The Clouds Beneath the Sun (53 page)

It had been a difficult day in the sense that it had been a profoundly
dull
day. She knew it made sense to stay in her room at the hotel, out of sight, but she hadn’t been able to read because she couldn’t concentrate or relax. Jack had left her his gramophone but she hadn’t been in the mood for music. She had strung out breakfast and then lunch for as long as she could, but the food had arrived much quicker than it might have done, the restaurant wasn’t busy, and it was plain that the staff wanted to tidy up and clear her plates away as soon as she had finished. She tried reading a four-day-old British newspaper that her father had brought with him but that didn’t work either. And she couldn’t sleep: she was slept out.

Was she going to marry Jack? She couldn’t get her mind around that either, not yet. But … he was involved politically, and she had found she liked that. It set him apart … apart from Dominic, even above him. She was thinking more and more about politics. Even back home, in nearby Rossington, race was an issue. Jack enlarged her mind.

At last, at long, long last, around five, he had arrived with Maxwell Sandys.

“No surprises so far,” Sandys had said, immediately after they had arrived and had been given water and were seated in chairs. “All went more or less as I explained to you yesterday. We got through all three pieces of physical evidence today, so you are on first thing in the morning. How are you feeling—Jack said you are worried about your health?”

“Right now I’m feeling bored and looking forward to this all being over, so far as my testimony is concerned. Don’t worry about my health, but thanks for asking. I’ll be fine tomorrow. How is the judge?”

“Yes, I was coming to that. He seems to have turned over a new leaf—not completely new, of course, he’s still the same old John Tudor, but he was remarkably polite to Ndekei when he pled not guilty. When that happened, a lot of people in the public gallery cheered and Tudor immediately got going with his gavel, shouting that he would clear the court if such a thing happened again, that this was a set of proceedings that would be run fairly but firmly, according to the strictest principles of the law. We think he was warning Ndekei not to base his defense on Maasai law, that that wouldn’t wash. But Tudor has been remarkably even-handed so far. He knows he’s the center of attention, and maybe all the hostile newspaper editorials have been getting to him.”

Sandys fiddled with his tie. “Now, if today is anything to go by, there will be about three or four hundred people outside the court. Pushing through them will be quite an ordeal, my dear. There
is
a back way into the court but—”

“No, no, I’ll go in the front door. I don’t like what’s happening, as you know, but I’m not ashamed of what I’m about to do, not at all. Going in the back door would be cowardly.”

Sandys nodded. “I thought that’s what you’d say. I
hoped
it’s what you’d say. If only more witnesses were like you.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s not all bad news, by the way. The newspapers have been pretty silent in the past few days, what with the
Gazette
being closed. With proceedings so near, they know they have to be careful, that they too could fall into contempt. But Edward Ongoche was in court. He is editor of the
East African Reporter
and he was telling me that they have commissioned a poll among its readers, to be run as soon as the trial is over. They asked people if tribal law should take precedence over English law and their findings are interesting. They found that their readers, who are mostly black, are divided equally. Just under fifty percent say tribal law should take precedence, and more or less the same figure say English law is better. The rest, a very few, don’t know.

“Ongoche says it’s a typical result in his view. Half the country realizes that tribal loyalties lead to tribal grievances and rivalries and those grievances will hold the country back. When they publish their poll they are going to run an editorial attacking Marongo, for exploiting Ndekei’s misfortune for his own ends.” Sandys smiled at Natalie. “It’s rather late in the day for your appearance in court, my dear, but it’s helpful to know that you are not quite as isolated as you may think.”

Again he fiddled with his tie, which seemed too tight for his neck. “Sutton is here, by the way, and was in court, making notes furiously. He’s retained a barrister to look after his interests. The man has no standing in court, but I suppose it makes him feel part of the proceedings.”

Sandys had left after arranging to collect Natalie from the hotel next morning.

She and Jack had eaten dinner in her room that evening. They thought it would be bad tactics to be seen enjoying themselves in the dining room. Owen Nelson, it seemed, had got on very well with Eleanor Deacon during their time together watching the trial and the two of them were having dinner with Maxwell Sandys. Natalie was pleased for her father.

After dinner, she and Jack had lain together on her bed, and he had said, “Would you like some music? Maybe ‘In fernem Land?’”

“You’re not being very subtle, Dr. Deacon. I told you I wouldn’t decide until after the trial.”

“Not long now.”

“No, so don’t push. Also, I need to know how ill I am. If we were Americans, your marital lawyers would be asking my lawyers what the low-down on my symptoms is. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No. I don’t think you’re ill. You look fine to me. More than fine.”

“Hmm. I may
look
fine, Jack, but I don’t feel it. In any case, what’s the hurry? Don’t you like the way things are? Don’t you like being where you are right now?”

He kissed her ear. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. I have everything I want—you, the gorge, my plane, all right here in Kenya.” He kissed her ear again.

“What about children? They are important to you.”

“Yes,” he said softly, adding a moment later, “I’d like your babies, Natalie, if you’d like mine.”

After they had made love a second time, he had left her so that—in theory at least—she could get some sleep before her ordeal. But sleep wouldn’t come, her mind was racing, running over the questions she assumed she would be asked, how she would phrase her replies, how she could avoid being embarrassed if Hilary Hall asked about her relationships in the camp. What would
that
do to her anger? she wondered.

Although it had been her idea tonight to send Jack away immediately after their lovemaking, she now wished she hadn’t. Normally, they lay talking and relaxing, “coming down” from wherever they had been, as he put it. That, as much as the lovemaking itself, was important to her peace of mind.

Maybe she should ask him back. They could curl up together, like spoons in a tray, and then she would be able to sleep.

There was a tap on the door.

She was off her bed in no time, a smile on her face. Jack had had the same idea. He was sensitive like that.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Jack who stood there. It was Christopher.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.” All she had on was her cotton nightdress.

“I’ve just had a late drink with Jack,” said Christopher. “He says he’s asked you to marry him.”

She caught her breath. “Yes. Yes, he has.”

“But you didn’t say yes straight away. That’s what he told me.”

She nodded. She felt naked in front of Christopher. She knew her nipples showed in outline through her nightdress.

“And if I asked you the same question … would I get the same answer?”

She stared at him. He was breathing heavily.

“I know I haven’t been as forward as Jack, or Russell for that matter. I told you when we were in that cave at Ndutu how it had taken me ages to pluck up courage to suggest the excursion. But … I almost … Just because I find it difficult to show my feelings doesn’t mean … it doesn’t mean I don’t adore you, because I do.”

The noise from the bar below carried up to them—laughter, glasses clinking, money rattling into the till.

Natalie put her hand and arm over her chest, to cover her breasts. “I haven’t given Jack an answer because, until the trial is over, I can’t think straight. I’m on edge the whole time and I’ve got more on edge as the days have passed.” She shook her head. “Jack’s offer came out of the blue and I’m still … Even after the trial is over, I don’t know when I can give him an answer.”

“Where does that leave my offer?”

“Christopher! I’m not a prize in a competition. I haven’t replied to Jack’s offer because I’m not even sure I want to get married right now anyway, to
anyone!
I’m touched in a way that his offer has prompted you to … to do what you have done, say what you have said. But…” She chewed in air, the way she had done when she had been swimming off the reef in Lamu and her knee had collided with the sea urchin. “But although I’m not sure of my feelings for Jack, I do know that it could never work between you and me, Christopher. I loved our night in the cave, and some of the game drives we have been on, the visit to the sand dunes. But that’s as far as it goes, for me.” She paused, taking more deep breaths. “I’m sorry.”

He grunted. “If it hadn’t rained when I was in Nairobi, before Christmas, if the road hadn’t been cut, you would never have gone to Lamu with Jack—that’s what did it, didn’t it? The days you had together then. And the nights.”

“It had something to do with it, yes. But… I’m sorry, Christopher, it’s more complicated than that—you know it is.”

“Jack’s always been luckier than me.”

She shook her head. “Luck doesn’t come into it. He stood up for me, the press conference was his idea, he understood that Marongo is a political animal, he made your mother see that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—change my story. That set him apart from everyone else. At least, in my eyes.”

“Our mother listens to him more than she listens to the rest of us. That was always true, when we were children.”

“Really? When you both asked me away for Christmas, she refused to take sides.”

“No, no, that’s not how it was! Being the oldest, the biggest, he got lots of treats before the rest of us. I was very jealous of Jack at one stage, but I got over it.”

“Tell me—” Natalie broke off and stepped back as some other people went by. She didn’t want to ask Christopher into her room, but she didn’t want the whole world to see her in her nightdress either. “Tell me,” she repeated when they had gone. “Jack told me a story about a fishing trip on Lake Naivasha, when you were in your teens and when he thought you had put dirt in the carburetor of the boat, out of jealousy, and that there was nearly a very nasty accident. Is that true?”

Christopher frowned. “Did he tell you that? Jesus! I had forgotten it.” He shook his head vigorously. “Of
course
it’s not true. Everyone knew about Hippo Point and how dangerous hippos can be. I can’t
believe
he told you that!”

But, Natalie noticed, Christopher was blushing. And he had begun to sweat, his forehead was shining, even in the dim light.

He shook his head again and took a step back. “I can’t believe he told you that!”

He moved back towards her. “He’s poisoned you against me, hasn’t he?”

“Now you’re being silly. Because I don’t want to marry you doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I do. But—”

“No! No! I know where I’m not wanted. I’m sorry I disturbed you. Good luck tomorrow.”

He turned and was gone.

•   •   •

An usher showed Natalie into the witness box. There were two steps up. She looked around her. The court was larger than she had expected. Most of it was polished wood, the bench where the judge sat, the benches where the lawyers sat, the witness box where she was standing. But there were two white pillars, supporting the public gallery above.

The noise from the gallery had risen as she appeared, but there was no shouting.

To her right, as she faced the court, was the judge, who she now came up against for the first time. John Tudor was a small, dark-haired man, with a rather blueish shadow on his jaw. He wore a gray robe, with a red sash diagonally across it, and a short curly wig, almost white. He looked at her over his half-moon, horn-rimmed spectacles.

Opposite the judge was Mutevu Ndekei. He was seated in the dock, also made of polished wood, with a high brass rail, and he was wearing a gray, open-necked shirt with short sleeves. He looked every bit as muscular as she remembered, with big thick arms, and he towered over the guards either side of him. He looked at Natalie without expression.

The evening before the trial started, she had learned from Daniel that the concert to aid Ndekei had passed off without incident. Atape and her children had been paraded onstage, Marongo had made a fiery speech, but had announced no “deal” with anyone. He was wily enough to keep Russell and Richard Sutton Senior waiting until the trial was ended. A collection had been taken at the concert for Ndekei’s family, and pictures of him, Atape, their children, and Natalie were all over the front pages of this morning’s Nairobi newspapers.

The various lawyers—Hilary Hall, Maxwell Sandys, their respective juniors—were arrayed along the polished benches immediately in front of the judge, boxes and papers on their desk lids. Immediately behind them sat a good-looking man with a face Natalie knew but couldn’t put a name to. When she looked at him he smiled back.

Over on the far wall were two benches filled with the press. They were not smiling. It was the only mixed-race part of the court. What struck Natalie most was the fact that up in the public gallery, where she could just make out Atape, in a yellow and red wrap-around dress, the faces were all black. In the well of the court, behind the lawyers, sat Eleanor, Jack, Christopher, Daniel, and her father. Another group was made up of Richard Sutton Senior, Russell North, head and shoulders above everyone else, and a barrister in a gown and wig who must be Sutton’s counsel. All those faces, save for Daniel’s, were white.

The usher was standing before her. “Do you wish to take the oath or to affirm?”

“I will affirm,” said Natalie and he turned the card over so she could read from it.

She knew her father would be disappointed that she had affirmed rather than taken the oath but it couldn’t be helped.