Girl with the Golden Voice

by Carl Hancock

  After the carol service there was never a sit-down dinner at Londiani. Angela had set out half a dozen cold, light dishes on the big sideboard for anyone who was interested.

  There was no rush to eat. Only the twins piled up their plates before joining the others in the armchairs on and near the open veranda. Eddie and Rollo had insisted on music and then surprised their grandmother with a Frank Sinatra disc.

  ‘An early present,’ smiled Rollo.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind. We tried it out in school, just to check … Amazing! The kids were crazy about it. Had to hide it away.’

  The rich baritone voice had scarcely finished telling them about a lady being a tramp and begun his plea, presumably to another, to fly with him, when Eddie gave up his struggle to fight down his curiosity.

  ‘Tom, why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tom was lying back in the big green chair with his eyes closed.

  ‘We could have been your seconds.’

  ‘Oh, that stuff …’ Tom hoped that his bored tone would put an end to the inquisition.

  ‘No, Tom, there must have been some serious hitting down there. He’s a pretty big bloke. We reckoned you were giving away about ten kilos.’

  Maura looked across at Alex, wondering whether to slap a veto on the subject. He was holding his glass poised a foot away from his lips. He was as keen to hear the story as his sons.

  ‘Come on, Tom. Be a sport.’ Eddie pressed gently.

  ‘Yeah, that was the best carol service I’ve been to, for sure.’

  Tom winced as he took a long pull on his glass of iced water. ‘He owed me … and I owed him.’

  He made a pained attempt at a grin as his brothers scrunched their faces in annoyance. ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Sort of debt of honour, Eddie.’

  ‘You mean you borrowed money?’

  ‘Oh, Rollo, get a grip. Nothing to do with money.’

  ‘Eddie’s right, Rollo’

  ‘All right, so I’m a bit thick. A bit of plain English would be handy though.’

  Rollo was sitting next to his elder brother and Tom reached over to give him a gentle punch to the ball of the shoulder.

  ‘Okay, it’s nothing much, just schoolboy stuff that’s gone on too long. Time to get rid of it. Believe it or not, it started with an argument at shower time, up in Pembroke, twelve years ago. Rubai and me, we never got on, but he had this big hate for me. After that stuff in the shower, it really built up on both sides. All through supper we were glowering at each other. And it just so happened that he was supervising our prep. Remember prep at Pembroke?’ Tom smiled. ‘Something … well, holy. Anyway, about halfway through, everything sort of boiled over. It was like, like a force pulling us from our desks down to some private place where we could have it out. No words. We just got up and … staggered down to the playing fields. We didn’t lay a hand on each other on the way down. Then everything went in. I wanted to kill him. I really did. I’m sorry, Mum. Fists, elbows, feet, everything. I couldn’t feel any pain. I don’t know about him. Crazy. Next thing, Ben Boyd — remember him, our housemaster — and half a dozen prefects were pulling us apart.’

  Tom closed his eyes and let his chin drop onto his chest.

  The twins exchanged puzzled glances and waited, but not for long. Eddie was first in.

  ‘But tonight, Tom, what …?’

  ‘Yeah, this couldn’t still have been the shower stuff.’

  ‘Well, let’s just say that there must have been a little bit left. You know.’

  ‘No, we don’t know, do we, Rollo?’

  Alex, Maura and Rafaella shared deeply uncomfortable thoughts on a whole range of themes but mostly anguish for the pain they knew was hammering at Tom’s insides. The twins might have noticed if they had been able to shift their gaze away from their brother to see the solemn, compassionate expressions on the faces of their elders.

  Alex was as brief as Tom had been expansive. He had news, too. ‘Bertie’s leaving.’

  His words stunned everyone. Even a bystander like Lucy understood that here was bad, bad news, but she could not know the explosive shock that was set off in the minds of the McCalls. It was like the announcement of a serious illness in the family. The balance of their world was being rocked. Every instant projection of how life at Londiani would be without their beloved, vulnerable friend predicted a succession of grey days, months for them all.

  In spite of herself, Rafaella’s first reaction was a sense that she was being betrayed. She and Bertie shared a common bond of pain. Don and Anna had been cruelly taken from them within days of each other. ‘I thought he would never …’

  ‘Mama,’ there was a crack in Alex’s voice, ‘he finds the agony gets worse as the time passes, just like you do, I think. That’s why he hasn’t told you himself. Just couldn’t do it. And there’s Ewan. You know Bertie has a sister in Perth — Molly. There’s a vineyard come on the market next door to them.’

  ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute.’ Eddie was missing most of the emotion, but he wanted to know the facts.

  ‘Do we know who’s buying the farm? No, he can’t be selling. His grandfather came to this country with old Delamere, Block and the rest of them. They made this place, tamed it. Rollo, how many times did Grandpa Don tell us …’

  ‘It’s the Rubais.’

  ‘The bloody Rubais!’

  ‘Yes, I know, Rollo, but calm down. He told me two days ago. Took me on a ride up to Longonot. He was driving like a maniac. He was crying when he told me. We both were. Such a lot of money. Silly money. Enough for that vineyard and plenty left over. And,’ Alex’s tone became businesslike, ‘nothing changes between Bertie and us, all of us. We love him.’

  There was renewed silence around the room until Eddie broke it with a sigh and ‘What a bloody Christmas this is going to be! I’ll be glad to get to the coast.’

  Chapter Eight

  n Christmas Day Rafaella woke early. She dressed quickly and was out walking on the lakeside meadows before the sun had dried off the dew. She was still regretting her first feelings on hearing the news that Bertie was selling up. But soon the special love that she felt for Bertie and Ewan at this time of year had been back in control in the centre of her heart. And the usual waves of love and longing for Don. They were always there. There was another of those one-sided conversations with the nearest handsome, cold-eyed waterbuck. Always about times she and Don had shared, random but closely linked. Reminders of him were everywhere. The hills all around brought back their wedding in Verona and his tenor voice singing in full throat the words of the Twenty-third Psalm, the only English words in the whole ceremony, at his request. She recalled, too, the Christmas mornings of her girlhood when the quiet streets echoed to the sonorous ringing of the bells of the cathedral.

  For the first time she could remember she felt trapped. She was sixty-eight. How many years did she have left? Why was she still vain about her looks so that she was very careful about everything she ate, everything she put on? Who was she trying to impress? For the first time in years she wanted to be in an Italian village church for the great mass. She longed for the candlelit altar, the stained-glass windows, the painted statues, the incense, the robes of the choir and the clergy, the ancient ritual which as a young woman she had begun to find boring.

  From a south-facing rise she saw the low spread of the buildings of Rusinga farm. She pictured Bertie and Ewan in their beautiful living room. Bertie had been very excited that for the first time he would be able to spoil his son with proper Christmas presents. She helped him decorate the room in the English way. Father and son would be over by midmorning, the first guests to arrive at Londiani for Christmas dinner.

  But this would be for the very last time. She resolved to do her part to make sure it was a memorable occasion. Please God, he would be the same Bertie that everyone loved so much.

  Rafaella quickened her step and moved over to the sandy grey edge of the lake. She closed he
r eyes and began an exercise of rhythmic deep breathing. She and Mary had performed this routine scores of times. Even before she reopened her eyes she could sense all ‘round her the glorious Rift Valley light and the freshness rising off the flat-calm, dark surface stretching away to the north.

  When she did open them and turn she saw her first people of the morning. The Kamaus were on their way to the early service at the Presbyterian church in Naivasha town. They were making slow progress along a path under the light canopies of acacia. They were a good way off and already past their sightline towards her, so there was no exchange of Christmas greetings. They looked very smart. Stephen’s dark suit set off the colours of the dresses, all no doubt made by Angela. Stephen had his arm across Rebecca’s shoulder. The sound of his voice but not his words carried to her across the still morning air.

  Rebecca herself was another potent reminder of Don, the only girl they ever sponsored. Don would never accept that the sponsorship had been a success. ‘Housemaids don’t need A-levels. We may have done harm here.’ But Don had never spotted and she had never told him how things were with Rebecca towards Tom. And it was only since his passing that there had grown in her a longing to have this girl as a grand-daughter.

  Amazingly to Rafaella Angela was back at Londiani within the hour working with Maura on final preparations in the kitchen. There was a lot of singing and laughter about the place There was no sign of Rebecca.

  Another memorable Christmas meal at Londiani (lunch, dinner, the traditional dispute remained unsettled). First came the whooping and screaming at the exchange of gifts. They ate out on the veranda, decorated for the occasion and with a special table for the very young and their ayahs down on the lawn in front.

  After the first serve of the pudding, Tom slipped away from the table. Angela was the only one present who knew that he had not gone on an errand to some other part of the house. It was she who had given him the message, a little reluctantly. Rebecca was waiting for him up by their acacia.

  ‘Let me see your face.’ She scrunched up her face and through narrowed eyes examined every corner of his face and head, without touching him once. ‘What about your arms, your body. How many hurts there?’

  ‘Do you want to check?’ He made as if to pull his shirt off.

  ‘No. Why do you do these foolish things? These Rubais are dangerous people …’

  As Rebecca went on with her list of warnings and anxieties, he was not paying full attention. She was worrying about him. That was all he needed to take in. She was worrying about him.

  ‘I cannot stay long. I have to help with the party in the village. We like to wait until the sun has fallen behind Eburu. But I had to see for myself.’

  Inwardly Tom was trembling with excitement. He had Rebecca back. He was overwhelmed with surprise, but tried not to show it. How? Why? He didn’t care. She was back!

  ‘What do they put in the communion wine over there?’ She snorted her mild disapproval. Her eyes gave her away. That quick downward glance told him that all was not as well as it seemed. He didn’t want to push that. He put his hands on the balls of her broad shoulders and looked into her face. She kept on about the party.

  ‘It will be a noisy time. Perhaps we will keep you awake down here …’

  ‘Rebecca.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked serious, apprehensive.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’

  She smiled. The eyebrows were slightly raised with the head tilted forward and the lips stretched just enough to show a glimpse of white teeth. ‘Merry Christmas to you, Mr McCall.’

  ‘Present.’

  It was a small package wrapped in silver paper. She caught her breath and hesitated to take the gift. ‘But I have nothing to give.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You’re here. Best Christmas present ever.’

  She took the gift. ‘Tom, they’re beautiful. I love earrings.’

  ‘I know. Put them on.’

  There came the little display, turning her head first one way and then the other. Then she held out her hands. Tom took them. He closed his eyes, the better to focus on the sinewy texture of the strong fingers, the cool, firm palms. He looked up. ‘Now, how about this? I want to take you by the hand and …’

  ‘No, you’re making me shudder, Thomas.You are not ready. I am not ready. Thank you for being nice to me but …’

  ‘Course, I haven’t spoken to your father properly.’

  ‘Mama and he have spoken of this. They are afraid. A lot of things have happened in a week. I think maybe, in the end, I, well, perhaps it will work out for the best.’ She quietly withdrew her hands. ‘I may be glad.’

  Tom winced as he said his next words. ‘Even Julius Rubai?’

  ‘No, but at least I can talk about that now. When I was in church this morning, it was like a small miracle. Papa got a dozen girls to pray for me. They stood around in a circle touching me. I was embarrassed. Until Papa began to speak, then a brother from Limuru and a lady from Nakuru. Perhaps one day …’

  ‘Try me now.’

  ‘Thomas, on my way home I began to feel hope. Look, I must go. And you must return to your guests.’

  Her face darkened and she turned away. ‘It was Erik who came to fetch me. I didn’t mean to spy, but when I saw the two of you, you and the English girl … on the ground, holding each other. Thomas, you must love her. And what if there is a child?’

  Tom was stunned. ‘You were there! You watched! Why didn’t you … Rebecca, you should have thrown a rock at me.’

  ‘Tom, I envied her. I wanted to be under your body.’

  ”Becca … ‘Becca,’ he gulped. ‘I’m … shocked … embarrassed … ashamed. I was drunk. Yes. I thought I’d lost you. Yes. But it was lust. I wanted a woman’s body. So I used Lucy.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘You know!’

  ‘It’s my fault. I should have been like the other girls. Too late now.’

  ‘What’s going on here? You’re not doing this to punish me, are you?’

  ‘Punish?’

  ‘No, not you. Most women would have …’

  ‘But I’m not most women. I’m your woman.’

  ‘I’d just like to know what went on in that church this morning!’

  She put her finger to his lips to seal them.

  ‘I’m coming to the coast tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, Dad’s flying the twins down.’

  ‘I want to travel with you and Lucy.’

  ‘But your mother is going down with Grandma and my mother. There’s a seat.’

  ‘I won’t take much room. Only a small bag.’

  Without warning she started to move away, quickly. She was taking the route through the trees, out of sight of the Christmas guests. Before she disappeared she turned and ducked under a branch to wave to him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mister Thomas, I won’t embarrass you. I’m looking forward to my family in Malindi and Lamu. Perhaps you will make a visit.’

  * * *

  ‘How’s about a sundowner, folks?’

  There was not a lot of enthusiasm for Tom’s suggestion.

  Rollo reminded him. ‘You’re supposed to go outside for a sundowner. Climb a hill or something.’

  ‘Well, this is going to be a veranda sundowner. I’ll do the pouring if you like.’

  It was well past six o’clock and all the guests had left. Bertie had returned after seeing Ewan and his ayah home to Rusinga. After all the chatter and noise of the afternoon, the silence should have come as a blessed relief, but the atmosphere was heavy with gloom. Tom had plenty to make him happy. Little memories of his time with Rebecca kept popping into his mind, but on the surface he had the same sickening, sinking feeling that everyone else was suffering.

  For a time nothing much was said. There were bits about arrangements for next day’s travel but none of the usual excitement or anticipation that the annual trip to the coast brought on. Had the tanks been filled with petrol? Had they packed enough books? And there was the fina
l decision to be made about breaking the journey in Nairobi at the Muthaiga Club. This notion was turned down unanimously.

  The sun easing down behind Eburu had changed from liquid gold to glowing red when Bertie could hold back no longer. The tall, slim figure leaned forward in his chair. His dark hair, flecked with grey, was as immaculate as ever, but the usual cheerful almost boyish expression was gone. His face wore a grim, hunted look.

  ‘Don’t think of me as a traitor. Please, not that. You know that you are the dearest people in the world to me, bar one.’

  He stopped and looked across the veranda towards Alex.

  ‘It’s bloody painful, but I’ve got to take this chance. For the boy’s sake. I owe it to him and Anna.’

  Rafaella rose and moved to the back of his chair. She smoothed his hair. ‘We love you, Bertie, you and little Ewan. Nothing will change that. It will break my heart when you go, but … we can’t always have a happy ending. We both know that.’

  Eddie chimed in. ‘Look, Bertie, I’m just a kid and I just don’t get this. Well, you talk to any of the kids from here away in school or college. They can’t wait to get back.’ He pointed over at Tom. ‘That’s why half a dozen girls would marry an ugly bugger — whoops, sorry Grandma — a bloke like Tom tomorrow if he wanted. I say stay and let Ewan go to Pembroke and one day take his turn at running Rusinga. I suppose Australia is a great place, but this is where you and Ewan belong.’

  Bertie managed a smile. ‘Eddie, you’ll have me crying before the night’s out. But … we’re going. I’ve talked to your dad about this.’