Boss Takes All

by Carl Hancock

  ‘I remember you telling Ruth that you were going overseas to a wedding in a few weeks. Forgive me, but that was such a happy day for everyone in our church. Having Simon to speak to us. He was like bright light amongst us.’

  ‘And he talked about bringing one of his clinics to the town. Jim, tell your people that there will be a clinic.’

  ‘We still have the money in the bank.’

  ‘We’re smiling. The light hasn’t gone out. It reaches a long way. Listen to this. When I was in Wales, I went back to the Methodist church that our grandparents helped to build. It is like the churches over here, full of people, and not just on Sunday. You see so many young men and women. Some came from Korea and China to brush up on their English and learn more about gospel teaching. But, when it comes to living a Christian life, they are further along the path than most of us.

  ‘Simon had often visited when we were students in London. They loved him even back then, especially when he told them stories about Kenya. There’s a Methodist church down on the coast and the congregation in Calfaria took it into their hearts to help their brothers and sisters in Malindi. Well, four young Welshmen are just finishing a project down there, three builders, and a doctor taking a year out. They’ve been working with the locals to put up a new hall. Coming to us tomorrow for a few days. David and Dot are looking forward to trying out their Welsh again.’

  ‘Builders? What trades? Do you know?’

  ‘I was told. Um, Ivor’s a builder, a brickie man, Dai’s a carpenter, Phil an electrician or a plumber. Iolo calls himself the medical dogsbody.’

  ‘Wonderful!’

  ‘Synchronicity! Modern for “God at work”! The money for the work the boys have done in Malindi was put up by a certain Nairobi lady, Sally Rubai. She wanted it kept a secret.’

  ‘Amazing. I wish I could have a bit of synchronicity here, on this job. My boys are great. Never stop all day, but they could do with a bit more leadership, inspiration. They’d love … Sorry, the Sonya effect is carrying me away!’

  ‘Jim …’ She shook her head in wonder. ‘I’ll have a chat with them at Cartref, but I can offer you three tea-boys ready to start today, as long as you don’t mind half empty mugs of tea.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  here did you get him from, Rafaella? What a beautiful voice, so soft and lilting. And there are three more?’

  ‘So musical, Caroline, just like Italian! They’re Welshmen.

  That one was Iolo. Going to be a doctor. He’s the tallest.’

  ‘A Welsh doctor working on a building site in Naivasha. Wow! And I only came over to check with Tom and Alex about security on the big day.’

  ‘They’re both down the fields. Most of the tents are up. Things are hectic around here. Come and have a look at how the new house is going and you can meet the other Welsh boys. Jim is so excited and everyone is getting on so well. Jim says it’s the first site he’s been on where the house is building itself. And they sing hymns, in Welsh! I didn’t expect to hear so much laughter in Londiani again so soon.’

  ‘But how did Jim get onto them?’

  ‘No idea. Sonya will tell you. She’s bringing the boys up for a final fitting this afternoon. Well, Moses and Sammy will be trying on their suits. Big brother Noah will be helping out with the builders. He’s growing up fast and he wants us all to know. They’re staying with Bertie.’

  ‘What about the Welsh boys?’

  ‘They’re renting rooms in Gilgil Club. Such charmers. Someone down at the coast gave them a car. They have been early for work every day of the two weeks they have been coming here. Jim’s boys love them. You’ve got to meet them, Caroline. They’re staying on for tea today, for the first time.’

  It was the noisiest teatime seen on the veranda at Londiani since the days when the McCall boys brought their pals back after one of their bike safaris around the lake or up to Hell’s Gate.

  ‘Yeah, Tom, Ivor the Brickie they call me. There’s only four of us and three of us are Joneses and not one of us related.’

  ‘Explains a lot. Inbreeding causes madness. Our science teacher passed on that little nugget.’

  ‘Hark who’s talking. David W Davies, Dai the Chippie, not to be confused with Dai the Chips.’

  ‘Do you like it in this country?’

  ‘Love it. How many weeks since we had any rain, Ivor?’

  ‘Not a drop. Four weeks in Malindi and a couple of weeks up here. That would be a record back home.’

  ‘I was a student in Reading. Went to Wales about four times a year. Only once it didn’t rain. Out here rain is a good friend who can’t visit too often.’

  ‘Don’t think we’d use that word. Not an enemy, more of a challenge, especially when it’s sheeting for days on end off the Irish Sea. But it keeps the pavements clean.’

  ‘And the Daniels family, great people, so many doctors. David saved Eddie, my brother’s, life.

  ‘Spent two days with them, and Sonya and the boys. Very relaxing. Iolo spent half his time in that surgery. Given him ideas for back home. We only went out once. That was to deliver a thank you letter for Pastor John and his people. That was our main reason for stopping in Nairobi.’

  ‘Sorry, I took so long, gentlemen. Sonya’s been cooking on the new stove. Something special, she says. I’ve never seen them before, but they look delicious.’

  Rebecca removed the white cloth from the tray with a flourish.

  ‘Dai, I’ve heard about those mirages you have in Africa, but they look real to me.’

  ‘Ivor, now I know we’ve landed in heaven. Welsh cakes! Where’s Sonya?’

  ‘She’s finishing off. Excuse me. I’ll bring the tea. I was too scared to carry them together. Give me a minute. Let me put the cloth back, just in case the flies take a fancy.’

  With his two companions silenced by Rebecca’s surprise, an amused Tom resumed the conversation.

  ‘So the pastor was pretty pleased?’

  ‘Well, without her money, there would have been no hall built.’

  ‘Right, Dai, but, Tom, when we said where we were going …’

  ‘At the time we couldn’t work it out. I mean the house was just ‘round the corner.’

  ‘But, Ivor, I don’t think they realised we were actually going to call on them until Phil mentioned it at the lunch table, just casual like.’

  ‘Better go, we think. Show a bit of respect. What are these Rubai neighbours like?’

  There were serious faces for a while around the table, a bit of tension till Dorothy brought it ‘round.

  ‘They haven’t been living there all that long. Sally seems nice. We’ve heard she’s often in on her own, with the children, that is. You’re right to go over there. She’ll be thrilled. That was it. After lunch, everyone in the house had something important to do, so off we went.’

  * * *

  ‘What an amazing place. Disneyland comes to Nairobi. Couldn’t make up our minds how they managed to get that pinky colour. Brainbox, alias beanpole Iolo, the only one with any A-levels, knew straight away. “Coral. We saw tons of it in Malindi. Must have cost a fortune”. Plenty of jokes about that.

  ‘Tom, you must have seen it. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Ivor, I’ve seen it. Never been inside.’

  The pleasant exchange with this sparky pair of Welshmen was becoming uncomfortable. He was hoping that Rebecca would be delayed until he could move the conversation away from where it seemed to be heading, but the fiery Ivor seemed eager to share their experience.

  ‘Quality everywhere you looked, the materials, the finish, the lot. And the pinky colour, washed into the concrete. Just like Roman concrete. Learned about that in night school.’

  ‘And, Ivor, wasn’t she thrilled with the thank you letter? She insisted we call her Sally. I gathered that the old man knew nothing about the money.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on that, Dai.’

  ‘Do you know them, Tom?’

  ‘You could say that our p
aths have crossed.’

  ‘She was a lovely person. “Dripping with gold”, my gran would say. Bubbly and very kind to us ruffians. It was the poshest house I’ve ever been in.’

  ‘Yeah, by a mile! And for a while, we got on really well. But, Tom, you know how it is sometimes with strangers, especially as we were scared of saying the wrong thing Conversation dies the death.’

  To keep things going, doctor educated Iolo had a bright idea. Brought up the subject of Simon Mboya. We all knew him. He’d been to our church. ‘Sally, I suppose you heard a lot about it. Even a big spread about it in The Carmarthen Times. You could see the anger rising in him. Poor Iolo still can’t get over about what happened and out it came: “Sally, what kind of twisted mind can gun down or whatever the most compassionate doctor in the country?” I think he expected one of those, “Yes, how terrible” nothing replies. You know Iolo, innocent face and big blue eyes. You could see he was stung by the look she gave him.’

  ‘Right, Dai, but it got worse, Tom.’

  ‘Her husband arrived back early. Maybe she heard him coming and that’s what upset her. Didn’t want her secret to get out. He welcomed us and sat down. He’s a very impressive chap.’

  ‘Smart suit, built like a boxer. Scary, too. I think it’s the eyes. Someone said the night before that he was a pretty big man in the country. Didn’t pay much attention then, but sitting there on one of the family’s gold chairs, different story. I was holding my breath.’

  ‘From Wales, eh? I have visited. Cardiff, do you live near there? Tell me, where are you staying in Kenya?’

  ‘Just ‘round the corner. The Daniels family. We know Sonya, Ms Mboya. She’s looking after us.’

  ‘For a few moments he said nothing but he’s even better than his wife with the drop-dead looks. We were getting the message hot and strong.’

  ‘Five minutes later, we were back out on the road, chucked out but very politely!’

  ‘Fair play, everyone back in Cartref was very apologetic. Then it all came out. Shocking story. Unbelievable!’

  A very relieved Tom had no intention of elaborating on the saga of the sins of Mister Big. Rebecca’s timing was perfect. The tea was refreshing and the Welsh cakes scrumptious.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  n the day of his wedding Tom McCall enjoyed a special thrill even before he left the house. For the first time in many weeks he woke up in his own bedroom.

  The camp bed was comfortable enough, but like the rest of the house, his room was little more than a bare empty shell. That Londiani had reached this advanced stage was mainly because of the four foreign young men. They had worked with unsparing energy and a high level of skill. More than that, they had inspired everyone around them. They had broken the back of the build and every day they were on site, Jim had shaken his head in grateful disbelief.

  Tom had been up early to stand at his window. The first light, slanting across the lake as the sun lifted above the unseen ridge of the Aberdares far away to his right was an old and much missed friend. He had slept badly, kept awake by a worry that had troubled more and more the closer he came to this day of days. How selfish was he being to have wanted and been granted two day of days. Standing there looking out across the plains towards the waters of the lake, it seemed plain ridiculous that he was dragging so many people up to Pembroke House school with all the inconveniences involved so that he could marry his Rebecca in the Christina chapel and then draw so many of the same people to Londiani to go through a similar process. He wasn’t even sure which event marked the true marriage. His regret, his remorse was far too late. The day was underway in many practical ways, not least up in the school itself.

  Up there those involved had a much less gloomy take on Tom’s selfishness. The duty staff had no problems on getting the children out of bed as the six-thirty wake-up bell clanged in the chapel tower. The din of breakfast was noisier than ever and the chattering and rushing continued undiminished through bed making and chores. The three normal lessons before break passed at lightning speed with even the toughest of the teachers being ready to be drawn off subject by the most obvious red herrings.

  ‘Miss, why do women have to wear a white dress when they get married?’

  They even allowed the variety of answers to come from the class.

  ‘Women don’t have to do anything that men tell them. I’m getting married in my swimming costume and tackies.’

  ‘Yeah, Melanie, just cos you’re so stingy. And your husband will only be wearing a pair of underpants.’

  ‘George Smith, why do you enjoy being disgusting so much?’

  ‘Sorry, Miss. But you’ve got to admit, Miss, that it made everybody laugh, even Mel.’

  At ten o’clock, the early break was over and the school was gathered on the Prefects’ Lawn, listening to the headmaster setting out the plan for the day. As he was talking, a procession of four cars was leaving the A104 at the first Gilgil turn-off making their way into town and the climb up the Nyharuru Road to Pembroke. Bertie, with Ewan, Sonya and the boys on board, led the way as usual. And, as usual Bertie had a loaded pistol in the glove compartment. In the rear, Eddie was driving Tom who had been long reassured that forcing a lot of friends to spend a day out in one of the most lovely parts of the valley was no selfish act.

  ‘Tom, look. The zebras are out in force on both sides. Rollo and I always saw that as a good sign at the start of a new term.’

  ‘Saw them but just here I always make sure I can pick out the Bata Bridge. Did your lot used to make a palaver as you went under on the way back from away matches?’

  ‘Sure. We’ll give it belt as we go under.’

  In the second car Rollo’s passengers were the bride, her mother and Rafaella, and, behind them, Alex drove the rest of the Kamau family. The outfits of the bride’s party were waiting for them on hangers in the darkened bedroom of the girls’ housemistress, Tammy Moss.

  The four Welsh residents of Gilgil Club were well-known to everyone in the school. The children looked on them as extra gap years and enjoyed having them to take games on Saturday. But it was in the Sunday evening chapel services that these four Christian boys touched the zenith of their popularity. They had a lot of experience of passing on their message to unsympathetic audiences. They had good voices and led by the red-headed Jones, the Brickie, a natural comedian, they dazzled their eager audience with their all-action mixture of fun and teaching.

  So they had volunteered to keep the hundred and sixty highly excited Pembroke people occupied and, if possible, reasonably calm. They relished the prospect, but after ten minutes lost the attention of their audience to a superior attraction.

  Slowly, from the direction of the top car park they came, an assorted group of young and old, some known but most not. They were heading for the chapel, as everyone had been told would happen. Necks were craned and eyes were riveted on one person above all. It was not only the children who gasped when they caught sight of the tall, smiling woman in the lavender trouser suit.

  ‘I always thought that there was a tradition the bride and groom met for the first time at the altar on the big day.’

  ‘This is Africa, Pete, the land of free spirits.’

  ‘Thank you, Marge. I’ll remember when my time comes for the chop.’

  ‘Chop? I don’t think you’d find Tom McCall talking such rubbish today.’

  The head girl and the head boy led the way into the stone chapel. The visitors took up the last two rows. Rafaella made sure of her place where she had the best view of the procession of the school coming for their morning service. They came, youngest first. Rafaella wished they would walk more slowly, but many of the smallest were shy and wanted the ordeal over quickly.

  The headmaster took the service.

  ‘Welcome students and guests to the Christina Chapel and to our ordinary, extraordinary service. Do you understand that, Thomas?’

  He pointed to a very small boy just below him.

  ‘Yes, sir. It mea
ns a bit weird.’

  ‘Brilliant answer!’ The sincere compliment shut up the few half-hearted guffaws coming out of the large choir who were waiting nervously to sing their anthem.

  ‘And where do you come from, Tom?’

  ‘Naivasha, sir.’

  ‘So why did I ask you the question?’

  Thomas Walker stood up, screwed himself ‘round and pointed to the back of the chapel with his arm bent.

  ‘My friend. We play football sometimes.’

  Tom McCall stood up and acknowledged the polite ripple of applause and blew a kiss to his young neighbour.

  The service moved on quickly. The head girl read the gospel story of the wedding at Cana. Six children popped up from various parts of the chapel to recite the prayers they had written to honour the occasion.

  ‘And now a little touch of deja vu. Don’t worry, Thomas, no questions this time. How many of you remember last year’s Londiani Sevens tournament?’

  A hundred hands shot up, ramrod straight.

  ‘And the hymn we …’

  Even more hands just as quickly.

  ‘Well, then, here we go again, but this time …’

  Rebecca was already on her way to the front of the chapel. The radiance of her smile, the poignancy of the moment and the vulnerability of the beautiful creature standing before them set off a rush of quiet tears all over the place, especially in the last two rows of the chapel.

  Those arriving early for the wedding proper were greeted by an empty school and a full-throated sound of singing bursting through the open windows of the chapel and out across the valley.

  The service ended, the children scattered and the bride and her party went off to get ready.

  Rebecca and Tom were to be married outdoors. Rows of seats had been arranged in a large semicircle under the shade of the large branches of the pepper trees just across from the chapel. Facing the large gathering was a low platform and, in front, an altar with a dark wooden cross resting on a colouful tapestry decorated with scenes illustrating Jesus’s baptism in the River Jordan.