by Ruth Hartley
It was Helen Ioannou who finally made a difference to Lara’s circumstances. Soon after Adam was born, Helen sent over the contents of Lara’s studio and some of her personal possessions. They came hidden away as part of a consignment of art for an exhibition in London. Helen also managed by some not quite legal fiddling of accounts to empty Lara’s bank account in Chambeshi and transfer the money to her at a rate that was not too punitive. Lara’s gratitude was profound and her self-esteem improved as a result of her improved financial status. Helen said that Chimunya was now running the Umodzi Gallery.
“She’s doing a great job,” Helen said. “But it is rather at the cost of her own work.”
Chapter Two
Lara
After Adam was born, Lara’s career also picked up again in a way that was very satisfactory for her finances. The last frugal years spent in the bush that she had found so frustrating creatively began finally to pay back. The hundreds of small drawings, notes and observations in small black sketchbooks that had been done hastily and at the time felt so trivial, formed the basis of a new series of romanticised wild animal paintings. These sold for a decent price. There had been a proliferation of galleries in Covent Garden around that time and Lara’s work hit the jackpot.
Lara had managed through an artist friend of an artist friend to get a part-time teaching job at the art school in Whitechapel. It was only two evenings a week teaching fashion students to draw figures that were not just headless and handless garments. These appendages to the human body are apparently ‘difficult to draw’ or so the students would wimp at Lara as their jewellery clacked and swung with their pencil strokes. The classes, however, had the unexpected benefit of informing her of the fashionable colours predicted for the coming year so she could design her paintings to match the curtains and clothes of young people in city apartments. Lara’s paintings probably went out with the old sofa when the latest one was acquired but she did not care or at least said she didn’t. She was paying her way in a commercial world and often repeated to herself that she was only being realistic about her value as an artist.
“I did – and do – feel rather chewed up about it if I am honest.” Lara explains to Brendan at one of their sessions. “In Chambeshi I was considered a bit of a star in the art world along with Chimunya and Pascal and a few others but we were a small group in a small society. There wasn’t too much competition. I took my status and the money I made from art for granted. Here in London – well – I do sell – but what I do is rather commercial and I’m not very proud of it.”
Over time and with the birth of Adam, Tim and Lara’s flat altered to suit their changing life requirements. Then their lives adapted to their different living arrangements and soon they couldn’t remember how things had been when they started.
In the ordinary way that these things are done, Lara, the woman, was the one who instigated most of the changes, but then Lara was the one who lived and worked the longest hours at home. At first Adam had the little bedroom for a nursery and Tim and Lara a king-size bed in the biggest, quietest room next to the bathroom. At two years Adam needed a playroom as well as a bedroom. Lara put Adam in the big room with his toys and books and swapped the king-size bed for a three-quarter bed that she could squeeze into the one-time nursery.
The third very tiny room became Tim’s office – he could do his editing from home on the nights when Lara was teaching and he was baby-sitting Adam. Journalism and computers meant he was always on call. Tim had left Chambeshi in the furore after the coup against president Chona. He had predicted it would take place and reported on its convolutions rather than its revolution right to the last moment. The outcome was that his newspaper had rewarded him with safer work as a desk-based African editor. Newspapers, however, were given their final edit late at night for the early morning press.
The nursery-bedroom felt rather cramped for Lara and Tim to be in together unless they were lying down but that, oddly, reduced their interest in sex. The nursery mural survived on their bedroom wall for a year or so but at last Adam allowed Tim to paint it out – not an easy job as it took several coats of emulsion and much muttering as he barked his shins on the dust-sheeted compromise that was their bed. Adam’s room was no longer decorated with art, but with posters. Thomas the Tank Engine and later Dr. Who became his night-time companions, not strange and nervous fauna from his mother’s past.
Lara wasn’t particularly sad to lose the mural of the wild creatures of the midnight. She was working on a series of paintings about the wildlife of London and her foxes, cats and owls were selling very well. Africa was far away and that part of her life was over.
It had all vanished, as Oscar had vanished.
Chapter Three
Brendan 1997
Lara doesn’t want to talk about Oscar any more. She sits silent in Brendan’s armchair looking down at her lap and observing the way her blue denims have started to thin and lighten in colour above her knees. Why is she so afraid to talk about her affair with Oscar? Is she afraid of exposing herself as a sex-obsessed fool? Was that what she had been? Is that what she is? Several times she almost speaks and several times she hesitates. Brendan sits, occasionally glancing at Lara’s face to see how she is. Eventually Lara has to speak and opts for honesty.
“I can’t bear it if you disapprove of me, Brendan. Do I need to talk about what happened with Oscar?”
Brendan answers quietly.
“Lara, perhaps it is you who disapproves of yourself. I am not here to make any judgements. What are you asking me to do for you and why?”
“I am ashamed of myself but it’s complicated.” Lara says.
There has been a storm in her head for so long. Broken bits of self-knowledge and experience fly around in her brain like leaves in a gale. There seems no chance of them falling into a pattern. Suddenly it is calm. The leaves become birds. They flock upwards into the branches of her mind and she begins to understand herself a little better.
“I think my mother must have had an affair with Oscar some years before I met him. When I told my parents that I was going to work at Oscar’s Tin Heart Camp she had this weird screaming fit. She accused me of being an ungrateful daughter and burst out crying. She was really upset. Eventually Dad took me aside and tried to explain – he was embarrassed – said Oscar was a bit of a Romeo – his words – and had made a pass at Mum. I tried to make out that my relationship with Oscar was really only business. I could see that Dad was relieved but didn’t entirely believe me so I said -’Oh well Dad, you know and I know, that Oscar will always stay single and not be faithful – I won’t fall for him. Do reassure Mum that I won’t be stupid.’
“I didn’t realise that I could be so dishonest and co-opt Dad into lying for me. I was lying to myself also. Poor Mum. I would have felt the same I suppose.”
“Dad did visit Oscar’s camp – on his own – Mum wouldn’t come. I think Dad wanted to shame Oscar into treating me decently but Oscar went off on a business trip at the last moment and they didn’t meet. Anyway it doesn’t matter – I knew what I was doing.”
“Yes, indeed,” Brendan says, “but did you know what Oscar was up to and understand how dangerous he was?”
Lara stares down at her worn jeans. After a while she shakes her head and remains silent.
“There is no need to talk about Oscar if you don’t want to or don’t feel ready. Would you like instead to tell me about something else – perhaps you want to talk about Tim and why he has gone away.”
“Oh, God!” Lara’s head is in her hands, “It is such a mess – such a mess! I don’t think I can talk about that yet.”
“You have told me a little already.” Brendan says. “You and Tim flew back to England together and ended up living with each other. Tell me about that time if you like.”
“I never stopped taking the pill those last weeks in Chambeshi,” Lara explains. �
��But it was a mini-pill and I was sick and had diarrhoea. The obstetrician told me afterwards it could explain how I became pregnant. My body didn’t have time to absorb the pill before I vomited. In any case I was in such a state when I first arrived in London that when I missed my period the doctor put it down to stress. Very soon my breasts became sore and my body felt different and then I began to panic. I knew what was happening to me – but there was no way I could know exactly when I became pregnant. Tim and I had made love fairly soon after we met again – but then Oscar -”
Lara’s voice fades, then she looks up directly at Brendan.
“I still don’t know for certain if Adam is Oscar’s child or Tim’s. The only thing I thought I did right was telling Tim at once. Now I wonder if Tim and I would still be together if I had been able to convince him that Adam could only be his child. I don’t know any more what is or was right and for the best.”
“You have all had blood tests haven’t you?” Brendan asks.
“Yes.” Lara replies, “It doesn’t rule out Tim as Adam’s father but as we can’t test Oscar’s blood the doubt remains and complicates what we tell Adam.
“I want Adam to be Tim’s child but suppose he’s not? How will that be for Adam? What happens when it becomes easy for him to get a DNA paternity test? What will he feel?”
“Do you think Tim left you over Adam?” Brendan asks, “Was there another reason that was not to do with Adam at all?”
“Oh, God, yes!” Lara weeps again, “Tim left me. He didn’t want to leave Adam! It’s my fault!”
Again her mood changes.
“We were fine Tim and me – we were fine!” she says shooting a defiant glance at Brendan. “Then the money and the paintings arrived from Oscar. And we had terrible rows.”
Chapter Four
Two Brown Envelopes
“So how did Oscar vanish?” Brendan finally asks Lara. “What exactly did happen and how did you feel about it?”
Lara looks at Brendan in silence for some moments before she answers.
“I have never spoken about it.” she says. “Not even with Tim. Oscar just did vanish – well disappear – as far as we knew or could tell. He came back to Chambeshi City about three weeks after Tim and I had left. He was seen at the ranch and in his office over a period of a few days. Then he flew off again in the Cessna. It was rumoured that Natan was with him then. That was it. After that no more sightings.
“I didn’t want to think about him – I blocked any thoughts of him at first. Everything in Chambeshi was chaotic and for a while there was no news or facts – just rumours. Tim kept in touch with Junior so we knew that he was okay and that Inonge was safe but not much more. It was Junior who told Tim about Oscar’s disappearance. Junior and Inonge had to disassociate themselves from Oscar for political reasons and for personal safety. Once Oscar’s crimes were known, it was easier for them to do that. The difficulty was that there was no trace of Oscar and no way of finding him. Oscar’s office, the ranch house and the safari camp were just left under guard, but empty, and unused for several years.”
In answer to Brendan’s raised eyebrows Lara shrugs. “I was very busy and so was Tim. There was Adam and there was work for us both.”
“And now?” Brendan repeats his suggestion, “Perhaps taking anti-depressants would be helpful. They are recommended and they do work, Lara.”
“I’ll stick to self-medicating with wine,” Lara says, attempting a joke.
Though Tim and Lara hardly noticed it happening, both their lives and the flat had changed. The living room had metamorphosed into Lara’s studio. When at first she began to draw again she used a small table in a corner of their living room that she tidied up before Tim came home. As her income increased, her canvases grew larger and she worked for longer periods. Lara began to leave her palettes and brushes on display and ready for use at any moment and stopped turning her paintings to the wall. Tim also stopped asking Lara about her work. He could after all just look and see what she had done before going into the kitchen for tea or – if it was later – for the gin and tonic that they were both addicted to from outdoor African evenings.
The comfortable settee remained in the studio but it was mostly used by Lara when she flopped down in it with a coffee to scowl at and reassess a painting. Occasionally and grudgingly a couple or a guest were allowed to pull the settee out into a bed so they could stop over for the night.
Luckily for Lara and Tim’s relationship, the kitchen was quite large and became their main living space with a fair sized table for entertaining and the TV for when they were just family. They had always used it that way to watch TV. Journalists and artists like to do a lot of talking and networking. Tim’s life had been adventurous and Lara’s had been romantic and exotic, or so it had appeared. Successful artists, even rather commercial ones, are believed to have charisma so Tim and Lara had reasonable social clout and spent many long and fascinating evenings with friends having excited discussions accompanied by many bottles of wine. That was the one aspect of their life that survived with the least change for the longest time. A few of the friendships endured too – those people with whom they had shared experiences and passions – the other acquaintances recycled themselves casually into newer and trendier social groupings.
Tim and Lara were settled into a routine mostly arranged around Adam. By comparison with him they didn’t seem to alter much in appearance, personality or habits. They were old friends and good friends, each of them ambitious and hard-working about their chosen careers. Though they rushed around on separate tracks all day, they always went to bed together and there they talked, laughed, made love and slept. On the whole they were practical and adaptable. Their relationship was solid. They were a couple who had been friends for fifteen years and lovers for ten.
Whenever necessary, Adam had been looked after as an infant by a licensed child-minder in the next block of flats. Adam went first to nursery, then reception class, started proper school and was happy and adjusted with a circle of friends mostly with ambitious, high achieving parents. He was growing, he was healthy. He didn’t look particularly like either Tim or Lara but he was too young for the differences to be remarked on. Sometimes Lara caught Tim looking at his son with a puzzled air as if he didn’t recognise some aspect of him. If Lara asked him what he was thinking of he simply looked surprised as if nothing had yet surfaced fully in his mind or as if his thoughts were elsewhere. In that way Tim was uncomplicated. Adam was his child and Lara’s child. That suited her too. Lara set her jaw. The Tin Heart years were shut out of her mind and her heart and Adam was safe. Occasional ghostly images from the Kasama region manifested themselves as she painted and a few imprinted their ether on the canvas but they moved out to galleries and sold. Tim’s puzzled alienation still made occasional appearances and Lara knew that someday something would materialise and she would be surprised by it. So it turned out.
Tim craved the independence and the risks of his work as a foreign correspondent. It had taken Lara a long time to work that out about her dear friend and lover. She thought at first that it was her independence of mind and artistic success that bothered his security; that perhaps he had regrets about accepting Adam as his own without question. The problem was neither of these things. Boredom and safety meant that Tim did not feel alive or confident. His work showed signs of suffering too but fortunately before it became an obvious problem, his chief had the insight to recognise what was happening and took the first opportunity to offer Tim work abroad. It was also true that Tim was the best person for this particularly unpleasant assignment. He was to go to Uganda to investigate the Lord’s Resistance Army.
“You love someone and therefore you believe that you know them,” Lara says to Brendan, “but the reality is that your knowledge is as mutable as the person you love and as you yourself are.”
“I think that Tim is afraid. He’s afraid of
one day not existing, of being meaningless. It’s worse when his life is too secure – too certain. When he was out on a job in Africa facing actual danger, and really afraid for himself physically, then he felt that he counted in some existential permanent way. Now he feels uncertain even while he is successful and well-paid.”
Much as he craved excitement, perhaps, Tim would not have left very easily as his life had come to be given significant meaning by Adam and Lara. As Adam grew older and as he and Tim shared more activities and hobbies, they formed a closer bond. Tim’s weekends included rock-climbing with Adam at the new sports centre or sailing on the Docks at Canary Wharf, exploring the Dinosaur and the Volcano sections at the Natural History Museum, or looking at the Great Fire of London at the Museum of London in the Barbican. Activities that brought them both home to a relaxed and paint-spattered Lara. Bright-eyed and full of anecdotes about their varied achievements, they would set out together to the latest family restaurant for a pizza or a hamburger or a dish of chilli con carne.
Then two fat, official-looking, foolscap-sized, brown envelopes arrived. They were addressed to Lara and came from a lawyer in London. They might as well have been packed with plastic explosive, because they blew Tim and Lara’s lives apart.
Chapter Five
Questions
For the most part the years Lara spent at the Tin Heart Gold Mine had passed smoothly. After four years she was becoming rather dissatisfied, it was true. The business side of the safari camp was eating up more and more of her creative energy and her precious time in the studio. She was fed up with the need to supply her American patron with the small commercial bird paintings. They had become repetitive and uninspiring to do.