Dark Oil (17 page)

She spoke in Negalese, with ease and kindness, praying he would be able to help. “I need a phone, but I don't want anyone to know I've got it,” she said.

“It's a surprise?” the child asked. Lara nodded and he replied with enthusiasm as his delicate face lit up. “I like surprises. Is it a birthday present?”

“Not a birthday, but it would be a beautiful present. The problem is, we don't want anyone in the shop to know or the information will spread very quickly. Could you buy it for us and keep it a secret?” She looked into his soft brown eyes, eyes that reminded her of a deer's, and wondered about the consequences for him if anyone found out he had helped the foreigners. “Would you be able to help without getting into trouble?”

“Yes.” He seemed eager. “I have many family. I often run errands for them. Nobody will ask who it is for.”

“You are sure you won't get into trouble for it?”

“I am sure.”

“Where would he buy it?” asked Jack.

Lara translated the question. “At TelAfco” the boy answered. Lara handed him some money for the phone. “And here, a few more zenias to buy yourself something for your trouble.”

The boy's cheeks reddened. “That's so kind. But you don't have to give me anything. I am happy to help with surprises.”

“Please,” Lara insisted, holding out the notes. Then, realising the boy would have to say he'd taken the money from her if his parents asked how he'd bought whatever it was he was coveting, she let the zenias fly away, carried by the soft breeze that was starting to blow.

The boy leapt forward and put his foot on the money, to stop the wind carrying it further. “Now that I have found money in the street, near the Global Oil office, but not too near, I will buy the bike I've always wanted.” He was beaming.

“How are you going to justify that for reimbursement by the company?” asked Jack. “He's not coming back. You know that, don't you?”

Lara smiled. Sure, there was a possibility he wouldn't, but the child struck her as kind and honest. “My money. Do you have a better idea?”

Jack laughed. “You're quite a woman, you know that? Your husband's one lucky man.”

Lara smiled half-heartedly, hoping Tim still felt the same way, although she had her doubts. A few minutes later, in a cloud of dust, the young boy was racing towards them, a box in his hand.

“See!” Lara exclaimed, her whole body feeling lighter.

When the boy reached them, panting like a fox chased by a hunter, he gave them the box. “It's the model my uncle buys. He loses his, or drops it every few months.” The boy laughed, his eyes sparkling in the sun. “He's not good with phones.”

Lara took the phone out of the box. “It has no camera” the boy said apologetically. Lara couldn't help but smile. The availability of, and familiarity with, technology—mobile phones, pay TV—surprised her. It struck her as being at odds with the poverty of the country.

“Did you tell them who it was for?” she asked.

The boy shook his head. “They didn't ask so I didn't say. Now I'm going to buy my bike with the money I found blowing in the wind.” He ran off giggling and waved goodbye to them without turning around.

Lara translated what the boy had said for Jack. Jack examined the phone. “As far as I can see it's not tapped. Let's go near the communications tower and try to get a line out of this hell hole.”

Suddenly their world was transformed. Instead of the dry sand, Lara saw the dainty tree in front of the office and instead of the grey buildings she saw the blue sky. It wasn't over. They had a chance. She saw herself hugging her mother. She saw herself in Tim's arms, reconciling.

They walked to the end of the street and turned into a small lane. Cutting through vacant land they arrived at the tower. There was a small garden facing it, in front of one of the larger homes in Zakra, and they sat in the shade of one of the very few trees in the city centre.

Lara dialled Alan's number. There was no need to look it up. She knew it by heart. She had been prepared to dial it for some time now. It rang. And then, before anyone had a chance to answer, she got cut off.

She dialled again. And again. Sometimes she pressed the re-dial button. Sometimes she re-entered the number in full, in case it made a difference. She mostly heard the recorded message to check the number and dial again and each time it wore her down a little more. A few times—she lost count how many—she got through and it rang normally, only to be cut off before Alan answered.

Every now and then Jack took the phone out of her hands and tried the number himself, probably to give her a rest. Time went by slowly and they started to talk, first about work, then hobbies, and then Martin.

“You don't seem to like each other much.” Lara watched Jack's reaction.

His neck stiffened. “You can't like everyone.”

“You don't strike me as someone hard to get on with. Everyone else seems to like you. Is it because of Ange?” Curious about his past, she was hoping he'd open up to her. He seemed to relax for an instant, moved his lips to speak, but then shut them without a sound. Lara thought she'd better leave him alone.

She dialled Alan again and got the dreaded recorded message to check the number. “I can't believe this. This is terrible, terrible!” She felt a sudden rise in her body temperature, exasperation beyond any she had known before.

She was usually calm in the face of office equipment malfunction, late deliveries, human error and generally all common sources of annoyance in her job.

But this was different. It felt like her whole life depended on it. If she didn't get hold of Alan, she couldn't go home without losing her job. Not only that, she'd be hard pressed to find another one without references. If she didn't make it home, she wouldn't be able to sort out the problems in her marriage and she had more than her fair share of problems with Tim. And she wouldn't be there for her mother, if what she dreaded the most were to happen again.

“It's useless.” She threw the phone across the patchy grass and covered her face with her hands. She felt anguish transform her expression as it tightened her muscles, anguish she didn't want Jack to see.

“It'll be all right.” He put his hand on her forearm. “Hey, look at me Lara.” He gently turned her face towards him. “So we'll be here a few weeks. It's not great, but it isn't the end of the world, is it?”

She couldn't answer, so big was the lump in her throat. He tried to cheer her up. “I know it's hard putting up with me. I'll be on my best behaviour, though. I promise. No more pretending to drink detergent.”

She smiled. “It's nothing to do with you. I have a problem at home.”

“Anything I can do?”

She shook her head, frowning. “Afraid not. “And then, perhaps because of all the attention he was giving her, perhaps because his voice was so caring and his hand on her forearm so soft, the dam burst. She couldn't stop the torrent of tears, the worry that had been building up hour after hour, minute after minute, from escaping.

“I think he's seeing someone else and I'm stuck here,” she wailed. To her it was the end of the world, the end of her world. “I feel like a fool, like I must be to blame.”

Jack stroked her arm. “I know what that's like. I'm sorry. If something like that's happening, he's the fool, though, not you.”

“And then Mum. . .she's not well.”

“Oh, Lara, I'm sorry.”

It would have been so easy to let herself go, to slip into his arms, rest her head against his shoulders. Her body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord.

She pulled back. She wouldn't do that, not in the worst of circumstances. And she was grateful Jack made no attempt to hold her, touch her, progress to a kiss, or more, when many men would have. He wasn't the womaniser Martin made him out to be. Surely, he wasn't, was he?

“Thanks Jack, it's so kind of you to say that. Anyway, maybe I'm over-reacting. I hope so.”

He nodded, but only half smiling. She thought she saw a sadness in his eyes, sadness triggered by her last few words. Perhaps they had brought back memories.

“Ange was, uh, lively and interesting and was once married to Martin.” She studied his face while he spoke. It was serious and heavy. She could tell he was back in a place that had once carried pain. She gathered he was about to reveal a secret about Ange, something he still found difficult, as if Lara's show of emotion had given him permission to open the door to his intimate past.

He looked up as the mobile, that lay on the grass a few metres away buzzed. “It's ringing.”

“Oh, my God. It is, too.” Lara leapt forward and grabbed it as if she had found the Holy Grail. She looked at the number on the display and gasped.

It was Alan Smiles.

Lara left her bags in the entrance and rushed into the kitchen where Martin and Jack were gulping down a quick coffee before they left for the airport.

They had agreed not to talk about their imminent departure, neither at the house, because it was bugged, nor in public places in case someone should overhear them. If the government found out they were leaving so swiftly, the Minister might exert his influence over the customs officials to find an excuse to keep them in Negala.

The officers could easily misplace their passports, for example, or go through their bags with a fine tooth comb, taking as much time as required to make them miss their flight. And, since there were only two flights a week out of there, that would mean another three days in Negala, three days during which anything could happen.

Alan had been reasonable once he had been given the full picture—more than that, he had been supportive and, she thought, even sounded concerned. He had told them to leave Negala as soon as they could, urging caution, and wished them luck before hanging up.

It had been such a blessing to get hold of Alan. There was nothing Lara wanted more, even if it had interrupted Jack's confession about Ange. Lara had asked about Ange since, but the moment had passed and Jack had avoided responding—a small price to pay for a ticket home, Lara figured.

In the kitchen they swallowed their drinks hastily. Martin was the first to stand. “All right. We're ready to go to the fish markets? You'll enjoy it Lara. It's quite a sight.”

Lara nodded. “Can't wait.”

Luckily Bengali was out of the way. Jack had sent him down to the shops with a long list of supplies to purchase. The driver might ask why they were taking bags, but Lara felt confident she could come up with an explanation he would believe, even if it might sound fanciful to most people. After all, this was the man who had braked dangerously at the roundabout, literally wanting to stop as close as possible to it. He didn't strike her as the smartest person in Negala.

They put their bags in the back and climbed in. “To the fish markets,” Martin ordered in his usual rather abrupt fashion and the driver started in that direction.

“Put fish in suitcase not good,” blurted the driver.

Lara couldn't help but smile. That was one interpretation of the situation she hadn't anticipated. “No, after the market we have to go to the airport to send off these bags.”

Jack turned the other way and she suspected he was holding back laughter. She suppressed her own nervous giggle, looking out the back window more to distract herself than to see if anyone was behind them. To her astonishment there was a car, a big black shiny car, following them in a cloud of dust.

She nudged Jack and he too peered through the rear window. “God help us,” he whispered and Lara felt the strain of the situation tighten the muscles in her neck. She clasped her hands, resting them in her lap and kept her focus on them for a while, trying her hardest not to stare out of the back window again. But she had to glance every now and then. It was stronger than her.

Five minutes later, as they approached the turn-off to the fish markets the black car was still behind them. Martin looked at his watch. “It's late, I'm afraid. Maybe we drop
these bags off at the airport so they're put on the plane, and afterwards we'll go to the fish markets.”

Lara nodded. “That's a good idea.” She and Jack exchanged a furtive glance. It was enough for her to feel their closeness, a closeness that had been growing steadily and felt even stronger now that they were keeping their true plans from the driver and everyone else in Negala. Having a secret, even an innocent one, brought you so much closer.

She peered through the rear view window once again, staring at the car behind them. It was probably a government vehicle. Everyone else seemed to have battered old bombs in Negala. It would follow them to the airport. She imagined they would be intercepted as they parked the car. They'd be given some excuse as to why they needed to immediately go see the Minister's right hand, or some other person who just had to speak with them straight away.

They might even be arrested on false pretences. Anything could happen, anything to keep them in the country. The Minister would have them under his thumb, would continue to exert pressure on them. He would make life unbearable for them until he was given the “donation” he demanded.

As they arrived at the turn-off to the markets the black car showed no sign of slowing, nor did its left indicator start to blink. Lara's heart thumped so hard she could feel it beating in her throat. She slid down in the seat, unable to look behind her any more.

She felt totally incapable of facing the fact they were probably going to be stopped before they could get on the plane. Like a petrified child wanting to stay strong, she thought of the most futile of things to take her mind off the danger: she thought of a birthday present for her mother.

Jack gently tapped her forearm. “See that beautiful black car? I nearly bought one of those.”

“I can't bear to look” she murmured, closing her eyes.