Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “Wait, wait a few minutes. Then you can get your bag and your phone before we leave. Calm, calm first.”

  Amie stared at her. How did this old lady know she had gone out without her phone and bag? Had she seen them through the window? And how did she get into the garden? Did Teabag let her in?

  “Did you see Teabag?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “Teabag, the gardener. Did he let you in?”

  The witchdoctor shook her head.

  He must have done, Amie reasoned, and maybe I left the front door unlocked and she went in and saw my bag and phone. But a few minutes later when she went to open the door, it was firmly locked. Before she rescued her bag and money, she checked the back door which was also locked. It was a waste of time checking for open windows as they were all covered with strong burglar bars. Determined thieves could wrench them apart using car jacks, but Amie couldn’t see Ouma Adede resorting to such measures.

  Strangely, she felt much calmer now and she put it down to the power of the unknown concoction; whatever it contained had worked wonders. She felt more energetic than she had for days and her mind was operating in top gear.

  Handbag and phone in hand, Amie ran back out into the garden, realising with horror she’d committed one of the worst offences for an African, she had not offered her visitor a drink.

  “Ouma Adede, I am so sorry, I did not give you any refreshment. Can I get ...?

  Much to Amie’s relief the old lady smiled and shook her head. “This time I give it to you.” She indicated the cool drink bottle she still held in her hand. “Now we go, go to get your sister.”

  Amie led the way to the car, opened the passenger door and waited for Ouma Adede to get settled. She noticed that the old lady still clutched the worn, brown leather bag she’d had before. It contained the bones, semi-precious stones, bottle tops, bits of hair and dried animal parts she used to foretell the future.

  “Where to?” asked Amie, turning the ignition key.

  “The airport – after the fuel station.”

  Amie sat calmly as the petrol attendant filled the tank, then drove as fast as she could, while wondering why she felt peaceful and relaxed. There must have been something amazing in the dirty brown liquid that Ouma Adede had encouraged her to drink; no, not encouraged, forced her to take. It flashed through her mind that she may be driving under the influence of something, but she wasn’t worried about being pulled over by the police. While they could test to see if someone had been having too much of the local beer, or the stronger almost pure alcoholic brews concocted in the back yards in the shanty towns, there seemed no way of testing for other drugs by the roadside. She was convinced that many of the drivers, especially the taxi drivers, were often high on marijuana, or dagga as it was commonly known. That took away much of their ability to judge speed and distance and was the cause of many horrendous accidents.

  She glanced sideways at the witchdoctor sitting quietly beside her. This would be something for Sam to tell the folks when she returned home, as of course, she would after a couple of weeks. “Guess what, when Amie picked me up at the airport, she had a witchdoctor in the car.” Yes, that would be a great talking point in the local pub.

  Amie was by now convinced that Sam would be at the airport, but after all the fuss last night, this seemed a little irrational. Was it due to the presence of the old lady sitting next to her? She radiated confidence and knowledge; there was no other way to describe it.

  She pulled into a bay in the parking area and hurried round to open the door for her passenger. Ouma Adede made no attempt to open the door for herself, but stepped out and appeared to sway and float as she made straight for the main entrance. Amie had to scoot to keep up with her.

  Once inside, she passed the check-in desks, oblivious to the startled glances from new arrivals who were not expecting to see such a sight. Those who knew her profession bobbed their heads as she swept past.

  She turned right along a corridor and past three closed doors before knocking on the fourth. A head popped out and did a double take before beckoning her inside. Amie followed close behind. There was a high counter taking up the width of the room, behind which stood an airport official picking his nose. He looked a bit startled to see Ouma Adede who rattled off several sentences in rapid Todogian.

  Amie could only pick up one or two words, but she understood the name Samantha during the quick-fire delivery.

  Immediately, the official lifted the flap on the counter, showing great deference to the witchdoctor, and indicated they should follow him.

  He took them to another office and ushered them in. There on a chair, her face streaked with tears, sat Samantha who wailed when she saw Amie.

  Amie rushed over and gathered her sister in her arms. “It’s Ok, it’s OK,” she murmured, “I’m here. We’ll sort everything out now.”

  Amie turned to Ouma Adede to thank her and ask her to translate with the airport official, but the old woman was no longer there. It was as if she had disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

  Leaving Sam for a moment Amie rushed to the door and peered up and down the corridor. There was no sign of the witchdoctor, but she did see Jonathon approaching with a smartly dressed black man at his side.

  “Amie, don’t leave me” Samantha cried.

  “Of course not,” Amie returned to her sister. “Jonathon is outside and I think he’s brought some official with him. Tell me what happened. Have you been here all night?”

  Sam nodded. “I’ve been a prisoner here in this tiny room, they even walked me to the toilet, it, it was horrible. They grabbed me at immigration and said my passport was no good and then they hauled me in here and they ... they ...” she sobbed.

  Amie dragged a chair over and sat next to her. “It’s all going to be OK now, calm down. It’s all over, I’m here,” Amie murmured, wrapping her arms round her elder sister and rocking her gently backwards and forwards. “It’s all over, we’ll sort everything out.”

  “I should never have come,” wailed Sam.

  Amie thought that was probably very true, but wisely she said nothing and handed her sister a tissue.

  Jonathon entered the room with two other men. He smiled at Sam but spoke to Amie. “Sam should have got a visa before boarding in London I’m surprised they didn’t stop her getting on the plane.”

  “So when she got off at this end ...”

  “They pounced on her.” Jonathon gave a half smile.

  “They ... they locked me in this room and they took my bags away and I didn’t know what was going on and, and why didn’t you answer my message, Amie?” Samantha continued clinging to Amie like fly paper. She began to weep again.

  “Please calm down. It’s all sorted now,” said the black man standing next to Jonathon. From his accent Amie guessed he must be from the British Embassy. She expected Jonathon to tell her who he was, or at least introduce him, but her husband remained silent. The British government official continued. “We’ve explained the situation and your brother-in-law has agreed to stand surety for you, and be responsible for your behaviour while you’re his guest.”

  Sam gave him a filthy look and Amie bit her lip to stop herself smiling. This representative of Her Majesty’s Foreign Service could do with a lesson in both tact and diplomacy.

  “It’s all over now, Sam, we’ll take you home and this will be a great story to tell next time you meet up with friends. It was all a misunderstanding. And I did reply to your message, and tried to phone you several times.”

  Sam looked a little shamefaced as she took her phone out of her pocket. “The battery’s dead,” she stared at the blank screen. “I asked them if I could recharge it but the cable was in my big case and they refused.”

  The Embassy guy who had still not introduced himself took some papers out of his case and laid them on the table. “All I need is your signature here and you can leave the airport.”

  Jonathon scanned the document and swiftly signed his name and pushed
it towards Sam. He pointed to where she should sign and handed her a pen. For a brief second Amie thought she was going to refuse, maybe leap to her feet and announce she was getting on the next plane back to London, but then, she scrawled her name below Jonathon’s.

  “Can we go now?” asked Amie. “Can I take her home?”

  “Yes, I’ll get them to bring her case and you’re free to go.”

  It flew through Amie’s mind that it was likely Sam’s case would have taken a walk by now, but much to her surprise, a few minutes later an airport official arrived at the door wheeling it behind him.

  Amie helped her sister to her feet and grabbing the case handle she turned to thank the British official, but he’d swept the documents off the table and disappeared out of the room before she could open her mouth. She glanced at Jonathon who shrugged his shoulders. Now who that was? Wondered Amie. There were not that many foreigners here in Apatu while the country was getting back on its feet and she thought she knew all the other English people, although this was the first one she’d seen with a skin as dark as the local Togodians. She was certain she’d never seen him before.

  “Who was that?” she mouthed to Jonathon, but he only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

  Amie could see that now she had a bigger problem – getting Sam back to normal. She must have been pretty upset before she even left London, and now she was in an even worse state. She steered her out along the corridor, through the concourse and made for the exit. Jonathon caught up with them just as they reached the pavement outside and Sam stopped abruptly, gasping in the sudden heat which, after the air-conditioning in the airport, hit her like a brick wall.

  “Cheer up, Sam, you’ll get used to it.” Jonathon patted her on the head as if she was a pet dog and Amie glared at him. He leaned over to peck his wife on the cheek and then strode off to his car calling over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Propelling Sam across the road to the car park was like trying to manoeuvre a life-sized rag doll. Amie was exhausted by the time she’d reached the car, opened the door, poured Sam into the passenger seat, put the case in the boot, and slid behind the steering wheel.

  Before she pulled out into the main road, Sam was out for the count. Amie guessed her sister hadn’t slept a wink all night. She would put her straight to bed the moment she got home.

  For the rest of the morning Amie tiptoed round the house doing her best to keep quiet, so at first, she didn’t hear the gentle rap on the front door. There stood Ouma Adede with a young girl. A dozen questions leapt into Amie’s mind. How had Ouma Adede known Sam was at the airport? Where did she go once they’d found Sam? How had she got back into town so quickly?

  Before she had a chance to open her mouth, the witchdoctor thrust the young girl towards Amie. “You need help in the house. This is Mathilda. She work for you.”

  Amie stared at Mathilda and she stared right back before dropping her eyes. It is not polite in African society to look anyone directly in the eyes especially those more important than yourself. Amie used to think this was a sign of guilt, or insolence, but she’d long come to realise it was just another of those customs important in the local culture.

  Mathilda stood a little over five-foot tall, at least six inches shorter than Amie, and was plump with the full rounded bottom common to Africans. Amie guessed she was aged somewhere between eighteen and thirty-five but her simple, faded summer top and skirt were clean and tidy. She reminded Amie of an abandoned puppy waiting to be whipped and her heart went out to her. For sure, if Ouma Adede had told her she was to work for this madam, then that was what she was going to do. Amie only hoped Mathilda wanted the job as much as she needed help in the house, she had a niggling feeling that Sam was going to be quite a handful.

  He sighed in frustration as he reported in.

  “They have a visitor, youngish, thirties maybe, white, Caucasian, and they unloaded suitcases. I think she is there to stay. Can we move in now?”

  “No. Wait. Her visa is only valid for a few weeks, then she’ll be flying back to London.”

  The man threw the cell on the front dashboard in frustration. “I don’t bloody understand it,” he complained to his companion in the passenger seat. “Why all this stuffing around? We go in, we blast them and anyone else who might be there and we get out. Why? Why just those two and only those two?”

  “Beats me, must be something personal with the boss. An’ maybe he doesn’t want to upset the President, they’re friends or something aren’t they? And they have several of our people in their prison.”

  “So why not take them hostage, beat them up a little and demand our brothers back?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers to that. We only know we must obey. They will have their reasons.”

  They settled down again to watch and wait.

  6 HOLIDAY HELL

  Without another word, Ouma Adede turned away and floated across the bare earth and out of the gate.

  Amie took Mathilda gently by the arm, only then noticing the plastic bag near the little bush by the front door.

  “This is yours?”

  Mathilda nodded.

  “Then let’s get you settled first, though you’ll have to give the kaya a good clean, I’ve not had a chance since ...” Amie paused, best not to say anything more. She eyed the solitary plastic bag which probably held all Mathilda’s worldly goods, and took her round to the back of the house. From the look on her face, it seemed that Mathilda was quite satisfied with her accommodation. Although not large, there was space for the bed, a wardrobe, table and chair and a wall surrounding the shower, toilet and wash hand basin. She gave Amie a shy smile, but said nothing.

  “Sort yourself out and come to the house when you’re ready,” Amie went back into the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the table.

  “How are you feeling?” Amie asked her.

  “Still shaky,” Sam replied. “I ... I was so scared. At the immigration desk, they looked at my passport for ages. All the other people were whisked through and then I was the only one left. Then more men in uniforms appeared and they were all carrying big guns.”

  “Most of the officials in Togodo carry guns, that’s not unusual,” Amie reassured her.

  “Well, you never told me that, how was I to know? They locked you up didn’t they?”

  “Yes, but that was a bit different. There was a war on.”

  “Yeah, well, then they took me into an office and they kept asking me what I was doing in Togodo, and why I didn’t have a visa and why I hadn’t gone to their embassy in London to get one. They refused to give me back my passport and they went on and on and on asking questions until I couldn’t think and I was so tired and ...” Samantha broke down in tears again.

  “There, there,” Amie put her arm around her. “I’ll make you a strong cup of coffee and some toast. That’ll help you feel better. It’s all over and you’re safe now.”

  “Are there really men out there in the streets walking about with guns?” Sam shuddered.

  “Well – not too many,” Amie filled two coffee mugs with boiling water and sliced the bread. “You get used to it and it just seems part of everyday life.”

  “I never would.” Samantha was quite adamant.

  “Anyhow, you still haven’t told me why you just jumped on a plane, Sam. What’s going on? What’s happened? Where are the kids – and Gerry?”

  “Gerry’s gone.”

  “What do you mean gone? Gone where?”

  “He left.”

  “He walked out on you!”

  “Last week. Remember all those nights I told you he said he was working overtime?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was overtime with benefits. Miss Husband Stealer, that’s what I call her. He was out all night one time and we had a huge row and he admitted it.”

  “Oh, you poor thing! How awful for you. Oh Sam, I’m so sorry. How long has it been going on?”

  “A couple of years
, I think.”

  “Years!”

  “Yes, well, I think so. He said she was the only one. But there could have been a string of them for all I know, dozens, hundreds, thousands ...” Samantha burst into tears again.

  Amie didn’t know what to say to her. Gerry? The rather boring, solid, dependable husband who worked in a nice, safe, secure job at the local council? Sam hadn’t married a husband who’d whisked her off to darkest Africa and then admitted he was a spy who’d been trained to kill. No, Gerry was just – ordinary.

  She pushed the plate of toast under Sam’s nose and sat down beside her.

  “So how long is it since you found out?”

  “Two weeks. I tried to carry on, but the kids were really playing up, worse than ever. I just couldn’t cope. Mum offered to have them for a few days to give me a break, but when I went back to the empty house, I just couldn’t bear it, all those memories. So, I packed a case and came to see you.”

  “Does Mum know you’re here?”

  Sam shook her head. “No. I thought I’d phone her when I arrived.”

  “I can understand why, she’d have had a fit and persuaded you not to go,” Amie sympathized.

  “She’s going to have a fit when I tell her where I am,” Sam agreed, grabbing the toast. “I’m starving.”

  “We can feed you up while you’re here, you won’t go hungry. So has Gerry really moved out?”

  “Yes, last week. After the row and him admitting what a bastard he is,” Samantha spat out the words.

  “Maybe he’ll come back, I’m sure he will. He’ll miss the kids – and you, of course.”

  “He’s hardly seen the kids for weeks. How could he when he was always out, coming in at all hours!”

  “Maybe if you just give it time,” Amie didn’t know what else to say. She was still reeling with shock at the news. From the moment she’d heard Sam was on her way over, she’d suspected that her marriage might be going through a difficult patch, all marriages did, but not a total breakdown. Why was it that the couples you thought were so happy were often the ones to break up? She loved Sam dearly but they hadn’t always got on, like most sisters they’d had their moments, but Amie was quite shocked at the news.