Black Mischief (15 page)

‘Boys, time for a rest. Look, the bench! That's a bit of luck.'

‘Oh, come on, Mum! You knew all along.'

The bench was on the far side from the door, but there was an open window just above their heads. After more talk about plans for the day ahead, a few seconds of unexpected silence allowed them to hear the sound of a woman singing. Sam slid off the bench and looked up at the window.

‘There's a light on in the surgery, Mum. Come and see!'

‘Yes, I know, darling.'

‘Is Daddy in there working?'

‘Don't be stupid, Mo! That's a woman's voice.'

‘Yes, but Noah …'

‘Boys, come here.' Sonya hugged her sons close. They saw the tears in her eyes and heard the long, slow breaths. The woman's song was slow, too, and full of sadness. Child's intuition told Noah that something was wrong. He put his arms around his mother's neck and whispered into her ear. ‘It's Daddy, isn't it?'

Sonya might have wished for the gift of time, minutes, perhaps hours to fashion an answer that would be just right and would do least harm to her children. But she had only seconds to prepare for the revelation that would change their lives. Even this token of control was taken away from her.

Noah moved purposefully away from the bench and his mother's grasp, leading his brothers by the hand. She hurried after them and managed to reach the open door before them. Events were running away from her. What kind of a crazy, wild idea had she given in to? Whatever it was, it abandoned her at this last moment. She had no sensible words to offer her boys.

Samuel looked around his mother's legs and caught the eye of Maria as she looked up from her work. She interrupted her singing and smiled.

‘What are you doing, lady?'

‘Does Uncle David know you're here?' Eight-year old Noah knew all about the idea of being careful about strangers coming into your house in Nairobi.

‘Yes, he does know. Your mama will tell you.'

Sam, the smallest, the youngest, the most innocent, spoke his truth. ‘That's my daddy, isn't it?'

Maria looked up at Sonya, who was standing behind the little trio, and watched for a sign. It came in the form of a brief nod of resignation.

Maria came forward, holding out her hands. The boys responded while their mother remained rooted, fascinated and alarmed in equal proportion.

‘Come. There is a little step where I am working. You will see better.'

Sonya felt a sudden great heat pass along her body. It was as if she were about to melt. The scream that rose in her throat did not pass her lips. Her eyes hardly blinked as she watched the impossible scene being enacted five metres from where she stood.

Moses was the first to speak. ‘Lady, has Daddy just had a bath?'

‘Don't be stupid, Mo! Look, he's wearing his doctor's gloves!' Noah's superior age guaranteed superior knowledge. They might have been in a classroom with the teacher instructing them in simple biological facts.

‘Is our daddy dead? His eyes are closed, but I think he's smiling.'

The calmness in Sam's voice astonished his mother. What was going on here? Why weren't these boys showing what she considered to be normal children's reactions? Was this woman some kind of witch? No! No! Sonya was ashamed of the thought.

‘I tell you what. Mama will come over and we'll all sit down on Uncle David's big sofa here and have a chat. Plenty of room. No big ones. And what about a cold soda?'

Hosea Kabari was at the table when Sonya ushered her lively brood in for breakfast. He had been talking to David and Dorothy about what had happened up in Kericho after Simon's body had been brought in by a squad car.

‘The sergeant and his driver made a mistake. They thought they had picked up a drunk. Too hasty. Yes, they knew their passenger was dead. Even they are not that stupid. But they did not notice the wounds. Stabbed in the upper back, twice. Very sharp knife. The blood had stopped flowing. Dried blood, not so easy to see on black skin. He had been killed somewhere else and then dumped. Once we got him into the light, well, his picture was on the front page of
The Nation
.

‘So we dragged the chief out of bed. There were phone calls back and forth to Nairobi, the usual stuff.'

‘But where does your wife figure in all this? She's an amazing woman. We are desperate to try … heal Simon's fingers. I couldn't see any chance and I've been in this game longer than I care to remember. She virtually said “Hakuna Matata” then she and Sonya started messing about with all those bottles and jars. My sister is just as amazing. That was her husband they had on that table. It might have been some stranger! I mean … With respect, a woman comes off the street and spins this story about healing …'

‘And with respect to you, sir, when the chance comes, look at the good doctor's back. Find the place where the maniac struck. Look for the lacerations on the arm. It will not be an easy job.'

‘Okay, so let's say this is all true. How in the world do you square all this with your bosses, the big lawmen?'

Hosea smiled. ‘Don't forget we are not as civilised as you. Sometimes the way of mystery is the best way.'

‘Look out! Here come the boys. But I'll tell you this, Hosea. I can't wait to get back out there and watch her work.'

‘Doctor, Maria has many gifts, but the chiefest one is a compassionate heart.'

The next hour was a time for planning the day but also a time for coming and going. Bertie left for Naivasha after a warm but hectic goodbye to Sonya and the boys. He gave a lift to the sergeant who had to report in at CID headquarters on Nairobi Hill. He would collect his beloved old Chevrolet later. The arrival of Rebecca and Tom gave Sonya the chance to change her plans for the boys.

When she phoned Kenton, the headmaster was surprised that she could have her mind on school things at all, but she soon put him right. ‘Mr Robinson, Noah has his heart set on this football match. Some friends have agreed to take the three of them into Nairobi Park for the morning. If they arrive at three …? Thank you so much.'

Dorothy had heard these exchanges. She felt reluctant but obliged to bring up what she saw as a delicate matter.

‘Sonya, when are you going to tell the boys? Think about it. They are bound to see or hear something when they are in the city, and possibly from strangers.'

In reply, Sonya smiled and shook her head in bemusement. ‘Dorothy, they know.'

‘But how? When? I mean, I was here when they had breakfast, with all the usual arguments about Coco Pops and not wanting to eat oranges … You know?'

‘Yes, I do. It all happened out there in that amazing place we thought was just a pretty ordinary home surgery.'

Dorothy sat quietly for a few moments, holding her coffee cup. The only sign of her agitation was the rapid side to side movement of her wide eyes.

‘Sonya, they didn't cry. Do you think they really, truly understand?'

‘They saw Simon just like we did. It was amazing, I admit. Maria says that grief will come, and soon. But …'

‘My goodness, how can she be so sure? I'd better get out there and see for myself!'

onya left for Kibera before nine. She had given everyone fresh copies of her mobile number with a plea about the boys. She had a fear that they would suffer some reaction to their encounter with Maria when she was not with them. ‘Please, let me know at once.'

On the way down from Naivasha, Tom and Rebecca had heard newscasts about the discovery of Simon's body in Kericho. As they drove through the gates of the Daniels' house, they expected to meet a grief-stricken family. Surprises came in quick succession. The kitchen was full of the activity of a normal morning. This did not feel like a house of death. Perhaps it was a cover-up by the adults to protect the boys. Then they learned that Simon's body was in the surgery at the back of the house and, most amazing of all, that the boys had been in, seen their father's naked body as it was being worked on by a strange woman. Where were the tears or any clear sign of deep upset?

When Maura told them about the meeting with the Rubais the day before, the young couple could only see chaos everywhere. Sonya's request to get her boys out seemed like a first step back to some kind of order. She also did not want them to be caught in the heaviest of the traffic moving across town towards the big industrial estate on the Mombasa road, so she asked them to hang on for an hour. Tom took Noah, Moses and Samuel for a kick about on the lawn.

Rebecca, taken with the luxuriance of the city garden, set out to find a quiet corner. Her walk took her past the open door of the surgery and she slowed down for a glance inside. She might get a sight of the unusual lady working on Simon's hands.

She was clear of the opening when she was startled to hear her name called. ‘Rebecca, please!'

She hesitated before she turned back. She stood in the doorway and waited for this stranger to look up again from her work. Maria did not hurry and gave Rebecca time to look around the room if she chose to. She did not choose to except to take in the black coolness of the floor and the dazzling white of the walls, which seemed not so much to reflect the light as to be part of its source.

The naked shape laid out on the raised table two metres from where she stood held her transfixed and by the time that Maria looked at her again, she was conscious of a change in herself. Her initial sense of mild irritation when she was first ‘summoned' to appear before this healer or whatever she called herself was transformed to curiosity, excitement, even gratitude. She had forgotten the opening words she had planned to use in this unexpected encounter. The coolness of the tone was gone.

‘You are wondering how I know your name. But you are the most famous woman in this country. Our girls will be full of questions.'

Maria's smile was warm and, as David Daniels had discovered, compassionate. With a graceful nod of her head she invited Rebecca to come and be with her on her little platform. And she began to sing quietly as a housewife might do to encourage herself in her tasks around her home.

Rebecca ignored the cold shiver down her body and the heavy pounding of her heart as she prepared herself to confront the full view of the body of a murdered man.

She gasped. Rebecca had seen bodies before. The picture of the bleeding corpse of Julius would remain vivid in her memory. For her, the horror of death was its utter stillness. Looking down on Simon was different. The stillness was the same and she knew that if she reached down to touch him, the flesh would be cold and probably hard. But Simon seemed to be on the point of waking. The muscles of those arms would flex and be ready to throw a ball back to Noah. This man had not crossed over completely.

Maria carried on with her work as if she were still alone. The song continued as she worked a perfumed yellow ointment into his chest and shoulders. As she watched, Rebecca felt curiosity, but bewilderment was melting into the beginnings of fear. What she was seeing was not natural. It was interference, trying to hold back a process that was unstoppable, the dignified end of a life journey. She wanted to be back out where the birds sang in the warm air, where she could hear the boisterous shouts of this man's children playing with Tom on the lawn close to the wetlands.

‘Maria, I have to get back to the boys. We' re taking them to the park …'

Maria stopped her singing, but there was no break in the slow, rhythmic movement of her hands.

‘Rebecca, I heard you singing in the concert at the Bomas. My brother gave the tickets to me and Hosea. My brother's name is Paul. Before I married Hosea, I was Maria Miller. In the evening, after his work, Hosea is a pastor with the Baptist Church.'

Rebecca was puzzled. Why did Maria invite her into this cool place? Why this beginning of a family history?

‘Paul Miller, he is a good friend. Your brother? He mentioned his brother once, the lawyer in Boston but never a sister.'

‘Three sisters! I'm sorry that I am frightening you. I admire you so much.'

At last, she turned from her work. First, she wiped her hands on a blue linen cloth, then reached out. Rebecca looked down before she reached out herself to take the hands that were cool and smooth with a very strong grasp.

‘Those boys, wonderful children. They were here. They did not cry. I think that will come when they go to their own home.'

More confident, Rebecca asked about Maria's song. ‘I don't think I have heard that language before.'

‘Aramaic. ‘The Hymn of the Marys'. Tradition says they sang it when they were preparing the body with spices and ointments in the tomb.'

‘Maria, this is too much for me. I'm lost! Why are you doing this, for a dead person?'

‘I don't have the words that will satisfy you. Honouring the temple of the man that was. That's the best I can do. We have forgotten that this beautiful manifestation of flesh is not who we are. When we nurture the spirit … Rebecca, if I talked about auras, about vibrations, would it be easier? Even at this very second I can see, I can feel that you no longer have fear.'