Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) (15 page)

34

A military convoy arrived next morning in the field where the canal boat was moored. Two Land Rovers full of police, armed to the teeth with machine guns and rocket launchers, then a Range Rover, identical to the one Theresa had torched the night before, then two more Land Rovers.  Six policemen stormed onto the boat, broke the door down and ordered her to lie flat on the bed, face down. So romantic, she thought; just like when he first had me.

'Thank you, gentlemen. I think I can manage by myself from now on.' The men left, as noisily as they had arrived. 'Good morning, my lady. Perhaps you might continue to undress?'

'Good morning, my Lord. My pleasure is to serve you.' Theresa stepped out of her clothes with as much dignity as she could. He was most dangerous when he was polite, but she did not see the blow coming. She felt a searing pain across the small of her back and she fell to the floor at his feet. He used the riding crop again, across her stomach. She tried to roll into a ball but the space in the boat was too limited. Three more strokes landed, and she was about to pass out but he stopped. He helped her, gently, onto the bed, face down.

'Remember how we made love when we first met? Let's relive that sweet passion.'

'I'm alive. I'm still sentient. I know what he's doing to me and I know why he's doing it.  If I can keep quiet and let him master me I'll live.' When he had finished he rolled off her and sat up. He stroked the pattern the whip had made.

'Lie still; I'm just going to examine you to see  if you're bleeding. No, you took it well. Let's get you to the shower and I'll wash you. You'll be fine then. Gently, whore, gently.' He supported her to the tiny shower room, checked the water temperature, soaped her, rinsed her, dried her and dressed her. She did not once think of killing him. Pain and pleasure, could she live with them? He must feel something for her. He'd thrown her away but let her live. He'd come to collect her; she had no doubt that he had murdered the child he had taken to replace her. And now, he wanted her back. She had been stupid to destroy the Rover. She realised he would find out, may even have been watching her do it. There were millions of surveillance devices in the country and thousands of Watchers observing and reporting. It was probably the only industry still functioning. She had taken her deserved punishment bravely and survived.

Together they walked onto the deck of the narrow boat; he helped her onto the bank and into the front passenger seat of the Range Rover.

'Smile and wave' he said. 'Smile and wave, that's your job from now on, First Lady. Smile and wave and be ready to fuck me whenever and however I like.' She smiled, and wiggled her fingers at the police men. As they drove away she glanced back at the boat and saw that it was burning nicely. One wrong step and she might have been left to burn inside it.

They drove in convoy back to Knutsford, where they had lunch. She noticed that the roads and streets were clear of traffic; clear in fact of all signs of life.  The first human appeared as they swept into the stable yard of Tatton Park.  The human bowed and guided them to the banqueting room. The Lord Protector sat at one end of the table, she at the other. He wounds and her rape made sitting uncomfortable but she was determined to act the part. He would enjoy humiliating her with coarse remarks if she flinched. They ate in silence, and returned to the vehicles as soon as they could.

'I have work to do at the Palace, my lady. You can use the time before dinner to find something to wear.' She noticed that he drove the car himself. Perhaps he wasn't so confident that all his people loved him. His people lined the streets as they
reached the palace. Behind every enthusiastically waving onlooker on Birdcage Walk stood an armed guard.  She wondered who was meeting the cost of such a determined show of loyalty. He handed her down from the car like a gentleman.

'We'll appear on the balcony and wave to the crowds in an hour's time. The announcement was made while we drove home; you, Countess, are unanimously appointed to the position of First Lady of England. You will partner me to all official engagements. You will do everything possible to enhance the image my followers have of me: a loving, caring family man, and the father of the nation. Smile and wave, that's all there is to it. Smile, wave and fuck. You'll be perfect for the job. Let's practice the last bit again.'

He wants to practice, she thought. Practice makes perfect. He's going to practice the perfect rape. I wonder what will happen to me that day? Perhaps he thinks that from the perfect rape we'll move to making love. He didn't love his wife, he didn't love his daughter, he didn't love the twelve-year old who replaced me last month. Maybe he thinks he might love me. Odd way of showing love, but what do I know? My stepfather raped me before he sold me to the Watchmen and they passed me onto Geoff, Lord of all Creation. She started to move in rhythm as he pushed into her. He punched her breasts viciously, which she took as a sign she should lie still. For a moment after he climaxed he lay still, then kissed her and climbed off.

'Don't get enthusiastic unless I tell you to, girl. I'll let you know if I want you to enjoy it. What I can tell you is that you will be welcomed by a vast crowd when you make your appearance on the balcony this afternoon. I've already written the report. Pity none of the crowd will actually be there, but that doesn't matter. People believe what they're told - if they know what's good for them. They'll see the video of us waving to them and in time they'll really believe that they were there. Still, you remember to be there, that's a good girl.' He opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Still here? Clear off and make yourself beautiful. We're dining in State tonight. Go!' He called her back. 'You're bleeding - for goodness sake attend to it. The chairs have been upholstered with cloth of gold.' Just proves he cares for something after all, she thought. May be I'll allow him a thousand points, then I'll kill him. One point per rape. May be a year. Unless he kills me first.

35

The boat was taking shape. Binta had returned from college with a certificate which stated she was competent in the safe use of small power tools, fibre-glassing and basic first aid. She had also picked up, through evening gossip with a group of young female students, some ideas about new games to play with her husband. She explained the source of her knowledge to him before putting theory into practice. It proved to be a wise precaution.

A level piece of ground near the jetty was chosen as a shipyard. The two heavy sheets of ply were scarfed together and the joint re-enforced by overlapping with a smaller piece and generous use of waterproof glue. It was left to dry while Binta, with Sirra's assistance, cut the sides and transom from the remaining ply. Rachel planed the stringers
and Ed-Lamin and Henry acted as casual labourers. The rest of the village offered helpful advice and tea. A couple of days into the project the Mechanical Girl arrived again in the village, by Land Rover this time. She brought with her a small outboard motor and her husband, Martin. The outboard was an ancient Seagull Silver Century and the husband was a charming lecturer she had met in England and recruited, after a struggle, to teach weaving at the college.

'I know it doesn't look much,' she said of the outboard, 'but trust me, they never wear out. You give it a petrol/oil mix of ten to one and it will run for ever. Honestly. There are some machines which never die: old Rolls-Royces, Honda C90s and Seagull Outboards.' She set about making more tea as her husband filmed the boat building. The building took a week. The fibre-glassing was done in a day, though some of the workforce took much longer the remove stray material from their hair and clothing.  The name "Binta's Boat" was carefully painted on either side of the bow and when the paint was dry the boat was carried down to the water and launched ceremonially with benefit of coconut milk. Henry had checked that the ancient motor was in running order then fixed it to the transom. The fuel tank was full, the starting-cord pulled once, twice and on the third attempt the Seagull roared smokely into life. Henry throttled it back, handed the tiller to Binta, and stepped ashore. Rachel and Sirra took his place; Binta opened the throttle and the boat headed out into midstream. Applause followed them. The women took turns at the helm, coached quietly by Rachel, and when they felt confidant enough they returned to shore. Binta and Sirra disembarked and Rachel spent the rest of the day giving willing villagers joy rides. No fish were caught; no hippos annoyed and no crocodiles were irritated. All who set out returned safely to land, though Amieo N'jie was so excited she jumped out of the boat while it still had a hundred yards to go before it reached the jetty. Amieo's big brother hauled her back aboard and the tale of his bravery was told round the village before night fell. Martin was on hand to record everything.

At last, the show was over. There was a celebration to be held and speeches to be made. "Binta's Boat" was hauled above the high-water mark, the Seagull was proudly carried back to Binta's compound for safe keeping. The villagers dispersed to their homes to wash and dress in their finery and the boat-crew set to peeling and cooking  and roasting.  The Mechanical Girl's husband had stayed in the village to film the maiden voyage and the celebrations afterwards. He was roped into recording kitchen skills by Rachel and she demonstrated on camera the age-old art of making Atayah. As she waited for the water to boil she thought, and said aloud

'I can't believe I'm doing this. Before I came to this lovely country I would have died rather than appear before a camera. I was never on the school photo, I used to crouch down at the back and nobody ever noticed I was missing from the prints. Here I am, posing like a real show-off and, honestly, I never even noticed you were filming even when you were in the boat.' He father had heard her and gave his daughter a big hug and a kiss.

'That's my girl. Saves lives without a second thought but gets excited by making a pot of tea!'

'I think we've started a ghetto. We're a little group of white people, refugees. We speak English even though most of us get by with Mandinka. Typical. We're no better than colonialists!' Rachel surprised herself by the intensity of her thought.

'Rach, there's one fault with your argument.' Martin smiled at her.

'What? Just look at us sitting here.'

'Right. Just look at us. Look at Henry. Now look at your dad. Now look at me. Notice anything?'

'Yes, we're all the same.'

'For a bright woman you're being dumb, love. Look at me again, properly.' He saw light dawn and pennies drop.

'Oh. Yes. You're black. I hadn't noticed. Sorry.  Sorry.'

'No, don't be sorry. A small miracle's happened. You feel so at home here that superficial differences just don't matter. All my life, especially at school in England, I longed to be white. However nice people were, and most were, I knew I was different. Mum and dad were professionals; dad was a professor back in the days when England had universities. Mum was an interior designer and sister Sam grew up to be a Member of Parliament. But, all the time, they knew they were black people. But now, you've accepted me as just like you; you'd forgotten the colour question.' Rachel was silent. She had arrived in this country, settled in this village, and been accepted. Nobody had commented on her colour. The children had played with her hair, had rubbed her arms to see if perhaps the colour would come off and played with her as they did with all the villagers. She was one of them. She returned to her task and offered her father the first glass of tea.

36

That night in bed, when they were resting from some vigorous play, Rachel told her husband about the revelation the morning had brought. He looked at her and smiled.

'Had you been worrying about being a racist?' He kissed her right breast. It was perhaps just a tiny bit larger than the other one. He fondled both, just to check.

'Ed, stop. I want to think and I am thinking but not about what …'

'Sorry, shall I stop? Will it disturb your train of thought if I move just a little lower and …'

'Yes. I mean no! I did worry about racism. Stop it. No, don't; Ed, behave!'

'Sorry. Shall I blow the candle out and we can concentrate on your brain? Or I could switch the lights on. Perhaps candlelight is inappropriate?'

'No. I think we'll need the candlelight again soon. I'll just close my eyes so I can't see your, your attributes. I hadn't met any black people until you came to our house. I'd seen them, but not known any. And you were lovely and I had to help you escape. I took you out in the boat and I had to let you go. I asked you for a kiss, and you kissed me nicely. Sometimes you still kiss me like that, as if you were afraid you'd break me. Now you're my husband-lover and father to our baby. Sometimes when you love me you call me Jane. Not often now; I know you loved her very much and I'd be sad if you forgot her. I know now it's me you love.'

'Rachel, are you religious?'

'Why? You know I'm not Muslim; I'm not sure that I'm a Christian either. Sometimes, perhaps twice a year, I go to meetings with Mum and Dad. I sit with them, quietly, for an hour then we all shake hands and have tea and biscuits and go home.'

'Meetings? Silent meetings?'

'Usually silent. Sometimes some one speaks, but not always.'

'You sit quietly in a church?'

'They're called meeting houses. The one I used to go to is a beautiful, very plain, Georgian building in a garden. The people who go there are the Society of Friends; Quakers. In a Quaker Meeting House.'

'Sounds good. Hope you don't mind me asking? I was a bit puzzled. You and your mum and dad, and your brother too, are good people but you don't talk about it. You just do amazing things and then have a cup of tea.'

'You're embarrassing me. I'm going to open my eyes and then you can do amazing things to me. If you're good I'll then do amazing things with you. Binta's been teaching me.' She opened her eyes and stared at him in the candlelight. A little later, from the other side of the house, her mother heard her daughter's song of joy and she too turned to her husband for sport.

Next morning all four were bleary-eyed and still yawning. Breakfast was a quiet ritual. Rachel had been up early and bought fresh bread. Her mother had fried some onions and the men had brewed Sorrel tea. Onion sandwiches, washed down with tea were consumed then they went their separate ways. Ed-Lamin walked with his mother-in-law to the school, her father collected his brief case and went to the office to work on Ebou's accounts, and Rachel and her gently growing bump took themselves down to the river to catch fish.

Binta was already there, attaching the outboard motor to the transom of the boat.

'Hi there! Is there peace?'

'There is peace. How is the day?' Binta giggled.

'There was singing in your compound last night, I am told. Two female voices, but singing the same song with different partners. Babies are good. They bring much joy. I like babies.'

'Binta, were you also singing through the night? We must be make sure to catch many fish today if there are to be so many mouths to feed!' They motored out into the deeper water, threw the grapnel anchor over the side and set about their work before the sun became too hot.

Rachel had fished for shrimp at the mouth of the River Mersey and now she fished for whatever came into the net. Tasty Bongo fish, full of bones but with the sweetest of flesh seemed almost eager to be caught. Binta divided them into two large plastic boxes.

'These will be good for the family, and these I will sell in the market. I will clean them as we return and you can manage the boat. That way we each do what we are best at.'

'Binta, you are a good manager, I think. You manage the fish and you manage me too.'

'Thank you. I also manage my husband, but he does not know it. He responds very well to small rewards I think up for him. My first husband, the father of your man, he knew I was managing him. Sirra also managed him. We were all friends. I was the second wife but Mr Ed and Sirra both loved me. They educated me in many ways. My present husband is a good man but his first wife does not like me. I think it is difficult for her. For many years she was his only wife, then he married me. I have my own house in the compound but she still hears what she does not wish to hear. She is old and has already borne all her children. They are grown and live away from the village. It is not easy for her. She dreads being weak in her age and she fears I will not nurse her. She does not need to have that fear, but we cannot discuss it with her. Our husband spends his nights with her and then comes to my bed. He is still a strong man and we dance well together. Come, help me moor the boat and carry the fish home.'  Rachel was thoughtful. How would I feel if Ed-Lamin suddenly introduced some beautiful village girl as his second wife? Two nights with her, then two nights with the other one. She hated the thought, then hated herself for hating. Sirra must have hated having to share her man with Binta. You imagine your man doing with her what he does with you. All the little secrets you share with one another suddenly shared with a stranger. She was in tears when she opened the gate of her compound.

'Rachel, what's the matter? Let me take that box of fish. You have done well, we shall feast tonight. Binta has a similar catch to sell? Excellent. I will show you a trick to get rid of the bones. But sit. Why do you cry?'

'Sirra, I have been talking to Binta. Do you think Ed-Lamin wants a second wife? I love him but I can't share him.'

'Lamin and another wife? Never. You are his woman. Remember, he has been educated, like you, in England. He does not think like this any more than you do. You are pregnant with his child and pregnancy makes women think protective thoughts. You know he loves you; I see the way he looks at you; there is no other woman in his mind.'

'But you loved Ed, his father. He suddenly married Binta.'

'Suddenly? I had to work very hard for a long time before he decided to marry her, or even to bed her.'

'You wanted him to have a second wife? How? Why?'

'Binta knows that one day I would have to tell you our family history, and she wants you to be told. Let us make Atayah and you can listen. Stay here, I will bring the equipment.'

After the burner had been lit and the tea was brewing Sirra began the explanation.

'Remember that although in time this was recent we have come a long way and there have been many changes in the way we live. Then it was the duty of men to provide for women, it was charitable. Binta had been raped. Although the man was punished Binta thought of herself as disgraced. She was afraid that people would think she had tempted the man - he was a teacher, and she was a very pretty girl. How could he have resisted her?'

'A teacher should have known better.'

'Of course. But that was his excuse. Binta was raped, she was pregnant. There was a strong possibility that she would become a prostitute if she was not helped. Binta was almost a sister to me; we had grown up together. So I talked to my family. They arranged that an old widow woman, Awa, would adopt her baby. Awa had already given a home to a refugee, a Senegalese, girl, Isatou, who had recently given birth and had milk enough for two. That was the solution to one problem. Binta needed a husband, not some old man who would struggle to rape her but a good man who would be gentle and show her that she was worthy to be loved and would be happy in his bed. I knew of such a man; Ed, my husband.'