I ruffled her hair. “We’d better get in,” I murmured.
When I wheeled her bike into the garage, I noticed Kabero’s bicycle. When Jerie disappeared to the bathroom I knocked on Kabero’s door. Kabero appeared.
“You want dinner Bwana?”
“Later. What did Jerie’s father say?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “He says you can have her for another week for that money, then he wants her back.”
My heart sank. “Did you ask about me buying her?”
“He not want to sell, he says Jerie is the sun of his life.”
“But surely he would sell her at some price?”
“He says money get spent but Jerie not get spent. She always there. I try but no good Bwana.” I tried to hide my disappointment
“Well thanks Kabero, you did your best.”
“He says he want her back in one week or he tell police.”
I gasped. I could imagine the headlines. “SCOTTISH AUTHOR HELD FOR ABDUCTING THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL.” I squirmed. There would be tales of love nests, sex orgies and perversions. I wiped my brow. I turned at the sound of a gasp. Jerie was standing at the door, looking shocked.
“I have to go back Bill?” I couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“You want dinner Bwana?” Kabero’s eyes were still down-
cast.
“Yes, whenever you are ready,” I replied distractedly.
I held Jerie’s shaking shoulders as I led her through to the lounge. I pulled her against me and she buried her face in my chest. I stood for a long time holding her. I felt numb. I remembered the camp, the despair in the eyes of the women, I had to do something, I couldn’t let Jerie return to that. But she wasn’t mine no matter how I felt about her. I felt her stiffen. She pushed herself away. She looked at me and around me as if examining me. Her face took on a puzzled look.
“It cannot be, we are meant to be together! I will go and talk to Baba.” I felt hope.
“Even if he won’t sell you to me, maybe he would let me send you to a boarding school?”
“I will try Bill, if he says no, I will run away.”
I lifted her and sat with her on my knee on the settee and hugged her close. I thought of the headlines in the papers. Maybe I should just leave, forget Jerie, forget the whole damn country. She moved in my arms, I felt her cheek against mine, No! I loved her. I loved her as a person. She had touched some part of my spirit. Bugger the newspapers and their headlines, I would do anything to keep her.
Dinner was a subdued affair. We went to bed early and slept holding each other tightly. Early the next afternoon I left Jerie practising her cycling on the road outside the bungalow. She was becoming confident and more adventurous. I returned cursing the lawyer who had been no help at all. He’d sympathised with my desperation but had emphasized that unless I could get Jerie’s father to agree, there was nothing he could do.
The late afternoon shadows were patterning the lawn. I looked around for Jerie, I shouted into the house. There was no answer. I looked in the garage, her cycle was gone. I squinted up and down the road.
‘Probably gone for a ride,’ I thought.
I moped around the house. What was I going to do? The lawyer had spelled out the consequences when I suggested that I might smuggle Jerie out of the country. Maybe if I offered him enough, her father might let me send her to a boarding school? I thought of Jerie’s father’s comment. ‘Money get spent but Jerie not get spent.’
“Oh! My God!” I started to shake. Could he mean to hire Jerie out like a prostitute? What had I started? I remembered with horror my pawing of the first night. That could happen again and again with God knows what kind of perverts. I thought of Jerie getting harder and more cynical, her character disintegrating until she was an empty shell.
“What have I done.” I deliberately slowed my breathing. “Get hold of yourself Bill,” I told myself. There must be a way out, there must be!” My thoughts went around and around, circling a whirlpool of despair. I looked outside again. There was no sign of Jerie. The shadows were lengthening. It would be dark soon; where could she be?
Chapter 7
Kabero arrived, the baskets on his bicycle piled with shopping. I asked where Jerie was, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
“I not know Bwana,” he looked furtive.
“She will have an accident cycling in the dark. If you know you must tell me.”
“She here when I leave Bwana.”
“Did she say anything?”
Kabero looked down. “She asks how to get to camp.”
“For God’s sake. And you let her go?”
“I not here Bwana.”
I panicked.
“Leave the packages, we’ll go and look for her”
He dumped the packages inside the front door and we jumped into the Land Rover.
“You tell me where to go,” I ordered.
Following Kabero’s directions, I drove to the outskirts, then along a dirt track. I couldn’t see a thing on either side except for an occasional glimpse of the lights of Nairobi. We were almost on the other side of Nairobi when Kabero gave a shout and pointed ahead. All I could see in the headlights was a paleness, wavering at the side of the road. I stopped and jumped out.
“Jerie?” The figure gave a cry and I saw the whites of her eyes turn towards me, then she was in my arms, sobbing.
I hugged her and cried incoherently. “Darling, you idiot, Jerie. What happened? I’ve been scared half to death”
She just shook her head and held me tighter. I helped her into the Land Rover. Kabero climbed back in and we set off. Jerie continued sobbing. I ruffled her hair and she leaned sideways to bury her face in my shoulder. I came to a shuddering stop in the drive and helped Jerie, out as Kabero hurried ahead to open the door. I half carried her into the lounge and helped her sit on the settee. I gasped, one side of her face was swollen.
“What happened?” I cried.
“They stole my bike,” she sobbed.
“Stuff the bloody bike. What happened to you?”
“Baba’s woman stole my bicycle. She took my dress and shoes.”
My voice rose. “Never mind the bike or the dress. What happened to you?”
Jerie’s eyes looked wild. “She slapped me and punched me and took my clothes. I fight with her and Baba beat me.”
I examined her swollen face and made her stand up to pull the filthy shift over her head. They’d even taken her pants. I examined her, I couldn’t see any bruises against the blackness of her skin. I made her turn around and gasped. A crisscross of weal’s covered her back. I stomped to the bathroom to run a bath, swearing to myself. “Bloody animals.” I lifted Jerie onto my lap. “Now start from the beginning.”
She pushed herself far enough away, so she could look at my face. “I went to see Baba to ask him to let me stay with you. He says … said that coombas take his farm they not going to get his daughter too. He swear, and call you names. He said if you give him all the money in the world he will not let you have me. I tell, told him that I meant to be with you, but he laughs. I ask him if I can go to school if you pay, but he said I not need school. I told him that was what mama want, but he got angry. Baba’s woman takes all my clothes. Baba helped her. I fight but she hit me in the face. I hit back, then Baba beat me with stick, they take my bicycle. I do not want to go back. You won’t let them take me Bill?”
I shook with rage. If I knew where I could get a gun, I’d exterminate them like the animals that they were. I hugged Jerie close.
“I won’t let them take you darling.” I carried her through and lowered her into the bath. She sank down, grimacing when the water reached her back.
“You have a good soak, I’ll find something to help your back.” I left to look through my stock of medical supplies. My rage subsided.
I groaned. What was I going to do? I couldn’t let her go back. I went over the possibilities I’d discussed with the lawyer again. I could smuggle her o
ut of the country, but what then? She had no passport and no possibility of getting one. I could enrol her in a school in a distant part of the country, but I would need her birth certificate, and questions would be asked. I could pay someone to look after her and send her to day-school, but when the father went to the police, as he surely would, I could be charged with kidnapping. I put my hands to my head. “God! How did I get into this?”
I found a tube of salve. Jerie was lying back in the bath with just her face above water. “Do you want to lie a bit longer or do you want to get washed now?” I asked.
She opened her eyes. “Can I lie a bit longer Bill?”
“Of course! I will ask Kabero when dinner will be ready.” I found him in the kitchen.
“I not get Jerie’s bicycle back, it be sold.”
I felt anger boil up again. “I’ll go to the police, I’ll have the bastard put in jail.”
Kabero shook his head. “He wants that, good food in jail.”
I ground my teeth. “When will dinner be ready?”
“In half hour Bwana.”
I nodded and left, holding my tongue with an effort, it wasn’t Kabero’s fault. I returned to the bathroom to sit beside Jerie. I sensed her looking at me from under her lashes.
She sat up. “It is not so sore now Bill.”
I washed her, glad to see the skin wasn’t broken on her back. She winced as I washed her face. I helped her out of the bath and dried her, applied salve to her back and helped her struggle into her nightdress. She cuddled into my chest and I stood for a while, feeling her chest expand and contract against me.
“Do you feel better now?”
“My poor bicycle.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “My poor Jerie.”
I could feel her answering grin in her voice. “Yes, I feel better now …” She paused, “… because I am with you.”
“I will buy you a new bicycle, the other one was just for you to learn on.”
She pulled my head down, kissed me on the lips and buried her head in my chest.
“What are we going to do Jerie? How am I going to stop your father from taking you?”
She was silent for a while then her murmur came from the depths of my chest. “You could make me your wife.”
I stood frozen in shock, then my heart started hammering as unthinkable thoughts bombarded my mind. For God’s sake Bill, you can’t, and what about Kathleen? And it would be bigamy. Maybe the rules were different in Kenya? But she’s only thirteen years old! You can’t seriously be considering it. It would ruin her life. Besides you can’t have children. It’s totally ridiculous. But if that is the only way to save her? I could always divorce her later, to let her get on with her life. But surely, I would need her father’s permission?
I tilted Jerie’s chin up. “How old do you have to be to get married?”
She smiled at me. “I do not think you have to be any special age.”
“Does your father have to agree?”
“I do not know.”
My thoughts kept circling the possibility, approaching it, then shying away. She would be my wife in name only. But what if I was found out? It just wasn’t possible; her father would have to know, or he would involve the police. Word was sure to get out. Kabero called us through for dinner. Jerie seemed thoughtful. She kept giving me her strange look. In bed that night she whispered quietly. “I do not want you to hurt baba.”
“I ought to kill him!” I felt my rage flare again.
“He is a good man inside.” She was silent for a few moments. “He is shamed for selling me to you, he is very poor, this make him angry. Bicycle will feed family for a long time.”
I lay awake thinking. Kabero had hired out his daughter to a stranger, because he was desperate. Then the daughter had arrived with new clothes and a bicycle, things he could never have given her, and she wanted to leave him and stay with the stranger. I began to understand the reason for her father’s rage.
When I woke the next morning, Jerie was still sleeping. I stroked her cheek. The swelling had subsided, and I wondered if she had a black eye. How would I know? I rose and dressed, I had to buy her a new bike and I had to see the lawyer. I whistled as I shaved. I couldn’t understand why I felt so cheerful, nothing had changed, but happiness bubbled up, as if I had made some decision that pleased the watcher inside me.
“Jerie?” I watched her slowly come awake. “How are you today Pet?”
Her eyes looked inwards as if she was examining me.
“Not so sore.”
“Well, get dressed, I can smell breakfast”
Her nose dilated as she became aware of the aroma of frying bacon. She leapt out of bed and started rummaging through her drawer to find clothes. I mentally added more items to my list: a new dress and shoes. She presented her back to me, so I could button up her dress and I saw the weal’s were already starting to fade. I led her to the dining room where Kabero appeared with plates of bacon, eggs and black pudding. She watched me tucking in then started herself.
After breakfast I drove her into Nairobi, gave her some money with instructions to buy herself a new dress and shoes and anything else she needed and arranged to meet her back at the car in an hour. She tucked the money into her red handbag and I watched the small proud figure disappear among the crowds of shoppers.
I set off to visit Mr. Bhachu and had to wait for a while in the outer office before I was eventually ushered in. He gave me his professional smile.
“Any developments?” he asked.
“Jerie’s father won’t part with her.”
“Oh!” he assumed a look of sympathy.
“But, I’ve had an idea.” He raised his eyebrows. “What if I was to marry her?”
He looked thoughtful, as if mentally searching for a precedent, then his eyes focused on me. “She is thirteen?”
I volunteered hurriedly. “It would be a marriage in name only.”
“And you are already married?”
I felt my face flush with embarrassment, what kind of a bloody fool am I? I thought.
I answered. “Yes.”
He pursed his lips. “I can’t see any way of marrying her legally …” he paused, “… native Kenyans can have more than one wife, but they get married in a native ceremony. Civil weddings and church weddings are still conducted under the colonial rules. Sixteen is the minimum age or eighteen, without the parent’s permission.”
“What about the native ceremonies?”
He stroked his chin. “They are considered legal as far as native Kenyans are concerned, but they involve the consent of the parents or the sanction of the tribe. Informal liaisons take place of course, especially in the cities and can be recognised by civil law, but there is no precedent for this between a European and a native this young.”
“You see no hope in this idea?”
“None at all. Your only hope is to get Jerie’s father to agree.” He eyed my glum expression. “Find something that he wants.”
I trudged back to the Land Rover, the cheerfulness I’d felt this morning, replaced by depression. I berated myself. ‘What did you expect you fool? Marrying a thirteen-year old girl? You must be off your rocker.’
I slumped in the seat. What could I offer Jerie’s father to make him change his mind? Was there anything he would accept from a race he hated? I counted, I would have to give Jerie back in eleven days. I could see no way out. I felt numb. Tired of thinking, I dozed.
Chapter 8
A maid in love grows bold without knowing it.
Jean Paul Richter
I started, awake. Of course! I prodded the beauty of my inspiration. It would put right a wrong. I jumped out of the car and hurried back to the lawyer. I waited while the secretary had a low-voiced conversation in the next room, then Mr. Bhachu, his smile obviously forced, opened his door to invite me into his office.
I started to explain before I’d been offered a seat. “I’ve just had a brainwave, Jerie’s father had his farm taken
from him by Europeans, I could offer him a farm, it would put right a wrong.”
The lawyer’s resigned expression was replaced by a look of interest. “That is most interesting.” He eyed me. “It will be expensive.”
“How expensive?” He quoted a rough price for a smallholding with a few goats and cattle. I thought it amazingly cheap. “Will you consider doing this for me?”
He looked enthusiastic. “I’ll start looking round this afternoon.”
I felt a growing excitement. “How long will it take?”
He pursed his lips. “Normally about a month.”
“I have about ten days until I have to give Jerie back. If you can get it organised by then, I’ll treble your fee.” His eyes widened, and his voice took on a trace of unctuousness.
“I assure you most certainly, I will try my utmost.” He hurried to open the door for me. “I may be able to have a list of suitable smallholdings for you by tomorrow.”
“With maps if possible?”
He nodded, “Of course.”
I smiled to myself as I left. Maybe, just maybe, the offer of a farm might be enough to change Jerie’s father’s mind. As I strolled back to the car I mused. ‘What is it that watches and seems to guide me?’ I remembered the first week with Jerie. There was something inside me making plans that even ran counter to my own intentions.
Jerie was waiting with several packages. She started to tell me what she’d bought, her words falling over each other in her excitement. I steered her into a café. The waitress arrived, and I looked at Jerie.
“I will have an ice cream,” she ordered. “A large one.” I smiled at her new-found confidence.
“I will just have a coffee.”
Jerie opened her packages. She’d bought a red checked dress with a white lace collar and a pair of red sandals.
I asked, “What is in the other parcels?”
She opened the three small bags, watching my reaction. She’d bought a lipstick, a small bottle of scent and a bottle of nail varnish.
“They did not cost much.” She looked worried. I laughed.
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