Girl with the Golden Voice

by Carl Hancock

  ‘You are cold, Rebecca. Shall I fetch a shawl? I know where to find one.’

  ‘You are very much at home here.’

  ‘Ah, the lady speaks … but I still know where to find a shawl!’

  ‘I’m not cold, thank you.’

  ‘Perhaps you caught a cold that day you visited. Mama tells me that you were in my bedroom. I wish I’d been there. But she didn’t ask you why you came. I’m asking you now.’

  ‘Julius, I owe you such a lot. You have always given me good advice even if I was slow to see the sense of it. But, in the end, I began to notice ways … I’d never be anything but a wash girl.

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘I would be all my time with white people. A lot of those smart white women are so bitchy. They didn’t like me. And Tom didn’t seem to notice. I think that was where things began to go wrong.’

  ‘Don’t tell me about white women. I had enough of them when I was in Eton.’

  ‘You know when I went with Mary and the band, the McCalls didn’t like it. Staying in a smart hotel in New York. Worst of all I was making money!’

  Once she started to weave her story of a failed romance, she soon got over her distaste for telling lies. She had been doing it, off and on, since she made her big decision in her room in the Flamingo. This performance was the crucial one. She must be convincing. His next words suggested that she had succeeded.

  ‘Rebecca, we need to be married, you and I!’

  ‘Need?’ Would he pick up any sense of her horror in her tone?

  ‘It’s a natural match if you think about it honestly.’

  ‘Natural?’

  ‘Of course. You have become very famous recently. I myself will soon be elected to parliament.’

  ‘Nakuru South,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes … but, Rebecca, I am forgetting you must be tired after all the excitement.’

  ‘No, no. It’s just that I am surprised by all this. You must understand. I am trying to get over a broken engagement.’

  ‘But it was you who broke it off, liberated yourself.’

  ‘Liberated? Yes, but it takes time to … readjust.’ She added brightly, ‘That’s why I’m going back to the band. For a short time.’

  ‘That’s fine. We’ve got time. But if McCall is still a problem …’

  Perhaps he had not meant it as a threat, but that was how she saw it. She was steeling herself to abandon all resistance.

  ‘Julius, what do you think is the best thing we can do?’

  ‘I think we will make a perfect couple. Let me show you this.’ He fished into his pocket and drew out a small, dark blue box, ring size.

  She was on the edge of panic. She must win herself some time, but she dare not risk provoking him.

  ‘Julius, you said we had time …’

  The ‘we’ and the warmth in the tone was the best encouragement he had ever received from Rebecca.

  ‘Another month in New York, I suppose.’

  ‘No, it’s five weeks in South America, Brazil, some other places, I’m not sure.’

  ‘As it happens, I’m away tomorrow. My father wants me to check out some projects in Malaysia and Japan.’

  ‘So, that will be five weeks altogether.’

  ‘Five weeks what?’

  She hesitated. She would like to have said, freedom, relief, even hope, but the words that came out were, ‘For me to get used to these new things.’

  ‘Okay, sounds reasonable.’ He sounded like a banker trying to find an excuse for not lending money to a dubious character. ‘Something else. You’ll like this. My parents want me to have my engagement party in the Muthaiga.’

  ‘Your parents?’

  ‘I swear to you. When I was ten … eleven, they told me that on the day I was born they vowed that they would hire the club for my engagement. That’s the truth. They weren’t even members back then. Hardly any blacks then. Well, the blacks will be taking over that night!’

  She wanted to scream out that she had not agreed on anything yet. She fixed her mind on the tiny consolation of five weeks grace. Papa had told her that grace was a wonderful gift to the undeserving, a gift that fell on the receiver like an unexpected summer shower. Five weeks was a long time. A lot could happen in thirty-five days. She had some respite and that was something.

  She was on her feet. She reached for the glass of wine and swallowed it in one. It was her turn to dish out a surprise. She made for the door. ‘I’m so late. Mary will wonder where I am. Look, I’ll see you soon. Now, take care!’

  She was gone before he could insist on a goodbye kiss. He was not too upset. He could wait. She was a shy girl and he was grateful for that. Five weeks would pass quickly.

  * * *

  The Kamaus and the McCalls had said goodnight at the entrance of the Bomas Centre. Stephen and his girls were taken by car to the Miller house in Langata to spend the night. It was a journey of less than four kilometres. Long journeys by night were not considered to be a sensible idea. Maura feared the possibility of night attacks on the road more than anything else in her life. But when Tom proposed that they travel the ninety kilometres to Naivasha at once, she made no protest. That particular night she feared more for the tender frame of mind of her eldest child. She could have saved herself a lot of bother by staying at home, but she had learned many years before that bother was the stuff of life.

  Alex drove them out of the gates of the Bomas, but they had only travelled a hundred metres more when Tom asked his father to swap places.

  ‘Dad, would you mind? I need something to occupy my mind or I’ll go bonkers. Let me drive to the end of the dual carriageway.’

  The twins, still on a high, shouted encouragement from the back seats. They were still bowled over by Rebecca’s performance. Eddie was a bit miffed by Tom because she was no longer going to be his new sister.

  ‘Foot down, Tom! No cops about tonight!’

  Rollo joined in. ‘Remember that story you told us about Foster when he was boss man up in Pembroke? He and Ben Boyd made from Westlands to Gilgil in fifty-five minutes.’

  ‘Yeah, but that was in broad daylight.’

  ‘So, there’s less traffic at this time of night.’

  ‘They did it ten years ago. Better roads, less crooks.’

  Usually by this time Maura would be stepping in to calm her boisterous sons, but tonight their normalness was a comfort. She remembered every spot on that road where there had been attacks. But, for her, Tom was driving too fast, too recklessly. She tapped Alex on the shoulder. He smiled and shook his head.

  Taking their cue, the twins went on. ‘Rollo, don’t you think our Thomas should put his foot down?’

  ‘Can’t wait to get out of this wicked place,’ Eddie added in a theatrically high-pitched voice.

  Alex smiled again, this time to himself. He knew the three or four danger spots on the dual carriageway, but even a large bunch of bandits would hesitate before confronting such a big lump of flying metal. Any problems would be more likely when they began the steep, curving descent to the plains. He would be driving by then.

  Only he wasn’t. Tom was locked into his concentration and no one, not even his mother, wanted to pull him out. He overtook two heavy trucks and trailer belonging to the famous Mr Massouf of Mombasa. Tom knew that this transport company liked his trucks to travel in groups of three. The Land Rover suddenly slowed dramatically. They all knew that they were close to the Italian Church and so to the bottom of the hill. Up ahead half a dozen red rear lights. Tom was closing quickly but showing no intention of overtaking. There were groans from the twins. Rollo mouthed their complaint.

  ‘Chickening out! The road’s really wide here and a thousand to one nothing will be coming up.’

  Tom switched on his high beam. Alex opened the glove compartment and Bertie went for his coat pocket. Up there in front of the truck and parked facing outwards in the square in front of the church two white vehicles, cars, pick-ups they weren’t sure. The Land Rover was
caught in the headlights of the Massouf truck behind them. There was activity near the white vehicles, men with clubs or could they be rifles?

  ‘Duck!’ Bertie shouted as he wound down his window and placed the barrel of his pistol on the sill.

  Tom edged closer to the truck, keeping far over to the left.

  They were almost level with the vehicles and the men moving out into the middle of the road.

  ‘Now, Bertie!’ Tom shouted. Four loud bangs and Tom was swinging the Land Rover hard right and fast at the incoming attackers. There were screams and one final blast from Bertie. They were past the truck and speeding around the open curve onto the plain. In the distance glimmers of light reflecting from the lake were a sign that they were almost home.

  A couple of miles went by before anyone spoke. Then it was Rafaella.

  ‘Thomas, that was magnificent. Thank you for saving us. What an adventure! It was like being in a film. But I think I’ll stick to just watching Mr Bogart in future.’

  There was a round of applause, and whistles from Rollo. Tom’s response was a request.

  ‘Dad, I think we’re off the dual carriageway. Your turn.’

  ‘Thank God you had the wheel, Tom, but it’s a heck of a way to get your mind off the big problem.’

  ‘Funny thing I was thinking about her all the time, but I suppose it’s some sort of progress.’

  ‘When we get home, I’m pouring a big, stiff drink for myself and them that wants one and a toast to you, Mr Thomas McCall of wonderful, wonderful Londiani.’

  In spite of the late night, the three McCall boys were up early and straight down to the landing strip. Tom had a party meeting in Nairobi and took his brothers for company. At Wilson he warned them to be back at four or risk having to find a ride home on a matatu.

  It was Tom’s first party meeting and the biggest Serena get-together so far. It was a noisy affair, too, with a lot of speeches. He was glad that he did not have to get up to speak in the presence of so many clever and witty people. For him the star of the meeting was Salima Amin, a well-off hotelier from the Kisumu district. She had her audience roaring and rolling with laughter. She was a handsome woman elegantly turned out in white silk robes. She ridiculed the government with a cascade of vicious, pointed one-liners and sharp take-offs of well-known members of the Kenya establishment. But she was a woman and standing for election in her home constituency for a new party. The country could not afford to ignore such talent, but it probably would.

  Tom was amazed that many members recognised him for the kidnap and escape in the Kakamega Forest and for being, as many still believed, the man who would soon be the husband of Rebecca Kamau. In the social gathering after the formal meeting was over Rebecca was the hot topic. Delegates were ecstatic that she was a party member, one of them. Tom mused that if she was the candidate for election, Serena would have a solid gold winner. The men would find her irresistible. But he left the meeting surprised but pleased that he was still the Serena man for Nakuru South.

  As the white aircraft took off and turned for its home base on Crescent Island, Toni and his musicians were arriving at the Bomas for their second and last concert.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ary made sure that the money Rebecca made from singing with the band was sent back to her account in the Westlands branch of Barclays. Rebecca had lost interest in money. She loved everything about South America, especially the energy and optimism of the people.

  ‘I could live here, Mary. I could soon learn one of these beautiful languages. I can imagine myself spouting streams of Spanish or is it Portuguese, like that girl in the restaurant last night. She was mad about something, but her anger sounded like poetry.’

  ‘You can live here if you really want to. Perhaps that would put Julius off. He’d be nothing over here without Daddy close by.’

  ‘He would have Tom killed if I did that. He would suspect some plot.’

  ‘Tom could come over.’

  ‘No good. I know that to Julius I’m a sort of prize. God help us! Me, a prize. He doesn’t love me. I’m a toy and look out the one who tries to deprive him of the toy. Once we are married, for sure, he’ll be on the lookout for some new plaything.’

  Rebecca kept busy. On stage there was no problem. Off stage, she exercised, she started another diary, she, with Monica and Dorcas, took lessons in Spanish. They did not learn a lot, but they enjoyed the hilarious moments of their failures, especially in their pronunciation of the simplest words.

  On the twenty-second day of the separation Toni was excited by news he had just read on the Internet. The date of elections had been announced back home, June eighteenth

  ‘Are you sure of the date?’

  ‘Of course I am, Rebecca.’

  ‘That was the day when Tom and I were to be married.’ She broke the resulting embarrassed silence with a hasty, ‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking,’ and left the room.

  In the late afternoon she telephoned the Rubai house in Karen. She had worked out her times well. Sally was alone at home.

  ‘Please, tell Julius that I will be in Nairobi on May twenty-first.’

  ‘Wonderful! So, we can set the party for May twenty-fifth? I happen to know that it’s a quiet night in the Muthaiga.’

  Rebecca’s reply was delayed so long that Sally started to wonder if they had been cut off. At last, it came. ‘Um, yes. The twenty-fifth. That would be … perfect.’

  ‘Don’t worry about your folks. I’ll let them know. I’m so looking forward to having another female in the family. You could have the wedding ceremony in State House.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ Sally was genuinely surprised. ‘KANU have asked Abel to stand for president. He’s out more than ever now. Meetings all over the place. Julius is usually with him. Oh, yes, Julius is looking for a property on the lakeside.’

  ‘Naivasha?’

  ‘Of course, darling. He thought he ought to have a house in the district he’s representing. And he thought you would

  like the idea. Julius is a changed man. I think that’s got a lot to do with you. Abel is very pleased.’

  For an hour after putting down the receiver, Rebecca sat on her hotel balcony staring down at the street below. She recalled many words and events of her recent past. She had said to Mary that a lot could happen in thirty-five days. It had, but not in a way she had hoped for. The scenario of the life she had opted for was rolling on and the reality was proving to be worse than the idea.

  She had never actually said yes to Julius but nor had she said no. Her courage had failed her on this. No doubt such details had slipped his mind when telling his parents about his hopes. So, they were laying down plans for their future daughter-in-law’s engagement party and wedding. There was to be a home on the lake, a prospect that she dreaded. Had they organised the names of the children who would be the fruit of this wonderful match?

  The pain was more intense than ever, huge despair with no way out.

  For a few fleeting seconds she contemplated the ultimate escape. It would be … easy. From the balcony to the pavement below would be enough to make sure. A cold shudder knocked that idea on the head. A mouthful of tablets and a glass of strong drink, the thought of that made her want to throw up. She only had to visualise her mother and father standing over her coffin and the notion evaporated to be replaced by a tiny, inexplicable surge of optimism. She would create something to be proud of. She would get back her freedom. Nothing would break her spirit. And she would begin this new life at that very moment. If she could not shut down the fever of the mind churning out seemingly uncontrolled thoughts by the hundred, she would cool down a part of her where she did have control. She stepped into the shower and turned the cold tap on at full speed. The shock of the gush made her catch her breath and, twenty minutes later, the rough kiss of crisp towels brought her some physical relief.

  * * *

  Although she had given Sally Rubai only the date
of her arrival back in Kenya and no hint of a time, Rebecca was not surprised to find Julius waiting for her at Jomo Kenyatta. He was standing close to the baggage carousel with her two bags at his feet.

  ‘It’s so good to have you home, Rebecca!’

  ‘Wonderful to be home, too, Julius.’

  There was a brief hug where cheeks touched but not lips. He signalled to two heavyweight companions to look after the luggage then led her away by a side entrance.

  ‘Do you like the new vehicle?’

  They were approaching a gleaming red sports car in the VIP car park

  ‘Not a Ferrari? It’s the only name I know. Italian, I think.’

  ‘Not bad. Porsche. German. It’s yours. Engagement present.’

  ‘But I can’t drive!’

  ‘And I’ve brought this.’

  He brought out the dark blue box she had seen in State House. Mild panic set in. Why was she afraid of such a small object? They were standing by the open door of the Porsche.

  ‘The ring. Shall I show you?’

  She turned and touched him on the ball of his left shoulder.

  She arched her eyebrows and smiled. ‘I love surprises. I’m sure it’s a gorgeous ring. Why don’t you keep it until the Muthaiga? It will make a dramatic moment!’

  ‘Actress as well as singer now!’

  She looked away, knowing that she had succeeded. He was beaming with satisfaction. She knew that she would get a lot more of her own way by flattering him, leading him on than by presenting a front of glum resignation.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘About Naivasha? Yes. I haven’t seen them since the day after the concert in the Bomas.’

  ‘That gives me a dilemma.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can take a matatu.’

  Julius slapped his thigh and laughed. What a girl he had won himself.

  ‘Ridiculous! Your matatu days are over. No, you see, my father is making a very big speech in Machakos. I have to be there. Just a minute …’