Charlie
After another long boring wait, a voice finally came over the loudspeakers and said, ‘Please rise for His Excellency the Life-King Tafumo.’ For a split second everything was quiet. How could so many people all be quiet at once? Only the King could do that. A drumbeat started and everyone stood up to sing the national anthem, and just as they were getting to the chorus Tafumo appeared at the back of the stage. Through my binoculars I saw a nurse by his side. They looked like an old couple out for a stroll. At first he just stood there, like he didn’t want to move. Then he walked to the podium as the old woman turned and vanished into the wings. I sang my heart out, my own voice drowned in a thousand others rising from the stadium. I felt as if Tafumo was looking straight at me in the way he looked out of all his portraits, staring at everyone every day, making sure we were all safe. They called him a god but to me he was always a superhero, watching over everyone, ensuring we were protected. The music ended and Tafumo raised his fist, then slowly, one by one, he pointed three fingers at the sky as the audience screamed, before bringing his fist down and silencing the whole world.
Hope
He was midway through when it happened, when he started stuttering over his well-worn speech: ‘For this reason we will not bow down to the guilt of old oppressors . . . We will not break alliances with our . . . We will not . . . it is time . . . there is . . .’ Losing the thread, he was for a moment reduced to a doddering old man. ‘We . . . the people . . . Tafumo?’
At first the crowd filled the awkwardness with their voice, giving Tafumo time. They sang and cheered but eventually their voice died and again they waited in silence. The speakers dotted around the stadium amplified Tafumo’s breathing like remote lungs sucking in air to feed the dying man at the microphone. He was lost; his torn memory incapable of catching even fragments of speeches. Again the crowd began to sing, pounding the syllables over and over, ‘Ta! Fu! Mo! Ta! Fu! Mo!’ but below the noise – between the syllables – a silence was building. And as though stepping into cold water, I felt the moment when the drugs released Tafumo’s frail organs back to him.
I didn’t hear the gunshots but, like a bad spirit wreaking havoc, I saw their effect. The hanging portrait of Tafumo shivered, the rigging gave and the image fluttered and folded with peculiar grace to the stage. A soldier stationed near Tafumo flew back, his hands grappling at the bright mess of his opened stomach. A giant tail seemed to swish through the crowd, flicking swathes of people, stirring them into dark rips. A hand grabbed my shoulder but, without looking back, I tore free of it and ran towards Tafumo. Before I reached him a pink mist bloomed over his right shoulder and he moved like a vase toppling on its base, tipping back and forth before another shot pushed Tafumo forward over the podium.
I turned back to Boma and saw he was being dragged off-stage by a soldier. I realised that the hand that had torn at my dress was Boma’s, grasping me as he fell. He was shot. The green of his trousers turned purple as blood soaked through. Soldiers pulled me by the arm, yanking me through the backstage and into the car. Tafumo was carried off the stage and placed on the floor at my feet. The crowd thickened and heaved around the car, which swayed as if at sea. I tried to staunch Tafumo’s wounds. The noise of the crowd built like a violent wind reaching a terrible pitch then extinguishing itself, cutting itself mute, before rushing back in a monstrous roar. We drove fast. I heard bodies hit the car. Blood was pumping out of Tafumo’s shoulder and someone was screaming, ‘Faster, faster, faster.’
Charlie
As much as I loved the King there was always this really boring bit where he went on and on about freedom and stuff. So I walked over to the rough for a pee and saw a man lying flat on the fairway. I shouted over to Mum and Dad and when we all ran over we found Sean. He was drunk; he had a big egg swelling on his forehead and his tongue and eyes lolled around in a gross way. Mum held his wrist. ‘Pulse is fine, must be pissed as a newt.’ Dad hitched him up and they stumbled along like a three-legged race. Just as we got to the pool, Sean lifted his head a little and looked at Dad with one eye open and said, ‘Stu, run, you buggers, run! The praying mantis is coming!’ and then we heard popping as the cheering from the stadium turned into screaming. We looked down the golf course and Willem was running towards us and Dad was yelling, ‘Run, Willem, run!’ We collected Beauty as we dashed through the lobby into Horst’s office and Willem stumbled in after us. We could hear people running past the hotel and soldiers shouting. Willem looked weird, sort of drunk, sweaty, as he lay on the floor and covered his head with his shaking hands. There was a knock on the door and Horst said, ‘Open up, it’s me. It’s Eugene. Open this door.’
Dad unlocked it and Horst came in with Truth, Bel, some bodyguards and a few dancers. Truth and his bodyguard lay down in the corner and Bel crouched near them trying to get one of her hundred mobile phones to work. Everyone’s eyes were popping out like frogs and everyone was yelling. Then Sean woke up and was pointing at Willem, screaming that something terrible was about to happen, but Dad told him he was too late, it was already happening.
I smelt burning, and Mum was rubbing my back saying, ‘Stay down, Charlie, stay low, stay low.’
‘Get Willem out of here,’ Sean was saying. ‘He’s part of all this.’
Dad patted Sean’s arm and said, ‘You had a bad thump on the head, Sean, relax, just relax.’
But then Willem got to his feet, the only person standing in the room, towering over us all, and Horst stood and shouted, ‘Willem! Did you do something stupid?’
‘They offered me land, lots of it, and money,’ said Willem, and Mr Horst screamed, ‘Who paid you? Who! Who! Jesus, Willem, what have you done?’
Sean shouted, ‘Just get him out of here, Horst, just get him out of here,’ and it was the only time Horst ever agreed with Sean, when he said in a sad voice, ‘Sorry, Willem, Sean’s right. You’re on your own. I want you out now, or you’ll endanger everyone. I can’t protect you this time.’
Dad jumped over all our bodies to the cupboard, where he got our emergency backpack, full of maps, food, torches, and gave it to Willem. ‘Take this, take these keys for the white Peugeot in the car park and drive fast as you can.’
Mum kept trying to cover my eyes but I kept pushing her hand away. It was impossible to hear what everyone was shouting because of the noise outside but I saw Horst and Willem start to sort of hug each other then I saw that they were fighting. It wasn’t like men fight in the films, it was more like hugging and falling. Mr Horst’s shirt was torn and his belly came out of the gaps and Willem was bright red in the face. Sean and Dad tried to pull Willem off. Then there was a loud smash and Sean fell to the floor as the window broke into jagged pieces and Mr Horst’s painting shattered.
Willem ran out the door and Horst followed. I spied out of the window but Sean jumped on top of me and there was disgusting blood pouring out from somewhere. I could hear Mum screaming, ‘Get away from the window, Charlie,’ and she shoved Sean away and wrapped her hand around my head so I couldn’t see anything.
When the door was closed again, everyone silently looked at each other, as if no one, not a single adult, knew what to do next. Mum crawled over to Dad’s desk and got out the first-aid kit and began to dress Sean’s wound and gave him an injection, which made him look drunk again. The bandage soaked up the blood but it peeked through, like a red eye trying to see out of the material. Mum told Bel to hold the wound and she placed her hand on it.
Like a storm that was finally moving on, the noise from outside started to fade. The dull popping stopped and there was no more screaming. A soldier or a police officer was shouting through a megaphone somewhere in town, telling people they needed to go home, to stay off the streets. And we could hear people walking around outside, moving around the lobby. There was a knock on the door and Truth’s bodyguards held their guns up and Dad held a golf club up and we heard, ‘Bwana, it’s Ed. Are you being in there?’
Mum shouted, ‘What’s happening
out there, Ed?’
‘OK, madam, it’s OK now, soldiers put everyone in their homes,’ shouted Ed through the door.
Mum opened the door and she actually gave Ed a hug. ‘And Alias and the staff?’ asked Mum.
‘Safe in the kaya, madam. Most of them, some of them have run home to their villages, some are hiding in town because the soldiers they are coming with their guns.’
Dad went out into the lobby first to check. Mum wouldn’t let me go until Dad returned and told Mum it was safe. The lobby was a complete and total mess. Everything was ruined; even the streets were a mess, there was weird stuff everywhere, like shoes that people had left behind and lots of Bwalo flags trampled into the dirt. There were police and soldiers standing around. Bel was on her mobile shouting, ‘No. No. You listen to me. Listen! We need to get Truth and everyone out of here now! Get the plane ready, we are coming as soon as we can, everything is fucked.’
Sean
I’m no stranger to blackouts. So I know the drill. When you come to, you have a fraught moment of pure discombobulation, then some small detail returns and the pieces start clicking into place. And it was my throbbing head which reminded me that Willem had punched me in the face, and when I spotted him in the room I hissed to Stu, ‘Listen, I’m telling you, I don’t know the ins and outs of it all, but Willem is part of all this and you need to get him out of here, get shot of him.’ But before Stu responded, Horst and Willem started fighting. From down on the floor they both seemed like giants, these big men flailing around. Fiona was yelling, covering Charlie’s eyes. Stu and I got up to prise the brothers apart, and when I heard gunshots the window shattered behind me and I felt like I was shattering too. Flung forward, I found myself rolling on top of people, hands racing all over me. I saw Willem run out of the room with Horst close behind. There was glass everywhere, someone somewhere was screaming. Fiona was yanking at my shirt and, in all the confusion, I noticed that Charlie was over at the window looking out. Blood was pouring out of someone but I felt strong as an ox as I pulled away from Fiona, lurched and fell towards Charlie in time to wrap my arms around his eyes and drag him down to the safety of the floor. Blood stained his blond hair as he struggled against me. Holding Charlie down, I craned my neck to see Willem in the car park with three soldiers pointing guns at him, and Horst running towards them waving his hands as the soldiers pumped holes into Willem who danced grotesquely. Thankfully Charlie hadn’t seen any of it and Fiona took Charlie away from under me as I slumped back and darkness caved in.
Hope
Tafumo went straight to the medical wing of the palace. After many hours in surgery, I helped Dr Todd remove his scrubs, as he said, ‘The bullet to the shoulder wasn’t the issue. But the bullet that travelled through his back and out his stomach. That’s the bullet that will kill him.’ He saw my surprise and said, ‘Shot in the back by one of his own. Inevitable really. The nurses will need a break soon if you could please sit with him.’
When I returned to the recovery room, with my packed bag in hand, the nurses told me his vitals were stable, then they went to take a break. I sat down and watched him sliding in and out of consciousness.
Boma came to see Tafumo. The prodigy now the successor, Boma sat by the bed wincing at the pain in his leg. The bullet lay frozen in Boma’s body, absorbed in a muscular embrace. Without looking at me or saying a word, Boma left Tafumo’s side. He had to replace Tafumo’s fading photographs with pictures of himself. He had to go and start telling the people of a new name: Boma.
Tafumo opened his eyes. Below the glaucoma gaze, his mind unburdened itself of the final vestiges of reason, allowing him to ascend to purest insanity. Slurring through memories that dissolved as they left his mouth, he fought the pressure pushing against his chest, making it harder to steal even a slither of air into his lungs. I could hear the noises of the palace around me. Chaos. Neither Tafumo nor I were a priority. People running about with phones to their ears, soldiers stripping the place clean of anything of value, rooms full of people having meetings. They would find him soon. Tafumo was merely a guest now; a ghost who’d outstayed his welcome. What did that make me?
I looked out the window at the endless sky and for a moment I was scared, an old bird whose cage was opened, terrified of freedom. I switched on the radio by the bed: ‘Please remain in your houses, Bwalo. Boma has taken over government and you will be safe, praise Boma, praise the great . . . Boma.’
Tafumo looked more withered than ever, the shrinking man, his prune-like skull lost in the clean sheets lapping around him. I cradled Tafumo’s head. I lifted it, slipping the pillow out from under him. He grinned sleepily as I laid the pillow over his face. I placed my hands on the pillow, leaning forward with all my weight. His arms thrashed, searching for something to grasp onto; his left hand found my leg but it held it gently as one might hold a child’s hand, before it opened and slid off. I returned the pillow under his head, checked his dead pulse, picked up my bag and left.
Charlie
After we cleared some of the mess, we sat around the pool as if nothing had happened. Crickets still screeched and birds still sang. Some things were different, I suppose. The blue sky was all scratched up by plane trails. The hotel was almost empty of guests. Mum, Dad, Sean and lots of the staff sat around talking. All the celebrities were calling home to get planes to pick them up. Bel had been pacing all day, shouting, ‘No, you listen, we need it ASAP!’ Truth sat near us and he looked scared like he had on safari; his favourite bodyguard didn’t look too brave either.
Dr Todd came to the hotel. He said the King was ‘gravely sick’. Dr Todd stitched up Sean’s wound. Sean was convinced he’d been shot but Dr Todd said that in fact it was a piece of glass that had sliced a wedge out of his shoulder. He stitched it up in Dad’s office and even though Dr Todd told Sean he needed to lie down, Sean still came out to the pool and demanded that Alias give him beer. Dr Todd shrugged and came and sat with Sean on a lounger and gave him drugs that made Sean start laughing even though there was nothing funny going on.
Dr Todd said, ‘He needs to get back to civilisation, get looked at, lots of rest.’
Sean giggled. ‘Well don’t worry, doc, soon as I can raise the funds for a ticket, I know when I’ve outstayed my welcome.’
‘We can lend you cash,’ said Dad but Mum tutted as if that wasn’t true.
Bel said, ‘Listen, Sean, I’m getting Truth out of here later tonight in a small jet, come with us. I can get you to la and you can get yourself to the uk from there, right.’
‘Are you serious?’ said Sean.
‘Course,’ said Bel. ‘I can’t let you die before you finish the next book.’
Sean looked at me and said, ‘Hear that, Charlie, I’m off on a Learjet,’ but then Truth shouted, ‘Hold on a minute, I ain’t having no freeloaders on my jet.’
Bel told Truth off with the same voice Mum tells me off with. ‘Listen here, Clarence.’ Truth flinched when she called him Clarence. ‘That jet is not yours. Sean is not a freeloader, he is a human being who needs help. And the record company that owns the jet also owns you. So pipe down and do what I tell you until we’re back home, when you can go about firing me. Sound like a good plan?’ Truth sulked like a baby, muttering something to his favourite bodyguard, and Sean said, ‘I need more morphine,’ but Bel said, ‘You’re high enough.’
I sat at Sean’s feet drinking Fanta. Mum and Dad were too busy to see that Alias was giving me as many Fantas as I wanted, which was so cool. Alias even plopped a spoon of ice cream into my Fanta, making it what we called a Fanta Float. With the electricity down, all the ice cream was melting so Alias said it was best to use it all up.
Dad asked about Stella and Sean shook his head slowly and said, ‘Time to cut my losses.’
Mum touched Sean’s hand and said, ‘It’s not so much that she’d had a bit of a rough past, the real problem with Stella was that she was a complete and utter maniac.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me t
his before?’ said Sean.
‘I told you the first time you brought her to the hotel and I told you again at your engagement party right here at the pool in fact,’ said Mum.
‘Not listening is a talent of mine,’ Sean said. ‘My mother always warned me to be careful who I saved.’
When Mr Horst appeared at the bar everyone stopped talking. A lot of the staff got to their feet, as if to start working, but Horst waved his hand for them to relax.
‘How are you, master?’ asked Ed. ‘Is Madam Horst safe?’
‘Slept through the whole thing,’ replied Mr Horst. ‘I had to tell her what happened and she didn’t believe me until I put the radio on.’
A few people smiled at this but Mr Horst looked like he was sleepwalking. He sat next to Mum, who gave his back a bit of a rub.
‘Is Willem OK, Mr Horst?’ I asked.
I thought maybe Mr Horst hadn’t heard because he took ages before he replied, ‘Yah, he’s . . . fine. Just seen him off on the plane, back to Scotland. Fine and dandy.’
‘That’s good,’ I said but Mr Horst didn’t seem that happy, probably because he was going to miss having his brother around.
‘Shoulder OK, Sean?’ asked Mr Horst.
‘Buggered,’ said Sean. ‘But the morphine’s great. Sorry that your painting was collateral damage. Bullet holes and blood all over it.’
Mr Horst looked a bit mad then he just sighed. ‘Ak, don’t worry about it, it was a piece of crap anyway.’ And Sean laughed really hard at this.
When Ed brought Mr Horst a beer he said, ‘The electricity she is off, so the beer he is warm,’ and Mr Horst just said quietly, ‘Fine, Ed, fine, get yourself one. Everyone get a beer, eh. This one’s on me.’
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