by Linda Ihle
“Ja, Miss Gray! Yesterday. How did you know about that?”
“We had ringside seats.”
“Yes,” Angela broke in, “we didn’t want to reveal ourselves because we, well, I was scared.”
“Just as well, though, hey, Angela, because then we would not have encountered Kobus and his little crew, and that baby would be dead.”
“Tell us about that, Miss Gray,” Belson interrupted. “Are you allowed to yet?”
Devin turned to Roger and raised an eyebrow, as Paterson and O’Connor made their way to the bar.
“Ja, she can,” Paterson called. “Tell them, Miss Gray.” He grinned at her and she launched into the tale of the woeful ivory and horn poachers, interrupted only by applause and laughter as she recounted shooting Kobus in the rear and leaving him tied to a tree.
Devin finished her drink and asked for another, bummed a cigarette off O’Connor, and told Roger she would now make the dreaded call. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded back toward the office. “Go ahead,” he said,and she walked back to the door, glass in one hand, cigarette in the other.
“Angela, Major Konradie will be phoning your folks in about 15 minutes,” Paterson told her. “He will give them this number here and I am sure they will try to get through. OK?”
“Yes, thank you,” she acknowledged with a shy smile and more than one of the men noted just how pretty she was just at that moment, although not a single one would have admitted it out loud.
Devin opened the office door and closed it quietly behind her. She sat at the desk, staring at the hulking black telephone squatting there. Oh, jeez, I am going to phone Kariba first. Then, maybe I will phone Mother. She took a swig of her drink, a big drag off the cigarette, lifted the receiver, and dialed nought for exchange. It took less than a minute to get through.
“Cutty Sark, good evening.” The woman’s voice was young, cheerful.
“Good evening. May I speak to Mick Flynn, please. He’s with the ba…..”
“I’m sorry, but the band left this morning because of the shootdown and…”
Devin felt as if her heart had just been wrenched from her chest and flung, still beating, against a cold stone wall. “Do you know where they went?” she managed.
“No, not too sure. They were in a hurry and Mick was so upset after the shootdown. Shame, I saw him in tears a lot.”
“Did they have the Kombi?”
“Ja. I think he had his own car. I am assuming they went to Salisbury.”
“Thank you,” Devin whispered. “Goodbye.”
She replaced the receiver and swiped the tears from her cheeks, took another swig of her drink, another drag on the cigarette, and again raised the receiver. This time she would not need exchange; she knew the number by heart.
40.
Just over 75 miles away, the shrill of the telephone clattered through the silence of the dining room, startling Maude who had been curled up fast asleep on the telephone chair. Sandra, who had been sitting smoking out on the front porch, in the quiet lull of post-twilight, watching the street lights come on, noting that Mamie Pope now appeared to be back from wherever she had been, extinguished the cigarette in a cut-glass ashtray and padded inside.
“I will answer it, Mark,” she said as he made a mad dash from the bathroom toward the phone. “I hope you have washed your hands?”
Forlorn, he nodded, lying, and made his way back to the bathroom. Sandra noticed Butch sitting alert next to the telephone chair, staring at the telephone, ears pricked, with a silly bull-terrier smile. Her heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath, and:
“3490, good evening?”
“Hello, Mother.”
“Devin? Devin!” she shrieked and sat down hard on Maude who immediately yowled and smacked at her arm, drawing two crimson spots of blood. “Oh, good God, Devin! Where are you, my girl?”
“I am at the DC’s place in Gokwe, Mom. Just got out of the bush this afternoon.”
The phone was snatched from Sandra’s hand and Mark sobbed into the receiver, “Devi, are you really back?”
“Howzit, my best baby brother? Cowboys don’t cry hey, Markie.” She laughed and took a swig of her drink.
He sobbed even harder and, before he could say another word, the phone was yanked from his hand, this time by Julia. Sandra remained sitting, shocked, tears streaming down her face. Enos stood in the kitchen doorway, hands clasped in prayerful thanks, also weeping.
“Devi! Charlie said you were going to be alright! I knew it! When are you coming home?”
Devin paused. “Um, I don’t think Mom wants me there, Jube-jube, so I will have to sneak in tomorrow while she’s at work. I need some clothes, I have to withdraw some money, and then I will hike up to Salisbury.”
“Mom! She says she’s not coming back here!” Julia shrieked. “It’s all your fault. You never leave her alone!”
Sandra stared in disbelief at her youngest daughter and Devin almost dropped her drink. Sandra’s first instinct was to react with a slap, but she resisted. “Give me the phone, Julia, please.” She reached for it and Julia, stunned by the lack of reaction, handed it to her, keeping well out of slap range. “Devin?” Sandra said. “My girl, we have been so worried.” She rose and turned her back to the children, again staring out at the white-lace-filtered world beyond the dining-room window. There was silence on the other end. “Devi, you there?”
“Yes.”
Julia sighed, swallowing tears and pride and obdurate disapproval. “I’m sorry, Devin, for the things I said to you, for the way I treated you. I know I hurt you, lovie, and I….I just don’t know why.”
“We are all products of our own environment, Mother. I have long suspected that Nana probably talked like that to you.” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “So, maybe you just weren’t aware of the effects you were having. Anyway, I accept your apology. You should extend the same to Mark and Julia. Stop riding them. In about five years, Mark will be heading out into the bush, if Smith doesn’t sell out, which is unlikely.” She took a drag on the cigarette. “Anyway, listen, not a word about this to ANYONE until tomorrow after Konradie at CIO has had a chance to talk to the press. He should be doing that by probably 8:00 am.”
“OK, thank you, lovie.”
“Pleasure. Now, Mom, I will be bringing Angela with me to the house and I don’t want any damn fuss ‘cos she’s black. We can spend the night maybe and then I have to get back up to Salisbury to see if I still have a job. I’ve been AWOL for about five days.”
“Oh, of course she can come with you Devi. What time will you be in?”
“It’s an abbreviated convoy, from what I hear. It leaves at 9:00 am, so I suppose about 10:30-11:00 am? I dunno. We’re supposed to be dropped off at the copshop…..by the way, who told you about me? Was it the Ukunkwe fuzz?”
“Yes. Paul Bezuidenhout.”
“Lovely,” Devin said. She sighed. “I have already been debriefed and I certainly don’t want any more questions, especially from him. So, what I will do is this: I will ask that we be dropped at the school and just tell them I will go down to the copshop once I can get some real clothes on.”
“What happened to your clothes, lovie?”
“Long story, Mom. I will tell you tomorrow. I have to get off the phone now because Angela’s parents might be trying to ring her.”
“I love you, Devin. We can’t wait to see you.”
“Ciao, Mom.” She replaced the receiver in the cradle. So, it took me almost being killed or eaten alive by bloody lions or something for my mother to accept me for who I am? Wowee-zowee!
Devin rose, drink in hand, and the telephone rang. She looked around, shrugged, and picked it up.
“Gokwe Copshop?” she chirped.
“Hello? Hello? This is May Brown. Do I have the wrong number?”
“No, Mrs. Brown. Are you Angela’s Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on, I’ll get her.”
Devin trotted t
o the door, opened it and yelled across the mess hall. “Angela! Your mother is on the phone.”
Angela flicked the slops off her feet and ran into the office, sobbing as she passed Devin. Devin closed the door behind her and made her way back to the bar. She winked at Roger. “All set,” she told him, “but, listen, when we come in to Ukunkwe, can we be dropped off at the high school? I want to get my mother’s car and go to the house so I can get some decent clothes….not that these are indecent,” she giggled, having caught an admirable buzz from the vodka, “just a little big. I will then go and check in at the copshop.”
“I don’t see why not,” Roger responded. “Jongwe?”
“No, ja, well, fine,” he said. “Do what you have to do. I don’t even know why you have to go and talk to CID, but if that’s what they want, that’s what they want.” He shrugged and Devin noticed again just how ruggedly handsome this former pupil had become. “Just make sure you tell them you okes have already been debriefed.”
“I will. You not going in, Paterson?”
“No. Just a few of the troopies heading out for R&R. They were going to head to Gwelo first, but I told them already they have to drop you ladies first.”
“I appreciate that!” Devin told him.
Angela appeared in the doorway, wiping tears from her face and padded back across to the diminishing group at the bar. “Gosh,” she exclaimed, “that was wonderful! Will I be able to thank Major Konradie?”
“We can write him a letter when we get up to Salisbury,” Devin said, “in case we don’t get a face-to-face interview. Sometimes these buggers are hard to track down and it takes weeks sometimes to get an interview.”
“Ladies, I am ready for chow if you are? Evelyn had Sixpence throw a leg of mutton in.” He grinned at Devin. “Your favourite. No drooling on this floor.” He hugged her.
The women bade farewell to the men at the bar and she managed a quick hug for Paterson and O’Connor. “See you in the more[45],” she quipped.
40.
The small convoy, having proceeded without incident, pulled into Ukunkwe at 11:00 am, and came to a halt at the robot managing the intersection of Gokwe Road and Main Street.
“I’ve been gone only a few months, “Devin remarked, “yet it seems like forever.” The tableau of ubiquity played out before her eyes as if on a never-ending loop. She watched the comings and goings of people at the chemist across the street, the black women, baby on back, balancing all nature of goods on their head, barefoot, scurrying along the pavement to the bus depot or the greengrocer who would pay good money for their produce. The light turned green and their driver, an older man, Police Reservist, she had not seen the evening before, but whom she recognized as soon as she had seen him this morning, turned right, and headed for the zebra-striped roundabout at the front of the Ukunkwe Hotel. Left at the roundabout would take them out along the Frederick Courteney Selous Highway. Right would take them onto the Gwelo road.
“OK, Devin,” he said, “we’ll have to go in through the proper entry. That bloody headmaster is like a dictator!” He laughed as he followed the left-hand route followed by a quick right turn behind the hotel and into the formal entrance to the high school.
“That’s fine, Mr. Owens. I know, I worked there for a bit.” She grinned.
He chuckled. “I’ll drop you by your mother’s car, then head on down to Gwelo. It has been a pleasure seeing you again, hey. Make sure you give my regards to your Mum.”
Devin smiled at him. Eddie Owens was a widower and it was well-known about town that he had applauded her parents’ divorce and had a bit of thing for Sandra Grey. “I will,” she promised, but she didn’t have to. As they approached the triple-door entry to the school, her mother threw caution and her sling-back high heels to the wind and came tearing down the steps, pulling the vehicle door open before Owens could bring the Landie to a full stop.
“Good lord, Sandra! You’ll get yourself run over!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, Eddie! Thank you for getting her back in one piece!”
She ran around to the driver side, climbed onto the running board and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving a smudge of raspberry shade lipstick there, before running back to the passenger door where Devin and Angela were disembarking.
“Thanks, Mr. Owens,” Devin called back over her shoulder as her mother grasped her by the shoulders, stared briefly into her eyes, and then smothered her in the first hug she could remember.
“You’re gonna crush me, Ma,” Devin stated, pulling herself gently away. She took Angela’s hand and pulled her forward. “Mom, this is Angela Brown. She was also on the Viscount Bumi.”
Sandra Grey, to the astonishment of her first-born child, enveloped Angela in a hug. “Oh, thank you, Lord!” she sobbed. “Devi, I have prayed so hard for you to be delivered out of peril.”
“Ja, I reckon, you probably did, Ma. Well, here we are.” She grinned.
Owens stepped out of the Landrover, carrying the two AK-47s. “Don’t forget these, ladies.”
“Ah, jeez, I almost did. Thanks again.” Devin took hers, noting that the clips had been reattached, and handed the other one to Angela. Feeling eyes upon her and still self-conscious about the oversized dress, she glanced upward toward the prefects’ study. They lined the windows facing down to the parking area. She waved at them, AK-47 in hand, and they enthusiastically waved back. “Wow, I feel like Che Guevara!” She laughed and gently punched Angela’s shoulder.
“Oh, my word, what are those?” Sandra asked, waving absent-mindedly as Eddie Owens maneuvered the jeep around them and headed out to the Gwelo Road.
“Long story, Ma. We’ll tell you over lunch, OK?”
“OK. I don’t care. I am just so thrilled to have you home safe and sound.”
“Mom, we need to take the car and go to the house. Are my clothes still there?”
“Yes, love, they’re there.”
“Agh, thank goodness. Lost my damn corks and my suitcase, plus my savings pass book and my cheque book,” she grumbled. “I just need to get out of this bloody awful dress and get a pair of jeans on. And then I have to come back to town and see if Barclay’s will give me some money so we can get up to Salisbury tomorrow. Too late today to start hitching. And Angela needs some things too. Can I use your Edgar’s account? I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course, lovie, but can’t you stay longer?”
“No, Mom, sorry. I have to talk to my editor and make sure I still have a job. Such as it is.”
“Well, Bob Austin is still at Barclay’s and he knows you. There should be no reason you couldn’t get cash. And, Devin, you look lovely in that dress. Do I recognize it? Evelyn’s?”
Devin nodded. “Good for us if Bob’s still there. So is it OK if I take the car?”
“Of course, Devin. Go to the bakery and pick up some pies too. I know you’ve probably missed those!” She hugged her daughter and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t forget to get me at lunch time.
“I won’t. We also have to talk to CID.” Devin sighed dramatically. “Sis, man, I do not want to deal with that especially considering we’ve already been debriefed. And considering who it is. Oh, well,” she shrugged and sighed, “the sooner we get it over with the sooner we can move on.”
Sandra made her way back into the office, collecting her shoes on the way, and took her car keys from her bag. She reappeared in seconds. “Drive like your life depends on it,” she cautioned with a smile, handing over the keys to the Morris.
Devin stared at her. Who are you and what have you done with my mother? The question was not voiced, but Sandra noted the eyes narrowed in puzzled confusion, the cautious responses of her child, and a cold hand gripped her heart. She reached out and took Devin’s hand.
“I will see you now now, OK?”
“OK, Mom, thank you. C’mon, Angela, I need to pee. Let’s get to the house.”
The two women lay their weapons on the back seat of the car and climbed in to the front.
Devin gave the regal wave to her mother and the slowly growing audience in the prefects’ study and along the steps into the school’s foyer, engaged the clutch and first gear and pulled slowly away.
She pointed out the biology and science laboratories to Angela. “And there’s my home room when I was teaching here. Funny thing, it was also my home room when I started high school, except then it was the Latin teacher’s room. They moved him down to the south end of the complex about a year after I had left.”
“Your mother seems very nice,” Angela remarked as Devin slowed to a stop at the exit onto the Gwelo road. “I thought you said she wasn’t too fond of you?”