The Beautiful Mother

by Katherine Scholes

  ‘So the next thing is . . .’ Ian tossed aside a ball made from velvet, which jingled as it rolled across the bed. ‘We need to name our erectus.’

  This was something else the Leakeys had done, over the years. Nicknames were much catchier and easier for people to remember than combinations of numbers and letters. Olduvai Hominid 7 – a Homo habilis – had been dubbed Johnny’s Child since the fossil came from an immature specimen and had been found by the Leakeys’ own son Jonathan. Olduvai Hominid 5, or OH5, went by the name Dear Boy. There was even a Twiggy and a Cinderella, though they were less well known.

  ‘Do you have any ideas?’ Essie asked Ian. She wondered if Diana would step in with a name – immortalising a relative, an old boyfriend or even a pet.

  ‘I haven’t had time to think about it much yet,’ Ian replied. ‘There’s so much to arrange. Flights. Accommodation. Meetings. We’ll have to bring along a couple of Tanzanians – probably from the government. We’ll collect them in Dar es Salaam on our way. So that will make six of us altogether. At least we aren’t short of money to pay for it all.’

  ‘Wait,’ Essie broke in. ‘What do you mean? Who’s going?’

  ‘Julia, me, you, Diana . . .’

  Essie stared at him. ‘But I can’t come.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t take Mara away from here.’

  ‘No, of course you can’t.’ Ian spoke slowly, as if to an uncomprehending child. ‘The baby will stay here with Simon.’

  Essie shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Why ever not? You trust him, don’t you? He often babysits for you.’

  ‘Of course I trust him. But I still don’t want to leave her.’ Essie instinctively held Mara more tightly. ‘It’s okay. You all go. I’ll just stay here.’ Even as she was speaking, Essie was struck by the fact that she felt no ambivalence about her statements at all. The thought of leaving Mara here at Magadi and flying to another country was simply impossible for her to entertain.

  ‘Essie.’ Ian said her name firmly. ‘This is about the Lawrence family. When we’re all seen together at Heathrow, people won’t just be thinking about us. It’ll be as if my father were there as well. It’s . . . what we’re known for. Julia and William, the first couple. Then you and me. The whole thing won’t look right without you.’

  ‘You’ve got Diana.’ There was a spike in Essie’s voice.

  ‘She’s not a member of the family.’

  A tense quiet filled the air. This would be the time for Essie to ask exactly what status Diana did have in Ian’s life – to demand to know if he had been unfaithful. But as before, Essie’s thoughts kept turning back to Mara. She pressed her lips onto the crown of her head.

  ‘You need to think very seriously about this,’ Ian said. ‘In a couple of months you’ll be handing that baby over to her real family. Then you’ll be free to get back to work. You’ll regret that you didn’t seize your place in all this. After all, you were the one who made the big find. You deserve to be part of the team.’

  Essie shook her head. ‘What I’d regret would be if I gave up even one day of the time I have left with Mara.’

  ‘But your own family comes first!’ Ian’s hands formed fists at his sides as if he was about to explode with frustration. Instead he bent his head, looking down at the ground. After a few moments he lifted his gaze. In the soft light of the tent his eyes burned with the intense blue of a kerosene flame. ‘In Cambridge I’ll be visiting Arthur.’

  ‘Dad?’ Essie caught her breath. She had a flash image of herself running into her father’s arms, feeling the prickle of his tweed jacket, taking in the smell of his pipe tobacco. They’d sit at the kitchen table and drink tea from the blue-and-white pot with the cracked spout. After that, they’d tour the damp garden, peering into mossy corners to see what had grown and what had died away. There were so many things Essie longed to discuss, in a way that was not possible in letters. Practical topics, like his health, were just the start. She wanted to learn all the small details of his life and share stories of hers. And even though part of her didn’t want to think about it, there were the serious questions she wanted to ask him. This was her chance to try to learn the truth about Lorna. Perhaps, face to face, she could push Arthur to be honest about whether her mother’s family had Aboriginal heritage – whether an ancient bond with the island home could have been the reason Lorna literally couldn’t survive in England. If that were the case, Essie could ask Arthur why he had never taken his wife back to her home, her family, when she’d been so desperately unhappy. Perhaps – as Diana had insinuated – there was some other issue at play in their marriage. Arthur wasn’t all that old, but the future could still not be taken for granted. If Essie didn’t go with Ian to England, now, leaving Mara behind, she might never find out what had really gone on in Lorna’s life. She’d be letting her mother down.

  Ian waited in silence, wearing a small, forced smile.

  Essie tried picturing Lorna’s face as if this might be able to guide her decision. Instead, she saw her own image, as if she and her mother were one person, and Mara, in some way, a baby version of herself. Essie focused on the warm sleepiness of Mara’s head nodding against her shoulder. She thought about the fact that Lorna had once held her own baby in her arms, just like this. Lorna knew what Essie was feeling. She’d want her daughter to remain right here where she belonged.

  ‘I’m not coming with you.’

  Ian pursed his lips. He was quiet for a while, as if hunting for a new line of argument. ‘You’re pushing me towards Diana. You do know that?’

  Essie eyed him in silence, her gaze unwavering. She saw him struggle with the realisation that his wife, his assistant – the one who’d always followed his instructions – was not going to be swayed by anything he could say. He looked angry, confused, hurt – but more than anything, defeated. He had no cards left to play.

  With Mara on her hip Essie walked along the stony path that ran through the middle of the staff camp. The Lawrences didn’t enter the area very often – it was an unnecessary invasion of the workers’ privacy – but when they did, they always received a warm welcome. Today, though, the mood was different. As Essie moved between the tents, avoiding the crisscross of fly lines and the pegs in the ground, she felt people watching her every step. When greetings were called, they had a grudging edge.

  Essie paused at a tactful distance from the unzipped door of Simon’s tent.

  ‘Hodi!’ she called out.

  There was no reply – yet Essie sensed that he was there. With a stab of pain she realised Simon might be trying to avoid her. When they’d returned late yesterday afternoon there had been no chance for them to talk in private, but she knew Simon deeply regretted the part he’d played in finding the cave. It would be hard for him to trust Ian’s reassurances about how the research was going to be handled. After what Essie had just heard about Ian’s plans for publicity, she felt uneasy herself. She couldn’t blame Simon if he held her responsible for the dilemma in which he now found himself. It would be understandable if he needed some time to process the situation before he was ready to face her; she was his friend, but she was also a Lawrence.

  The polite thing, Essie knew, would be for her to withdraw – but she just couldn’t bring herself to walk away. Of all the people in the camp, Simon was the only one she wanted to be with.

  ‘Hello? Simon?’ she called again.

  After a short delay the man appeared in the entrance. He was wearing clean, pressed khakis, but his feet were bare. His posture was upright and stiff, his face impassive. He might have been a stranger to Essie. When he saw Mara, though, Simon’s expression softened. The baby reached out for him with her chubby arms. He hesitated, then took her from Essie. Mara nestled her head beneath his chin.

  There was a brief silence. Essie cleared her throat. ‘The others are going away – to Dar es Salaam and then England. Ian’s got meetings planned. But I’m staying here.’

 
Simon inclined his head to show that he’d heard. He was looking past Essie’s shoulder to the other side of the camp, where the Europeans lived. ‘I cannot work at Magadi any more. I must leave.’

  Essie felt a lurch of dismay. Her worst fears were confirmed. ‘Is everyone blaming you for finding the cave?’

  ‘Not everyone. Some are congratulating me. They know there will be more work to do, now. More jobs. They are considering their relatives. But the Maasai are angry. Not just Koinet and Legishon. Everyone.’

  ‘I’m really sorry.’ Essie could hear the pain in Simon’s voice. Since Mara’s arrival, and his reconnection with his Hadza origins, he had gone from being an outsider to a figure of respect among the Maasai. This was not just due to his display of hunting skills, and the provision of meat; his pride in himself had elevated him in the eyes of others. Now his new status was under attack.

  ‘Ian could go to the manyatta and talk to the elders,’ Essie suggested. ‘You were working with me. It’s our responsibility.’

  Simon shook his head. ‘I am leaving for my own reasons. I do not want to work for Bwana Lawrence any more.’ Essie opened her mouth to plead with him to reconsider, but he raised his hand. ‘I have decided.’

  Essie gazed bleakly into the tent. With a jolt of alarm she saw that Simon’s clothes were laid out on the bed – two shirts, two pairs of trousers, long socks neatly rolled into balls. ‘Are you packing already?’

  ‘No. I am making repairs, replacing buttons. To find a new job I must be smart.’ Simon’s voice sounded heavy, as if the words were being hauled up from somewhere deep inside him. ‘I should leave straightaway. But I will wait until the rains come.’ His expression softened again. ‘You will need me then.’

  As the meaning of his last words sank in, Essie’s heart clenched. She just nodded, unable to speak. He was right. She would need Simon then. He was the only person here who knew how to speak and translate Hadza. Someone had to be able to tell Nandamara and Giga everything about Mara. How she preferred to sleep with a light cloth covering her. How she enjoyed a change from being carried in the sling, and that when she was tied onto Essie’s back she had to have her arms and legs sticking out from the cloth so her fingers could reach her toes. Someone had to say that she was fascinated by spiders but was afraid of flying bats. And that when she made beckoning gestures with both hands she wanted some milk. She’d be eating plenty of solid food by the time the Hadza came for her, and Giga would also breastfeed her again. But still, Mara would miss her bottle.

  She will miss me.

  Essie stared mutely at Simon.

  She will miss you.

  In the man’s eyes she saw a foretaste of the pain that he, too, was going to feel, when it came time to be parted from Mara. She knew it was mirrored in her own expression. And now, on top of the agony she’d rehearsed so often was this second blow. Essie would be saying goodbye to Simon as well. Words formed on her tongue, but then evaporated, leaving emotion to flow silently between them.

  Finally, Essie managed to speak. ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I have heard they like to employ Hadza guides in the national parks,’ Simon replied. ‘We can tell stories about all the plants and animals.’

  ‘You’d be very good at that.’ Essie tried to sound encouraging. But even if she had to accept that Simon was leaving Magadi, she hated the thought of him sharing his knowledge with tourists who probably only wanted to tick off seeing the ‘Big Five’ – elephant, lion, buffalo, leopard, rhino – and might very well be sorry that no hunting was allowed.

  ‘Will you write me one of those letters?’ Simon asked. ‘Where you say that I will work hard. I will not be late. My clothes will be clean. I will obey —’

  ‘Stop.’ Essie held up one hand, cutting him off. She couldn’t bear to hear him speaking about himself in these terms. Since arriving at Magadi she’d seen plenty of letters presented by would-be staff that included just these kinds of comments – but the words sounded different to her now. The thought of them being applied to Simon was ridiculous. At the same time, though, she understood that if he was going to get a new job, he’d need a solid reference.

  ‘Of course I’ll write you a letter,’ she said. ‘I’ll say that you are the best assistant anyone could ever have. That you know everything, and you can do everything. That you’re kind . . .’

  Her voice suddenly stuck in her throat. She looked down at Simon’s feet, toughened from walking barefoot over the rough volcanic stone. Not long ago he had been proudly wearing his pointy blue shoes around the camp, yet now she could hardly imagine him in the sturdy desert boots that were issued to game scouts and rangers. She didn’t blame Simon for wanting to leave Magadi, and him getting a job in one of the national parks made sense – but it didn’t seem the right future for the Simon she now knew. But then, who could say what path anyone’s life would – or even should – follow?

  Essie thought about how the next years were going to unfold for her. She forced herself to look past the yawning gulf that would be left by Mara. To skip over in her mind an image of the nursery, stripped bare of all the baby’s things and returned to its former status as a guest room. The question of Diana Marlow’s place in Ian’s life – her life – she ignored as well. She imagined the woman somehow magically removed from the scene. She focused instead on picturing herself at work documenting the cave art, manoeuvring around the people who were studying the erectus. She’d have to employ a trained assistant to help with the tracing, in order to reduce the amount of time they were at the site. In the evenings she would play hostess to a long tableful of academics and journalists. With all the visitors around the camp, something would have to be done about Tommy. His growing horns would soon pose a real danger to the unwary. He needed to be transported to a game reserve – returned to the wild where he belonged . . .

  It was possible for Essie to conjure all of these things in her mind – even the process of letting Tommy go, with all the accompanying worry about how he’d survive. When she turned her thoughts to Ian, though, Essie was instantly at a loss. She tried to picture the two of them working together again as a team, like they always had, or chatting in bed after a long day in the field. But the vision would not come into focus. Everything remained stubbornly vague and blurry – as hidden from her as the distant peak of the volcano, shrouded in dense cloud.

  TWENTY

  Essie stood in the parking area beside the Land Rover holding Mara in her arms. Daudi was in the driver’s seat, ready to take the travellers down to the airstrip, where a charter plane was waiting to collect them. Ian and Diana were by the front passenger door, their heads bent over a notebook as they checked off items on a list.

  Essie peered into the back seat of the Land Rover, with its smart new seats. Two large Louis Vuitton suitcases bearing Diana’s monogram had been stowed there. She assumed one of them contained Ian’s clothes since she couldn’t see his old cardboard case. There was no other luggage in the vehicle – but this was not a surprise. There had been a change of plan; Ian and Diana were going to be setting off from Magadi alone.

  Essie was still trying to absorb the news. Right up until the plane had landed half an hour ago, she’d thought her mother-in-law was leaving with the others. Kefa had prepared Julia’s suitcase. He’d even aired out the lace evening gown, hanging it from the branch of a tree. But when the time came for all the luggage to be carried to the Land Rover, Julia’s belongings had been left behind in the Dining Tent, and she was nowhere to be seen.

  Essie wasn’t sure who had decided that Julia should remain at home. She presumed Ian had reached the conclusion that his mother wasn’t in a fit state to travel, let alone attend important meetings and front up to a press conference. During the days following the visit to the cave, Julia had barely eaten anything, and on the brief occasions when she’d emerged from her tent it was only to sit in a trancelike state at her table in the Work Hut. All her tools and artefacts had been pushed aside. In the empty space she
’d laid out Robbie’s rubber shoe and his lock of wispy hair. Now and then she would touch one of the items, or turn it over, but mostly she just stared at them, her arms folded over her body, rocking faintly in her chair. Essie and Ian, as well as Diana, Baraka and Kefa, had all tried to draw her out. They’d talked to her, offered her food and drinks, created distractions. Ian had even tried to engage her in planning Robbie’s eventual burial, but his efforts were in vain. No one had been able to reach her.

  Essie suspected this disturbing behaviour wasn’t the only thing that had been of concern to Ian, though, in the lead-up to his departure. In the Dining Tent, she’d seen him eyeing the wall where Mirella’s paintings had once hung. He must have felt unsure that he could rely on his mother to play her role in the celebration of the Lawrence family heritage. But all this was just conjecture. For all Essie knew, Julia may have been the one who’d decided to stay here at the camp. Essie hadn’t wanted to involve herself by enquiring; her own refusal to join the tour had caused enough trouble already.

  ‘Okay, we’re ready.’ Diana’s voice drew Essie’s eyes back to her and Ian. Diana flipped shut the notebook and slid it into her pocket, then she approached Essie with a smile. ‘I’m sorry you’re not coming with us. We’ll miss you.’