Boss Takes All (36 page)

Suddenly the girl had tied a thick rope around the neck of a huge animal and was trying to draw it along the bank of a wide river. However hard she pulled, the creature refused to move. Again and again she tugged until she thought her whole body would burn up with the effort. When she became angry, the creature gave out a deep mocking peal of laughter. Another figure appeared, coming towards her slowly from the other side of the creature and not seen by it. Her father, in his working clothes, smiled and pulled a sharp knife from his belt. With one sweep of his arm he slashed at the rope and set the creature free.

New energy coursed through her body and she was wholly with the women of the church once more. Florence Ndoti who had been supporting Rebecca's limp body while her companions prayed, felt the strength return to the younger woman and stood back. As the women each embraced Rebecca in a warm hug, the crowd outside the circle clapped their hands wildly and punched the air. Above the noise, the penetrating voice of Florence Muthei rang out.

‘God has been with us tonight! He will wipe away all tears and there shall be no more death!'

With her arms grasping as many women as she could reach, Rebecca began to sing, fixing her eyes on Thomas and the young Welshman who were now standing in front of her. They, too, were holding each other tight.

‘Home to the Hills' had been composed by Toni Wajiru on a plane that was taking him, Mary and the band away from Kenya and on their way to try their luck in the United States. In the silence, Rebecca's voice could be heard clearly inside and outside the compound and far beyond on the cool of the morning.

When the last of the music died away, there was no applause. The rawness of so many broken hearts was transmuted into the tenderness of genuine sadness. An overwhelming sense of compassion hung in the air like a perfume. A little bit of growing was going on in that unlikely place.

‘Rebecca, when do we start to build our hospital here?' Doris's face was lit up with eager anticipation.

‘We have already started.'

For her husband and his three friends she was able to share her new truth.

‘It's all over. This hospital is not just the dream of Rebecca McCall. It never was and I understand that now. I have escaped from the foolishness that tells us that we can be in control.'

Tom embraced Rebecca and then pulled in the boys.

‘The cameras are here, Rebecca. Look. Ten or more, I reckon, and blocking the gate. Don't worry. We'll wait for the ambulance taking Iolo and follow it out. We're going up to Kijabe with him.'

The argument going on at the gate had nothing to do with the media scrum trying to get a good angle on Rebecca. They were calling out, asking her to come over to them. Tom was surprised when the policemen on guard unlocked the gate briefly to let one through. The lucky man was a writer but a local one and no longer a reporter. A distressed Mordecai Courtney was hurrying to inspect the damage and calling out to no one in particular: ‘I swear to God that this is the last time …'

‘Tom, Rebecca, I didn't notice. Look, I can't find the words. I was spending the night in the Rift Valley Club. I've never driven from Nakuru so fast. Thank God it's early.'

Tom interrupted. ‘Mordecai, I think you've met our friends from Wales.'

‘Saw you working with Jim Sawyer on the site of … Just a minute, where's the doctor boy? We had a great chat about Methodists and those forbidding Welsh chapels …'

He broke off abruptly and smacked his head hard with his hands. ‘No! Not possible, surely!'

He punched the air with his fists and screamed into the sky. ‘Is there anybody up there?'

His white-hot anger cooled in an instant. He grasped Tom's arm and looked across at Rebecca.

‘We know who's behind this. This is no act of God. I haven't helped with my smart email telling him to keep himself out of Naivasha's business. I never dreamed … Boys, I'm so sorry.'

The three young Welshmen looked down at the ground and shook their heads in tearful bewilderment. There was a bar of fire where their thinking mechanisms normally operated. The pictures that filled their memories were leaping from past to present uncontrollably. A Welsh chapel, full out to the doors and beyond, and an uninhibited outpouring of ‘O, every hour I need thee!' became happy African laughter as strong young men hammered at the beams in the roof of the new Londiani.

A resolute Inspector Caroline, striding towards the main gate to check out security, drew up sharply when she saw the group of her friends. While colleagues from Nairobi sifted through the tangled mess for information and clues, she had set herself the task of looking after the human mess. She moved between the prisoners, the wounded and the dead, struggling to keep her emotions in some kind of order. When she came upon the body of Iolo, she hurried to the fence, let the tears run free and vomited.

Now she moved straight to his friends and grasped them tight and pressed her wet cheeks to the faces of each of them in turn.

‘Forgive me and forgive poor Africa. It is not meant to be like this. Some people are not happy unless they are spitting into the face of God himself!'

Tom saw that there was a danger of emotional floodgates being reopened. He forced himself to speak abruptly.

‘We must bear this. Walls have come down here tonight, human walls. We all know that broken hearts can bring us to a place where we feel little more than anger, resentment, blame. But, but, at this moment when our hearts ache, in our time of failure, we can … (he was close to his own breaking point) we can find … healing … renewal. Rebecca, I wish your father were here now. I'm no good at this!'

Mordecai hugged Tom and spoke through his agonised smile.

‘Great words for a gentile! Thomas, you're my man. I need this renewal. And our country needs renewal. But, sometimes, always, we have to flush a poison out of our system first.'

Caroline was able to offer Mordecai hope. ‘It's the only thing that's keeping me going. I don't know how you hang poison, but we are going to manage it somehow. Fine talk from a policewoman.'

he ambulance carrying Iolo and three of the dead Turkana boys eased its way through the crowds at the gate, followed dangerously and closely by Tom and his four passengers. He was wearing a white coat and Rebecca was hidden low down in the well of the passenger seat. On the back seat three mzungos sat, staring straight ahead. When they did not turn left towards town and the lakeside farms most of the onlookers were fooled, briefly. Moments later as the truth dawned that their big prize was getting away, the reporters and their assistants were back on the trail. They had barely got into top gear when the chase came to an abrupt halt, when they were waved down by the police patrol preventing unauthorised vehicles from joining the A104.

The five weary passengers had little to say on their journey up the Escarpment. The ambulance had long passed out of sight. Tom was driving well below his normal speed on the newly surfaced road. In his rear-view mirror he was glad to see that the three Welshmen were sleeping. If his own and Rebecca's thoughts had been presented in musical terms, they would have expressed variations on a common theme. The surge of passion sparked by the first shock of the news had eased back.

For Tom the recurring image was of Abel Rubai. In each memory, the large man was wearing an expensive suit and perspiring, and never without the confident smile, one of his main weapons of intimidation.

Rebecca was suffering another attack of guilt. Less than a year before if she had acted differently, been less selfish, so many deaths could have been avoided. If she had been more cooperative when Julius was pursuing her, the dream of a hospital for her people at home would have been much closer to reality. Poor Tom, poor Rebecca. The story of Romeo and his Juliet, an enjoyable, romantic read at school had become a bolt of truth. She looked across at her husband. Romeo and Juliet with a huge difference. She could smile, be happy. The guilt was ephemeral and already melting.

Tom checked his mirror. His back seat passengers were in a deep sleep. Their open mouths, their heads lolling backwards were proof. He whispered, ‘Rebecca, I don't understand why we are doing this, coming up to Kijabe. We won't be able to see Iolo and if we could then … it's plain morbid. They should be away from all this. It sounds hard, but they need to try to separate themselves from what has happened tonight. We could take the boat and do some fishing out on the lake.'

‘But, Thomas, they must have their time to grieve. Sitting out in the sun at Kijabe, it might help. Iolo would be close by.'

Someone was stirring from sleep.

‘We're over halfway to Kijabe. Did the kip help, Dai?'

‘Tom, could we pull over for a minute?'

‘Feeling sick? We're about nine thousand feet up here.'

‘No, no. I could do with some water though.'

‘Just a tick. Safer ‘round that bend. I'll cross over. You can look back on the lake.'

The strong chill breeze surprised the Welshmen.

‘Wow! Goose pimples! I never expected to shiver in Kenya.'

‘That's because you got used to being on the coast, Ivor. Turkish bath weather. Ready to get back in?'

‘In a minute. Tom, would it upset things if we didn't go on to the hospital?'

‘You want to go back to Londani?'

‘No. Gilgil, the club, if you can spare the time.'

‘Our favourite place, next to Londiani. The school, I mean.'

‘We want to check Iolo's stuff. The family know, you said.'

‘They do. It's four in the morning in England.'

‘And Wales! You don't mind us staying on? We want to help with the rebuild.'

‘Mind, Dai? Do we mind? That's settled, then.'

‘There's something else. We want Iolo to stay with us. He prayed every night about the hospital and you, Rebecca. It bothered him that he was useless as a builder. He was excited about working in the hospital. That's why he went over there … In a way he gave his life for it.'

‘Let's get back in the car. ET's got some phoning to do.'

* * *

Tom had loved his Sundays in Pembroke. He laboured and played hard for six days and on the seventh day he rested. If anyone asked him why, his reply was always the same.

‘Check it out with Mister Moses. I'm only obeying orders.'

While they had their home at the club, Iolo and the boys had been regulars at the club lunch on Sunday, the social highlight of the week with the community. They had never eaten so well, so much, and at a rock-bottom cost.

As they drove in through the top gate of the school, the first bell for lunch was ringing. In the staff room the duty master invited them to join the children for lunch supervising at a table.

‘If you can stand the noise!'

‘Funny thing, I ate thousands of meals in that place and never thought it was noisy.'

Sitting out on the veranda with a coffee after lunch, while children were at rest in their dormitories, Tom made a suggestion.

‘Ready to do your checking at the club? We'll come if you want us to.'

Dai answered for the three of them. ‘Can we leave it for a while? I tell you, I'm dreading it.'

Ivor added, ‘That time with the kids. Tom you must have loved it here!'

‘When I left and went to Oundle, I cried for days. Homesick for Pembroke not Londiani! Tell you what, let's stay for chapel. A couple more phone calls home and we can be kids again for a whole afternoon.'

The unexpected therapy continued until they drove back out onto the Nyharuru Road. The evening skies were made darker than usual by the heavy storm clouds blowing in from the north-west.

‘Do you think we can race them home, Thomas?'

‘Could do. On the other hand the rain might hit us before we reach Gilgil. The canvas cover won't do much to protect your bags on the roof.'

‘Tom, don't rush for our sakes. We've had a fantastic time. If you had told me twelve hours ago that this was possible …'

‘I know it will all hit us again soon, but for a few hours I felt … just normal. Yet there wasn't a single minute when I didn't remember Iolo.'

‘Especially in the chapel. Remember those two services he did? I've never heard kids laughing so much. One of the older girls asked me where he was. That was the one who said a prayer for us.'

‘That cracked me up for sure. If you hadn't sung straight after, Rebecca, we … Wow, did you see that lightning?'

And after the lightning, the barrels rolling across the sky. And after the thunder, the teeming rain and finally the cool stillness and the return of the millions of stars hanging low in the African sky.

‘I hope you can get some sleep tonight. Mum's organised everything. I know that it's not safe to make predictions, but tomorrow, we have some visitors. Rebecca, Maria's returning from Cartref. Paul and Daniel are coming.'