Girl with the Golden Voice (18 page)

‘What if …?'

‘Yes, Eddie could end up paralysed. Let's not fool ourselves. Perhaps you shouldn't mention this last bit to the others just yet. You can decide that.'

‘When will he operate?'

‘I don't know. It's a tricky decision. As soon as Daniels thinks he can take all the trauma. Look, I can't say any more. Your mother wants me upstairs. One more thing. We want the family to be together. Mum is very edgy about you all being down there. We'll keep close about any news. We want you to organise packing up in Simba and bring everyone up here. Let me know how it goes. And pray a lot. Your grandma will help you with that.'

‘She's started already.'

‘I knew it.'

For the first time in the conversation Tom detected a note of lightness in his father's voice.

Later, when they were sitting around the breakfast table organising and working hard on finding optimistic things to say about Eddie, two unexpected visitors called. Two men bearing the true stamp of their lord and master, great physical bulk encased in smart suits, tapped on the open window. One of them leaned in. ‘Message from Mr Rubai. Please, come. He wants you to see something.'

There was silence as everyone at the table looked ‘round to see the response of the others. Tom thought again how humourless these men were, like unemotional, cloned zombies. He felt sorry for them, but at the same time he knew how dangerous they could be if they were crossed. The standard response to opposing them was violence.

Tom and Bertie sat uncomfortably in the back of the usual black Mercedes, another longtime Rubai trademark. On the sandy track up to the main road, the driver moved so carefully they could have been on black ice. Perhaps he knew that he would be the one who would be cleaning off any dirt they picked up. They did not stay on the main road for long but turned off left towards Kitale and the Shimba Hills. Another turn took them into a patch of forest and along a dirt road for a couple of kilometres. This time the driver wasn't bothered about picking up dust. They stopped at a stone-built house flanked by two wooden shacks. Two more heavies were waiting and one of these moved to one of the shacks and swung open the door.

Tom's first reaction was that they had walked into a trap. They were deep enough into the forest to be out of sight and hearing of anyone back on what was anyway a lonely road. He had crossed the Rubai family, specifically the son and heir, at least three times in the last week. He knew well enough that this was one of the standard ways for the high and mighty to help those who annoyed them to disappear.

‘Inside!' the biggest of the big men grinned. He was holding a thick, black rod. Tom wanted to ask them to let Bertie go, but he knew that they would not, could not. Ewan would be a complete orphan before the morning was out. At least Rubai would lose out on buying Rusinga. Bertie would have left a will.

Tom and Bertie took the half dozen steps from the car to the door of the shack very slowly. By now all the big men were standing there. The one holding the rod raised his arm. The rod was a long, rubber-coated torch. ‘Take this and look in the corner.'

Tom took the torch and turned to face Bertie. He, too, was tense, expecting that something very unpleasant was about to happen.

In fact, something very unpleasant had already happened and the evidence for it was there in the far dark corner of the shack. The powerful beam caught the full horror.

Two shapes, naked males, black skin gleaming wet, were twisted together on the dry, brown earth. A rat scurried across their outstretched legs. Tom did not need to see the faces to know. One of the hosts strode into the corner, grabbed a head and pulled it ‘round to face his visitors.

‘Christ, Joe, what have they done to you?' Tom's voice was scarcely above a whisper.

‘Here are your murderers, Mr McCall, Mr Briggs.'

Bertie turned sharply, surprised that these people knew his name.

‘Oh, don't worry. They are still alive. They'll make it to the courthouse.'

The big man let the head fall back, then reached to wipe his hands on a grubby towel.

Tom was no longer afraid for his own life. ‘Has a doctor seen them?'

Four black foreheads wrinkled. The driver who had brought them was first to see the joke.

‘Have they seen a doctor? Of course, of course! He told us that one patient has a very nasty headache and the other has lost a few teeth.'

They took turns to make sure Tom and Bertie understood what was going on in that remote part of the forest.

‘Don't you see? We are men of justice. It is our duty to give assistance when trouble comes.'

‘One of them killed your brother.'

‘My brother is not dead.' Tom struggled to keep his voice under control.

‘Maybe not yet. But if it happens, these two will be ready for the chop. They will not sin again, my brother. We can assure you on that.'

‘Now, Mr Briggs, Mr McCall, I will escort you home. We'll make sure that the cops will find these two pieces of filth, so don't worry.'

The henchman took back his torch, slammed and padlocked the door.

‘While you are travelling, we will be making our report to Mr Rubai. We will make sure he knows how grateful you are. But I suggest that you could telephone, too. Some people just forget their manners.'

The return journey to Simba was swift and silent. Each party was glad to be rid of the other. By the time the sound of the car had faded into the humid air of the morning, Bertie was down on the beach with Ewan. Their little game with a ball gave him the chance to refocus his thoughts on something wholesome. His mind was hot with confusion. He longed to be back where the high plains of the north ringed the cool waters of the lake.

Tom and Bertie left out the violent parts when they gave their account of what they had seen in the forest. When she heard that Joe Sagana and his companion were in police hands, Lucy was afraid that she would be called in to identify them. She wanted to set off for Nairobi at once.

It was impossible to leave that day. Someone must go to pick up Rebecca. Also, it would be more sensible to spend the time preparing for an early start, to be on the road as the sun rose with the target of arriving at the Muthaiga in good time to get ready to visit the hospital. Before Tom and Angela left for Malindi, there was another phone call to be made to check on what was happening with Eddie.

Rafaella managed to get through quickly. Maura replied. She sounded alert and positive, but she had nothing new to tell them. Everyone up there was being very kind and they had literally scores of offers of places to stay.

When his grandmother came off the phone and repeated the ‘stable but serious' comment on his twin brother's condition, Rollo reacted angrily.

‘I can't take any more! I'm just fed up with all this stuff.'

Rafaella, misunderstanding him, tried to head him off.

‘But it's happened. We can't put the clock backwards. Eddie is hurt. We're all hurt.'

‘Get a grip, Rollo. Eddie is doing well. He's going to be fine.'

‘Grandma, Tom, they're feeding us bullshit. He's going to die. Okay, the best we can hope for is that he'll be a cripple. Our brother, Tom! Remember? We used to ride bikes together, fool about. You know they never come out with it straight away. Build your hopes up like we can't take the truth or something. And that crazy bastard who got him, he's walking about somewhere. You say the cops have got him. And who told you? A couple of Rubai's zombies. Do me a favour! The whole thing is just a big mess.'

Tom sighed. For a few seconds, pensive and compassionate, he looked his brother in the eye. His tone when he spoke was quietly calm.

‘Don't give in to them, Rollo! We all need you to be strong. Eddie needs you to be strong. Look, I'm off to Malindi. Back in three hours, maximum. There's one job that only you can do. Eddie will be relying on you to make sure all his stuff is packed and ready for an early start.'

‘But …'

‘You're going to look a right prat when we're back home and Eddie says, “Oh, no, my tackies, they must have been left at the coast!”'

‘Okay, you win. Superior weaponry. I'm feeling a bit of a prat already.'

Lucy, keen to get on with the job, reassured Tom.

‘I'll give him a hand if he can cope with being helped by a female. When the job's done we could have another game of chess, only I'll give you a beating this time.'

There were the beginnings of a sense of rising hope about the house. They seemed to have come out of nowhere. Angela joined the little group, smiling and ready to set off.

Tom took the Land Cruiser. He and Angela were used to travelling together, often on the weekly shopping trip into Nakuru to buy supplies for the farm and the village, less frequently down to Nairobi. They enjoyed each other's company. He loved hearing her stories about her days in the north before she fled from family and tribe. She was a clever mimic and she had the timing of a good comedian. She was well-informed and had strong opinions on topics from politics to fashion.

‘Angela, where do you get all this stuff from?'

‘My little blue radio. Your grandfather gave it to me as a Christmas present five years ago. People talk to me from all over the world.'

Once they were clear of the heavy traffic around Mombasa they sped along the fast, straight road through the sisal fields around Vipingo and on to Malindi. After one wrong turning they reached the farm where Rebecca was staying.

Tom was alone sipping a soda under a pepper tree when an approaching cloud of dust announced the imminent arrival of a vehicle, an open pick-up. Within seconds he was experiencing a brief, involuntary attack of stomach meltdown.

A tall, handsome man, casually but expensively dressed, leapt from his side of the truck to help Rebecca down from hers. She was radiant and wearing her beloved red dress. The man whom Tom guessed to be about twenty-five moved well with graceful, bouncing strides. They were enjoying each other's company. He was very attentive to Rebecca and for a moment laid his arm across her shoulders.

Tom feared the worst and quickly decided that he would let them discover him. He was surprised that she had made no sign of recognising the Land Cruiser parked not five metres from where she had stepped down. Realising that by delaying his entry, he might lay himself open to watching another hurtful tender scene, he stepped out of the shadow of the tree.

When she saw him she put her hands to her mouth. How often had he seen her make that gesture of surprise.

‘Tom, I wasn't … I'm sorry. David Wajiru, this is Thomas McCall. I work …'

‘It's all right, Rebecca. Don't get flustered.'

Wajiru offered his hand to Tom. His grasp was strong and confident. So was the smiling gaze into Tom's eyes.

Tom gathered himself quickly. He had to work to keep a tremble out of his voice.

‘David Wajiru, I know that name, but …'

‘I'm Mary's brother. We're back home for the New Year.'

‘Ohhh, right. Mary, the singer.' The American accent helped Tom. ‘Her father's the one, I mean your father writes all the songs.'

‘Sure. We're all staying down the road. Dad's from Malindi. He and Stephen were friends years ago.'

Angela appeared at the farmhouse door. She recognised the handsome newcomer. Their greeting was warm and familiar. Tom felt uncomfortable, like an interloper at a family reunion.

Rebecca ran to her mother who drew her to one side. Obviously she was giving the news from Villa Simba, in Swahili. Meanwhile, the conversation out in the sunshine continued.

‘Fact is, Mr McCall, Rebecca talks about you an awful lot …'

‘Please, Tom.'

‘Well, thank you and, please, David. Dad's here, too, of course. We've been trying to persuade Rebecca to come over with us this time. Just two months. We'll look after her. She'll be a sensation.' He broke off to chuckle. ‘She insists she can't do it. Can't leave her job.'

Tom was thoroughly bewildered. It was his move. David was smiling at him expectantly. At last, Tom got the message.

‘Well, of course she can come. Anytime. It's up to her parents.'

‘No, Tom.' David was cool and businesslike. ‘Not up to Angela and Stephen. ‘Becca's nineteen. She can decide for herself. I think she ought to be coming. She has a voice in a million. You should speak to my dad.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Two nights from now there's going to be a show in Mombasa. We've just come from a rehearsal.'

By now Rebecca understood why Tom and her mother had come for her early. She was crying quietly. She grasped Tom's arm for a moment.

‘I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't know.'

‘Of course not. How could you?' As she was about to let go of his arm, he moved to take her hands in his. He was relieved when she made no sign that she wanted to pull away. David seemed puzzled and suspicious.

‘David, it's … There's a problem at home. We weren't supposed to come for another five days.'

‘That's why we picked our date for the show. We thought there would be plenty of time.'

There was an awkward silence during which Rebecca let her hands slip from Tom's. He felt uncomfortable because the pressure was on him to make a move, to do the right thing.

‘The concert and stuff. Changes everything. That has to go ahead. No question.'

Rebecca protested, ‘No, I must come back now. Maura and Rafaella need me.'

Angela was startled by the familiarity in her daughter's use of names. She turned to confront Rebecca and said firmly, ‘No, you are staying!'

‘But how will I get home?'

David had the solution to this problem. ‘We'll bring you. We're going up to Nairobi on the fifth. You can travel with us. I'll make sure you get back to Naivasha.'

Events were moving too quickly for Tom, but he could not think of a way of protesting without feeling that he would be seen as mean-spirited. He would allow the situation to develop. He was cornered but hopeful.