Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  The closer they drove, the more people they passed walking along the side of the road, herding goats, dragging old supermarket trolleys piled high with goods, groups of children on their way to or from school. They passed the inevitable shack lands as they approached the centre of town, rows of dwellings made of old packing cases, topped with corrugated iron and weighed down by discarded tyres. Welcome to the city, thought Amie, realising she was neither excited, nor relieved, but scared. The hustle and bustle sounded so loud, the crowds so dense, she felt alienated. Will I ever get used to urban living again?

  The truck came to an abrupt halt and Themboniso jumped out, beckoning to Amie to follow. Battered and bruised, she clambered over the pumpkins slipping inelegantly off the back of the vehicle. They were in one of the outer suburbs and Themboniso set off purposely along the well-kept streets, flanked by houses very similar to the ones in Spring Glen. They turned several corners until they reached one of the larger properties that was surrounded by a high wall. He rang the bell beside the imposing gate and spoke to the intercom. The gate clicked open and Amie followed him up the front path and round the side of the house, past the sparkling blue swimming pool and up to the back door.

  A housemaid, not unlike Pretty, was standing outside. She peered at Amie as if she was an alien and there was a sharp exchange of words. At first, she seemed uncooperative, but then she suddenly disappeared returning several moments later to wave them both inside.

  Even though Amie had lived most of her life in similar surroundings, she felt awkward and out of place. She was ashamed and embarrassed about the way she looked, and hesitated at the entrance to the lounge.

  “Where is she, then?” demanded an imperious voice.

  The maid came over and grabbed Amie’s arm, pulling her into the room. An elderly woman in a wheelchair, picked up her spectacles and peered at her visitor.

  “Gracious,” she exclaimed, “you are a wild, white woman! I didn’t believe what they said.”

  “I’m sorry to arrive like this – you must think it frightfully rude but …” Amie trailed off.

  “Come and sit down, child, and tell me all about it,” the lady indicated a chair opposite.

  “Oh no, I’m such a mess and so dusty and – what must you think of me?”

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, but first I want to hear who you are and where you come from. Wait.” She turned to the maid and asked if Themboniso was still waiting outside the back door. The maid nodded. “Then tell him to wait until the Master gets home. They can negotiate the business side.” She turned to Amie with a smile. “You do realize, Themboniso wants payment for bringing you into town? But he’s suggesting an enormous amount. He used to work for us as a garden boy, but he was so unreliable we had to let him go. He must have seen you as an easy way to make a bit of cash,” she laughed.

  “Of course, I’ll repay you as soon as I get home, but now I’ve got nothing at all, only the clothes I stand up in.”

  “I can see that. Now, while Emily makes us coffee, you must tell me all about it. What have you been up to?”

  Amie told her story as briefly as possible. For some strange reason, she felt very protective towards her forest family, and she was deliberately vague as to where they lived. While she recognized her new acquaintance wanted to know where she’d come from, Amie was desperate to know what had happened in Togodo, and where she was now.

  “Goodness, I don’t even know your name,” her hostess said. “I’m Alice Robbins, my husband works on the mines here. This isn’t the capital, I’m afraid, that’s Atari, and it’s about two hundred kilometres farther south. Umeru is just a small mining town, we don’t have all that many amenities here, everything is centred around the mines.”

  “I’ll need to get there somehow,” said Amie, “I’ve no passport, but I must get home and I must contact my family, let them know I’m safe.”

  “Well, that I can arrange immediately. Of course, we must let them know,” said Alice with a smile. “But would you like a hot shower and some clean clothes first? Make you feel a little more human?”

  “A shower, what a wonderful idea. That sounds like heaven.”

  “Let me come with you, and see what I can find for you to wear. It won’t be as smart as your present dress of course, but …” they both laughed.

  Amie liked Alice Robbins. She took everything in her stride and Amie was reminded of the resilience of those expats she’d grown to know and love.

  “I think I have an African comb around somewhere, it’s going to be a job getting those tangles out of your hair.”

  “I need a good hairdresser and a few hours with a manicure set,” said Amie looking at her nails.

  “That can all be arranged,” said Alice, deftly wheeling herself into the bedroom. Her maid hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Emily, fetch some clean towels, but first, hand me down the blue dress from the wardrobe and some clean underwear.”

  Amie wanted to stay under the shower for hours. It was sheer bliss to feel warm water running over her skin as she scrubbed off the dirt. Some patches remained stubbornly grubby, and she guessed it would take several more showers until she’d feel totally clean all over. Looking in the bathroom mirror, she was surprised to see how brown she was, and noticed with alarm how rough and calloused her hands and feet were.

  “You can tell you’ve been away from civilization for a while,” Alice smiled. “While you finish off, I’ll go and get the computer up and running. I’m sure you can’t wait to see your family.”

  Amie hesitated for a second, she thought she would prefer to speak to them without video, would her appearance scare them? It seemed ungracious though not to accept the offer, an Internet call was free and she thought it rude to refuse.

  When she went back into the lounge Alice was waiting for her. While it was so nice to be clean, Amie found it strange to be wearing European clothes again. She felt constricted, and she kept wanting to take off the sandals Alice had left out for her to wear.

  “Give me their names and we’ll see if we can connect,” Alice said, but either her family were not online, or they didn’t notice Alice’s request to network.

  “Never mind,” Amie’s hostess said. “We’ll try them on the landline.” This too was a failure, for there was number unobtainable at the Reynold household, Sam and her family didn’t answer either, and the phone in Jonathon’s parents’ house just rang and rang. Amie wanted to burst into tears. She had hyped herself up to make contact, and now she couldn’t. She was tempted to ask if she could call a friend, but it didn’t seem right to give the news to anyone else before she’d spoken to her family. She would just have to be patient. Hopefully, everyone would be home when it was supper time in England.

  While they sat and waited, with more coffee and cakes, Alice filled her in on the news from Togodo. From what she’d heard, the revolution had continued for months, with first one side in control, and then the other. It seemed that the years of neglect by the ruling Kawas, together with the large deposits of valuable minerals that had been discovered in the north had prompted the minority tribes into attacking the government. As far as anyone knew, there were no foreigners left in Apatu, and many had fled into neighbouring Ruanga. Quite what the situation was at present no one knew. Alice didn’t think there were any foreign embassies operating in Apatu. Several major mining companies were more than eager to negotiate with whoever was in charge of the country, but as that kept changing all the time nothing had been agreed so far.

  “When my husband gets home from work, I’ll ask him to try and find out who might still be here, though I’m sure any expatriates who escaped over the southern border would have reached the capital and be back home by now,” Alice observed. “We get very little news from Togodo, as it hasn’t been on good terms with Ruanga for years. Opposing tribes of course, but I do know the race is on here as well to prospect for minerals, the capital is knee deep in exploration companies wandering out into the bush
with equipment.”

  For some reason she couldn’t explain, Amie couldn’t stop fidgeting. Suddenly she looked up.

  “What date is it? I’ve totally lost track of time.”

  When Alice told her, Amie pondered for a few moments, she was still finding it very difficult to think straight. “But I’ve been, it’s – it’s – over a year and a half! Surely, I can’t have been living rough all that time? It can’t be that long, it can’t be!”

  “The troubles started almost eighteen months ago,” Alice commented. “For a while we were worried about our safety, but I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. It’s an amazing story, yet you’ve survived. I think you’re very brave.”

  Tim Robbins arrived home from work later that evening to find Themboniso, waiting patiently for him on the back doorstep.

  “After all my years in Africa, I will never understand the African’s unending patience,” he exclaimed, when he walked into the lounge. Amie stood up to greet him, but although Tim was just as friendly as Alice, she still felt shy, awkward, and out of place.

  “How are you?” he greeted her. “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure, and you can add to that – you’ve just cost me the price of a dinner for four in the Savoy!”

  “Oh, oh, I’m so sorry,” wailed Amie. “I will make sure you get it back. I didn’t mean to be a …”

  Tim interrupted her. “My dear girl, you’re not to give it a second thought. I’m only too pleased to help, it’s the least I can do. We’ll be dining out on this for years to come, won’t we Alice?” Bending down he kissed his wife.

  Alice smiled. “We will, and Amie must feel free to stay with us as long as she likes.”

  “Thank you, but I should get back home as soon as possible,” even as Amie said this, she was aware of a strange reluctance to return to Castle Bridge. That wasn’t normal surely? Didn’t she want to see her family and friends? Get back to a more normal life? She was amazed to realize that she wasn’t sure.

  Just then the lights flickered and the power went out. Tim checked the phone and shook his head.

  “It doesn’t look as if you’ll be talking to anyone in England tonight,” he said ruefully. “When the services break down, we often don’t get them back for days. We don’t have cell phone reception out here either, so your re-entry into the world will probably have to wait a bit longer. What I will do, is get you transport to the capital, to our head office. I’m sure Matheson and his family will put you up, and help you sort out emergency travel papers. You don’t have a passport now I take it?”

  “No,” said Amie. “They took everything away when I was put in prison.”

  From then on events moved at great speed. Alice helped her pack a small suitcase with a change of clothes and a few toiletries. When the company car arrived to collect Amie and take her to the capital Alice smiled wistfully as she waved goodbye.

  Amie met up with the Mathesons as soon as she arrived in Atari, and stayed with them for a couple of days, while the officious staff at the British Embassy sorted out her travel documents. She sat in a small room for hours, answering a battery of questions. Where had she been? What company had her husband worked for? What had she been doing for all these months? Why had she not got in touch earlier? Could she prove she was British?

  There were further problems as the phone number and address she gave them for her parents were no longer valid, and it was only when they managed to contact Gerry and Sam, that they finally believed her story.

  If the noise and chaos of Atari frightened Amie, the chaos and frenetic activity at Heathrow Airport was deafening. She hadn’t expected crowds of reporters, TV cameras and flash bulbs going off in her face. She was jostled and bumped while they fired questions at her the minute she walked into the arrivals hall, looking wildly around for her family. It was obvious someone in Atari had tipped off the media and now Amie was the centre of very unwelcome attention.

  At last she managed to push her way through, brushing aside the microphones waved in front of her face, and in tears, she fell into her mother’s arms.

  “Take me home,” she sobbed. “Get me out of here.”

  Amie’s parents were just as bewildered as she was, and they protected her as best they could. The media hoard followed them all the way into the car park, and knocked on the car windows asking for comments, a statement, to tell them where she had been, and what had happened. It was all terrifying. She buried her face in her hands and bent over in the car seat willing them all to go away.

  No one said anything much on the journey back home. Amie wondered where Jonathon was, but she was too afraid to ask. She sank into a silent world, hoping and praying her parents would understand.

  Instead of pulling up at their old house, she was surprised to see that while she’d been away, they’d moved to a much smaller house on the other side of town, but here too, there was another crowd of media hawks screaming and shouting a barrage of questions. She refused to look at them, shrinking beside her father as he elbowed them out of the way, and shielded her as they went in through the front door.

  The photographers thought nothing of trampling on the flower beds, to peering in through the windows to get more shots of Amie. Her mother rushed over and drew the curtains. Then, even before they had a chance to sit down or put the kettle on, the phone started ringing incessantly. One newspaper, magazine, television and radio station after another, asked to speak to Amie. They wanted her to appear on the Breakfast Show, the Tonight Show and make herself available for interviews. Finally, Amie’s father took the phone off the hook.

  “And I thought we were ex-directory now,” her mother observed as she put coffee and cake on the table. “Jonathon’s parents just took the receiver off the hook and left it off.” She stopped suddenly, berating herself for mentioning Amie’s husband.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past what they can find out,” responded Amie’s father. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  Amie didn’t know what to feel. She wasn’t in familiar surroundings, her parents seemed awkward, not sure how to behave towards her, and she also felt totally out of place. She shook her head and tears ran down her cheeks. She was home, why was she feeling this way? What was wrong with her?

  17 THE RETURN

  There was a loud banging on the front door, and someone put their finger on the bell and kept it there.

  “Now, who the hell is that!” exclaimed Raymond Reynolds marching to the front door. Sam, Gerry and the children were standing on the doorstep waiting to be let in.

  “Hurry up! At last!” exclaimed Sam, as she raced into the kitchen. “Those reporters were about to eat us for breakfast,” she laughed. “Amie, it’s really you!” She swept Amie into her arms and gave her a crushing bear hug. “It’s so good to have you back, now you can get back to a normal life. Not, that it will ever be normal for you from now on. All those TV interviews, and having your face in all the newspapers, and now you’re famous, they’ll probably have you on all the celebrity shows as well. Hey, we have someone famous in the family at last, maybe we can get to meet other famous people if you take us along to the studios. Hey, that would be great!”

  “Calm down, Sam,” said Mary Reynolds, “it’s all a bit of a trial for Amie right now.”

  “Yes, but in a couple of days when she’s settled back into things, then the fun will begin.” Sam brushed her mother’s warning aside.

  In contrast to Sam, Amie’s niece and nephew were standing quite still, staring at her as if they didn’t know her at all.

  “Come on, kids,” said Gerry, after kissing Amie on the cheek and giving her a little squeeze, “let’s go find Grandma’s box of toys in the other room.”

  Once they’d left the kitchen there was an awkward silence. Amie gazed at them all.

  “No one has mentioned Jonathon. Where is he?” she asked. “Why hasn’t anyone mentioned him? I asked about him in Atari and they wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me anything. Is he dead?” Amie had been so afra
id to ask, she didn’t want to hear Jonathon was dead; she couldn’t bear it. Somehow, while she’d been in the bush, she’d accepted her fate and the fate of all her other friends, and in her own way she had mourned losing him. She’d not thought far ahead, about ever leaving; it was if she’d been in one long dream. Now she was back home and the world was crowding in on her again, she needed to know the worst.

  There was a long pause, the world stood still and Amie’s family looked at each other in dismay. She looked at each one in turn searching their faces for clues.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked. “You can tell me. I have to know sooner or later.”

  Mary Reynolds cleared her throat and said, “Amie, we don’t actually know. We don’t know where he is. He left Apatu on the last plane out of the airport, and by the time he realised you weren’t on the plane they were already in the air ...”

  “They carried him onto the plane when he was unconscious, I think he’d been knocked out by a collapsed wall or something,” Samantha butted in.

  Amie’s father glared at her, then her mother continued. “He was home for a short time, and we thought he’d gone a little crazy. He was determined to go back and look for you and find out what had happened. He said you knew someone high up in the government, and maybe they would try and protect you.”

  Visions of Colonel Mbanzi being blown into little bits, floated in front of Amie’s eyes, as the voices of her family rose and fell.

  “Then he had the most awful row with his parents,” Sam interrupted again. “It was such a big fight that he moved out and came and stayed with us for a few days. Then he caught a plane and went back to look for you.”

  “How – how long ago was that?” Amie whispered.