‘What do you think, Nathan? Are they trustworthy around here?’
‘The jury’s still out on that one,’ their host replied, looking uncertain. ‘How much evidence do you actually have against Kabwe Mazoka?’ Suzanne had told them her suspicions during supper the previous evening.
‘None at all,’ said Suzanne, ‘although the kidnappers acted strangely when I mentioned his name.
‘Well, I think that has to be our starting point,’ said Charlie. ‘We need to go and confront him and see what he has to say…’ Her voice trailed off as she noticed WB was shaking his head.
‘Not we; not this time, I’m afraid, Charlie.’ She opened her mouth in protest, but he held up his hand for quiet and his authoritative manner worked. She closed her mouth again, although she still looked fiercely at him.
‘This is a very delicate situation; and having two women, white women at that, steaming in and making accusations, is not going to help matters. I’ll go and see him myself. I knew his father; I even met him once when he was little, so I have a legitimate reason for visiting him.’
‘I would like to go with you,’ Nathan said. ‘I was at school with Kabwe, so he’s not going to refuse to see me.’ WB smiled and nodded his head.
‘Excellent; let’s go this morning, take him by surprise.’
‘And ladies,’ Nathan looked over at Suzanne and Charlie, ‘maybe you would like a tour of the roses while we’re out. My mother’s coming back to check up on you, Suzanne, and she’s staying for lunch. I’m sure she’ll be happy to show you around.’
20: ZAMBIA; DEC 2004
Annette Harawa was wearing her doctor’s hat again when she arrived at the farm just after the men set off to confront Kabwe. Suzanne and Charlie were still sitting on the terrace, staring out over the farm to the distant hills, enjoying the sunshine and catching up on what had happened both in Lusaka and in the Copper Belt over the past few days. Suzanne led the doctor back to her room, leaving Charlie to doze over her laptop.
Annette was tall and willowy, with dark auburn hair, glossy and made all the more distinguished by the few silver streaks beginning to show at her temples. She was obviously a strong woman; how else could she have allowed herself to love—and marry—a black African farmer, in those days pre-independence and the transition of Northern Rhodesia into Zambia. Suzanne found it hard to imagine the sort of reaction their union would have sparked in the colonial drawing rooms, but when she tried to ask her about this, Annette just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
‘We loved each other; that’s all there was to it. Nothing anyone said could have had any effect on us.’ She shook her head. ‘But what man could not put asunder, disease snatched away just a few years later. I was a widow with a tiny baby and a burgeoning farm to look after.’ She related how she’d handed the running of the farm over to her husband’s uncle, awaiting the time when Nathan would be old enough to take over; and she returned to her interrupted education and trained as a doctor. Suzanne wondered if deep down Annette blamed herself for not recognising her husband’s illness in time and was trying to make reparation by saving other people’s husbands and fathers instead.
‘Well, there doesn’t seem to have been any lasting damage,’ Annette said, folding up her stethoscope and stowing it in her old leather bag. ‘Do you need any more of those sleeping pills?’
‘I slept like a log,’ Suzanne said, shaking her head, ‘I shouldn’t think I’ll need them at all.’
‘Hmmm,’ was the cautious reply, ‘you were exhausted last night, so I’m not surprised you slept, but once your body makes up for your lost sleep, you may find your mind starts reliving some of your recent experiences.’ Annette patted her hand. ‘Just keep them by you for a little while, okay?’ She stood up and stretched, before turning to face her patient. ‘Right, that’s me off duty for the rest of the day. How about we pick up Charlie and I give you folks that tour of the farm before we have lunch.’ And with her Dr Harawa hat firmly replaced with her dowager landowner hat, Annette led the way back to the terrace, where they found Charlie fast asleep with her legs on a chair and her laptop forgotten on the ground.
‘The property covers around one hundred acres,’ Annette said a while later as they strolled across the formal lawn, past the acacia trees where she told them she often entertained other local landowners and their wives to tea and cakes; across the little bridge over the ornamental lake—shaped exactly like a miniature Lake Victoria—and through the white picket fence into the farmyard. In the distance, they could see the glasshouses where the roses were grown, together with the sheds where tobacco leaves were dried and prepared for sale. But right in front of them was a stable block. Charlie and Suzanne glanced at each other in delight and headed for the nearest loose box.
‘You like horses?’ Annette asked.
‘We love them,’ Suzanne replied. ‘We always wanted one when we were growing up, but there was no room—and frankly not enough money—for us to have one at home.’
‘One of our friends at school had a couple,’ chimed in Charlie, ‘and she was happy for us to spend time with them.’
‘So you can ride?’
‘Charlie can; she’s a natural,’ said Suzanne, ‘but I’ve always been a bit frightened of being up on their backs, to be honest. I was happy to look after them, talk to them, feed them—in fact I helped deliver a foal once when I was about fifteen—but I tend to leave the riding to Charlie.’
‘Well,’ said Annette, ‘these are working animals. We use them to get around the farm. I’m sure Nathan would be happy to take you riding when he gets back, Charlie. And he knows their natures very well, so if you fancy having a go, Suzanne, he’ll pick out a docile one for you.’ Suzanne nodded, wondering if her fear of being on the back of such a high, unstable-feeling creature could be overcome for the opportunity to spend more time with Nathan Harawa.
After they’d fed and patted all the horses in the stables, made a fuss of the dogs milling around their legs and admired the small herd of cattle in the pen behind the buildings, Annette pulled a key from her pocket and gestured to a small golf buggy parked in the corner of the yard.
‘Come on, let’s go and look at the roses,’ she said. But just then, they heard the sound of hooves galloping on beaten earth and into the yard came a magnificent black stallion, ridden by what Suzanne thought was a child in her early teens. She gave Annette a cheery wave as her horse clattered to a halt. A stable lad grabbed the reins, and the girl threw her leg over the horse’s neck and slid elegantly to the ground. She ran over and threw her arms wide.
‘Auntie Annie, I didn’t know you’d be here today; how are you?’ Annette hugged the girl before turning to Suzanne and Charlie with a smile.
‘Ladies, can I introduce my favourite niece—and Nathan’s best friend—Lily Harawa. It was Lily’s grandfather who ran the farm after Marcus died.’
‘Your niece?’ Charlie said, looking as confused as Suzanne felt. Annette laughed.
‘Well, strictly speaking, she’s my late husband’s first cousin once removed, but niece is much easier to say.’
The girl shook hands with the sisters and Suzanne realised with a shock that although she was tiny, slim and obviously very fit, given the huge horse she had handled with such ease, Lily Harawa was by no means a young girl. She was at least in her late twenties, if not older.
‘Did you have a good ride? Was Prancer behaving himself?’ Annette went on.
‘I know he’s big, but he’s an old sweetie once you get to know him,’ Lily said, ‘and yes, I had a lovely ride. Although I found some of the fencing out on the perimeter has been damaged. Can you tell Nathan he’ll need to get it repaired or he’ll have the rose rustlers in again?’
‘Well, why don’t you stay to lunch and you can tell him yourself? He’s out on business this morning, but he was hoping to be back in time to join us.’
Lily’s face lit up and she readily agreed to this suggestion. Annette told her to go and freshen up while she finished cond
ucting the tour for her ‘English visitors’. Suzanne watched the girl thoughtfully as she went off first to check that Prancer was properly looked after. She wondered if there was anything other than a distant blood relationship between Nathan and Lily—and then wondered with a start why she cared about the answer to that question. She noticed Charlie was also watching Lily speculatively.
‘There was a time when I thought Nathan and Lily would get together,’ said Annette, as they climbed into the buggy, seeming to read Suzanne’s mind. ‘He was very keen on her when they were teenagers. Then she went off to college and things petered out. But now she’s back living here, who knows?’ Then she turned on the engine and drove out of the yard at full speed, removing the necessity for either sister to respond.
They started with the tobacco drying huts. One of the workers who tended to the crop brought samples of the leaves at different stages of drying and explained the process. Suzanne and Charlie buried their noses in the fragrant material at the end of the line and said in one voice: ‘Granddad’s pipe drawer!’
‘These days we’re much less supportive of the tobacco industry,’ Suzanne said, ‘but there are some smells that take one straight back to childhood and this is one of them.’ Charlie nodded and carried on the story.
‘There was a drawer in the built-in cupboard right next to where our grandfather used to sit to watch television. It always smelt of the pipe tobacco he used.’
‘And it always had odd chess pieces and pipe cleaners in there,’ Suzanne added. Annette nodded her head.
‘As a doctor, I’m obviously very ambivalent about the tobacco trade,’ she said, ‘and we’re gradually phasing it out as the rose business grows, but it’s what paid for our home and educated my son—and me—not to mention keeping whole families in work and housing, so we can’t stop it until we find a viable alternative.’
Finally they moved to the rose-filled glasshouses, where every pane was shaded with white paint, to prevent the beating sun from scorching the plants. Each building housed hundreds of plants, with different varieties arranged in blocks for ease of picking, since they all bloomed at different times of the year. The smell was overpowering in some houses, more subtle in others, and Suzanne and Charlie wandered among the rows, stroking the velvety petals occasionally and inhaling the wonderful perfume.
‘And this is my favourite,’ said Annette as she led them into the last glasshouse. ‘Nathan had this variety, Annette’s Golden Pleasure, bred especially for my fiftieth birthday.’ The flower was a dark orange, rather than gold, with an irregular white slash occasionally across the petals. It reminded Suzanne of Annette’s hair and she thought it a perfect present. Looking at the older woman, she realised she might be a doctor and the owner of an extensive farm in Zambia, but she was, above all, a very proud and grateful mother; a mother who would do anything to bring her son happiness.
By the time the three women had returned to the farmhouse, Suzanne was hot and sticky; so she was relieved when Annette looked at her watch and said there was time for a shower before lunch. Washed, changed and feeling a little less hot and bothered, she joined Charlie on the landing and the two made their way downstairs and out on to the terrace where Annette and Lily were sipping colourless drinks. They stopped talking when the sisters appeared and Annette held up her glass to them.
‘A little G and T while we wait for the men?’ she said. ‘Or there’s white wine or fruit juice if you’d prefer it.’ Charlie opted for the gin, but Suzanne took a fruit juice. She didn’t feel completely comfortable in Lily’s company and wanted to keep a clear head. They chatted about the morning’s visit and Lily’s job in Lusaka for half an hour or so, before one of the maids slipped quietly onto the terrace and whispered in Annette’s ear.
‘I think we should go in to lunch,’ she said. ‘Maisie is concerned the food will spoil if we leave it much longer. The men will just have to make the best of it when they get back.’
The four women moved into the dining room, cooler than the terrace, and very dim with shutters closed against the burning midday heat. They were served delicate chicken broth with warm home-made bread rolls and salty, pale yellow butter in tiny pats embossed with a rose. Annette smiled at the sight of this.
‘Maisie loves to pull out all the stops when I’m here for lunch,’ she said. ‘She came to work for us when Marcus and I were first married and has been here ever since—nearly forty years.’
‘You don’t live here all the time, then?’ asked Charlie.
‘No, I live above my surgery most of the time,’ the older woman replied. ‘It’s more convenient for my patients—they always know where to find me, even if I’m not on duty.’ She pulled apart a soft white roll and spread butter thinly across it. ‘Besides, this is Nathan’s home now—and one day soon I hope he’ll be sharing it with a family of his own.’ She looked pointedly at Lily, who didn’t respond to her aunt’s comments and appeared to be concentrating on her soup. But Suzanne, looking at her closely, thought she detected the hint of a smile playing at the girl’s mouth. I suspect someone else shares the same hopes, she thought. She hadn’t forgotten the way Lily’s face had lit up at the invitation to stay and have lunch with them—and the chance to talk to Nathan about the broken fence.
Suddenly the two ridgebacks lying snoozing in a patch of sunshine, which had sneaked through a hole in the shutters, came alert and sat up. They looked towards the doorway.
‘That will be Nathan,’ said Annette. The others all looked towards the door too. ‘Oh, you won’t be able to hear them yet. The car’s probably only just turned into the gate—or it might still be on the approach road. These dogs can hear things a lot better than we can.’
It was another five minutes before Suzanne heard a car pull up outside the house. The front door opened and closed; heavy footsteps crossed the hall and Nathan and WB appeared in the doorway. Now we’ll see how Lily behaves, thought Suzanne. But one look at the men’s faces was enough to brush all thoughts of a relationship between Lily and Nathan right out of her mind. The two new arrivals hadn’t stopped to remove their jackets or freshen up before coming into the dining room. They appeared to have news—and from the looks on their faces, it didn’t look like that news was going to be good.
21: ZAMBIA; DEC 2004
Nathan clicked his fingers to the maid who was standing beside the doorway waiting to serve the diners with more food.
‘Water,’ he croaked, ‘bring a large jug of water—and three glasses.’
Annette jumped up from the table and ran to her son.
‘Tell us,’ she said. But her son just pressed his lips together and shook his head. She looked across at WB who was wiping his face with a large handkerchief, once snowy white, but now grey and covered in black smudges. He looked up at them and Suzanne saw with a jolt that there were unshed tears glistening in the big Ugandan’s eyes.
‘It’s gone,’ he whispered, ‘it’s all gone. They’ve done it again.’
‘The factory…?’
‘…is just a hole in the ground.’
‘Why three glasses?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’ll get him,’ said WB, turning back towards the hall, ‘he was too shy to come in straight away.’ He returned a few seconds later with a small, very dirty boy in torn shorts and T-shirt, with grey streaks on his arms and legs. Tears made tracks through the grey on his face and he was snivelling, wiping his nose on the back of his arm. As six pairs of eyes stared at him, he turned as though to run away, but WB held his arm and wouldn’t let him leave. ‘Tell the ladies what happened,’ he said. The boy struggled and looked up at WB, shaking his head violently. Annette gave a gasp.
‘Oh, you poor young thing, what have they done to you?’ At that point, the maid returned with the water and the doctor poured some out and gave it to the boy. Nathan and WB grabbed the other glasses, filling them and immediately emptying them in deep gulps. The boy sipped his and coughed. Annette took the glass gently from him, and turned, her Dr Harawa h
at firmly back on her head.
‘Okay, you two,’ she pointed to Nathan and WB, ‘go and have a shower.’ Nathan opened his mouth and looked like he was going to object, but Annette shook her head. ‘Whatever you’ve got to tell us can wait a short while. This poor boy is terrified. We’re going to look after him while you freshen up.’ Like naughty schoolchildren, Nathan and WB left the room and their footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs. ‘You come with me,’ Annette went on, looking down at the little boy. Then she tutted. ‘They didn’t even tell me your name. What are you called, child?’
‘I’m Freedom, madam,’ he whispered.
‘Well, Freedom, you come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up. Then you can tell us what happened.’
‘We heard the explosions as we were driving out of here,’ Nathan told the women when they reconvened in the dining room a while later. ‘But we had no idea what it was, or where it came from. Otherwise we would have gone there first and maybe we could have helped.’
‘So, if you didn’t go to the factory straight away,’ asked Suzanne, ‘where did you go?’ Nathan looked up at her, although his eyes were still unseeing and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her question. Then he gave a sigh,
‘We went to Kabwe’s house first,’ he said. ‘We thought if we could find him on his home territory, rather than at the factory, we could catch him off guard and get him to tell us what’s been going on.’
‘And did you find him?’
‘No, There was no-one there—and the house was completely empty! It’s been cleared out. Not a stick of furniture left.’
‘We asked some of the neighbours and they said he’s had a van there for the past few days, loading boxes and furniture, and taking it away,’ WB took up the story. ‘So this seems to have been a planned getaway.’ He paused, then gave a sigh and continued. ‘So we drove to the factory, although we weren’t hopeful would find him there. We saw the pall of smoke from a mile or so away and the closer we got, the more obvious the location was. But even then we didn’t suspect...when we arrived, it was terrible…’ WB stopped speaking, cleared his throat and started again. ‘There was a crowd standing in the yard just staring at the ruins of the building. They were completely silent. Not one sound. It was the eeriest sight I’ve ever seen. They just stood and looked, then, when we arrived, they parted to let us pass.’
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