Girl with the Golden Voice

by Carl Hancock

  It was impossible to leave that day. Someone must go to pick up Rebecca. Also, it would be more sensible to spend the time preparing for an early start, to be on the road as the sun rose with the target of arriving at the Muthaiga in good time to get ready to visit the hospital. Before Tom and Angela left for Malindi, there was another phone call to be made to check on what was happening with Eddie.

  Rafaella managed to get through quickly. Maura replied. She sounded alert and positive, but she had nothing new to tell them. Everyone up there was being very kind and they had literally scores of offers of places to stay.

  When his grandmother came off the phone and repeated the ‘stable but serious’ comment on his twin brother’s condition, Rollo reacted angrily.

  ‘I can’t take any more! I’m just fed up with all this stuff.’

  Rafaella, misunderstanding him, tried to head him off.

  ‘But it’s happened. We can’t put the clock backwards. Eddie is hurt. We’re all hurt.’

  ‘Get a grip, Rollo. Eddie is doing well. He’s going to be fine.’

  ‘Grandma, Tom, they’re feeding us bullshit. He’s going to die. Okay, the best we can hope for is that he’ll be a cripple. Our brother, Tom! Remember? We used to ride bikes together, fool about. You know they never come out with it straight away. Build your hopes up like we can’t take the truth or something. And that crazy bastard who got him, he’s walking about somewhere. You say the cops have got him. And who told you? A couple of Rubai’s zombies. Do me a favour! The whole thing is just a big mess.’

  Tom sighed. For a few seconds, pensive and compassionate, he looked his brother in the eye. His tone when he spoke was quietly calm.

  ‘Don’t give in to them, Rollo! We all need you to be strong. Eddie needs you to be strong. Look, I’m off to Malindi. Back in three hours, maximum. There’s one job that only you can do. Eddie will be relying on you to make sure all his stuff is packed and ready for an early start.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘You’re going to look a right prat when we’re back home and Eddie says, “Oh, no, my tackies, they must have been left at the coast!”’

  ‘Okay, you win. Superior weaponry. I’m feeling a bit of a prat already.’

  Lucy, keen to get on with the job, reassured Tom.

  ‘I’ll give him a hand if he can cope with being helped by a female. When the job’s done we could have another game of chess, only I’ll give you a beating this time.’

  There were the beginnings of a sense of rising hope about the house. They seemed to have come out of nowhere. Angela joined the little group, smiling and ready to set off.

  Tom took the Land Cruiser. He and Angela were used to travelling together, often on the weekly shopping trip into Nakuru to buy supplies for the farm and the village, less frequently down to Nairobi. They enjoyed each other’s company. He loved hearing her stories about her days in the north before she fled from family and tribe. She was a clever mimic and she had the timing of a good comedian. She was well-informed and had strong opinions on topics from politics to fashion.

  ‘Angela, where do you get all this stuff from?’

  ‘My little blue radio. Your grandfather gave it to me as a Christmas present five years ago. People talk to me from all over the world.’

  Once they were clear of the heavy traffic around Mombasa they sped along the fast, straight road through the sisal fields around Vipingo and on to Malindi. After one wrong turning they reached the farm where Rebecca was staying.

  Tom was alone sipping a soda under a pepper tree when an approaching cloud of dust announced the imminent arrival of a vehicle, an open pick-up. Within seconds he was experiencing a brief, involuntary attack of stomach meltdown.

  A tall, handsome man, casually but expensively dressed, leapt from his side of the truck to help Rebecca down from hers. She was radiant and wearing her beloved red dress. The man whom Tom guessed to be about twenty-five moved well with graceful, bouncing strides. They were enjoying each other’s company. He was very attentive to Rebecca and for a moment laid his arm across her shoulders.

  Tom feared the worst and quickly decided that he would let them discover him. He was surprised that she had made no sign of recognising the Land Cruiser parked not five metres from where she had stepped down. Realising that by delaying his entry, he might lay himself open to watching another hurtful tender scene, he stepped out of the shadow of the tree.

  When she saw him she put her hands to her mouth. How often had he seen her make that gesture of surprise.

  ‘Tom, I wasn’t … I’m sorry. David Wajiru, this is Thomas McCall. I work …’

  ‘It’s all right, Rebecca. Don’t get flustered.’

  Wajiru offered his hand to Tom. His grasp was strong and confident. So was the smiling gaze into Tom’s eyes.

  Tom gathered himself quickly. He had to work to keep a tremble out of his voice.

  ‘David Wajiru, I know that name, but …’

  ‘I’m Mary’s brother. We’re back home for the New Year.’

  ‘Ohhh, right. Mary, the singer.’ The American accent helped Tom. ‘Her father’s the one, I mean your father writes all the songs.’

  ‘Sure. We’re all staying down the road. Dad’s from Malindi. He and Stephen were friends years ago.’

  Angela appeared at the farmhouse door. She recognised the handsome newcomer. Their greeting was warm and familiar. Tom felt uncomfortable, like an interloper at a family reunion.

  Rebecca ran to her mother who drew her to one side. Obviously she was giving the news from Villa Simba, in Swahili. Meanwhile, the conversation out in the sunshine continued.

  ‘Fact is, Mr McCall, Rebecca talks about you an awful lot …’

  ‘Please, Tom.’

  ‘Well, thank you and, please, David. Dad’s here, too, of course. We’ve been trying to persuade Rebecca to come over with us this time. Just two months. We’ll look after her. She’ll be a sensation.’ He broke off to chuckle. ‘She insists she can’t do it. Can’t leave her job.’

  Tom was thoroughly bewildered. It was his move. David was smiling at him expectantly. At last, Tom got the message.

  ‘Well, of course she can come. Anytime. It’s up to her parents.’

  ‘No, Tom.’ David was cool and businesslike. ‘Not up to Angela and Stephen. ‘Becca’s nineteen. She can decide for herself. I think she ought to be coming. She has a voice in a million. You should speak to my dad.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Two nights from now there’s going to be a show in Mombasa. We’ve just come from a rehearsal.’

  By now Rebecca understood why Tom and her mother had come for her early. She was crying quietly. She grasped Tom’s arm for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘Of course not. How could you?’ As she was about to let go of his arm, he moved to take her hands in his. He was relieved when she made no sign that she wanted to pull away. David seemed puzzled and suspicious.

  ‘David, it’s … There’s a problem at home. We weren’t supposed to come for another five days.’

  ‘That’s why we picked our date for the show. We thought there would be plenty of time.’

  There was an awkward silence during which Rebecca let her hands slip from Tom’s. He felt uncomfortable because the pressure was on him to make a move, to do the right thing.

  ‘The concert and stuff. Changes everything. That has to go ahead. No question.’

  Rebecca protested, ‘No, I must come back now. Maura and Rafaella need me.’

  Angela was startled by the familiarity in her daughter’s use of names. She turned to confront Rebecca and said firmly, ‘No, you are staying!’

  ‘But how will I get home?’

  David had the solution to this problem. ‘We’ll bring you. We’re going up to Nairobi on the fifth. You can travel with us. I’ll make sure you get back to Naivasha.’

  Events were moving too quickly for Tom, but he could not think of a way of pro
testing without feeling that he would be seen as mean-spirited. He would allow the situation to develop. He was cornered but hopeful.

  Ten minutes later Tom and Angela were on their way back to Diani, Angela as anxious on the return journey as she had been happy on the journey up to Malindi. Events were moving too quickly for her too. Certainties were crumbling before her eyes. Her worry helped her to be more forward than she would normally be.

  ‘Do you think she will go? To America? Bwana, I don’t want to be rude, but do you want this thing to happen?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Bwana, please forgive me. Our eldest has this feeling for you and, perhaps you for her. Stephen and me, we are afraid for her. These new ways are not good.’

  For most of the journey hardly a word had been exchanged between them. Now they were climbing the hill on the Diani side of the ferry crossing. Tom was glad that he did not have to pretend any more, but they were almost back at Simba with so little time for him to find the right words to make her heart and mind comfortable.

  ‘I love Rebecca more than anybody, any thing in this world. And now I ‘m scared I may have lost her, all because I’m a coward and a fool. We wanted to get married, didn’t want to tell anybody else about our feelings, scared about what people would say, on both sides. We could have coped with that stuff. But I let her down. Waiting for “the right time” to speak out. No guts. Crazy.’ He paused briefly before going on. ‘Angela, do you know what words went through my mind when I saw her getting out of that car at the farm with David Wajiru? A marriage made in heaven. Where did that come from? I still can’t get over it. You know that’s not my kind of stuff. Perhaps I was giving myself some kind of warning. She looked radiant. They looked perfect together. Now he wants her to go to America. And however much it hurts me to say it, to even think it, I reckon she must go. Otherwise, for the rest of her life … She’s got the gift. You and Stephen know that.’

  As he spoke, Angela became anxious in a new way. This was a new Tom to her and she was worried for him. He, none of the white people she knew, had ever spoken to her with such an open heart. She responded likewise. ‘Bwana, for the first time I truly understand how it is for you with Rebecca. I think that no man could love her more.’

  ‘Angela, I would love to have you for my second mama. But I’m scared.’

  ‘You think that if she goes to this America, perhaps she won’t come back.’

  ‘Wajiru talked about two months. But over there lots of people are going to make a fuss of her. Singers can earn millions of shillings. And Rebecca is not an ordinary singer, not an ordinary anything.’

  By now they were on the last lap of their return journey. Few words were exchanged now. Angela and Tom were sifting through their separate confusions, but they did so comforted by one new thing that had come to them on this journey. There was a unity, a bond, a sense of something shared without the old formality. A barrier had collapsed. They enjoyed the strong, real feeling of being on the same side. If trouble came each knew that the other would be there as an ally, a solid support.

  When all the preparations for an early departure were finished and Tom had taken his problems down to the ocean, something in the evening breeze, the gentle, rhythmic splash of the waves on the white sand would not allow him to be despondent. He was lifted by a blind hope that, in the end, all would be well with Eddie, that he and Rebecca would come through stronger and sharing an even deeper love for each other. His conclusion, though, as he picked his way back to the house was that he would have to let this confusion resolve itself while he got on with doing the best he could with what was right there in front of his nose.

  They boarded the ferry a little before six, just before dawn. During the ten minute crossing over the deep waters of the creek the light in the sky turned from an angry, fiery red to a pale, watery grey. Tom led the tight-knit convoy across the industrial part of the city. They would stay close all the way to the gates of the Muthaiga. Rollo was pleased to be trusted with driving the second vehicle and Bertie brought up the rear.

  After one stop at Voi, the journey north continued incident free. Tom was relieved to join the heavy traffic on Uhuru Highway and the chaos of the city roads. As he took the roundabout at Haile Salasi Avenue, he glanced up Nairobi Hill. Eddie was up there somewhere amongst the tall buildings. He would see him soon and the thought of it excited him and scared him.

  Lucy had been his companion on the way up. They had been good for each other. Periods of silence alternated with bouts of lively conversation. Tom had feared that on the hundreds of kilometres on straight roads flanked by long stretches of tedious bush country, locked together in a steel box, he would bore Lucy with his floating off into selfish bouts of introspection, pursuing negative trails of fears and anxieties. But, by firm discipline, they had headed off all unproductive and potentially dangerous reveries. They enjoyed reminiscing about their student days in Reading. Lucy opened up on her thoughts on her time with Tom and the family at Londiani.

  ‘Just four weeks! I’ll never be the same again. What did that teacher up in Pembroke House say? “Africa finds you out”. I think of it as the big Mother Africa binding me with silken cords.’

  ‘So you like the place, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to live here.’

  As he shut down the engine of the Landy in the Muthaiga car park, Tom was catapulted back to the grim reality of the present. As each of them stepped down stiffly, Alex embraced them in a vigorous bear hug. This was not his father’s usual style. Tom was afraid that it was a sign that he was about to tell them that Eddie was dead. He was relieved to hear the ‘serious but stable’ routine again. And Alex was as organised as ever. Perhaps some of them would like a hot bath, a lie-down, something to eat. Room service was laid on.

  He was delighted when both his sons insisted on going to the hospital before they ate, drank, did anything. They would all meet again at six in the club’s main lounge. He would lead them to the house in Karen where they would spend the night.

  Five minutes after an emotional reunion with Maura, six people sat around a bed in a private ward on the fourth floor of the Nairobi Hospital. It was the first time that his brothers had seen Eddie since he had been taken unconscious from the bloodstained hallway of Villa Simba. He was still unconscious. David Daniels tried to put Tom and Rollo into the picture.

  ‘It must be a bit strange for you two to come up to the hospital expecting to have a quiet time with young Eddie here and finding Carmen and me here. Strangers, yes, but as surgeon and nurse we need to be here. For a few minutes this not a hospital visit but a meeting place to discuss the most important event in your brother’s life — so far. So, look all you want, but listen to what I’m saying. As a family you have the big decision here. I’ll keep it short. This is it. I know exactly where the piece of metal is. I have to tell you that it is in a very dangerous area. I believe that it’s just touching the spinal cord. If we did nothing,’ he shrugged, ‘perhaps he would walk. But if it shifts, just a tiny fraction — pow! Disaster! That possibility tells me we must get in there.’

  ‘That’s enough. Alex, Maura, I’m going downstairs to see a couple of patients. I hate to do this to you, but you four people have the decision. You know that.’

  For Tom this situation was surreal, more like unreal, and even more like crazy. He wanted to stop or, at least, slow down the swift passing of the minutes, so that he could grasp what was going on. The blinds were drawn and in the half-light and at a distance of two metres there was a glow of the brilliantly white bedclothes. His brother looked the picture of gleaming health, eyes closed, sitting up on a stack of pillows, serene. The half smile on his lips, the hard outline of the muscular shoulders suggested a young man in control of events but somewhere out of sight. A tiny piece of steel or whatever lay waiting to bring him down, to snatch away his manly vigour, to turn his life, all their lives, upside down. Where could prayer make a difference?
There had been such a lot of talk about this mysterious power in the last two days. Power? A bunch of words. It was something outside his range. Whatever the truth, his shame at being a non-prayer did not prevent him from closing his mind to the world for a few minutes and asking for mercy for his brother. A thousand school chapel services at Oundle had not prepared him for this. Back then he and most of his friends only switched on for the hymn singing, especially when the organ with its first few notes told them that they were into a real belter. What an amazing noise the voices of a few hundred uninhibited males could make when they were enjoying themselves. But alone in a place that he saw as far from holy, and desperate to do something that would help his brother, he just let the words tumble out. Who knows, he thought, perhaps in some other-worldly way Eddie had become aware of what he was up to and this accounted for the half smile.

  Maura startled the boys but not Alex with her energy. This was no woman who, timid and fearful, was going to accept submissively the stuff that life was throwing at her family. If she could she would have plunged her fingers into her son’s wound and fished around in the flesh until she could grab the disgusting invader and wrench it out. Failing that, she sat on the edge of her chair and looked steely-eyed at her menfolk.

  ‘Alex, Thomas, Rollo, there is no clean solution here. Logic — that wouldn’t work even if we could use it. Facts — well, nobody ever knows them all …’

  ‘But, Maura love, decision is the name of this game. We’ve got to use all the facts. For this massive once in his life, we are his mind, his heart …’

  ‘Heart. That’s the only word that counts here. I wish Mary was here to help us.’

  Rollo groaned. ‘Mum, what good could Mary and all the Gilgil witches do to help us in this mess? We’re talking real life here.’

  ‘And I’m listening. David says he wants to go in tonight, in two or three hours’ time. Yes, we’re talking real life here. You know I don’t usually foist my ideas on you, but listen to this. Every last one of us on this planet has inside this clay suit of ours a divine spark, part of the great light. Mostly we don’t think about it. I beg you for the sake of the darling boy on this bed to accept me on this. What do you say?’