by P J Skinner
‘Heavy hand? You could say that. How much gin did you use?’ Fergus shrugged and winked. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’
‘You guessed. Well, I thought I’d take advantage of you while you are too weak to fight back.’
‘That figures. Please get me some more tonic. This is too strong to be nice.’
By the time Fergus came back, Sam had fallen asleep. He sat for a while sipping his drink and watching her shallow breathing.
When he had finished his drink, he leaned over and slipped his arms underneath her lifting her up and out of the hammock. He pulled his arms to his chest, resting Sam’s head on his shoulder. Her fair fell over her face and he could smell the cheap local shampoo she used. He tried not to be excited, but he was fighting a losing battle where she was concerned. The temptation to slip into bed with her was extreme, but he didn’t want to break her trust. Leaving her under the mosquito net, he returned to his room.
***
Adanna sat in her rocking chair, moving it back and forward on its creaking runners and staring into space. She passed the diamond from hand to hand, rubbing it as if it were Aladdin’s lamp. It wasn't shiny, having the yellow film common to alluvial diamonds removable only with hydrofluoric acid. Warm and heavy, it hypnotised her with its unyielding presence. She thought about the mother she had never met. The one who owned the rocking chair. Back and forward she rocked, comforting her baby-self. She could not imagine the pain of childbirth in a woman with a fistula, but it had killed her outright.
For her father, the day of her birth was both the happiest and saddest day of his life. He wanted Adanna to go away before it happened to her too. She wanted to stay and bring modernity to Fona, but the sacrifice was great. Maybe the diamond represented a solution.
Outside, the rain fell again, refilling the water barrels and other mosquito havens with fresh water for larvae. She could smell the wet earth and it made her feel sad.
***
Sam stood outside Fergus’ door. The moon shone into the passage that ran along the front of the house from the living and dining area. She had woken with the sensation of his face in her neck. Had she imagined it? She wanted to lie with Fergus and touch the veins on his arms and nuzzle his chest. Desire had permeated her being and she couldn’t sleep because her heart pumped hot blood around her body. She hesitated. What if she had imagined it? What about Ned? Did he no longer matter? He had gone back to his wife, after all.
She wrapped her fingers around the door knob and twisted it. The door swung open and she saw his naked body outlined through the mosquito net. His chest rose and fell. He had one hand over his genitals. With his blonde mane and brown skin, he resembled a Greek god. Sam entered the room and shut the door behind her. She walked over to the bed and lifted the net, slipping under it and onto the mattress beside him. She listened to him breathing and she reached out to feel his heart. He opened his eyes and looked into her dilated pupils.
‘Sam?’
Chapter XX
‘Sam’s a trooper,’ said Alex, to no-one in particular, wiping his mouth with a tattered serviette.
‘No kidding,’ said Ned. ‘The doctor thought she would die.’
William, who was bringing a fresh pot of coffee to the table, held it above the table.
‘Is she okay now?’ he said.
‘Yes, she’s fine. Thank goodness.’
William smiled. ‘I’m glad. I liked Sam.’ He shuffled off to the kitchen with three pairs of eyes following his back.
‘Sam’s a she?’ said Gemma, Ned’s wife, who sat away from the table because the smell of breakfast made her nauseous. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’
‘Didn’t I? I thought I had,’ said Ned.
‘No, you hadn’t.’
Alex shifted in his seat and dropped his spoon on the floor. He didn’t reach down to pick it up.
‘What’s your plan for today, Gemma?’
‘Apart from vomiting you mean?’
The silence hung in the air while Alex searched for something to say. Gemma turned green and she pushed back her chair. ‘Excuse me,’ she said and ran upstairs.
‘Why didn’t you tell her about Sam?’ said Alex. ‘It’s not as if …’ He saw Ned’s expression. ‘Oh.’
‘It wasn’t like that. Nothing happened.’
‘But you like her.’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’ Ned threw a resentful glance at the kitchen. ‘That's all finished now anyway.’
‘I hope so.’
‘What did Fergus say?’ said Ned.
‘Sam’s back at work and he gave me some surprising news.’
‘Don’t tell me. Fergus is sleeping with Sam.’
‘What? No. You have it bad. They’ve found the diamond. The Star of Simbako. In the terrace where Sam is working.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologise. It’s just …’ Ned swallowed and fiddled with his watch. ‘That’s incredible news. You must be thrilled.’
‘I’m going up to Fona today. I don’t suppose you want to send any messages.’
Ned shook his head. ‘I’d better check on Gemma.’
Alex poured himself another cup of coffee and admired the view of the bay through the window.
***
Joseph Sesay stood by the window, holding himself up with two walking sticks, their lion-head handles knobbly in his arthritic hands. He gazed out over the plains at the thorn trees and smelled the wheaty aroma of new grass. This was his favourite time of the year, one he knew he wouldn’t experience again. His injuries from the rebels’ beating had never healed properly and now he felt himself weakening and fading. His lungs were filling with fluid and every breath got harder. Fatimata had loaded him with potions and fetishes hidden in his robes, but he knew that death was stalking him. He could sense its black shadow brush by him in the corridor and see the glint of a sickle when the sun set.
Despite this, he appreciated his luck. If it wasn't for Alex, he wouldn’t have lived to see any of this. Nor had his position as Paramount Chief, his beautiful wife or his headstrong daughter. He owed a debt of gratitude to the man which could not easily be repaid. By giving Adanna the diamond, he had betrayed that trust, but he was confident that Alex would understand. He wanted to settle his accounts before it was too late. The debt was incalculable.
***
Joseph Sesay had joined the army to get away from the grind of life in the diamond pits of Simbako. When he and his brother had found the Star of Simbako, he had imagined his troubles to be over, but they had just begun. As the eldest son in his family, he was the natural leader in a group which was traditionally one from whom the Paramount Chief was chosen. The diamond would bring him wealth, a big advantage when it came to taking over the Chiefdom. They had sworn to keep the diamond a secret until it was taken to the safety of Njahili and sold.
Unfortunately, his brother, with a character far removed from that of Joseph, started mouthing off about the diamond and attracting unwanted attention from some of the unsavoury elements in Fona. One night, their family compound was raided and his brother, and several other villagers, died in the ensuing battle. After a period of mourning, Joseph decided to leave Simbako for the British Army, convinced by his uncle who had served for ten years and had been the main influence in Sesay’s young life.
Entrusting his uncle with the diamond, Joseph left for England and joined the Royal Anglian Regiment. He was the ideal material for the army, being strong and brave, but he tended to be withdrawn and didn’t make friends easily. Alex had befriended him from the first though and they always went on the same patrols and bunked beside each other. He used to crack jokes and sing the latest hits when he was in the barracks, but, when on patrol, he morphed into someone a lot more frightening. His face would darken and assume a brooding stare which made people step out of his way. He became intimidation personified.
Their unit had been stationed in Northern Ireland for six months.
Street patrols were a necessary part of their duties. No-one enjoyed the tense walks through the republican areas. A mother of ten had been taken away and murdered by the IRA for helping a wounded soldier on her road. There was no mercy to be found in those grey streets and you could feel the resentment boring into your back as you walked by.
One gloomy Derry afternoon, they were patrolling the Bogside. There had been large communal riot between local Unionists and police on one side and Catholics on the other the preceding night. Two Catholics had died and tension had risen to such a height that police were unable to enter the area to restore order. The army were deployed and Alex and Joseph found themselves struggling to separate the opposing sides who were keen on continuing the trouble.
Their platoon commander sent them to remove one of the main ringleaders from a side road where he had fled. They made their way along either side of the road, covering each other in case of attack. The man they sought was hiding behind a car and lashed out at Joseph with a crowbar as he went by, sending him to the ground. He stood over Joseph with a gun and cocked it. Joseph stared up at the barrel of the gun and knew he was going to die. The man laughed.
Just then Alex lunged through the air and knocked the gun sideways. It went off and the bullet ricocheted off a wall, planting itself in a car door.
Alex pinned the man to the pavement and put him in an arm lock. Joseph lay on the ground too shaken to move.
‘Don’t just lie there like a courtesan. We need to get out of here,’ said Alex, hauling his captive to his feet.
Joseph laughed. ‘And there I was, all laid out and waiting for trouble,’ he said.
‘You are trouble. Come on.’
Chapter XXI
Fergus left the house early. Sam slept, her right arm flung over her face as if in shame, but her slow breathing indicated a deep relaxation. She muttered in her dream but did not flinch when he brushed her hair with his fingertips. He couldn’t help smiling as he remembered their mutual need searing the sheets. The feel of her skin and the strength of her embrace had percolated through his defences and her desire had invaded his being like sugar in his bloodstream.
His reaction to her passionate yielding wasn’t the usual one of conquest and abandon that had clouded his relationships with other women. A warm sensation like belonging had infiltrated his senses, both alien and frightening. He hadn’t felt like that since his mother had died, following which he had blocked out all memory of her by building a brick wall around his heart.
He shook himself. This was just a fling. No different to any other. He shut the door, allowing it to bang against the frame. That should wake her up. If she returned to her own room by the time Fatimata got to the house, they could avoid another tanker-sized tantrum and some burnt food. Maybe Sam would experience remorse or regret and blame him for giving her that gin and tonic. He could cope with that. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to talk about it, but just skate around the truth like dancers avoiding a rough patch in the ice.
Descending the steps with one bound, he swept the leaves off the windscreen of the car and got in. He pushed the key into the starter motor and revved the engine. The tape recorder spun into life. Sam always had the volume up at ear-splitting levels and this was no exception. He lunged for the volume control as ‘Dazed and Confused’ filled the car. Led Zeppelin? Even her taste in music amused him. He was in trouble.
‘Hello? Who’s speaking?’
‘Alex, it’s me, Fergus.’
‘Good morning. How is the patient?’
‘Patient is not how I would describe her. She is back at work now.’
‘Already? Christ, she must be made of steel. Have you made any progress?’
‘I have extraordinary news. Maybe you should sit down.’
‘You’ve found the Star of Simbako?’
‘Buried in the terrace where we are working in the rucksack of a young man called Pakuteh.’
‘Did he steal the diamond?’
‘No, the Chief gave it to him before the rebels arrived at Fona as a wedding present.’
‘That’s some present.’
‘He married Adanna in secret, at least he thought so. The Chief found out.’
‘That’s amazing. Where is the diamond now?’
‘The Chief has it.’
‘Have you broached the subject with him?’
‘No, I thought you would like to do that yourself.’
***
The bed was too big without Fergus in it. Sam sprawled like a starfish on the tumbled sheets, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Where had he gone? She had expected to wake up next to him and have an awkward conversation before sloping off to her room to luxuriate in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Instead, she lay alone in a silent house, wondering if she had done something wrong.
Since she had been the one to cross the thin line they had been struggling to maintain, she couldn't blame him. Fergus had not put up a fight, but merely opened his arms and enveloped her. She had expected him to be like Simon in bed, but he was quite different. He’d displayed a tenderness and abandon that took her by surprise and demolished her reserve. Her tiredness had disappeared as their twin desires fought and melted into each other.
So why had he left? He was not the sort of man to need reassurance, but she had expected at least some bashful giggling and touching and discussion of what had happened. She stood up on wobbly legs and grabbed her T-shirt and knickers from the end of the bed where they had wound themselves around the metal struts. Pulling the T-shirt over her head, she ran her fingers through her hair which had a nest-like quality with several intractable knots.
She slipped on her underwear and listened for any sounds in the house. Dembo was squawking in the back yard, but she couldn’t hear anyone.
The door creaked as she opened it and peeped out into the passageway. The coast was clear. She left Fergus’ room and tried walk nonchalantly to her own. Once inside, she leant against the door for a moment before getting back into her bed and pulling the covers up to her neck. The sun shone high in the sky and warm shadows filled the room. She should have a shower. The water would bring her back to reality and she could comb the knots out of her hair. The tangles in her life might prove trickier to get rid of.
She gave herself one more minute to remember the passion of the night before and then she heaved herself out of bed again, throwing off her clothes and wrapping a towel around her chest. She had put weight back on, but she was still skinny compared to the plump geologist that had arrived in Simbako. Her mother’s cakes filled a void in more ways than one. It was amazing what a dice with death could do to your figure. She squeezed her hips and stomach in wonder.
Then she heard Fatimata’s elephantine tread crossing the living room.
‘Where is everyone?’ said Fatou.
‘I’m here. I don’t know where Fergus is.’
‘Do you need breakfast?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Sam. ‘I’m just getting in the shower. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.’
When Fergus returned, she was sitting at the table, demolishing a plate of scrambled eggs with hot buttered toast. Such was her enjoyment that she forgot to be embarrassed.
‘Hi Fergus. Where’ve you been?’
Fergus did not reciprocate with one of his big smiles, but the tension left his body bit by bit when she did not refer to what had happened between them.
‘I phoned Alex. The satellite phone is on the blink again so I drove to the telephone exchange.’
‘Is he still in Njahili?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact he’s coming here for a visit to pay his respects to the Chief and so on.’
‘Great, when’s he coming? I hoped we might find something first.’
‘Don’t worry about that. He’s not expecting miracles.’
‘Do you want eggs, Mr Fergus?’ said Fatimata, who had been waiting for a break in the conversation.
‘Yes, please
. Can I have three and lots of toast?’
Fatimata beamed. ‘Give me five minutes. There’s fresh tea in the pot.’
After breakfast, Sam went to see Dembo in his cage behind the house. She gave him the last cashews from her stash without bothering to tease him. He sidled up to the edge of the cage and made a half-hearted attempt to peck her fingers. The car’s horn sounded and she sighed. Patience really was not one of Fergus virtues.
He turned the car around, gunning the engine until she got in. The music played at full blast.
‘We don’t have to talk about it,’ she said.
‘What?’
She reached over and reduced the volume. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not one of those girls,’ she said.
Sam was not the most experienced campaigner in love, but she wasn’t dumb either. She had met men like Fergus before. If you were interested, you pretended that nothing was further from your mind than romance. Like Simon really. Fergus had been rigid in his seat, but now he visibly relaxed.
‘Let’s go for it today,’ said Sam. ‘We must be close. I’d love to have something to show Alex when he gets here.’
‘Me too,’ he said.
Their mutual drive inspired the team who laboured with extra vigour under the hot sun. By the end of the afternoon, a decent pile of bottom gravel sat on the plastic sheeting, ready for panning. They carried it down to the river and sorted the gravel with the sieves, throwing out the larger pebbles and fine sand and reducing the material to common diamond size. The pile was divided into two parts. They poured first through the medium-sized sieves and separated the gravel further until a layer of small rounded stones remained.
At one stage, Sam rested on the chair in the shade, watching as the material reduced from a cubic meter to a bucket’s worth of gravel. She made notes and drew profiles of the pit walls. This part of the terrace had not been disturbed before and clear layers of pebble gravel and sand stood out in the cutting.
Looking up, she saw Fergus standing with his back to her. She had not caught his eye all day and he had not even hazarded a wink in her direction. She sank lower over her notebook and feigned concentration. Was it only a one-night stand? How disappointing.
