As a figure emerged, Essie stiffened in surprise. The hair was dark and thick, not wispy and grey. The body, unfolding from the seat, was too tall. The khaki trousers were too new.
Diana Marlow stepped from the car, a smile on her red-painted lips. She was dusty and hot; she had to be tired. But she was still beautiful. Cigarette in hand, she surveyed the scene, nodding graciously, as if everyone gathered there had come especially to greet her.
Before Essie had a chance to react, a second Land Rover pulled into the car park. Essie took in the brand-new-but-dusty look that reminded her of Carl’s jeep. The vehicle jerked to a halt. Essie saw Julia wrench up the handbrake. The boy approached the door, but she waved him away.
Essie glanced at Ian. The sunglasses concealed his eyes, but his posture betrayed tension. His shoulders looked rigid; his chin was held a fraction too high. He smiled at Essie again, but only briefly. He turned from Diana to his mother and back.
Julia walked past him. Her face was composed, unreadable. Essie couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. Surely she didn’t mind being relegated to the second vehicle since it was obviously brand-new and comfortable. Anyway, it would have been the only option. Over such a long journey Ian would have insisted on driving the Land Rover they’d set off from Magadi in; though it was easier to manage than the one that had remained here, it was still cantankerous. And it was obvious that Mrs Marlow would want to share the ride with the Head of Research, since she was interested in the work. Probably, Essie concluded, the benefactor had interfered too much with plans for the new research during the meetings in Arusha.
As Julia approached, Essie smiled cautiously. ‘I hope you had a good journey.’
‘Fine, thank you.’ Julia replied, her tone abrupt. She looked exhausted, every year of her age showing.
While Julia headed for the tents, Diana swept across from the Land Rover, embracing Essie in a cloud of perfume and cigarette smoke.
‘I am so happy to be back!’
Essie responded with a welcoming smile, but her thoughts were racing. How long was Diana Marlow planning to stay? Where would she sleep? The conditions at the camp were very basic for someone like her. Essie was glad to have an opportunity to thank her in person for her generosity in providing everything Mara needed. But on the other hand, with all the new work to begin, and a baby to consider, there were enough complications at Magadi already. It made sense that Diana might want to return to the area, now she was funding the research. But why had Ian and Julia invited her now? Or had she invited herself? Regardless of how the plan had come into being, why had Ian not made a radio call to warn Essie about it?
Diana didn’t seem to notice that Essie hadn’t spoken yet. She eyed her eagerly. ‘How is that baby? Did Babyland send you everything you need?’
Essie nodded. ‘Mara is doing really well. And all the things you sent are perfect. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to show you the nursery.’
‘Good, good.’ Diana glanced around distractedly. ‘I really admire you for taking her on. It must be quite a burden for you.’ Through pursed lips she blew a stream of smoke into the air.
‘Not really,’ Essie protested. She couldn’t think what to add. She bent to pat Tommy. Running her hand over his sleek coat, she found a prickly burr. She picked it out carefully, rolling it between her fingers before dropping it onto the ground.
‘I’m sure she’s heaps of fun, too.’ Diana touched Essie’s forearm. Then she went to stand next to Ian, who was supervising the unloading of the vehicles. A pile of luggage grew on the ground. Now and then Diana called out instructions to the workers. Essie watched on, surprised and impressed. For someone unaccustomed to being in a place like Magadi, Diana Marlow seemed amazingly confident and in control.
A small photograph was propped against the bottle of Worcestershire sauce. Essie studied it as she sat in front of her untouched meal. The black-and-white tones of the print matched the content of the image: a black woman, white uniform, black pram, white baby.
‘She’s very experienced,’ Julia was saying. ‘Trained by the wife of the Regional Commissioner.’
Essie stared down at her lap where her napkin had been twisted into a mess of creases. She could just imagine what kind of training the young woman had been given, if the uniform was anything to go by.
‘It’s ideal,’ Ian said encouragingly. ‘She won’t expect to be in here with us. She will live in the staff quarters. The nursery tent can be moved there.’
Ian and Julia both looked at Essie, awaiting her approval. When she said nothing, the quiet became strained. Essie noticed Ian glance warily across the table at Diana. The proposed plan for Mara’s care wasn’t meant to have come up now, during this first meal with their special guest. The photo of the nanny had fallen out of a folder while Julia was searching for some notes made in Arusha. Feeling a buzz of instant alarm, Essie had picked it up and asked to know who the person was. The topic then had to be addressed.
‘I’m sure we would all agree,’ Julia added to her speech, ‘that this approach will be better for Mara. After all, she’s going back to tribal life. She should be with Africans.’
Essie felt dismay spreading inside her. She thought Ian and Julia had accepted Mara’s presence – they’d seemed pleased about all the things from Babyland, and their focus had shifted to the exciting options for research. Now it seemed they had a new agenda. She wasn’t sure where and how it had arisen.
‘I appreciate all the effort you’ve made,’ Essie ventured. ‘But it’s not what I had in mind. I want to look after Mara myself.’ She turned towards the pram, positioned near the doorway where it could be wheeled outside when Mara woke up. For now, the baby was deeply asleep, hidden from view by a mosquito net draped over the canopy – innocently unaware that her life for the next few months was being planned out.
As Essie waited for a response from Julia and Ian, she eyed Diana. The woman had gone out of her way to make it viable for Essie to keep the baby at the camp – perhaps she might understand, therefore, that Essie wanted to be the one to take care of her, and offer some moral support. But Diana seemed oblivious to the whole conversation. She was picking at her meal, separating rice and gravy from chunks of meat. Baraka had made a curry with a goat he’d purchased from the Maasai. The spices almost covered the strong taste of the animal, but not quite. This was obviously not the kind of food Diana was used to. Essie guessed she was preoccupied not with a disagreement over a nanny, but with how she was going to survive here at Magadi.
‘It would be very unwise for you to get so involved, Essie,’ Julia said firmly. ‘You’ll get much too fond of the baby. Also, there’s your profession to consider. You have earned a place here, through years of hard work. You don’t want to interrupt your career.’
‘It’s only for a few months.’
‘But it’s most of the digging season. And with new projects starting, you need to be part of the team. You can lose your place, you know.’
Essie was surprised. Julia sounded as if she was genuinely concerned for her – not just trying to secure the best outcome for the research. It was so out of character, it was unnerving.
‘I was thinking that I could have someone to help me,’ Essie said. ‘So that I can do my work, but still look after Mara myself.’
Ian shook his head. ‘We discussed it in Arusha, Julia and I. One person must be responsible for the baby, with no other duties or distractions.’
‘I don’t think that’s how it has to be,’ Essie argued.
Julia took a breath, her chest rising sharply. ‘But you have no idea!’ Her voice had a brittle edge. ‘You don’t understand that when you try and do two things at once, neither gets your full attention. And that’s when —’ She broke off, bending her head over her plate. ‘That’s when things go wrong.’
After a taut quiet she began eating, gripping her cutlery tightly, chewing steadily. Ian frowned at Essie, shaking his head just a fraction. Diana was now looking from one face to ano
ther, intrigued, like a child listening in to a conversation they wished they could understand. Essie couldn’t believe Ian was allowing this confrontation to play out in front of her. But since it had begun, perhaps he needed to show he was able to manage the situation.
‘Essie, you cannot do two jobs,’ Ian stated. ‘And we are not having Mara at the excavation sites. Next thing, the workers’ wives will be visiting with their babies. It’ll be a circus.’ He put down his glass, slopping red wine onto the tablecloth. ‘We’re going to bring that nanny here. She will look after the baby while you work – and that’s that.’ He sat back in his chair, indicating the debate was over.
Essie eyed him mutely. He’d changed for the evening meal into a jacket and shirt she hadn’t seen before; his outfit had the smart casual look that cost money to create. He appeared so confident, in control. She felt a cold sense of defeat. He’d made up his mind and nothing she said would have any effect.
‘But surely, Ian,’ Diana finally spoke up, ‘there must be room for compromise.’ She took a casual sip of her wine, as if she’d just made a comment on the weather. ‘After all, Essie was the one who promised to look after the baby. Shouldn’t she decide how it’s done?’
Ian stiffened. Instead of replying, he took a gulp from his glass.
Essie threw Diana a grateful look. She cleared her throat. ‘I am sure I can figure out a way to manage work and Mara, with some help.’
Julia put down her knife and fork. She took her napkin from her lap and placed it neatly beside her plate. She swallowed hard, her neck constricting. She looked as if she was going to speak, but her lips just quivered. Then she stood up and walked away.
Ian reached one hand towards his mother as if to hold her back, but she was beyond his reach. When she was gone, he leaned across to Essie. ‘Can’t you see how hard this is for her?’ He talked in a low voice, as if he thought Diana might not hear.
Essie said nothing. She didn’t know if he was referring to the outsider’s interference, or to Mara remaining in the Lawrences’ domain.
‘I do apologise.’ Ian turned to Diana. ‘We shouldn’t be discussing this now.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Diana said. ‘It’s . . .’ She puckered her brow, hunting for a word. ‘Interesting.’
Ian forced a smile. Essie could see that he wanted to change the subject now.
‘While you were away,’ she began, ‘I went for a walk down towards the lake. I met the photographer who is working for the Marlow Trust. He’s moved into the old Mission house.’ As well as diverting the conversation, she was keen to report the encounter before someone else told Ian or Julia about Carl Bergmann’s appearance at the camp.
‘Ah yes . . . Frank’s flamingo man,’ Diana said.
Essie faltered. She thought there was a sneer in Diana’s voice as she said her husband’s name, but she wasn’t sure. ‘He’s keen to come over and meet everyone here.’
Ian nodded. ‘We’ll have him to lunch.’
Essie felt a flicker of satisfaction; she’d been right in her prediction that the Lawrences’ attitude to the interloper would change. She looked across at Diana. ‘Where is Frank? Is he coming back to Magadi as well?’
Diana shook her head. ‘He’s left Toronto already. Gone off to London or somewhere. He’s got his nose out of joint because I’m getting involved here.’ She let out a brief, bitter laugh. ‘But it serves him damned well right.’
Ian looked taken aback, then embarrassed, by Diana talking about Frank Marlow in such a tone. Essie wondered what the man was being punished for; perhaps some new infidelity had been discovered. Regardless, the uninhibited remarks suggested Diana wouldn’t be finding the confrontation between the Lawrences improper at all. Essie recalled how she’d talked so intimately about her marriage, when the two of them had only just met. Perhaps it was the American way, just to say whatever was on your mind.
Ian changed the topic again. He began describing the role of photography in research. He explained how the Leakeys were able to create an international storm of interest over their discovery of the first Australopithecine remains in East Africa, purely because they happened to have a cameraman from the BBC at Olduvai when the fossil was found. As Ian talked, Essie could tell he was concerned about Julia – now and then he glanced in the direction of her tent – but he was trying to do his job as host. Essie was thinking about Julia, too. It was shocking to see her mother-in-law overcome with emotion when she was normally so calm. Essie considered going to make sure she was all right. But she knew that was the last thing Julia would want.
Ian gradually seemed to forget about his mother. His focus shifted to what he was saying. Essie watched Diana engaging with him. The visitor seemed enthralled by everything he was telling her. In one way it was not surprising; Essie still got excited about archaeology, after being involved with it for most of her life. However, it was hard to put Diana’s attitude together with the languid, off-hand manner she’d displayed when she first visited with her husband. Essie knew she should be glad that Diana was so intrigued; it boded well for keeping the funding flowing. But a thread of uneasiness stirred. Diana had talked of envying Essie’s life of working alongside her husband. And now Essie was about to change that dynamic – at least for a while.
Turning away from Diana and Ian, Essie stared at the collection of maps, rosters, contact sheets and other items pinned to the wall of the tent. Her attention was caught by one of Mirella’s paintings. It was of the artist’s favourite subject – Ol Doinyo Lengai. In this picture the volcano looked unusually imposing. The peaks rose up steeply, almost bearing down on the viewer. Essie followed the line of the pyramid down to the base. If the Hadza story were true, then somewhere there, in the foothills, was a second ‘painted cave’.
She leaned round, studying the picture more closely. An idea began to form. If Essie could just find this cave somehow, she could devote herself to documenting the ancient images. Between her and Simon, they could easily look after Mara at the same time – the work would be peaceful and low-key, away from the buzz of the excavations. Essie could almost feel the crisp tracing paper under her hands; the waxy slide of the crayon. It seemed the perfect scenario.
Essie warned herself not to be too hopeful. Without further clues, locating the cave could be a long shot. But the tantalising vision lingered. She couldn’t help picturing what would happen if she succeeded. She would lead Ian there, without telling him what she’d found. Just reveal it, as a surprise. A whole new collection of Neolithic paintings. It would remind him of who she was, as a researcher – and also take him back to the days when she was new here in Magadi. When she was as wide-eyed with fascination as Diana was now.
Ian and Diana continued their discussion while Kefa proudly served a steamed pudding dotted liberally with currants. He set down a jug of evaporated milk – the Magadi stand-in for cream. Baraka must have cooked the pudding hastily, using some of the newly unpacked provisions. The pudding was light and sweet. Diana seemed to enjoy it – perhaps she was hungry, since she’d barely touched her curry. When the whisky was served, Essie decided it was time to wheel the pram back to the nursery. It would be better to be ready, in there, with a bottle on hand, before Mara woke up. The evening had run less than smoothly already, without adding the disruption of a crying baby.
‘Good night,’ she said. ‘I hope you will be comfortable enough, Diana.’
Kefa had made up a bed for her in another of the guest tents. This was just for tonight; Ian had mentioned that in Arusha Diana had purchased what he described as a canvas palace. It would be erected in the morning. Essie wasn’t sure what to make of the special tent. It seemed to suggest an extended visit, even though Ian claimed nothing had yet been decided. On the other hand, someone like Diana couldn’t be expected to tolerate basic facilities, even for a short time.
‘I’m exhausted,’ Diana said. ‘I could sleep anywhere.’
Essie studied her face. She didn’t look exhausted. Her eyes were bright, h
er smile vivacious. Ian had moved on from photography to an explanation of exactly how evolution occurred. All paleoanthropology relied on this understanding. Ian was a good teacher – Julia said he’d learned the skill from William, as well as inheriting his natural flair. Ian whistled for Meg to come and stand beside him. He liked to use the Dalmatian as a prop.
As the dog stood there obediently, Ian ran his hand over her coat.
‘How did the Dalmatian get its spots?’ he asked, as if beginning a fable. He reminded Essie of her father. ‘There are no other dogs that look anything like them.’
‘That’s right,’ Diana agreed. ‘I can’t think of any other breeds with spots.’
‘Originally,’ Ian continued, ‘a few spots must have appeared as a mutation – these are small genetic variations between generations. They happen all the time, in every living thing. Some breeder decided to let dogs with spots mate with others who had the same mutation. Over time the dogs became more and more spotty. It was done purely for looks. The markings served no useful purpose. In fact, the spotted coat often goes along with deafness, so in the wild it would have been a fatal disadvantage, even leaving aside being so ridiculously eye-catching.’ He scratched Meg’s ear. ‘Poor things. They don’t live long either, being large purebreds. Only about ten years.’ He smiled at Diana. ‘If you want a long life, you’re better off being a small crossbreed. Robust health comes with greater genetic variety.’
‘Well, that’s good for me,’ Diana stated. ‘I’m a bit of everything. The Shermans are American now, but our forebears were Welsh, English, German, Flemish . . . And they’re just the ones I know of.’ She smiled, revealing her perfect teeth.
The Beautiful Mother Page 19