hands of the right people and his father had told him often enough that the Rubais were the right people. Her involuntary shiver told its own story to him.