Caught In a Cold War Trap

by Miller Caldwell

  ‘You know about Northern Ireland?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, a divided community, not so?’

  ‘Very much so. It’s a religious thing too. Protestant workers in command and Roman Catholics trodden on. Things are getting out of hand.’

  ‘I agree with your assessment, ripe for exploitation—but you didn’t pick up on that last night, I’m sure.’

  ‘But I did. One of the VSO teachers was a Catholic—from Belfast. He had flames coming out of his eyes he was so anti-British. He sees a civil war breaking out in mainland Britain. It’s not far off, he told me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yes, and he predicts more bombings will be coming to England soon.’

  ‘And where is this teacher working?’

  ‘He’s a science teacher at Ho in the Volta region.’ I told him the man’s name.

  He took out his notepad and wrote the facts I had given him. ‘You have done well Robert. Very well indeed.’

  ‘Can you make use of this information?’ I asked.

  His smile seemed wider than the river Volga. ‘Next week I have been recalled to Moscow. My superiors will take this on board. It sounds like something we could use to our advantage.’

  Chapter 17

  Morag arrives in Accra

  My beard was itching. It had grown very full and it required a trim. I had that done a few days before Morag arrived. I looked in the mirror. I was still recognisable and I thought and I’d say my chin trim made me look more mature. But I would say that, wouldn’t I?

  At the poolside, there was much interest in the arrival of Morag. I tried to put them off on the grounds she would be very busy at the teaching hospital.

  ‘Ah, Korle Bu. They opened the maternity wing last year. We helped to pay for it. Our ambassador and some of his staff attended the unveiling.’ Darya laughed uncontrollably, as did her fellow sun worshipper.

  I tried to interpret what was said. I drew a blank. When the laughter died down, she continued her story.

  ‘Brigadier Amaney was the health minister. He drew back the curtain and announced that he was very pleased to be able to unveil the plague at the hospital.’

  It made me laugh too, but the subject soon returned to Morag. They asked my intentions and I told them I had not seen her for such a long time. I’d have to see how we feel.

  ‘So she is arriving this Saturday?’

  ‘Yes, early. British Caledonian airways from Glasgow,’ I replied realising an early dip in the pool tomorrow was out of the question.

  ‘Then I’ll ask my husband to give you a driver.’

  ‘That would be appreciated,’ I replied with an eye squeezed, sun-avoiding smile at Darya.

  ‘And he can bring you both back here for us to meet her,’ she said looking at her friend.

  I wanted to make the situation plain before they laid plans for her. ‘You know she does not speak Russian?’

  ‘But we speak English don’t we,’ she smiled with a glancing nod.

  ‘I’d almost forgotten. Of course, your English is good. I’ve always spoken Russian to you.’

  ‘Yes, and we love your accent.’

  ‘My accent? How do you hear me,’ I asked with interest.

  ‘I’d say you speak with a Byelo accent.’

  ‘A Byelo accent? My Russian teacher would be pleased to hear that.’

  ‘You have a Russian tutor?’

  ‘She began as a pen friend. I was studying modern languages at Glasgow University and she helped me a lot, especially in the Cyrillic writing.’

  It was perhaps clear from her nod that Darya understood how I had been caught up in the spy net. She knew that Russian pen friends were used to enticing westerners. They always gave female pen friends to male contacts and vice versa.

  And so the morning came. I was up at 5 a.m. and dressed, awaiting the driver. It was the First Secretary’s car with Corps Diplomatique number plates. That meant we could park anywhere without restriction.

  We arrived in good time. I entered the airport and found myself in a sea full of cleaners wielding mops and shop owners unlocking their doors.

  I enquired about the flight. It was expected to be a few minutes late. There was time for a coffee while my driver, Samuel, sat with his Milo chocolate drink.

  I drummed my fingers on the table while sipping the hot coffee. There was a churning inside me—I was sure our relationship was strong but I had to nip myself and accept that she was here to further her medical career, not sit and listen to all my woes.

  I finished my coffee and went to dispose of the plastic cup. As I was dropping it from my hand I saw a speck of dirt on the lounge window. No, it was getting larger. Then I saw the lights, this was the plane. I stood mesmerised as it grew before my eyes.

  The flight arrivals board confirmed the British Caledonian flight from Glasgow was about to land. I watched as the slender fuselage seemed to float past on the runway with its flaps at right angles to slow the brute down. It almost came to a stop, but then turned round to taxi into gate 4.

  I watched as the passengers got off the plane in an orderly line, heading for the customs. I saw Morag. She looked pale, unsurprisingly. She was not looking my way. The sun would have been in her eyes. My heart seemed to want to jump out of me. My pulse rate was up. Was that because I had so much to tell her; so much to explain? Would she believe me and, either way, could I repair the damage? My mind was in a fankle, like a rugby scrum.

  I stood awaiting her to appear from the customs’ room. First out were three nuns in their light grey habits. They seemed like a gang of excited school children. A Christian father welcomed them and amid excited chatter, they left, inevitably heading off to some mission station. A pram with a child appeared and a couple guiding it with a case-laden trolley. Seven, presumably Ghanaians, appeared showing their Harrods’s attire from the city store in London—and then there she was.

  I opened my arms wide. She saw me and her mouth opened in excitement. Then she stroked her chin. I did the same and knew the beard was not an instant put-me-off.

  She dropped her bags as I approached. I ran to her and we lingered in a satisfying hug. I squeezed her as she did me and I felt my life was changing back to normal once more. My lips settled on her cheek. She moved her head away and returned to kiss me full on the lips.

  ‘I’ve missed you like…like the last bus to Govan,’ I said.

  She laughed at my nonsense. ‘I’ve missed you and dreamt of you most nights.’

  ‘And the other nights?’ I asked with a grin.

  ‘Studies, seminars and practicals. Then more dreams of you.’

  The scent of something appealing was behind her ears. Carbolic soap was all I had at the embassy, but at least my morning shower made me feel fresh.

  ‘Your beard…it suits you. It’s not too hot for one in the tropics is it?’ she asked as we separated, and she took a step back to view the change.

  ‘It is not a permanent fixture,’ I said without thinking. ‘I’d love to tell you I grew it for you. But it’s a long story.’

  ‘Don’t shave for me. I think I like it. It suits you.’

  Her words were very welcome. No further explanation was required, there and then. We came forward once more and in those loving moments, we talked in syncopation about missing each other, looking forward to the next six weeks.

  ‘Our car is waiting outside. When have you to report to the hospital?’ I asked hastily.

  ‘By this evening, so we can spend half of today together, yes?’

  ‘Then let me show you where in Accra I’ll be for the next few weeks.’

  She pondered what I had said. ‘The Pioneer Peanuts factory will come to a halt without you, surely?’

  All I could do was smile. Too much information as she faced a new medical challenge was not what she needed. I’d have to drip feed my story like intravenous fluids, at the right time.

  Morag did not look often at me as she tried to soak up the smells and sights of a new count
ry, on a new continent. The crickets gave uninterrupted applause to her ears as we got into the back seat of the car.

  As we drove off, I pointed out to her the wayside trader’s goods and explained that the car swerved so much to avoid potholes. She was thrilled to see the vibrant cloth the women wore and I told her that the women were the economic gurus of the market and the knots they made in their waistbands contained many cedi notes. The women usually earned more than their husbands, I added. She noticed that many of the men offered car maintenance services and tailoring facilities which seemed to occupy every third kiosk. Then the car entered the more affluent embassy residential district.

  Chapter 18

  Morag and Robert at the Pool

  As the car swept into and up the Embassy drive, Morag let out a gasp. ‘You are living here—in the Russian embassy?’

  ‘Yes, for the time being, to be near you. Wasn’t that kind of them?’

  ‘Kind of whom, Robert?’

  My response needed more time, so I simply raised my finger to my lips. She gave me a quizzical look taking my silent instruction to heart.

  Vitaly Karmanov stood at the entrance to meet Morag.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, doctor,’ he said shaking her unsteady hand.

  ‘I should say, First Secretary, that Morag is not quite a doctor yet, but her opportunity to experience tropical medicine here will take her further down that road.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you and grateful that you are able to host Robert while I am here,’ she said, giving a generous smile.

  ‘Who am I to thwart true love?’ Vitaly said, with a smile as wide as an eagle’s wingspan. ‘Take her bags to the reception Samuel, and Robert go to the conservatory with your fiancée for a refreshing drink—I am sure Morag will appreciate that after such a long flight.’

  Morag glanced at me on hearing the word fiancée. I opened my hand and waved her through the reception area to the conservatory, where several fans whirled away helping to keep things tolerably cool.

  ‘This is so palatial. Not what I expected.’

  ‘Nor I. I’ll tell you about it by the pool.’

  ‘There’s a pool?’

  ‘Out the back. You’ll love it,’ I said, seeing a servant arrive with our drinks. I stood up. The servant offered us two fresh orange ice-filled glasses from the tray. I took them both and passed one to Morag.

  ‘May I join you?’ asked Vitaly, entering the spacious room.

  ‘Please do,’ I said.

  He sat opposite us.

  ‘I’m delighted that you were able to bring Robert down from Tamale,’ Morag said.

  ‘You are at Korle Bu for six weeks, not so?’ Vitaly said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then Robert will be here for the duration of your stay in Accra. He won’t be returning to Tamale.’

  ‘He won’t be returning to Tamale? Not even after I leave?’

  Vitaly shook his head. ‘We are indigenising the factory. Letting the locals take over. They are ready for that. Robert did a fine job bringing them on. As I say, it’s time for them to take over.’

  Morag sipped her orange juice, clinking her ice cubes as she did. ‘So, if Robert is not going back to Tamale, have you decided on another place, or will he be coming home?’

  I saw the importance of her question. It made me uncomfortable, yet I needed to know what was on Vitaly’s mind.

  ‘Well, that’s a good question. I guess there are a few options. We could find him a job elsewhere, outside Ghana perhaps—we could offer you both a post if you wish? We could send him back to Europe too.’

  Morag smiled. ‘You mean back to Scotland?’

  Vitaly sipped his drink then placed the glass purposefully down on his coaster. ‘Europe is a big continent. Scotland is not out of the question.’

  ‘Vitaly, Morag has to be at the hospital later today. Perhaps there’s time to go to the pool soon?’

  ‘Yes, excellent idea and be back for lunch at 1 p.m.’ he said as he coaxed the last few orange bits out of his glass. Then he left the conservatory.

  Each time Morag tried to ask a sensitive question, I placed my finger to my lips then I tapped my ear. She gleaned it was not always safe to talk openly.

  At the pool, seeing it was only mid-morning, I lay out two sun loungers opposite where my afternoon position usually was. This was near a garden plot of herbs. I looked around. I lowered my voice as Morag laid her towel over her white shins.

  ‘Always suspect there is a recording device around.’

  ‘I can speak Glaswegian if you wish?’ she joked.

  ‘I think we are safe here. Not many swims in the morning. If there’s a microphone around, I suspect it’s on the other side of the pool. There’s not much cover for a mike around the sun loungers here.’

  ‘Well, wherever it is, I need some answers, Robert. What the hell is going on? You’ve lost your job and they bend over backwards for you here in Accra, just because I’ve arrived. It doesn’t make sense. Their generosity is outstanding. Why?’

  ‘You are right. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been a fool. I’m caught up in something. There’s much to tell you but not here. Come on let’s get into the pool.’

  ‘Last one in is a sissy,’ she said.

  I took a leap into the water after her. When I surfaced, I saw Vitaly at the window.

  Chapter 19

  Korle Bu Teaching Hospital

  Korle Bu hospital had a brightly shining entrance. Palm trees with their sprayed branches seem to wave Morag a welcome. The sea was not far away and the smell of decaying seaweed gave our nostrils a twinge.

  I insisted on carrying Morag’s baggage, thus depriving several impoverished helpers. I suppose I did not wish to share Morag with anyone.

  At the reception, Morag showed her letter of appointment and the receptionist lifted the telephone.

  As she waited for a reply, she held her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Take a seat over there for a moment, please.’

  We sat down and Morag looked around. ‘It’s a very modern hospital.’

  ‘It certainly is. I hope your placement goes well for you.’

  ‘Me too. Can we talk freely now?’

  ‘Looks like Korle Bu will be our free-to-talk place from now on.’

  ‘So, let’s get it right from the very start. What is going on? You have not been totally open with me in your letters.’

  ‘I know. I will give you all the facts. I need to offload a lot. I think I already told you, it began on holiday, on Jura.’

  That was all I could say. A doctor was approaching with a welcoming smile.

  ‘I’m Dr Amma Swaniker. I am delighted to meet you,’ she said to Morag. ‘So you are from Scotland, Glasgow University. I did my postgraduate medicine at Edinburgh University.’

  ‘Then you know Scotland well,’ Morag said.

  ‘I visited many parts. It’s a beautiful country. Now, is this—your husband?’

  ‘No, Robert is not my husband.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Well, we don’t allow men coming to the unmarried doctors’ rooms.’

  I could see Morag’s shoulders drop. She was not happy with what she had just been told, especially as she was anxious to learn more about her boyfriend. ‘No he’s not my husband. He’s my fiancé,’ she replied with feeling.

  A shudder went through my body. Her statement sounded so good. But I suspected she only said it so she could learn more of my situation while out of the earshot of the Russian embassy.

  ‘I see, then that’s quite different. You didn’t inform us of your engagement.’

  ‘I do apologise. We have not been engaged very long,’ Morag said, clearly uncomfortable with lying. I sympathised with her.

  ‘Let me take you over to the doctor’s quarters.’ She talked as we walked. ‘You’ll find A&E behind reception. That is where you report—tomorrow at 8 a.m.’ She turned to me. I detected her question.

  ‘Robert Harvie,’ I said.

  ‘Mr Harvie,
you have accommodation in Accra?’

  ‘Yes, on the outskirts of the city.’

  ‘I see,’ she said and to further satisfy her curiosity she enquired, ‘what line of work you are engaged in, may I ask.’

  ‘It’s diplomatic work.’

  ‘Ah, of course. The residential compounds near the airport.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘You have a fine group of diplomatic staff at the British embassy.’

  ‘You know us?’ I asked, with more than a degree of concern about my lies.

  ‘Not for a while. I have not been back to Scotland for several years now. My visa has certainly lapsed. The staff will have changed by now anyway, I am sure.’

  ‘Yes, our tours are not that long,’ I said.

  ‘Then I think we should give you both a double room rather than the one I had planned. It has a double bed.’

  I could have kissed this doctor at that moment. But she had a further word of caution.

  ‘There is a curfew of course, even for those who are engaged. It is at 10 p.m.’ She unlocked the door. The room was sun-drenched, with a view over the sea.

  ‘What a beautiful room,’ said a delighted Morag.

  ‘There is an information pack on the dressing table. Meals are in the doctors’ dining room, but the kitchen is always open if you require food out of hours. You, Mr Harvie can eat with Morag when you are here.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. Give me a ring if you have any questions. There’s bound to be a few in a new hospital, so far from home.’

  ‘You have made us feel so welcome. I am sure my placement will go well,’ said Morag, smiling.

  ‘Let me give you an Akan Twi proverb. Kakra, kakra Akawkaw benum nsu. It literally means; slowly, slowly the hen drinks water. You can just imagine that, can’t you? It means you are new with much to learn in our culture. So, do it bit by bit, just as the hen drinks water. Enjoy your afternoon.’