by Nora James
Martin frowned. “Hammy?”
“Minister Hamed, none other than the Minister for Energy.”
“I know who you mean by Hammy. I just don’t think it sounds professional.”
Jack sighed. “The Minister didn’t mention a breach, nor did his right hand. And there were plenty of opportunities. I kept saying we were confused because we had not breached any clause of the contract. Not once did they contradict me.”
Martin nodded. “Same here. I only managed to speak to the Minister for a few minutes, but I gathered he wasn’t invoking any kind of breach by us.”
“That’s right,” Jack continued. “What the Minister did say, was that there were lots of other potential partners who could give them a lot more than we were offering. He even asked whether we could do anything about that.”
Lara raised her eyebrows. “But we’ve got a contract. The terms are in it. Are they talking bribes?”
Jack nodded. “Possibly.”
“It’s out of the question,” Lara said. “Not only could we get into trouble here, but we could be prosecuted in Australia.”
Jack smiled. “Don’t worry, we would never go down that path. Doesn’t stop them asking, though. This is Africa.”
They stood in the entrance in silence, scratching their heads, rubbing their chins, before Jack spoke again. “Anyway, the main thing that came out of it was that we are only going to get one chance to fix this mess quickly and it’s tomorrow. After that the Minister is going overseas for two weeks.”
“So we have a meeting tomorrow?” asked Lara, hoping they wouldn’t be stuck waiting for the Minister for another two weeks. The thought of being away from Tim that long, of sitting in hot rooms with useless air-conditioning, eating sandy meals, sharing day after day with Jack and Martin in constant tension, with nowhere better than the camel markets to go, was too much for her to bear.
Jack shrugged. “He said he’d let us know in the morning if he could fit us in.”
Martin made a disbelieving sound. “If he can’t it won’t go down well with Alan. Let’s hope there is a meeting and I find out before I have to call the boss.”
As they headed up the stairs to their rooms, their worry was palpable. Lara looked at the frowns on Jack and Martin’s faces, and felt her own inability to loosen her shoulders. She had thought conditions were as harsh as they could get, that there would be no downward spiral here. She had been wrong. There was obviously the potential for life to become harder still. Much harder.
She had to remind herself, once again, why she was doing this. She was away from Tim, in a country of oppressive heat and disease, and at risk in a way she had not anticipated—not only the risk of disease but the risk of becoming involved in an explosive situation with demands for bribes, and a Minister’s wife asking for advice on women’s rights in a country where they liked to think women were born to be oppressed. The only reason Lara was there was because she hadn’t been given a real choice.
There were no two ways about it. She was told she had to go. She had a huge mortgage to pay. She couldn’t afford to lose her job, couldn’t seem to convince Tim to give it all up and settle for a small cottage and a bouncing baby. He felt young, felt they had plenty of time and he wanted to climb the corporate ladder.
She sighed, deeply, painfully, the way you do when you are trying to make the most of what you have but you really don’t have what you want.
“There’s a message,” Martin gestured towards the phone as he passed the study on the way to his bedroom.
Lara saw the flashing light on the answering machine and the most unexpected shiver of excitement ran down her spine. “That’ll be Tim!” She rushed over to the phone, wanting to hear the words she’d been craving, before turning to Jack, beaming.
“It’ll be Tim, for sure.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she thought she saw the shadow of disappointment on Jack’s face. Or was it longing for what she had? She took a breath and pressed the button.
VIII
“It’s about time I had an update on the situation. Ring me as soon as you get this.” It was Alan Smiles, drier than ever, reminding them he was the CEO and they were keeping him waiting.
Lara bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. She had been so sure the message on the answering machine would be from Tim. It had taken her two seconds to go from a woman whose face was glowing with love and anticipation to one who had to fight tooth and nail to hang onto the cliff above the abyss of despair.
“I’d better call him.” Martin took the receiver out of her hand. “I’ll probably be on the phone for a while. It’s never quick with Alan. He always wants every detail. You go and get some sleep. I’ll give you both an update in the morning.”
Lara nodded, thankful she didn’t have to sit through the conversation, although she suspected Martin wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He probably wanted to shine—and more importantly to make sure no one else did—– but right now she couldn’t be bothered with his games.
She climbed the stairs to her bedroom without a word. A deep sadness took over her, turning her whole body to lead, making it impossible for her to smile, to talk or do anything else. She had to lie down.
Jack patted her on the shoulder. “It’s hard to get hold of people with the time difference, you know. He’s working, you’re working. We don’t even have reliable mobiles. I’m sure you’ll manage to speak to him tomorrow.” Jack was trying to make her feel better. As she gazed into his perfect eyes she got the impression he genuinely cared.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” She closed the door to her bedroom and collapsed on the lumpy bed. As the tears she had been holding back rolled down her cheeks, she stared at the ceiling and the shadows her bedside lamp cast on its uneven plaster. It had looked smooth in the daylight but the night had brought the truth, revealing all of its imperfections.
Nothing was as it seemed. She closed her eyes.
*****
Lara stirred in her sleep. She could hear workmen in the distance, hammering away. Suddenly the noise sounded closer, much louder. Startled, she sat up like a Jack-in-the-box whose lid had been lifted. Her bedside lamp was on and she was still dressed, but daylight poured in through the sizeable gaps surrounding the poorly fitted curtains. And the noise wasn’t workmen—it was someone knocking at her door.
“Coming.” She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she opened the door.
It was Jack. “Sorry for banging like that. I couldn’t seem to wake you.” He looked her up and down. “You’re already dressed?”
“I fell asleep like this. I guess I was exhausted.”
“Well, it’s breakfast in half an hour. Martin’s briefing us on Alan’s call and then we’re meeting with the Minister at ten.”
“They agreed to a meeting? I didn’t even hear the phone ring.” She looked down self-consciously, suddenly embarrassed Jack should see her at her worst. She tried to smooth her hair, ran her index finger under her eyes hoping to rub off the smudged mascara she had failed to remove the night before.
“The phone didn’t ring. Hammy sent someone over to tell us. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Eggs and tomatoes OK?”
“Great.”
“Only thing is, I’m cooking. I’ll try not to burn it.” Whistling, he galloped down the stairs, his long legs jumping two or three steps at a time with ease.
She called out after him. “I’m sure it will be fine. My turn to cook tomorrow, then.” Closing her bedroom door, she took a deep breath. Today would be a good day. They’d secured a meeting with the Minister.
With a bit of luck they’d find a solution to Global Oil’s problems, they’d book a flight home and she’d speak to Tim. She’d definitely speak to Tim. That would make all the difference. She’d call him straight after Martin’s briefing.
She showered, holding a towel over her face so she wouldn’t get any amoebae-laden water in her eyes or mouth. The drops, cool and soothing, ran down her body, gathering
in a deeper and deeper puddle at her feet. The drain still hadn’t been fixed. And what was that smell? Sewerage problems, she guessed.
She threw on an ankle-length, black skirt and a long-sleeved, white, cotton blouse. It was open at the neck, nothing that would be considered outrageous or even remotely sexy back home, but she thought it might be too much in Negala. Better to be over-zealous and too hot in her clothes than disrespectful. She tied a silk scarf around her neck, neatly tucking it in to hide her décolletage.
The make-up routine was easy here. Nothing stayed on your skin. It all slid off once the temperature climbed over forty five degrees. A little tinted sunscreen and clear lip-gloss was what worked best and it had the added bonus of being quick to apply. She slicked back her golden mane, fastening it in a ponytail.
As she picked up the ornate gold hair clasp she had chosen, a lump formed in her throat. Tim had bought it for her, for no particular reason, years ago. Following with her finger the pattern of vines encrusted with semi-precious stones, she recalled the exquisite wrapping, the silver bow, and how she’d gasped when she’d opened the present.
He used to do things like that. He left her notes, bought her flowers, brought her breakfast in bed. When was the last time he’d done that? She couldn’t remember. Eight years ago? Maybe nine.
Then again, when did she ever do things like that anymore? It wasn’t just Tim and his work. It happened to everyone. She was as guilty as the next person, she told herself. It was easy to get caught up in work, chores, life. That’s right, it wasn’t just Tim’s fault. The important thing was he loved her. He still did, didn’t he?
It was true, she had planned an exquisitely romantic evening for their wedding anniversary. She wouldn’t be feeling this way if she hadn’t had to cancel it to go to Negala. It was such a shame they’d had to take a raincheck.
Still, she was going to make an effort to put the romance back into their lives when she got home, and not just for anniversary celebrations. For starters, she wouldn’t let Tim fall asleep on the couch five nights a week any more.
She glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven. She quickly finished her hair, sliding a bobby pin in to hold stray strands and hurried downstairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the house and she realised she was famished.
Eggs, tomatoes and toast would be wonderful. A little luxury always made you feel better, even in a barren place. Shame they couldn’t get hash browns here, it would have been the perfect breakfast.
Martin sat at the kitchen table like a car in neutral, his face completely expressionless. He probably hadn’t had enough coffee. Jack, in a frilly apron that barely reached his hips, was dishing up the eggs.
“Ah, Madame Beckham. Perfect timing. Two eggs?” His lips curled up slightly more to the left in that disarming smile of his.
“Yes, please.” Lara sat down. “This is nice. Much better than a bowl of cereal.” She turned to Martin. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mmm, until half past three. I couldn’t go back after that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not usually this jet-lagged. I don’t know why I am this time.”
Lara poured herself a cup of tea. “I was so exhausted I couldn’t wake up. And you, Jack? Did you sleep?” She looked up at him as he effortlessly slid the eggs and tomato onto her plate and she guessed he’d done this often, cooked for others—probably a million girlfriends.
He nodded. “Mostly. . .” He gazed into her eyes before continuing. “Although there were a few things I couldn’t get off my mind.” His arm brushed against hers as he finished serving and she froze, hoping neither Jack nor Martin would notice how her heart was leaping out of her chest, how troubled she was at the slightest contact with Jack.
So this was what pure physical attraction was like: an instant fire burning out of control as soon as you got close enough to get a spark. It meant nothing, though, she told herself. It was a bodily reaction defined by the laws of physics. It happened the way gravity made water go down a drain and leaves fall from trees to the ground.
That’s what it was. That’s all it could possibly be and would ever be, because she was with Tim. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She changed the subject, in the conversation and her thoughts. That’s what she would do now, whenever this happened. She’d move away and change the subject.
“I’m glad we’re meeting the Minister this morning. It’s a good sign, don’t you think?” She looked at Martin, wanting to ignore Jack at least for a little while.
“I think so. Although we’ll see what they have to say. It’s not over ‘til it’s over.”
She nodded. That was already clear to her, but she wanted to believe in the best possible outcome. She wanted to believe she’d be home soon.
They finished their breakfast, cleared the table together, piling up the dishes for Bengali, and sat down again with another cup of coffee.
“Here’s how it went with Alan”. Martin took a deep breath and his eyes wandered to the left, then to the right, as if he didn’t know how to start. “He’s asked two things: that we fix everything and we fix it now.”
He sighed. “I told him we were hoping to see the Minister today. He thought we should push for it. He said that securing a meeting was the main thing as we should be able to sway things our way.” Martin shrugged. “At least we’ve secured the meeting. I’m not so sure about the outcome. What I do know is that if things don’t go well, heads won’t just roll, they’ll fly. I’m afraid that was the gist of the conversation.”
He looked away, his gaze distant. He was right in the line of fire, the soldier who would receive the first angry bullet, if anything went wrong. That had to be terrifying.
Lara felt sorry for him. He was certainly a pain to work with, but deep down he was a decent man. She believed that. She could always see the good in people. “It’s going to be fine.” She wanted to reassure him. She knew, though, that there was a good chance things wouldn’t turn out that way. “We can talk the Minister around. At the very least, we should be able to find out what’s behind all this, why they sent us the letter.”
There was no need for further details—they all knew which letter. It was the one from the Minister’s cabinet advising Global Oil its exploration permit was being withdrawn. It had been the only in-house topic of conversation for weeks now.
The lawyers—including the ones who’d been dismissed—the commercial managers, the public relations team and everyone else in the company had discussed it until their tongues had dried out and their brains had gone numb.
It had been analysed, translated, pulled apart word by word, read front to back and back to front and just about finger-printed. It was ambiguous in more ways than one. Did the President himself endorse it? Was he even aware of it? Did it mean the title was withdrawn there and then or would it be happening in the future? Was it based on mining law, criminal law, company law, some other legislation or on the pure whim of the writer? Was the Production Sharing Contract being terminated as well, or not?
Lara had read it over and over, looking for answers she hadn’t found. It was African-style writing, with the vagueness that entailed. Much of it was, she suspected, purposely loose. It allowed room to move, room for debate, room to switch angles and tactics and, if necessary, room to deny.
“There’s still hope,” she continued. Martin nodded, thanking her with a softened glance, a fleeting smile.
Jack put down his cup of coffee. “Did you mention to Alan that Hammy’s leaving tomorrow?”
“I foreshadowed it.”
“What do you mean? Either you told him or you didn’t.” Jack was frowning now, his voice colder. He didn’t operate the way Martin did and Lara could tell that was a constant source of friction between them, although she guessed not the main one.
“I said there was a possibility he’d be going overseas. You know what these guys are like. One minute they tell you they’re going, the next they’re not.”
Jack turned up his chin and
grunted, to Lara’s relief apparently accepting Martin’s explanation. “So what was Alan’s reaction to that?” she asked softly. She didn’t want to annoy Martin, but she had to find out.
Would they be stuck there waiting weeks on end for another meeting, sitting around in the heat, eating sandy meals, with no idea when they’d be going home? She didn’t think she could cope with that. And what about Tim? How would he take it if that happened?
Martin shrugged. “We stay until it’s fixed. Those were his words.”
Lara gasped. Even if they secured a meeting, even if the talks didn’t break down, it could be weeks before they really got to the point with the Minister. And it would probably take longer than that to resolve the issue completely. She could see it coming. It had “protracted negotiations”, in lawyer jargon, written all over it.
She shook her head. “We have to sort it out today. There’s no other way.”
Jack tapped his fingertips on the table. “We’ll give it our best shot. I don’t want to be stuck here anymore than you do. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll be home before we know it. Alan’s many things but he’s not completely unreasonable.”
Martin raised his eyebrows, then without a word stood up.
“Do I have time to make a quick call?” Lara jumped to her feet, ready to scatter off to the satellite phone.
Martin shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’re leaving in five minutes.”
Jack glared at him. “They’ll be an hour late, so what’s the hurry? Of course you can make a call, Lara.”
Martin, his upper lip twisting into a snarl, took one giant step towards Jack. “Don’t do that again,” he hissed.
Lara hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, before Martin had a chance to call her back, or Jack gave in and agreed it would be better to leave right now. She had to speak to Tim, she just had to. A sentence, a few words of comfort. That was all she wanted.