Girl with the Golden Voice (34 page)

‘You are not fooling me, Thomas. Ever since we landed and we met the girls from Santa Maria, you have had a sadness about you.'

They had taken a few more steps before he answered. ‘Well, I suppose, for the first time I realised that you are a famous person.'

‘Yes, and I have more money than I ever dreamed. But do you think that those things could make a difference? Now I am sad, too, because you don't trust me.' She pouted.

He stopped in his tracks and pulled her towards him. He squeezed her hard. ‘Now, listen to this, young lady! I still can't understand how such a beautiful person with so much talent … Well, I could suddenly see what you're giving up. I don't want to hold you back.'

They locked eyes. Within seconds she was smiling through tears. He was simply beaming.

‘Thomas McCall, don't ever do such a thing to me again! I was frightened, but now I feel good again. I'm ready for anything. Come on, let's find out what these men want.'

Paul Miller and Daniel Komar stood up from their chairs on the veranda. They were being entertained by Maura and Rafaella but did not sit down again when Tom and Rebecca arrived. Instead, after a few pleasantries, they led Tom off onto the grass and towards a clump of acacia. The three women left behind had their private speculations on why the two smart Nairobi lawyers wanted to talk in private with Tom, the flower farmer.

‘The government has issued a certificate for Serena to register as an official political party. Out of the blue.' Paul watched Tom closely to study his reaction. It was flat news for Tom and it showed. Paul continued, ‘Yes, we're travelling to big population centres to check on possible candidates, just in case there's a snap election.'

Still no spark of enthusiasm from Tom, but he was uncomfortable to think that these men had travelled to Londiani for so little return.

‘Tom, we wanted you to have the news anyway. Even if we can't have you as a candidate, we hope we can count on you as a supporter.'

‘Of course, yes, certainly.' The relief on Tom's face was clear but Paul sailed on, undaunted.

‘And Daniel and I want to congratulate you on your engagement!'

There were firm handshakes all round. The long, silent gaze from the smiling lawyer, Paul, all the time he was holding his hand made Tom sense that these two men were not yet done with him. He wanted them to leave but knew that he would have to allow them to choose the time. He hoped that the worst was over and that they had taken his message on board. He tried to show that there was no hard feeling on his side. ‘As you see, I'm not a political animal …'

Daniel took up his point. ‘Animal … good word for a lot of politicians, a bit insulting to animals, perhaps! We've seen some of ours gorging themselves at the trough until there's precious left for the rest. We want to change that. We need people who want to do something for that change to happen. Have a say in their future …'

Paul was fired up, ‘Yes, Tom, this country could have a wonderful future. Every shilling meant for the people spent on the people. Kenya will be the jewel of Africa again.' He paused and when he spoke again, his tone was low key. ‘Rebecca Kamau, Thomas McCall, now, my minister, the Reverend Shabas Ndingo, would call that a marriage made in heaven and that there really is an angel over Africa, looking out for us. I would call it a perfect match for a country like ours being dragged into the space age.'

‘Let's level with you, Tom.' Daniel began again. ‘Paul and I came here hoping that you would be willing to be the party's man in Nakuru South.'

‘But I already told you …'

‘Sure, Tom, we heard you and it's a disappointment to us. But, perhaps, you would allow us to use your picture.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘We're preparing our manifesto. You know?'

‘Yes, I know.'

‘We'd like a picture of you and Rebecca on the front cover.'

‘But …'

‘Tom, take your time. Talk to Rebecca. No pressure. We'll be passing back this way in a week. We'll bring a dummy of the booklet.'

The three of them walked on. From the step of the veranda his grandmother watched Tom with that familiar muscular roll of a walk between two tall, athletic city men. They were moving out of sight slowly. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Rebecca turned and saw Rafaella's face. The lips were pressed hard together and her eyes were blinking rapidly. A smile was struggling through.

The beautiful, young housemaid grasped the familiar, smooth hands and squeezed.

‘Look at me, Rebecca! It's just that I saw Tommy walking with those men. He's not a boy any more. And I'm a silly old woman. There's such a pity in everything. I just see it like that sometimes.' She gathered herself. ‘Rebecca, you'll look after him. It's a blessing that you two are going to be together.'

‘Madam, Kiandazi is a good place for the party.'

‘You've chosen well.'

‘Mama says you will help us.'

‘We must do something about this “Madam”. And you must stop all this maid business. You're a famous singer.'

‘I was a singer. Now I'm back to being a house girl, but soon I shall be a housewife. I think that's far enough for just now. I am very happy working in Londiani.'

‘So I was wrong to persuade Don to sponsor you in Santa Maria.'

‘But why do you say this?'

‘Well, to be a house girl here, do you need to go to a smart boarding school in Nairobi?'

Rebecca was silenced. She stepped down onto the dusty grass. There was an answer to this question, but she needed time to search for it in herself.

‘No, not to be a house girl, perhaps. But to be the mother of your great-grandchild.'

Rafaella smiled broadly and hugged Rebecca. ‘Oh, I'm going to enjoy having your company at parties! You'll rattle a few bones.'

The visitors did not return to the house, but they asked Tom to bring their good wishes and their goodbyes.

It was late afternoon before he had the chance to tell Rebecca about the news. They were in the laundry garden. Tom had set the jua kali boiler to heat the water for family baths. He was helping her to gather in the lines of washing. He enjoyed the feel of the sheets that had been hanging for hours in the warm sunshine. The smell was fresh and the colours were cheerful. He pondered on how he should tell her what had been said. If it had not been for the request for a photograph, he thought he might have tried to pass the whole thing off, but he dismissed the idea in one second flat. His equilibrium had been disturbed. He could understand that he should have been flattered that these two fine men wanted him to work with them. He was not proud of his selfishness in rejecting even the idea and, even more, for contemplating the possibility of not sharing it with his future wife.

Their passage along those washing lines was slowed by the long embraces that punctuated the gathering down and folding of the clothes. As he ran his hands along the lines of her firm shape, as he felt her breasts against his chest, he rejoiced in anticipation. He was glad that she had delayed their full meeting until they were married.

The washing baskets were full and put away for sorting later. They were sitting on a flat rock by the lakeside when he told her. There was a brief silence before she said anything.

‘Tom, I think, perhaps, you ought to ask a few questions.' She looked and sounded solemn.

‘You think it's a good idea for me to try to be a candidate?'

‘Why do they want you? You have no experience and you are very young for this kind of work. Perhaps those are their reasons.'

‘But I'm white, ‘Becca, white! I know that shouldn't be an issue, but can you imagine thousands of black people voting for me!'

‘I would. You're right to think about the colour of your skin, but they would not care about that if they thought you would be honest with them. Tom, these people are desperate for real change. You have got to answer the party as if you are going to be a sure winner.'

‘Yes, but I'm just a farmer's son who is happy to grow beautiful flowers for rich Europeans to put on their tables.'

‘And they want our picture for their election book. Wonderful!'

‘I thought you wanted a quiet life for us on the farm here.'

‘I do, Tom, but if someone asks to help clear some of the mess in this country, we can't just shut ourselves away, mind our own business. This is our business.'

‘You're the one who should be standing! You're beautiful and they love you.'

‘I am a woman. They are not ready for that.'

Tom looked away and, after a long time staring across the lake, sighed. ‘And I'm not ready for them,' and, after another long pause, ‘I wish I hadn't met them. It was just an accident really. They just happened to be in the Nairobi Club.'

‘Not an accident.'

‘But they've planted … disturbing thoughts.'

‘We are not meant to hide behind walls.'

‘Well, I've told them. It's all right to let them use our picture? They want to put it on the cover of some book.'

‘They will have to take one first.'

‘Rebecca, it's wonderful.'

‘What is wonderful?'

‘Listening to you talk like this. I'm just a boring, predictable Farmer Giles but you … I'm getting a terrible thought, right this minute. That you are far too good to be wasting your time marrying a git like me.'

She laughed. ‘Git? What is this “git”?'

‘Prat, air-head, bozo, waste of space …'

‘Fiance, that's a word I like. It has some romance about it. Betrothed, even better. I am hoping to settle some things about the wedding. What date …'

‘June seventeenth, Grandma's birthday. You're my present to her. She loves you and I'm bringing you into the family.'

‘That's settled, then. How many guests?'

‘Hundreds. Not many from my side, but you've got dozens, the coast lot and the Somali family.'

‘Mama's family? They won't come. One of the family marrying a white man, it's a disgrace.'

‘And Pastor Kamau will marry us.'

‘Silly! Papa is giving me away! That's how you say it?'

‘Don't know. Never been married before. But that's enough planning for now. I'm hungry. What are the mamas cooking up for us tonight?'

‘Fish, I think. I'm going to the village to cook for Papa.'

‘But why can't the girls …?'

‘Besides, Mr Briggs is coming over. I don't think he enjoys himself when I am sitting at the table.'

‘But Bertie loves you!'

‘Yes, as long as I am bringing the plates, not eating from them!'

‘No, that's not true. ‘Becca, what are we doing to ourselves here? This colour stuff. Why do we watch out for other people's problems about that? Let them sort them out, if they have to. Perhaps you could invite me over tonight. I've had enough fish for a while.'

‘Soon, Thomas. Mama and Papa are not ready yet. The village, too, perhaps. It's not an easy thing to have your little world turned upside down.'

The last of the sun's rays were angled sharply upwards behind the mass of the heights of Eburu. The headlights of Bertie's car were moving towards them along the driveway. All his life Tom had found these few minutes of dusk to be the most magical part of the day. After a brief embrace, they separated. She moved around the edge of the veranda, a shadow melting into the evening. He ambled into the house and up the stairs to take his long-delayed bath.

iandazi had been open as a restaurant for just a few months. It was on Oserian land and the owners had spent a lot of the profits from their flower growing to create a luxury restaurant with a few rooms close by for an overnight stay. The centrepiece was the large European house built eighty years before, back in the days when the Happy Valley set were doing the rounds.

It was set back off South Lake Road a few kilometres from Hell's Gate park and hot springs. On this side of the road the hill sloped steadily all the way up to the A104 and the villages on the top of the Escarpment. Down here there was a small private school and pastureland with gallops for the horses of Maggie Forrest, one of the leading trainers in the country.

The party was outdoors with fifteen tables set out formally at Rebecca's request. She had insisted on footing half the bill. The radiant couple greeted the guests as they arrived. The sound of African songs for tourists played by three young men borrowed from the country club was soon relegated to background music by the animated chatter and the regular whoops of delight of new arrivals, especially first timers at Kiandazi when presented with this oasis of city sophistication out in what they would have described as wild bushland.

Two surprise guests danced up the steps from the car park and threw their arms around Rebecca and Tom. Toni Wajiru explained. ‘We had five days before opening down in Florida. We couldn't miss this party. We've got a car full of presents from the gang.'