Girl with the Golden Voice (7 page)

The face of Julius Rubai came into her mind. He wanted her. She knew it. Yes, to have around for a while until he became bored and ready for the next one. She feared this one. The family was powerful and rich. Perhaps Mama, no, no, Papa would always protect her. Please God, he knows nothing about this.

‘Oh, God, where am I taking myself?'

She hid her face in her hands at the thought that at that very moment Tom was being drawn away from her. He was with his friends in the middle of their kind of fun, the noise and the frantic laughter. She had seen these things at parties at Londiani. She understood how comfortable it was for these white farmers and lawyers and the rest. And by his side the good-looking woman who fitted in. Tom had never taken her to any place where she was recognised as anything other than the house girl.

She was beginning to convince herself that the dream was over. But she knew that her love was not over and never could be. Perhaps the nuns at Santa Maria would have her back.

Suddenly it all stopped — the fevered rising of distress, the wild imaginings, the despair. For the second time in the day she felt settling on her a cooling cloud of numbness, resignation, a kind of peace. She ceased to be a mental being. There would be no more judgements, just the acceptance of sitting on dusty ground, a cool breeze lifting off the lake and a Kenyan night enfolding her, protecting her under its cape of stars. She thought of her people sitting on this ground ten thousand years before, a million. All gone, all gathered in. Silence.

Then from up towards South Lake Road headlights and soon the familiar powerful purr of the Land Cruiser. Minutes later an upstairs light was switched on in Big House, in the only room visible to her from the acacia. Rebecca knew that room well. She had swept and polished it often enough for guests of the family.

A window was thrown open. There were voices. Tom was in her room. The laughter was hysterical. Rebecca, standing now, clutched her stomach. She wanted to be away. Tom had drunk too much. Would he take her? She considered screaming to make him know that she was close by. She was shocked to discover a longing rising in her loins. She envied this girl. She had always insisted that she would not play the whore, ever, ever. And now she would pay for her stupid, old-fashioned ideas of morality.

She sped down the bank and across the wash garden. Before she could reach the hedge, the light was turned off and the house became silent.

he Rubais were coming a-hunting. They had just spent four days up on their farm in the Nandi Hills. They were returning to their Karen mansion, moving south at a steady pace and timing their arrival at Londiani for midafternoon. Abel and Sally were riding in separate Mercedes, black and brand new. Each had the company of a driver and a heavily armed bodyguard. Many miles behind but rapidly catching up was a red BMW, Series 5. Julius, twenty-five year old son and heir, was at the wheel and alone. Father and son did not see eye to eye on the possibilities of kidnap on the open road in broad daylight. Abel and Julius were the hunters and the two very different objects of their pursuit were to be found at Londiani.

Abel was the most powerful man in the country. In the congress of thieves that was also known as the government of Kenya he was the prince. Officially, he was one of the group of twelve who advised the president on every conceivable matter concerning the State. In practice, though he was still only forty-five, he had been the president's confidant and conscience for almost a quarter of a century. He was also the only one of the twelve who had not been voted into office. Good luck, coincidence had played a significant part in his rise from relative poverty. At crucial moments he had been the right man in the right place.

He and Sally had been born six months apart on adjacent holdings in the Nandi Hills. Abel's father, Nathaniel, a shrewd, hardworking subsistence farmer, had seen the promise in his boy and managed to get him enrolled in the last British-run boarding school in the north-west. Kaptegat High was staffed by talented, mostly young English teachers, public school and university men, drawn to Kenya by the wide open spaces and the promise of adventure.

A very old-fashioned maths teacher recognised a gift for figures in Abel. Even in the school holidays the boy was loaded down with work. During these so-called free weeks, Abel took on a teaching role of his own. Sally was a quick learner. They were seventeen when Mr Trewethic left the school to live with his daughter in South Africa. On this teacher's advice Abel did not even apply for entry to university. The Englishman's parting gift proved to be another turning point in their lives. They left home to take up humble positions in the biggest, most successful firm of accountants in the country, Neisland, Kapper and Reed of Nairobi.

Their progress after this was quick. They rose like a pair of eagles who had chanced on the ultimate thermal. They married at eighteen and by the time Julius was born in the following year they had paid outright for a three-bedroomed house in Parklands.

Even the death of the president worked to move their careers forward. His successor, Daniel Lagat, was a Kalenjin just like themselves. Years before Danny Lagat had finished his teaching career in Kaptagat and in their brief time of overlap at the school Abel had impressed the future president with his honesty, his energy and his sparky wit. So, at twenty, the bright, thrusting country boy took over the supervision of the president's financial affairs. Daniel reckoned that an ambitious young man with no political allegiance would suit him well. Rubai would be his man with no divided loyalties.

His judgement brought immediate rewards. President Daniel had long ago mastered the art of the political game of two faces. In his early years he remained outgoing and popular and was often making speeches in public squares and sports fields. Being a sensible Kalenjin, he was fully aware of the power of money in protecting his future. He came to love the stuff above everything and Abel showed him how he could make sackfuls of it. His young assistant taught him that international donors were more than willing to direct funds towards Kenya as long the country was stable enough to allow their other investments to make profits.

So the crazy rumour grew that Daniel Lagat, man of the people, was one of the ten richest men in the world. Danny became more choosy about when and where to appear in front of the wananchi. He began to suspect that enemies were lying in wait in all sorts of dark corners. He grew especially nervous when he had to move around the country on the roads. When the head man travelled, his escort, in a dozen more black Mercedes, cleared the way ahead by sweeping down the middle lanes at breakneck speeds while all other traffic waited respectfully still on the verges.

Abel was careful to keep his own business interests as private as possible. He would not have liked his colleagues in the inner twelve to know that he was richer than the president. He and Sally kept producing children at regular intervals. Sally gave a sigh of relief two days after her fortieth birthday when little Esther appeared to become a companion to her six brothers. She had accomplished her duty on the parturation front.

Money was fine and Abel had accounts in a dozen foreign capitals. Cash was interesting, liquid and useful, but land was better. In yet another underhanded deal he had acquired the three thousand acres of the last virgin forest left in the Nairobi district. For a minimum outlay he had thousands of tons of prime quality logs in his sheds ready for export. In the clearings he was setting up clusters of luxury homes to be let out on lease. He had created a money factory out of wood.

For some time he had been eyeing the lucrative flower businesses around the lake with growing interest. All five big growers down there were ethnic Europeans. For all their Kenya passports, to Abel these people were foreigners. This meant to him, the African, that he must show what a morally upright businessman they would be dealing with. He must act with open-handed patience. He would focus on one farm at a time. In the end all the lakeside businesses would be his.

The McCalls were to be the first. One night Sally and Julius were with Abel on the way to a concert in State House. The car had to wait at a roundabout for other traffic to pass. Two large refrigerated trucks went by on their way to the airport. On their sides in large blue letters were the words ‘Londiani of Naivasha'.

Sally remarked casually, ‘Nice trucks. Hey, don't we know that name from somewhere?'

From the back seat Julius, their reluctant companion, had the answer. ‘The McCalls. Don't remind me. They had a kid a year behind me at Pembroke. Londiani, that's where they lived. You used to see them when you took me back.'

Abel narrowed his brow. ‘Sure … Alex wasn't it? The wife had a strange name. Quite friendly people. Didn't they invite us to call?'

Sally moved her head back to take a sidelong look at her smiling husband.

‘You know, Sally, I'm beginning to fancy myself as a flower power person!'

‘That's San Francisco, Dad. There are still some of them at it over there.'

‘Londiani, I'll remember that name.'

Three hours later it was a much changed Julius who was smitten by the idea of the up-country, out of the way farmstead that was Londiani. He had fallen in love, again, unexpectedly, totally, happily for a sixteen year old who had sung at the concert with her friend, Mary … something. On the way home in the car he was his usual unashamedly open self, at least while he and his mother were waiting for Abel to join them.

‘That voice. And she's so beautiful.'

‘Oh, Julius, boy, how many times …?

‘You and Dad knew each other all your lives, right? You think that's the only way love can work.'

‘No, but, oh, here's your daddy. Just be careful what you say now. He's not so understanding as your Mama.'

‘Did you ever read
Romeo and Juliet
in school, Mama?'

‘Yes, I did. But did you ever read to the end of that story?'

Abel sat down heavily and leaned forward to hand over a briefcase to his driver, Paul. The car moved off, but nothing could stem the flow of Julius's excitement.

‘Ah, but this is different. For one thing I didn't get a single word with her …'

Abel frowned. ‘What's going on?'

‘Julius has just met, correction, caught sight of your daughter-in-law to be.'

‘Not another one!'

‘I just missed speaking to her. She was on her way back to school. But I found out a lot about her. And, Dad, do you believe in omens? What about this? She lives on Londiani Farm, Naivasha. Remember those two trucks? Rebecca, Rebecca Kamau. Perfect name, eh? She lives in the farm village. The McCalls pay for her to go to Santa Maria …'

‘Londiani? Really?'

Abel squeezed himself into his comfortable corner and stared out of the window. He shut himself off from the conversation and let his mind click into flower mode. Omens he believed in, certainly. Tomorrow morning he would start things moving.

Meanwhile patient Mama was reminding her firstborn of the emails and phone calls they kept receiving from him in England.

‘I can't remember any of the names right now, but you seem to change your mind about once a fortnight. English, Americans.'

‘This is different. How many times you told us in Bible reading that God can change the way a man thinks in a couple of seconds?'

‘Julius!'

‘But isn't God interested in happy marriages any more?'

‘Of course He is, but at least speak to the girl first!'

It was five weeks later that he got to hear Rebecca's speaking voice. This time, after a concert at the Bomas Centre, there was a reception for artists and special guests. Confident, infatuated Julius did enough talking for three. Rebecca was shy and unwilling to meet his eager gaze He liked that. After half an hour's excited bombardment and showing off he managed to persuade her to let him take her out to the cinema. She had only agreed on condition that Mary came as well. He liked that, too. This event marked the beginning of a wooing that had been going on intermittently for five years. There had been lots of little distractions for him during this time, but it was the idea and fact of Rebecca that he returned to time and again.

In those years Abel Rubai had been no more successful in his quest. But Father was one who enjoyed the long game, the sparring. He would win in the end. Julius had made a recent discovery that had shocked him briefly and then set the wells of anger rising in him.

‘Bloody McCall! That ace number one bastard! When will I get him off my back for good?'

Julius's sources were reliable, especially the two who worked on the farm. Ten thousand shillings had bought a lot of information from this pair. A couple of nights of heavy drinking and he had it worked out. His confidence began to rise again.

Rebecca owed the McCall family a lot and when the young bwana started to fool around it wasn't easy for a girl. She was naive. He had seen that for himself. She was flattered by the white man boss' s attention. ‘She don't understand the way of it.' This was a case of misguided loyalty. He would put her straight.