by Julian Beale
Aischa had a second and a knockout argument but she didn’t produce it until she and David were alone together. It was to do with Aischa herself and with her health. She had breast cancer. Her first fears had been raised in Lisbon around the time of Alves’ death and she had consulted a London specialist before they left the UK. For now, Millennium and Century City were short of oncologists. That was not a surprise: it was the whole point and the whole plan. They needed plumbers before piano tuners. But Aischa had assumed that she would be able to travel at will to seek advice and treatment and it had been a shock to discover that she could not do so. As Mrs David Heaven, she was not welcome and she could not appeal for sympathetic consideration without telling David the whole story. So she did just that, sitting him down after dinner one evening in Founder’s Hill.
The following day, David had summoned Hugh, Pente and King to put them all in the picture. Pente remembered it as a very painful occasion. He had never seen a David Heaven quite like this. The man looked bereft already — shocked, shattered and frightened. But the crisis did produce results and they seemed to be positive, at least so far.
David had announced his retirement from public life, his impending handover to Hugh and the plan for a national referendum on the Constitution. Matters went further than that. At Hugh’s instigation, they brought forward plans to delegate more widely the management of the fledgling nation, appointing men and women who had come in with the First Fleet, but including some who had been nationals under the previous regime. There was a form of democracy here which the European Union had been relieved to acknowledge as it would enable Millennium to be removed from the ‘worry list’. The United Kingdom remained obdurate and continued to refuse both David and Aischa permission to enter the country, but Hugh managed to persuade her specialist from London to visit them in Century and thereafter she flew to Lisbon for treatment.
As he meandered through Acacia Grove, Pente reflected that things were not perfect, but they could be a great deal worse. He paused to savour his well loved scent of Africa, then drove it from his nostrils as he lit one of his noxious cigars. He turned his thoughts to the Musketeers Club, his own initiative which sought to establish social centres in town and country where the growing number of new arrivals from a huge variety of countries could mingle with those who were locally born. He was interrupted by a familiar shout and saw King Offenbach waving him over to the location in which their group was encamping. Pente modified his direction and increased his pace towards them.
They had been hoping that Martin and Ruth Kirchoff would fly down and stay over Christmas. David had been disappointed but had to accept Martin’s judgement that he remained the subject of interest and speculation in both Downing Street and the City. It was just too soon for him to be observed travelling to Millennium, although he was confident they would make it next year.
Bill and Tina Fullerton were there. They had moved from Hong Kong to Shanghai, but Hugh was hoping to persuade his old friend to move to Millennium and start working for him in Century. Hugh wanted to start a stock exchange during the next eighteen months and he needed Bill around.
‘It’ll be mostly to carry his bags,’ Bill remarked to Pente over drinks on the evening of their arrival, ‘I’m really too simple to be of use for much more’.
They had laughed together but it was well known how Hugh valued the relaxed friendship of his buddy from schooldays.
‘And you know the other reason, doncha darlin’, Tina said to Alexa when the girls were alone together.
‘I do, Tina. We’ve talked it over, Hugh and I. He wants to bring Janey down here to live. Perhaps not really wants, but needs to, and that’s alright with me. So long as he comes home to me at night.’
Tina Fullerton shook her head in exasperation and reached for her cigarettes.
‘She’s sure as hell lucky to have him, that broad, and she’s just as lucky to have you. She had a shit of a time with that accident — a life ruined and all that. But I do still wish that she’d try a little harder. She’s got all that can be done for her in Hong Kong and he’ll make that happen here too won’t he. Waal, if you can stand it, Alexa honey, I guess I can too.’
The picnic lunch was under the trees, with some of them on folding chairs, some perched on the benches scattered about and others lying on rugs spread on the ground. It brought back to David their first gathering at the time of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee when they had met under the eaves of 100 Piccadilly, an address then new to Kirchoff and Son. Sol had been there of course, and Martin and Ruth but he had been without Aischa which now seemed unimaginable to him. And there had been no Hugh either. He happened to catch Alexa’s eye just then and they exchanged a secret smile, perhaps both remembering for a fleeting moment how they had consoled each other on that occasion. Much worse for them both was the absence of Connie and Tepee. David sighed to himself. He would never stop missing the man, but at least the girls remained in close touch and they had the promise from Tepee that she would fly down in the New Year.
There was just one topic of serious conversation during that happy picnic lunch.
Hugh remarked, ‘Now we know George Bush has been declared the winner in Florida and will be going to the White House in January, we can start to work on our contacts with the incoming administration. Right, King?’
King was propped on one elbow as he reclined languidly on the close cropped grass. He put down his sandwich and replied.
‘Mebbe, Hugh and I sure as hell hope so. Trouble is, no one seems to know much about where George W wants to head — probably doesn’t know himself yet. We can be sure that little ole Millennium will be well down his list come January, and that’s good. But I hear also that he can be one tough hombre, so we’d better not count on a warm welcome.’
Tina Fullerton chipped in to say,
‘My folks back home in Dakota reckon Bush is just mad to make America great again but he’s also said that he doesn’t think our boys in khaki should be used for nation building. I dunno if that’s supposed to cover nation grabbin’.
‘Well, I’m certainly worried that Bush doesn’t like me,’ said Hugh, ‘he was one of the first investors in Dundas Securities and he brought in some others. Of course, he wanted out last January 2nd as soon as he made the connection and I can’t blame him. He had an election to fight and I gave him back his money and no arguing. But he still felt scammed and he doesn’t like that. Makes him feel he’s been bested. So there’s no love lost.’
David Heaven stepped in then. He didn’t care for general chatter at a public occasion and anyway, he wanted to preserve the happy spirit of the day.
‘Let’s leave it there. We just have to wait and see. But the European diplomacy is all good news. By this time next year, we could be in the Commonwealth.’
There were smiles all round, and Felix Maas took the cue for to change the conversation.
‘Now Tina,’ he asked, ‘how long are you and Bill staying?’
‘Depends on Alexa, Felix. She’s got me a date!’
‘More like a place,’ said Alexa joining in the laughter. Since their arrival in January, Alexa had involved herself in the Orphans of Africa programme and liked to show off what they had achieved so far. The track record in healthcare and jobs training was impressive and her latest project was situated in the small town of Singahala. She had promised to give Tina a personal tour and the day’s journey each way from Century would give them some good gossip time.
‘When do we go back, honey?’ Tina asked Bill who looked to Hugh for the answer.
‘Whenever you want. Bertie the Boeing remains on standby for you, a few others and a whole load of cargo.’
Tina wagged her finger at him as she said,
‘Hugh, sweetheart, you’ve gotta get rid of that fuckin’ plane, terrific as it is. It makes no sense to own something that size. Besides, my Bill says the best advice you ever gave him was that if it flies, floats or fucks, then rent it.’
It was Pente who
led the guffaws at this outrageous humour and Alexa extended it by remarking with a mischievous twinkle, ‘I suppose that applies to me too?’
AISCHA HEAVEN — May 2003
It was the first weekend of the month, just a few days before David’s birthday. He wouldn’t be doing any dancing that year. Having become increasingly troubled by arthritis in his hip, Aischa had persuaded him to have a replacement. David was taken into All Hope hospital and the operation was performed without complication, resulting in an excellent prognosis. Now, hardly a week later, he was feeling unreasonably pleased with himself. He was so delighted that the procedure was complete, having confided to Aischa in advance that his greatest dread was to go under an anaesthetic, something which he had never previously experienced. She hadn’t laughed at him, but gave him a wry smile which shamed him as he was immediately reminded of the many operations she had been through in order to keep her body going.
Aischa was not a well lady and had to live a life of constant pain, ordered and controlled by endless medications. Despite these privations, she managed to remain a marvellously attractive and feminine figure. She was always poised, immaculately presented, beautifully dressed and still retaining her come hither sexiness when her mood was right and the hurting reduced. She remained as active as she could and her programme of visits and involvement in her many causes was as committed as ever.
Both of them delighted in the fast developing world of Millennium. During the last three years, things had gone from strength to strength. There was all the evidence that the country was becoming a nation in its own right. They were well past the point of being accepted on the international stage and were now respected for welding together a dynamic and homogeneous society, celebrating almost daily advances in every aspect of life, from medicine to music and from science to sport.
It is a function of the human condition that characteristics harden with the passing years. David Heaven remained sharp in his intellect but his perceptiveness in matters of the heart did not improve. He was more dependent on Aischa’s guidance and company than he liked to admit and this led him into a failure to acknowledge her deteriorating condition. He did not want to accept it. Worse, he knew it was beyond his capability to arrest which amounted to an impotence which he hated to recognise.
Aischa was badly affected by the news of her father’s death. Jonas Savimbi perished in a bloody little fire fight in February 2002. He was then a less than significant figure and a by note to history. He had never ceased to struggle, but that state of permanent warfare had become for him an end in itself. As Aischa had predicted, he battled for most of his life and never came within sight of his goal which had become progressively more illusory with the passage of time. This judgement was confirmed by Rafa, who came over from his home in California to visit them later in the year of their father’s death. He stayed for two weeks and was of comfort and good company to them both, but when he left, David saw the extinguishing of some light from behind Aischa’s eyes. A vital chapter of her life was closed.
Hardly a year later, David was still able to persuade himself that his Aischa was a constant in his life. For a man so accustomed to his own success by dint of ability, effort and single bloody mindedness, he couldn’t accept that the most important achievement for him might be beyond his influence. His own responsibility made the matter far worse. It was true that he hadn’t known of the diagnosis of a malignancy back in 1999. She had not told him, but he had been aware of a change in her — a tiredness, a hurting and being a little remote from time to time. Typically for him, he had put this down to other things. She would get over it and he would help her: but a bit later when he had more time. Right then, he was completely absorbed in Zero to the exclusion of any other subject. The same was true for Conrad Aveling as he now reminded himself bitterly. He had ignored Connie when he might have been able to help. Pray God he could do better by Aischa.
That Saturday morning, they left the house to walk in the gardens of Founder’s Hill. David was in a powered wheelchair which he had been ordered to use for two weeks after his operation. He piloted the damn thing while Aischa walked haltingly beside him, breathing heavily and using a light cane stick. They went slowly, heading up the gradual incline towards the outcrop of rock which gave them their favourite view out over the Atlantic Ocean.
Aischa remarked to him, ‘We’re a right old couple of crocks, you and me!’
He had given a gruff laugh and replied ‘We’ll get by.’
They were both silent for a while as they continued their painful progress. Then Aischa started to speak to him and he knew that he couldn’t interrupt her.
She was giving him one of her lectures. She spoke of all their time together, their unlikely meeting and still less expected reunion. She talked of the family members and of precious friends. Of happenings which had been so significant to them both. She discussed her father and her brother. She dwelt on the girl who was a daughter to them both and who had mothered their grandchildren.
They reached the vantage point which gave them full sight of the restless ocean — constantly moving, always the same. They were silent for a while. Aischa stood tall and unbowed beside him. She hooked her cane over the back of his chair. She put her hand on his neck and moved it to squeeze his shoulder. David felt the tears come into his eyes, and he was powerless to hold them back.
Aischa spoke to him.
‘Most of us leave not a stone to mark our passage here. You have done much and you will leave a monument. I’m happy to have been with you and to have brought you help and comfort. But we must finish our journeys alone and hope for another time and place to be together. For now, just remember how much I have loved you.’
Aischa paused then, and David was quite incapable of speech or gesture. She was in control and in charge. She moved in front of him. In a lithe movement which belied her years and condition, she dropped onto one knee and took his right hand between both of hers as she looked into his face which was already ravaged by his grief.
She spoke for the last time. ‘Harisha, my darling David.’
Then she stood gracefully and moved on and away from him around the Point. In a moment, she was lost to his view and he knew that he would never see her again. A little further on, she slipped over the cliff and was gone. No trace of her body was found. The ocean does not give back those who were greatly loved.
They came in their hundreds to her memorial service. They came in thousands, thronging the Cathedral Square, and within the fine old building, people crammed themselves into every nook and crevice. It was a Service of Thanksgiving, a theme reflected in the music which Aischa loved and in a congregation which did its best to ensure that she would hear it. There were thundering crescendos, the great organ teaming with the massed choirs and the platoons of trumpets. In contrast, a hushed silence respected the delicate interpretation of a Chopin nocturne which had been a particular favourite. There were readings, a poem recital and an anthem.
David had asked Pente Broke Smith to lead the service and to give an address. It was a challenge to which Pente rose magnificently. Standing on the wide altar steps, Pente resembled most people’s imagination of the prophet Abraham, his huge figure isolated and dominant, the cascade of beard spilling down his chest, his voice deep and powerful over the PA system.
He captured a perfect image of Aischa. He spoke of her courage in life and her dignity in departure. He placed her accurately in the position which she had made her own. She was, he said, the First Lady of Millennium. It was in every sense that she merited this title, but it was most deserved in recognition of her boundless generosity to the people of our country and her efforts did not falter in spirit even when her physical strength was diminishing.
‘We are all familiar’, boomed Pente, ‘with her work on behalf of our charities, our schools and the university, our literary festival and the hospital concerts. But I say that her most precious gift was to those countless individuals whom we don’t know. But Aisch
a did. Aischa was ours. She was here for all of us and there are so many whom she met along life’s way who will bless the memory of her loving kindness. She was our First Lady of Grace.’
They were all there. Alexa and Hugh. Tepee Aveling. King Offenbach. Martin and Ruth flew down from London. Fergus Carradine and his wife, Ursula Hampton of course, Rory and Verity Trollope. From further afield came Mark Bushell, also Sebastien and Izzy Mantel from Singapore. Rafa arrived from California with his family, and from Lisbon, Mario and Isabella Mori, from their favourite restaurant in Lisbon, at David’s special request.
David had met Anna Aveling on the tarmac two days earlier when her plane from London touched down in Century City. They had not seen each other for some years but he carried in his head a picture of Anna, always calm and welcoming but with the slight air of harassment which goes with the territory of managing a boisterous household.
It thrilled and shocked and saddened him to see her emerge from the plane, which had halted by special arrangement on the apron, well short of the terminal so that this VIP for the day family could be welcomed by David with a small entourage. The sight which greeted him might have been of Aischa just a few years ago. Anna struck a poised and glamorous figure as she stood at the top of the aircraft steps, very smart in a tailored tropical suit which heightened the contours of her excellent figure, her long chestnut hair about her shoulders, stirring in the light breeze. She waited just long enough for effect, not so long as to give exhibition, and then she turned to usher her two sons in front of her while Oscar, as always smart but subdued in English country style, brought up the rear. As he watched her graceful descent from the aircraft, David gasped at the similarity to her mother and the effect of it caught in his throat.
