by Ruth Hartley
Sometime in the night or possibly the early evening, Lara became aware that Inonge was conscious once more. She did not move and her breathing did not alter much but somehow even though it was dark, Lara knew Inonge was present and alive. She turned on her side and touched her gently on the shoulder and spoke to her.
“Inonge – hello – Inonge – do you know where you are? Do you know what has happened?”
She felt rather than saw, Inonge’s eyes focus briefly, heard her shuddering gasp and the convulsion of pain as she became aware of her surroundings, then she turned away folding herself up into a foetal position. After a while Lara persuaded her to drink some water and she lit the lantern and helped Inonge find her way to the toilet. Inonge shuffled like an old woman, doubled over and stunned as if she had been beaten. She refused to eat any of the unappetising mealie pap and relish that the men had brought for their supper. Lara made herself eat but soon afterwards her stomach began to churn and she was overcome by nausea. She spent an hour in the bathroom, vomiting and emptying her bowels which had turned to liquid, grateful for the scummy water nearby that allowed her to flush it all away. She suffered again in the morning and lay down feeling tired and weak, to doze a little. Inonge also was still in a drugged sleep though she did drink slightly more water and ate a very small ball of mealie pap without any of the sauce. The heat in the enclosed room increased steadily all day. There was nothing to do. Lara had a sketchbook in her bag. At first she had drawn objects in the room, even some of the creatures who carried on as if life was quite normal. But the stultifying afternoon forced her to give up and rest. Flies buzzed, sweat trickled between Lara’s breasts, she was almost asleep and then she heard Oscar’s voice outside.
“Lara – I must speak to you. Tell Inonge to go and wait in the kitchen. I must see you alone.”
At the sound of Oscar’s voice, Inonge rolled over and sat up. Her hair stood up around her head in rough spikes. She put her hand over Lara’s hand and spoke for the first time.
“I don’t want to see him but Lara – will you be okay by yourself?”
Lara’s throat contracted. She nodded at Inonge.
“Go – I think I’ll be okay. Go!” but she was afraid. Oscar had proved a monster. What form would he appear in when he came through the door? He must be changed.
When he stepped through the door, bright sunshine behind him, drifting dust motes in the slanting beams of light, Oscar seemed diminished. He was both shorter and slighter than Lara remembered him to be and his face looked older and weary, his skin darker and harsher in texture. Lara had risen from the bed and they stood facing each other. It was a familiar meeting, strange and yet expected. Then Oscar smiled at Lara. That personal, intimate, only-for-Lara smile that she knew so well and had loved so much.
“Lara! Oh Lara! I have missed you!” he said and reaching out his hand he stepped forward. Lara felt time and place swept away in a rush of hope. Perhaps it had all been a dream and now it was over? Then almost at once there was a sensation of falling fast into the hard reality of her concrete prison. She felt the prickle on her cheeks of shock. She had almost smiled back at him. Lara struggled to speak, lost and stammering for words to say what she knew – to tell Oscar what he was – crook – criminal – evil – bad – the vocabulary eluded her. All she said sounded childish and inadequate.
“You killed Enoch! I hate you! You are a cheat! A liar!”
“It wasn’t me!” Oscar said with an involuntary glance over his shoulder. “It was Natan – he will pay – I will make him!”
Lara heard the catch in his throat. If he cries for his friend I will kill him, she thought. Stupid of her. How could she do that? The penknife in her pocket was shut; it pulled open with difficulty, and would close on her fingers before it went into Oscar’s ribs.
“Lara please understand – please – I didn’t know what Natan was doing – when I saw – then it was already happening – I wanted to keep Enoch out of it.”
“You lied to us all – you tricked us – now Enoch is dead and you do what you are told – you do what Natan tells you to do!”
Oscar shook his head.
“Please sit down Lara – please I need you – I am going to get rid of Natan – we’ll start over again. I can make it work again. All Natan wants is the diamond trade – I’ll get out of that -” Oscar sat down on the bed indicating that Lara should sit down too. He laid his gun at his feet, first removing the bullets and turning the muzzle down safely. It was his favourite hunting rifle, not a Kalashnikov.
“Natan’s men are still here.” he said. “Not for long though – come with me Lara. I love you. You care for me” There was no doubt in his gaze, “I know you do! I need you. With you I can put all this behind me and we can start again – maybe somewhere new – maybe Chambeshi – there’s an island off Mozambique.”
“What about Enoch? What about Inonge? You can’t put things right.”
Lara was still standing but Oscar sat still. Her head swam and a spasm gripped her stomach for a moment so Lara sat down warily an arm’s length from Oscar. This was an insane discussion. Where was it going? How would it end? What options did it give her?
“I don’t want to come with you, Oscar. I want to go back to Chambeshi with Inonge. I want to go back to England. I don’t want to see you again – ever!” Was she endangering herself even more by saying what she felt? “Do I have a choice?” she asked.
Oscar regarded Lara steadily. She saw the skin under his eyes crease and his mouth twitch as if he could not contain his feelings. Was he going to plead with her? No. She saw his jaw harden.
“You have a choice Lara. Natan wants you and Inonge dead. He will walk away and leave you with his men if you like. He can’t let you go back to Chambeshi and tell stories about what he has been responsible for, can he? You can die – or you can survive. You can come with me. I know we can make it work between us.”
“And Inonge? Your best friend’s wife? Enoch’s wife?” Lara’s eyes blurred with tears. Was there a trade she had to do? Would Inonge be all right if she left with Oscar? Where was trust? She put a hand up to her face to wipe her eyes and dug for a handkerchief in her pocket. In that instant Oscar had her in his grip. For comfort? Or to kill her? Lara’s hand was trapped in her pocket as his arm encircled her shoulder. He held the hand she was using to wipe her eyes and he searched for her mouth, pushing his face close to hers and kissing her roughly. Lara tried to turn her head away but unbalanced she fell backwards onto the bed.
“Lara – I know you love me! Lara, we must be together!”
In seconds Oscar was on top of Lara. The weight of his body pinned her down and left her breathless. He forced her hands together till he could hold them above her head with one hand and use the other to pull at her shirt and bra so that he could reach her breasts.
“No! I don’t want this! I don’t want you. No please Oscar – no!”
Oh God, Lara thought, he believes that if he makes love to me that I will have to give in to him and go with him. He thinks this is how I will know what is in my heart. He thinks this is a demonstration of love. He can’t? He must?
She stopped fighting to free herself. It was hopeless and she was helpless. He was whispering in her ear, then kissing her mouth, her throat, behind her ears, he was making love to her, stroking her nipples, making them hard. Her body forced her to make those sounds, those gasps and little cries but she hated doing it. It was torture to be stretched out on a rack between arousal and humiliation and fear. Desire she did not feel at all. Pleasure was absent even when he forced her trousers down to her ankles and began to caress her vulva and clitoris and she felt herself moisten and tingle. She could not get enough air to cry but her tears flooded down her face.
Oscar entered her and the thrusting began. Lara opened her eyes wide trying to understand what it all meant. She felt her head rub back and f
orward, her hair pulled and knotted, and she closed her eyes wanting it to finish. Wanting the end. Aware of Oscar’s body, the bones of his elbows, the flesh of his neck. She felt the jerking of his climax and then Oscar pulled himself out of her and stood up freeing her to roll over and to weep and weep. She had not had the orgasm he had hoped to give her. She had refused it. He zipped up his trousers and tucked in his shirt watching her. She knew he was surprised and disappointed. Did he feel shame as she did?
“Lara.”
It was all he said. He turned, picked up his rifle and bullets, and walked out of the room. Lara heard the iron door close and heard the padlock scrape and click. She sobbed aloud unable to stop.
When Oscar had gone Inonge came back quiet as a shadow into the room. She knelt by Lara and stroked her forehead with a soft hand. Her eyes were wide with compassion and horror. After a while Inonge climbed back onto the bed next to Lara and again she fell into a coma of apparent unconsciousness and grief. Lara too half-dozed, half-slept for an hour or two till the sound of a small plane overhead woke her up and she found their prison door unlocked.
Chapter Three
Brendan 1997
There is a long silence in Brendan’s room. Lara sits, sips tea and thinks of nothing much. Telling Brendan had been like riding a storm and it is pleasant to float in still water for a while.
“Oscar raped you.” Brendan says.
“Yes, he did. At first I couldn’t see it that way. It wasn’t what I understood rape to be. I hadn’t been beaten or hurt.”
“You were frightened and a prisoner and you thought you might die even if Oscar didn’t kill you. What do you think of Oscar now Lara?”
“I don’t hate him anymore – I feel sad for him – is that pathetic? Should I hate him? I don’t think he realised that he was raping me at first but he knew he had when he finished. I think he must have felt shame and guilt. Perhaps that’s why he died as he did? Guilt about Enoch – and some about me and also Inonge. Sometimes I think his plane crash was suicide, though I’ll never know.
“That horrible experience is over for me – it was only days – Tim has been a prisoner now for over a hundred days – my experience is nothing compared to his – it only gives me a little more understanding.”
Chapter Four
Barry
Brendan promises that they will talk again about the rape on Lara’s next visit if she wants, but by that time Lara has news for Brendan. She has had a phone call from the brother of Rod, the Australian cameraman held with Tim as a hostage. At his request she invited him to come to the flat to talk.
Barry, Rod’s brother, is fed up, he says, with the way things are being dealt with under the management of the Foreign Office. Oh yes – he is sure they are doing their best but he doesn’t think they can produce results. The kidnappers don’t fit any of the criteria that might make for successful Foreign Office negotiations. They are a bunch of pirates on dry land, just robbers and bandits. They say they have a cause but they don’t really have any support, or political aims or demands to be met. There are no prisoners belonging to their organisation, such as it was, who could be swapped for Tim and Rod. There is only one way to go about this, Barry insists, and that is to pay a ransom – as small a ransom as possible obviously – that means hiring a negotiator who works in this way, and he won’t come cheap either.
Barry explains that he had raised quite a lot of money from various sources – he and his family have borrowed, begged and re-mortgaged – there are organisations and charities ready to help and there are individual people too. At this point he casts his eye around Lara’s sitting room, still unfurnished and in the process of being painted and unable to help himself, he makes a wry face.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any money yourself have you? – family – no?”
“How much are you thinking we will need?” Lara replies and surprises Barry into silence when she says yes – she can find quite a lot of the million dollars that he reckons will be necessary.
“The Otto Dix paintings and the Käthe Kollwitz raised a considerable sum at auction.” Lara explains to Brendan at her next session with him. “Now we wait again to see if it will be of any use to Tim and Rod – I don’t know how long we have to wait for and I don’t get any better at it either.”
“I will be poor again too.” Lara smiles, “No regrets – if it works – but I won’t tell anyone and especially not Tim how the money was raised.”
“Do you think he won’t guess?” asks Brendan. “And Barry? What does he have to say about the experiences you both share?”
“Hmm.” she says. “Barry is so Australian – I mean he has a very strong accent – but he’s nice – very practical and down to earth. He reminds me of Bill who ran the game lodge back in Chambeshi– but -” here she frowns. “Barry says that people who have been held hostage are traumatised and sometimes their relationships with their wives and family break down afterwards.”
Lara looks questioningly at Brendan.
“Yes, he’s right.” he replies. “We’ll talk about that whenever you want.”
Chapter Five
A New Strategy
Barry speaks in a measured way, his strong Australian drawl adding emphasis to his words. He seems to listen to the sound of what he said and to consider it carefully, but without self-consciousness. Lara likes both him and the sound of his voice. He contemplates her with calm reassuring eyes.
“Our dad’s a rancher – sheep farm.” he said. “Quite a big place – he’s influential, luckily – he’s taken out a mortgage to help Rod but lots of our friends have chipped in to help raise the ransom.”
“I’m giving my time – I am on unpaid leave right now. That’s why I’ve come here – to see what can be arranged and see what you wanted to do about Tim – and can do, of course.”
The first time they meet Barry requests that it should be when Adam isn’t around.
“Upsetting for the kid.” he says. “Just knowing that this kind of business is being discussed.”
The next time he comes he suggests that if Lara agrees, they could both take Adam on a boat trip up the Thames from Greenwich.
“That would be great.” Lara says. “It was Adam’s birthday a week ago and he refused to celebrate it because Tim hadn’t come back as he had promised. I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t make him change his mind.”
“Let’s do something that his Dad would like to do with him.” Barry says. “We won’t talk business unless you think he would like to know about my brother Rod being a mate of his Dad and also a hostage.”
“I think he’ll ask you himself.” Lara smiles. “He’s pretty astute for a kid.”
She is right.
“Where you from? You have a different way of talking to us.” Adam asks Barry as soon as they met.
“I’m Australian.” Barry answers.
“So’s my Dad’s cameraman, Rod – the one who’s a hostage with him.” Adam is right on target.
“Yeah. Rod’s my brother – that’s why I came to see you and your mum. It’s tough having such a big worry about people you love isn’t it?”
Adam nods slowly looking at Barry.
“What are you doing about rescuing Rod?” he asks finally. “Mum says we just have to wait – and wait and wait. If we wait any longer I’ll be grown-up and then I’ll go and get Dad and just kill these people – dead!”
So much for all my rationalising with Adam. Lara thinks. He feels as violent and angry as I do about it all.
“Oh yeah! That would be good wouldn’t it?” Barry agrees with Adam. “But we don’t want to wait till you’re grown-up if we can find another way. We’ll have to make a plan, don’t you think?
“Tell me about your Dad, Adam. My brother thinks he’s a good bloke to hang around with – says he’s got a sense of humour �
�� and he’s a good journalist.”
“Yeah!” Adam imitates Barry and looks pleased at the praise for Tim.
“My Dad said your brother takes good photos – he showed me some he took of child soldiers in Uganda. Dad says that cameramen are braver than journalists because they carry on taking pictures when the journalists are running for cover – Pow! Pow! Pow!”
Adam acts out the gunfire as he had for Tim before his departure and Lara tries not to cringe.
The weather is grey, rainy and windy. It’s bitter on the outside deck as the ferry takes them past Tower Bridge and up to Bankside Power Station, the site of new Tate Modern Gallery. The boat will have to fight the high tide on the downstream leg but is swiftly carried upstream passing under bridges that seem dangerously low. The Thames is struggling with itself, heaving and slapping and swirling. Lara is struck by how dark and dangerous it is and how impossible it would be to survive for long in its cold, rough waters.