Girl with the Golden Voice (41 page)

‘King David said it.'

‘My little light tells me that I need you to be in this place for me. Mama will go down to Big House and Papa will be with Thomas on the farm. You will all look after each other.'

Stephen shook his head in disbelief. ‘Mama says you are a surprise to her. To me you are a puzzle. You love this man and yet you are ending the possibility of marriage. Just when Mama and me are beginning to believe that a white man and a black girl …'

Rebecca looked at her parents in turn and smiled. She needed to be away and wanted no long goodbyes. Alone in the house she packed her one bag and looked around for the last time. There was a phone call to be made. She borrowed her father's bike and she was glad to see that there were no customers down at the Lucky Bar. She got through to the Coulson house straight away.

‘Rebecca, I've just this minute finished speaking to Maura. I'm so sad about this …'

‘Mrs Coulson.'

‘Please, Mary …'

‘Mary, your son, Philip, he is a lawyer?'

‘Yes, he is.'

‘With a big company in Nairobi?'

‘That's right.'

‘I need to do business with a lawyer just now. Perhaps he will be willing to help me. I am going down to Nairobi this morning.'

‘Of course he will. Let me look up his address and number. How are you getting down?'

‘One of the farm boys is taking me into town. Then there are plenty of coaches.'

‘How about if I picked you up? It's my day down in Nairobi and I can easily come to the village.'

There was a long hesitation at Rebecca's end. Mary thought they had been cut off but, at last, she was there again.

‘Yes, that is kind. In town, at what time?'

‘Shall we say an hour, at La Belle Inn. If you're late, I'll wait.'

Rebecca was late through no fault of her own. Rafaella had spotted her moving awkwardly down the track towards the main road on her father's bike and wanted to catch up with her. She needed the help of four wheels.

They crossed paths just as Rebecca was returning to the village. Rebecca dismounted and as she parked the bike against the fence, she glanced towards Tom's grandmother with a pained expression, as if she was expecting some kind of reprimand and a few uncomfortable minutes of questioning. At first there were no words. They came together on the dusty verge in a long embrace. In the firm grasp of that slim body, in the feel of the thick, perfumed hair against her cheeks, Rebecca thrilled to the silent expression of deep love. The compassion her old friend showed in her eyes overwhelmed her and the tears began.

Rafaella spent no time on trivialities. ‘I know you love him and want to be his wife. You know you have broken his heart, but you cannot tell him why.'

‘But if I said …'

‘You are doing this to save his life.'

Rebecca gasped.

‘So, I am right. I have been up since three. I have read my favourite pieces. Remember those poems we enjoyed not so long ago? I have talked to Don … Don't worry, darling, we often chat. After that, I'm ready to pray … well, think, pray and try to listen.'

‘But, Madam …'

‘No more Madam. You know my name.'

‘They tried once before. Was it a warning or a mistake that he … I am very afraid that next time …'

Rebecca spoke about her experiences with Julius Rubai in Kenya and New York. ‘I often think of that concert in the Bomas where he saw Mary and me. If someone tells him he cannot have something, he wants it even more …'

There was a pause before Rafaella spoke. ‘Three years ago, before I lost Don, I would have told you not to give in to these bullies. I was used to having my own way. I expected a happy ending all the time. I have learned the hard way. Now I understand that many times you just have to accept. You cannot go out with your big stick and fight those who want to crush you. You wait and you hope that you come through.'

‘I am leaving.'

‘Your mother told me just now. Tom was down at the sheds very early.'

‘Pray for me.'

‘And you pray for me.'

‘Mrs Coulson is taking me down to Nairobi.'

‘Oh, yes, it's her day. Is she coming here?'

‘I am meeting her in town.'

‘You can come in with me. I want to go to the matumba.'

‘Are you looking for a red dress?'

‘Not today. Next time you're home we will search together. Don't forget, life is full of unexpected ways. I will look after Tom … help him when he is ready. Rebecca, we will never be far away from each other.'

Festus was driving the Range Rover. Mary had a day and a half of clinics in her rooms in Westlands. There were also the children to visit.

Coming upon Mary in Gilgil was as unexpected as finding a jewel in a cornfield. Blonde, physically attractive, she had a brilliant mind. She and Maura McCall had been soul mates for years. It was Mary's powerful spirit, her rich spirituality that had drawn the circle of up-country women to see her as their leader and their inspiration. Mary was a healer. If she had wanted, she could have made a name for herself far beyond the borders of Kenya. Lots of money, too, from the armies of confused people, thrashing around in their own particular spiritual darkness. She never broadcast her gifts. It was up to the seeker to find her. The prospect of meeting her could be daunting, as it was for Rebecca that midmorning.

Mary had a talent for careful listening. She knew from Maura that Rebecca might have a great deal to say. She would not pry even though she wanted to help this beautiful but troubled young woman. She handed over an envelope. ‘Philip's address and phone number are inside. He'll be there until five today.'

‘Yes. Thank you. I want help to make my will.'

‘Your will!' Mary failed to keep the surprise out of her voice.

‘Perhaps I shouldn't bother him.'

‘No, my darling, no. Of course he'll help you. It's just that you are so young for thinking about things like wills.'

Festus was taking the lower road to the city, a steady climb between open plains. Down to the right the lake sparkled. Rebecca wondered when she would see it again. Mary was very complimentary about a disc and a DVD of the live concert at the Flamingo.

‘A friend brought them in from the States. Wonderful stuff! I wish you people would do a concert over here.'

‘Toni talks of coming to the Bomas.'

‘You'd fill it five times over. I've never heard any music speaking for Africa like this. And your songs, Rebecca, out of this world!'

Rebecca was not sure how much Mary knew about the end of the engagement. She was picking her topics carefully.

‘I think I shall go back to America for a while. Toni wants to go down to Brazil and Argentina for a tour. Perhaps even Australia.'

She stopped abruptly. She was nervous and this made her talk too much, saying things to avoid long silences.

‘When you do return home, you'll have the whole Coulson family in the front row at your first concert.'

‘Then again … well, you know how things can change suddenly.'

Mary saw that Rebecca was ready. ‘Darling, you can say anything you like to me. Clear your mind, if you feel the need.'

Rebecca had known Mary for a long time. Whenever she visited Londiani she was kind to her and her mother. An hour before she had shared with Rafaella and now here was Mary paying attention to her, ready to listen. Under her breath Rebecca was thanking God for saying yes to her plea for help.

They were snaking their way up the steep, twisting part of the road that would bring them to the dual carriageway and the descent into the city centre. For a few minutes Rebecca looked out and let the blur of images rushing by prepare her.

She was soon well into her story of how Julius Rubai had come into her life; how, for a long time, he had been little more than a petty nuisance. Now he frightened her and she was convinced that Tom's life was in great danger. She was trying in the only way she could to protect him.

Mary recognised that, even if she wanted to, there would be no shifting Rebecca's resolve to see her plan through. The cycle had begun and would have to run its course for better or worse. Questions or advice would not help much.

‘Darling, you're on a path that just now seems to be full of danger and wretchedness. As I was listening to you, something shone out like a very bright light. You are following your heart's desire. You are travelling in darkness and in this darkness you are meant to be. We all have a shadow and you are embracing yours. Wonderful!

‘This may surprise you, but a part of me envies you. The love you have for Tom has a purity and depth that I have never seen before in real life.

‘Here's my phone number and my email address. Anytime for anything. I'll be ready. I promise I will never let you down.'

Festus dropped Mary off in Westlands and drove into the heart of the city to the offices of Kaplan, Sturgess and Ryan. Philip was waiting on the steps for his new client. Mingling a little chat about music with the serious business, Philip soon carried out Rebecca's wishes. The will was not long or complicated and it was quickly composed, signed and witnessed.

‘Please, can you keep it here for me?'

‘Of course. We'll put it in our vault. I'll give you a receipt.'

‘And if something happens, you know, will you give it to your mother? She can take it home for me and make sure about it.'

‘You could appoint her as a trustee.'

‘No, please, no paperwork. I trust your mother completely. Perhaps this is not the way you lawyers like to do business.'

‘We do tend to be a bit long on wordiness, but I'll be very careful.'

A few polite exchanges and Rebecca was gone. For a few minutes after she left, Philip sat in his armchair. He listened to the Wajiru band disc and thought about what his mother had told him on the phone about Julius Rubai while Rebecca was on her way to see him. Rubai was well-known in Nairobi social circles where he was neither liked nor trusted. He was also a person that it would be foolish to upset.

Rebecca turned down offers of a lift to wherever she planned to go. From now on she would travel as any wash girl might. She turned the corner into Tom Mboya Street and she was soon lost in the throng and the noise of the matatu terminus. There was the usual loud music and the pushy touts hanging from their vehicles drumming up customers. Normally Rebecca hated the chaos, the coarse catcalls, the shouting, but today she was grateful that she could hide away in the bustle and confusion.

She found a matatu going out to Karen. She would get off at the village dukas and find her way from there. Anyone would be able to point her in the direction of the Rubai house. She was tempted to pay well over the odds just to guarantee that the boys would not stuff the vehicle to bursting point. No, she would take her chances like everyone else.

She was glad she had put on her dark glasses. As they turned out of Moi Avenue into Haile Selassi, the tape in the music system was changed and she was surprised to hear her voice and Mary's hammering out of the speakers on either side of the dashboard. The minibus was full but not jammed and the passengers began to clap and sing along with the music. A fat mama with a pretty face was swinging away in the seat next to her. Her fleshy arm nudged Rebecca.

‘I love this stuff. I love these two girls.'

The mama was pleased to see her companion's face wet with tears, even though she was not bothering to join in.

They were well along the Ngong Road when Rebecca's first solo began to blare out. It was a blues number and was being played far too loud. She tapped the driver on the shoulder and motioned him to turn the machine off. He obeyed reluctantly. She removed her glasses and began to sing the same song to the accompanying drone of the diesel engine. Within seconds the driver pulled over onto the verge and switched off.

She finished the song in an awed silence. The response was enthusiastic and noisy. Mama hugged her and everyone else reached out to clasp her fingers, to touch her.

‘Now put the tape back on, but not so loud this time!'

Karen dukas came into view. The locals on board all knew where the Rubai birthday cake house was and volunteered to escort her there. The driver offered to take her the extra three kilometres free of charge.

She accepted a lift two kilometres along the Langata Road. She wanted to walk the rest of the way down the newly graded murram track off the main road, even though the driver and his tout pointed to the skies at the build-up of heavy cloud rolling in from the south. The Rubai land stretched up to the tarmac where she got down.

The only human activity she saw as she hurried along came from the contractors' men working inside the fences. They were bush-cutting, bulldozing and tree planting. Someone was creating a country park out here. The light rain that had started to fall as she began her walk became a downpour and Rebecca was still a hundred metres short of the lodge at the main entrance to the estate. She was cleared by the askaris who had radioed the main house to check. Sally Rubai wanted to send down a car but Rebecca refused. The weather would help to prepare her and delay her for a few more precious minutes. She accepted the offer of an umbrella and set off, glad that she had left her heavy bag back in the cafe on Tom Mboya Street.

In the strong wind the umbrella blew inside out and she was soaked through by the time she arrived at the front door. Once inside water dripped from her onto the blue and white tiles of the hallway. Sally and her only daughter, Judith, did not try to hide their amusement. But Sally, cuddly and well-upholstered, also silently admired her guest's firm, stunning figure that was exposed by the skin-tight, sodden clothes.

‘Rebecca, it's lovely to see you. And you're so famous now. When are you coming to sing for us? But we must get those wet clothes off at once. We've got this wonderful new machine. It's so clever. Washes your clothes, dries them, presses them. Abel brought it from California.' She called down a passageway. ‘Daniel, bring warm towels!'