A Guide to the Beasts of East Africa (18 page)

Sitting on the veranda watching the workmen
roll up the marquee, Mr Malik felt suddenly tired. It had been a hectic weekend. After
cancelling mosque, flowers and cars, he had spent most of Thursday and all of Friday on
the phone trying to contact all the guests. It was too late to cancel the food, but Ally
Dass would be happy to deliver what had already been bought and prepared to various
hospitals around Nairobi. Mr Malik was able to supply him with addresses and ward
numbers.

Oh well, perhaps Petula was just not the
marrying type. He looked back into the house. She should be back soon. She'd left
on Friday afternoon for a weekend away with Sunita Depawala. Ever since schooldays the
two of them had relied on each other for advice and support in times of trouble. Ah,
that sounded like her Suzuki now.

‘Good morning, Daddy dear.'

For a woman who had just cancelled a
marriage Petula sounded remarkably chirpy, thought Mr Malik, as he tilted his cheek for
the customary kiss.

‘Hello, darling. How was Lake
Naivasha?'

‘Great fun. The old hotel, it never
changes.'

Which is not quite true. At the Hotel Naivasha
today you will not find the bar packed on a Friday night with passengers and crew from
the Imperial Airways flying boat service from England to South Africa that has just
landed on the lake – as you might have in the 1930s. You will not see Lord Delamere pull
up outside the front door in a buggy harnessed to a pair of zebras – as you might have
in the 1940s. No longer can you spend a long weekend at the hotel for four pounds
nineteen shillings and eleven pence full board including champagne on arrival and a
complimentary ticket for a trip on the pleasure steamer
Pride of Africa
– as
you might have in the 1950s. But even today you
feel
as if you might, and the
Hotel Naivasha is just the place to go to get away from it all – whether it be the
pressure of city living, the demands of a hectic working life, or a broken romance.

‘You're not too upset then –
about the wedding, and everything?'

‘Sunita and I agreed that marriage is
an outmoded institution, and that anyway few men deserve us – one, in particular. As far
as I am concerned, it was a lucky escape. And guess who we saw at the hotel? Angus
Mbikwa – you know, you met him on the safari. His mother was there too. She's been
away, in Scotland. Just got back.'

‘Ah yes, I saw her last
Tuesday.'

‘Yes, she mentioned she'd seen
you. She and Angus were staying at the Khans' place. We had quite a chat. I like
Rose.'

Mr Malik remembered that Harry Khan's
uncle had built a house beside the lake in the 1950s and that it was still in the
family.

‘The Khans – really? Was Harry Khan
there by any chance?'

‘Yes. He's such fun, isn't
he? He asked us all round for lunch on Sunday. Lovely place they've got there,
right next to Oserian.'

‘Oh yes, Lord Erroll's old place
– the “Djinn Palace” they used to call it.'

‘That's right. Anyway, he said
to tell you he was looking forward to another game of billiards. And Rose said she was
looking forward to seeing you at the next bird walk – that must be tomorrow. I must say,
Sunita seemed pretty keen on Angus. She even offered to help him set up his new
office.'

Mr Malik had already half made up his mind
that he would not be going on the next bird walk. What with the
Evening News
shutting down and the Asadi Club about to follow, incentive seemed distinctly lacking.
But if Rose Mbikwa was going to be there again … well, perhaps. On the other
hand, if Harry Khan was going to be there, perhaps not.

‘And speaking of Rose, I found out
such a funny thing. You know the red roses that arrived last week, the ones we thought
were from Salman. They were from Angus. To thank me for giving him a lift home from the
safari. Wasn't that sweet?'

‘Very sweet.'

‘I know what you're
thinking,' said Petula. ‘You're probably thinking that perhaps a note
with them might have prevented all this confusion.'

‘Something along those
lines.'

‘Yes, Sunita and I talked about that.
But if Angus
had
sent a note, just think – I might be married to Salman by
now.'

‘So, Mr Malik, it is true that they
have shut down the
Evening News
.'

Mr Malik had decided that on balance it
would be a good idea to keep up his regular attendance at the Tuesday bird walk. After
all, he had started going for his health, not to meet Rose Mbikwa or chat to Thomas
Nyambe. It turned out that Harry Khan's Mercedes had not been among the cars lined
up that morning in front of the museum, but there were enough seats to take everyone out
to River Road. The juxtaposition of thorn scrub and suburban development could usually
be relied upon to attract a variety of birdlife.

‘Yes, my dear friend, today is the
last day of publication. No “Birds of a Feather” tomorrow, I'm
afraid.'

‘I think this is sad. All people
should know what their government is doing, not just we drivers.'

‘Yes, Mr Nyambe, it is sad. But I have
been thinking perhaps not so bad. My daughter is involved in an organization that does
this same thing – shows people what their governments are doing – all over the world.
But now it is not so much with newspapers, it is with the internet. I think that this
will be the new way.'

‘This is true, and the truth will
always find its way to the light. Do you not think so, Mr Malik?'

‘I do – well, perhaps not
everything.'

Mr Malik had not wanted to give any more
thought to the Erroll case, it was just that his mind still refused to let it rest.
Every day it kept bringing up the inconsistencies
between the
different accounts. And what if each apparent clue – the white marks on the car seat,
the gym shoes on the bonfire, the lipstick-stained cigarette on the floor of the car –
was just a red herring?

‘I have been thinking a lot recently
about a strange story from long ago,' said Mr Malik to his friend. ‘It is
more than fifty years now – and I think that for this the truth will never be known.
Perhaps you have heard of the murder of Lord Erroll?'

‘I know the story well – my father
told it to me. But the truth, it is there for people to see if they so wish.'

The two men continued to walk slowly
together down the road, and if Mr Malik was less than usually interested in the glossy
starlings and red-eyed doves – even the rare sight in Nairobi of three wood hoopoes in a
pine tree – he was more than usually interested in listening to what his friend had to
say. He was indeed so engrossed in their conversation that when they all found
themselves back where they had left their cars, he was surprised when he felt a soft
touch on his arm and heard a soft voice speak his name.

‘Mr Malik.'

‘Mrs Mbikwa. It is a great pleasure to
see you.'

Rose Mbikwa gave him a most friendly
smile.

‘And for me to see you. I'm so
sorry we didn't have time to talk last week. Did your daughter tell you that I met
her at the weekend, down at the lake?'

‘Yes, and no doubt your son has told
you that I met him the weekend before, at your friend Mr Johnson's. Tell me, Mrs
Mbikwa, is it true that you are back in Nairobi now for good?'

‘Yes, for good. So I hope we shall be
seeing more of each other. Tell me, are you still doing your Aids work?'

How did she know about that? Then he
recalled the Hunt Club Ball, and dancing with her. Yes, they had talked about a lot of
things then. Yet how remarkable that she'd remembered.

‘As long as there are people dying
alone, Mrs Mbikwa, I will do my best,' he said. ‘I think that maybe now
things are getting just a little bit better.'

‘Yes, I hear more and more people are
being treated. But I can't help thinking about the ones left behind – the
children, you know. I've been doing a little bit of research on the internet –
there may be a million Aids orphans in Kenya alone.'

‘Then they will be needing a lot of
love and looking after, Mrs Mbikwa. How fortunate we are that we have been spared to
love our own children.'

‘Yes, Mr Malik, a lot of
love …' she paused for a moment. ‘I was very disappointed to see that
the
Evening News
has been closed down. I used to so enjoy reading it –
especially on Wednesdays. And Harry Khan's been telling me that your club's
in a bit of a pickle.'

‘We have been having a few problems,
it is true, though I am hopeful that everything will be resolved at the court hearing
tomorrow.' Surely the Tiger – good old Tiger – would sort it all out? ‘Tell
me, Mrs Mbikwa, did he – Harry – say anything about a lion?'

‘Yes, the club mascot mysteriously
vanished, I hear. You must tell me all about it – but not now, I'm afraid. I must
rush. I've got someone coming for lunch.'

‘Perhaps we will have time to talk
more next Tuesday.'

‘I'm sure we will, dear Mr Malik –
if not sooner.'

As Rose Mbikwa drove away in her battered
old Peugeot 504, Mr Malik could not help wondering what she meant by that – nor could he
help wondering with whom she would be having lunch.

From the kitchen came the sound of a
woman's laughter. Rose turned down the stereo. Angus must be home. He always came
in the back door, just as he had when he was a child, and he almost always said
something that would make Elizabeth laugh out loud.

‘Hello, darling. I wasn't
expecting you. How was your day?'

‘Good, thanks.' Angus flung his
bag and jacket on to one of the armchairs and leaned over his mother to kiss her.
‘We seem to be making some headway at last. I don't know if I told you that
Sunita said she'd drop in this afternoon. She was great. Used her mobile to get on
to Telkom – wouldn't take no for an answer. They sent a couple of men round
straight away, and at last the landline's working.'

‘Good …' Rose paused, as if
unsure whether to continue. ‘I had lunch with her today, as a matter of
fact.'

‘Really? Sunita? She didn't
mention it.'

‘Oh, it was nothing important – just
an opportunity for a bit of girls' talk.'

Angus Mbikwa flopped into an armchair.

‘Anyway, Mother, how are you today?
Feeling at home yet?'

‘Oh yes. It was such fun to be down at
the lake again – just what I needed. I really felt back in Africa at last.'

‘Me too. Bit of a coincidence, meeting
Petula Malik – and you knowing her father. What's he like? I met him at Uncle
Dickie's, but I didn't get much chance to talk to him.'

‘Mr Malik?' Rose thought hard
for a moment, then gave a small smile. ‘Mr Malik is a most remarkable man.
He's been going on the bird walk for years. I saw him there this
morning.'

‘And tell me about Harry Khan? I
didn't think he really seemed like your type, but you seem to get on
well.'

Rose laughed.

‘Yes, he's a bit of a
wheeler-dealer is Harry. Into property development at the moment, apparently – shopping
malls. He's been telling me lots of stories about meeting all these government
ministers – he can be very funny. He's really the most terrible tease, but
there's a lot of good in Harry. I'm having dinner with him again tonight as
a matter of fact.' She got up. ‘We thought we might try Tusks –
haven't been there for ages. But Mr Malik …' again, she paused.
‘Yes, Mr Malik is a most remarkable man. Now, I suppose I should go and get
changed. Are you going out tonight?'

‘Yes, I'm meeting someone in
town.'

‘Anyone special?'

‘Oh,' said Angus Mbikwa,
‘you could say that.'

Petula was surprised to find her father
still up when she got home. Her meeting had taken much longer than expected.

‘Hello, Daddy dear. How did it
go?'

‘Hmm?'

‘The bird walk this morning. How did
it go? Did you see Rose?'

‘Oh yes. Yes, I did see Mrs Mbikwa,
but only briefly.'

Petula looked at him and gave a small
frown.

‘Is there something on your mind,
Daddy? You're not still worried about the wedding, are you?'

‘No, no, not the wedding.'

What with her forthcoming marriage, Mr Malik
hadn't wanted to bother Petula about the difficulties they'd been going
through at the Asadi Club, but now … He began telling her all about what had
happened.

‘Not that we've really got
anything to worry about with Tiger Singh on the job.' He smiled. ‘Never lost
a game of billiards, never lost a case in court. They don't know what's
coming to them. Still, I can't help thinking a lot of bother could have been
avoided if only I'd done something.'

‘But it all happened while you were
away on the club safari. What could you have done?'

‘Oh, I don't know –
something.' He looked up. ‘I promised your grandfather, you see.'

Mr Malik reminded Petula about his
father's last words. For a minute, neither of them spoke.

‘You know, don't you, Daddy,
that this is just the kind of thing that Clarity International is fighting against?
Crime and corruption. But I'm sure you're right. Mr Singh will work it all
out tomorrow.'

It was with optimism tinged with just a
hint of apprehension that the following day Messrs Malik, Gopez and Patel
awaited the arrival of Tiger Singh at their usual table in the bar of
the Asadi Club. If anyone could persuade the court that the business with the missing
registration certificate was a legal nonsense, or that the theft of the certificate gave
a sure and unquestionable extenuation of circumstances, it was Tiger Singh.

‘Well, Tiger?'

His face told them all they wanted to
know.

‘Ah well, you know what they
say,' said Mr Gopez. ‘You can't fight Tammany Hall.'

Though the others had only the vaguest
knowledge of nineteenth-century New York politics, they were pretty sure they got
A.B.'s drift.

Mr Patel shook his head.

‘I suppose we should have
guessed.'

Tiger Singh picked up the glass of Tusker in
front of him and took a long swallow. He gave an equally long sigh.

‘So what exactly happened,
Tiger?' said Mr Malik.

‘The ministry – or, to be more
precise, the minister's representative Mr Jonah Litumana – was able to persuade
the judge that according to the letter of the law the government is perfectly within its
rights to seek confirmation of registration. The judge ruled that notwithstanding the
fact that the government itself may have once held such records, the statutory onus is
on us to provide such evidence within the time limit set by the minister.
Diem
perdidi
, I'm afraid. I have failed you.'

‘If I may say so, my dear
Tiger,' said Mr Malik, ‘you have in no sense failed us. All of us here know
that you did your very best for the Asadi Club. I for one would like to thank you again
for the tremendous work you have done.'

‘Hear, hear,' said Mr Patel.

‘That's right, Tiger,'
said Mr Gopez. ‘The Asadi Club thanks you and salutes you.'

‘Thank you, gentlemen. Friends.'
Tiger Singh sat down beside them. ‘There is just one tiny ray of hope. On my way
out of the court I bumped into Harry Khan. He told me that he himself was about to see
the minister.'

‘The minister?' said Mr Malik.
‘Oh, something to do with that shopping centre thing he mentioned?'

‘I suppose so. I told him what had
just happened in court and he said he'd see what he could do.'

‘Do?' said Mr Gopez. ‘What
do you mean, do?'

‘I'm not exactly sure,'
said Tiger Singh, ‘but here he is. Why don't you ask him
yourself?'

Harry Khan swept into the bar.

‘Hey, guys, I heard the news about the
club. Too bad.'

‘Yes,' said Mr Malik. ‘But
the Tiger says you've been to see the minister.'

‘That's right. And according to
my good friend the Honourable Brian Kukuya it looks like it's all systems go –
right here, right now.'

‘I'm not sure I understand you,
Harry.'

Harry Khan clapped Mr Malik on the
shoulder.

‘The megamall, Jack. The minister has
offered me a site – subject to the usual … er … final negotiations.
I thought I'd come right over and tell you.'

‘Well,' said Mr Malik,
‘I'm sure we're all delighted for you. Very good news for you and for
Khan Enterprises, I'm sure – though, as I'm sure you'll understand,
we're feeling a bit glum at the moment.'

‘Then be glum no more, guys.
Don't you get it?'

‘Get what?'

‘Yes, get what?' said Mr
Gopez.

‘The site. The new site.'

Mr Malik's jaw dropped.

‘You don't
mean …?'

‘Damned right I do. Yep, we're
sitting right on it. And you know what? This club, it's been here how long – a
hundred years? It's like part of history, right? And I'm a member,
right?'

‘You mean …?'

‘You got it, Jack. I mean Khan
Enterprises puts aside a bit of space – maybe even on the fourth floor. I haven't
put it to my fellow directors back home yet, but I can usually swing things my way. What
Harry wants, Harry gets – right?'

‘I don't think I quite
understand you either, Harry,' said Mr Gopez. ‘Space for what?'

‘Space for you guys.'

‘For us? You mean, for the Asadi
Club?'

‘Sure, in the new mall. Well, maybe
not a swimming pool or tennis courts – but there'll be a fully equipped fitness
gym and sauna in the basement, and we should be able to arrange special rates for club
members. And what with the Fooderama on the fifth floor, it's not like
you'll be needing your own dining room – right? But a bar, sure. Hell, maybe even
a pool table somewhere – why not? And how about a big room for video games – get the
young folk in, right? Anyway, think it over. Now, if you'll excuse me, guys, I
can't stay. Hot date.' He turned to Mr Malik. ‘Wouldn't want to
keep a lady waiting – right, Jack?'