The Star of Simbako Page 10

  ‘My mother?’ said Adanna. ‘No, she died in childbirth.’

  ‘I’m sorry. No one told me,’ but Sam blushed at her bad lie.

  ‘Oh, now I've embarrassed you. You shouldn’t worry. My father’s done a good job on his own.’

  ‘But he never married again?’

  ‘His heart broke when she died and he’s never recovered.’

  ‘Didn’t the elders oblige him to produce a male heir for the Chiefdom?’

  ‘Why do you think that? We’re not savages. I’m the heir, or at least the first in line. They may choose someone else if there is a better candidate.’

  ‘I apologise. I didn’t realise female Paramount Chiefs existed. First-born sons still inherit the throne in England.’

  ‘Yes, you’re backward over there.’

  Sam caught her expression and saw a laugh danced behind the dark pupils. She smiled.

  ‘We can’t help it. I had to cut the chains to escape from my boyfriend. He tried to stop me coming here.’

  ‘I can see why. If you hang around me, you will be li-ber-ated. Big time.’

  ***

  Ned drove into the yard of the house at Fona, scattering the palm leaves and almost running over Dembo, who stalked back to his cage, swearing in parrot. He sat in the car for a minute watching the leaves swirl around the yard and trying to slow his heartbeat. He was excited about seeing Sam again. There was something about her that made him want to reach through her guarded exterior and touch her hidden core. Before he left for Njahili, he had decided to start again with her, if she would have him, but the journey to the capital city had confused him and now he didn't know what he wanted.

  It started with his call to Alex Simmonds to tell him about the passport.

  ‘Did anyone get hurt? How is Sam?’

  ‘No, only shaken. Sam’s fine. She’s a trooper. Where did you find her?’

  ‘Blame my wife. She suggested that Sam might have more success charming our Chief Sesay than Fergus.’

  ‘She was right. The Chief almost purrs when she enters the room.’ I do too. ‘Only Fergus is immune to Sam, she inspires strong emotions. Fatimata is cooking up black magic in the kitchen to get rid of her.’

  ‘Ah, Fatimata. She’s dying of unrequited love for the Irish hunk. Sam will prove to be powerful competition for her. Anyway, enough of the soap opera that is Fona. How far have we got?’

  ‘The chief’s agreed to let us explore one terrace near the village. Sam complained that she didn’t get to choose a terrace based on geology rather than a royal decree, but she’ll get over it. She gets on well with the chief’s daughter, Adanna, who is only slightly younger than her. She’s got secrets too.’

  ‘That’s encouraging. Fergus seems convinced about the diamond's existence. I hope he’s right.’

  ‘Even if we can’t find it, it’s likely that an area which had one large diamond will yield another. We’ll soon find out.’

  ‘I like your logic. Oh, Gemma called me. She needs to speak to you. Can you ring her?’

  ‘My wife? Oh, it must be about the divorce papers. I should have signed them by now, but I admit to avoiding it.’

  ‘You need to do it as soon as you are able, so you can get on with your lives. I only found Sandra after I divorced my first wife.’

  ‘I found it hard to accept it that it finished after such a short time. We seemed to have such a perfect relationship before we married.’

  ‘It happens. Do you remember her number?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘Okay, good luck with the passport. Get back there as soon as possible. I don’t fancy Sam’s chances alone with Fergus.’ Simmonds laughed. Ned forced a bark.

  ‘Sam can look after herself. We’ll call soon from there with news.’

  ‘I'll visit before too long. See you in Fona.’

  ‘Bye then.'

  ‘Call Gemma.’

  Alex liked to give advice. The divorce from his first wife had been a success due to the mutual loathing they both endured. Neither of them could wait to get away and start again. It was different for Ned. He still loved Gemma, even though she had chosen someone else. The initial hurt and confusion had dissipated, but he still hoped it might be a mistake. Meeting Sam had made things worse though. Now he doubted his original feelings for Gemma. Did their student romance just peter out? Was Sam just light relief? He felt a connection with her that night in the bar, but what if it was it drink and coincidence? He rang Gemma.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi Gemma. It’s me, Ned. Alex told me you wanted to talk.’

  ‘Ned, how are you? I was expecting to hear from you.’

  ‘Sorry about the divorce papers. I promise to sign them the next time I’m in Britain.’

  ‘Oh, I didn't mean about that, although it’s something I wanted to discuss.’

  ‘What’s the problem? Hadn't we agreed to go fifty-fifty on everything?’

  ‘We had. That's not it. It’s just …’

  ‘It’s just what?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to go ahead with the divorce?’

  ‘Me? You did this. You didn't give me a choice. It's not me who went shopping for something better.’

  ‘Don’t be angry. I’m the one in the wrong. You spent a long time away though. I got lonely.’

  ‘Lonely? What about me?’

  ‘You had plenty to do. It’s different.’

  ‘I don’t believe it is. You chose someone else. How am I meant to accept that?’

  There was a silence. He heard birds in her garden and he imagined the wild roses in the hedgerows, the smell of honeysuckle in the evening. The perfect home for the perfect couple. What a cliché!

  ‘I’m not seeing him anymore.’

  Now it was his turn to be speechless. Was it a trap? Was he on Candid Camera?

  ‘What happened?’ He couldn’t risk a longer sentence in case his voice quavered.

  ‘He went back to his wife. She blackmailed him with the children.’

  Should he say sorry? Because he wasn’t. He felt smug and self-righteous. I told you so hovered in his throat.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t expect you to sympathise. I made a mistake. You were the love of my life.’

  Past tense. ‘What am I now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To work out if we should try again.’

  Ned didn’t remember saying anything else. He mumbled something to give himself an excuse to put down the phone. How did he treat this offer? He had longed for her to say this, dreamt about it for months, even though he assumed it was hopeless. And now, out of the blue, it happened. It seemed like redemption. What about Sam though?

  A knock on the car window startled him out of his reverie.

  ‘Mr Ned? Are you alright?’

  Fatimata loomed across the sun like an eclipse.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘You should come indoors. It will rain soon.’

  Ned peered through the smeared massacre of insects on the windscreen of the Toyota and saw only a blue sky that stood out like a colour on a paint chart. There was no point arguing with Fatimata, who considered herself to be an authority on the local weather, but his stubborn side won.

  ‘There's not a cloud in the sky. How do you know?’

  A dark cloud that passed through Fatimata’s face. She didn’t like to be contradicted.

  ‘I know a lot of things.’

  ‘So, can you tell me where Sam is?’ said Ned, reaching into the back of the car for his bag.

  ‘That woman is digging the terrace with Tamba.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t call her that. Her name is Miss Harris and she is our guest. You should treat her with respect.’

  ‘Like Mr Fergus does?’

  Ned considered his answer. He sensed an ambush, but he shouldn’t let her get away with this attitude.

  ‘Yes, jus
t like that.’

  ‘So, are you going to invite her to your room tonight?’

  ‘What are you talking about? How dare you speak to me like that?’

  Fatimata gave him a smug glance. ‘You told me to treat her like Fergus does. She came out of his room one evening. You should be aware who you are dealing with. That woman is a whore and mine is a Christian household.’

  Ned examined her face, trying to discern if she had lied, but he only read a look of triumph. He had walked right into that one.

  ‘I’m not discussing this with you,’ he said. ‘Make me some tea please, the drive has tired me out.’

  Fatimata glided off into the house, her prodigious backside disappearing after the rest of her, leaving Ned winded and shocked.

  ***

  ‘Mr Ned is back,’ said Sahr as they pulled into the compound and stopped beside the Toyota.

  Sam tried to stem the irrational tide of emotion that threatened to make her heart burst out of her chest and bounce into the house under its own steam.

  ‘That was quick. I understood it would take him longer than that to get a new passport.’

  ‘He took a copy of the old one. Maybe that made it easier.’

  ‘Perhaps. Thank you, Sahr. I guess you won't be here in the morning then?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Can you ask Mr Fergus to come and talk to me please?’

  That meant that they had a moment alone before Fergus came back in. Sam had been picturing this for days. The last thing Ned had said was that he was falling in love with her. That kind of declaration wasn't common. It happened to other people, in movies, not to Sam. It wasn't easy to put that out of her mind, even with all the shenanigans over the terrace.

  She tried to keep a neutral face as she entered the house. Ned and Fergus sat at a table covered in papers held down by dirty cups. Fergus was examining the satellite phone as if he was about to throw it across the room. The fan chugged away on the ceiling, shaking the heavy fitting in a way which suggested it was loosening its moorings and preparing for a death plunge. Sam never switched it on as she was certain it would fall on her head one day.

  ‘That thing’s a death trap,’ she said to no-one in particular. ‘Fergus, Sahr is outside and he wants to discuss his shifts with you. Oh, hi Ned, didn’t realise you were back.’

  Fergus raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. Sam caught his eye and grinned.

  ‘I’d better go outside and ask what he wants,’ said Fergus, hamming it up.

  Sam glanced to check if Ned joined in with the charade. To her disappointment, he shuffled papers, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘How did your trip go, Ned?’ she said.

  ‘Boring. Bureaucratic.’

  ‘You got your passport then?’

  ‘Yes. Are we going to converse about the bleeding obvious?’

  Sam jumped back as if he had slapped her. The edge in his voice cut off all romance like a scythe in the grass.

  She blushed with shame. What had happened? This was a train wreck. She needed to get out of there.

  She whirled around and bumped into Fergus who grabbed her to stop her falling.

  ‘This is cosy,’ he said, laughing, trapping her in his arms and missing the distress on her face. She pulled away and ran to her room, trying to keep in the tears which demanded escape.

  ‘What the fuck?’ said Fergus. ‘What did I do?’

  ‘As if you didn’t know,’ said Ned, who also headed for his room, his own behaviour having upset him almost as much as it had Sam. He went inside and slammed the door

  Fergus stood along in the dining room, shaking his head. ‘Tea, Fatimata! Tea, now for God’s sake.’

  ***

  Sam did not leave her room again that evening. Fergus and Ned ate in an atmosphere that was far from convivial. Fatimata slammed plates down on the table and had put so much salt in the food that it was inedible. The fan shook bits of plaster onto their plates.

  ‘Sam might be right about the fan,’ said Fergus. ‘Should we get someone in to fix it?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her?’

  ‘I’m asking you. What on earth happened in Njahili? It must be bad because I’ve never seen you like this before.’

  ‘It’s not about Njahili. Don’t act innocent with me. How could you do it? I realise I’m your employee, but I imagined we were friends too, since we've known each other thirty years.’

  ‘Ned, I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Did you fight with your wife?’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re trying to blame Gemma. Did you sleep with her too?’

  ‘Steady on there. There’s no need for that,’ said Fergus, perplexed. He had never seen Ned like this.

  ‘There is.’ Ned stood up, white in the face. ‘You had no right. Stand up!’

  ‘Jesus, what the hell’s going on? Are you going to hit me?’

  ‘You deserve it. Why did you take her from me? Did you even try to resist it? Hasn’t your family humiliated us enough yet?’

  ‘Who, your wife? What are you talking about?’ His bewildered expression stopped Ned in his tracks.

  ‘Don’t deny it. Fatimata told me.’

  ‘She told you what? Are you crazy?’

  ‘She noticed Sam coming out of your room one night.’

  The light dawned. Fergus put his hand on Ned’s arm and spoke softly.

  ‘Neddy, listen to me. There’s a good reason for it.’

  Ned whipped his arm away as if scalded.

  ‘Oh, I bet there is. What was she doing in there?’

  ‘I got bitten by an adder and fainted at dinner. She dragged me to my room and cleaned the wound. Look.’

  He proffered his hand which shone pink and inflamed at the edge of the graze. ‘I didn’t even sense her in my room, but Fatimata must have seen her coming out after she was finished and drawn her own conclusions. That woman is a vicious gossip machine.’

  ‘A snakebite? Do you swear?’

  ‘Come on, Neddy, do you imagine I’d touch your precious Sam? She wouldn’t even put the shorts on for me.’

  He ducked just in time.

  ***

  Later that evening, Ned advanced down the passageway and stood outside Sam’s door. He whispered her name, but she didn’t answer. It was hard to blame her after the way he’d behaved. She might be asleep. He was too ashamed to find out. It would be easier in the morning. He crept away again.

  Chapter X

  Sam got up at dawn determined to get out of the house before Ned surfaced. She packed herself a lunch of fruit and nuts and made a flask of tea and put them in her rucksack, leaving a few cashews out for Dembo the parrot. Then, with some trepidation, she made herself some breakfast in Fatimata’s kingdom. Carrying her eggs and toast out of the kitchen, she pulled out a chair and sat at the table. She ate without enjoying her food and sighed several times, unable to keep the disappointment in. She told herself that she was just being stupid and that Fergus had been right in the first place.

  Ned had obviously changed his mind while he was in Njahili. Perhaps he had spoken to his wife. Whatever the reason, she was not in the mood to see him and experience the quiet humiliation of the rejected under the scathing gaze of Fergus.

  Finishing her toast and gulping down her tea, she went around the back of the house to get some bottled water and feed the parrot. Dembo snoozed in his cage in the early morning sunlight which pierced the bars and warmed his grey feathers. He was having a parrot-themed dream and one of his feet was twitching on the bar.

  ‘Dembo? Dembo!’

  The parrot turned to face her and, seeing who it was, he shuffled along the bar until he was almost touching the side of the cage. He opened his mouth, showing her his lovely purple tongue.

  ‘Sam’s the boss,’ said Sam holding a cashew just out of reach of the bars. ‘Sam’s the boss.’

  Dembo tried to grab the cashew with his lethal beak, but she pulled it ba
ck a fraction and waited.

  ‘Sam’s the boss,’ she said again. Dembo peered at her as if gauging the likelihood of his prize.

  ‘Sam,’ he said.

  Sam didn’t know whether to be delighted or miffed.

  Throwing caution to the wind, she offered him a cashew through the bars of the cage and he almost took her finger off. He sat there looking pleased with himself.

  Shaking her hand and holding in the swear words, it occurred to her that they were both trying to get something, both trying to fool each other into doing what the other wanted. Like life really.

  Five minutes later, having given him several more nuts without result, she went to get the keys for the car, which were hanging on a nail inside the front door.

  She grabbed them and the rucksack and let herself into the jeep, which smelt irritatingly of Ned, reminding her why she was sneaking off early. She tried to concentrate on her triumph with the parrot. Any day now! Revenge was sweet. Imagining Fatimata’s face when Dembo finally let rip was some consolation. The next time Fatimata dangled some treat in front of him she would get a nasty shock. And the best thing was that, like Pavlov’s dogs, he would still say it long after Sam had left. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

  She started the car and turned towards the gate. She hadn’t driven for almost two years, but her muscle memory was good as she flicked the car into gear. Putting a cassette into the tape deck, she turned up the volume to drown out her misery. She reversed the car and dragged the steering wheel to the right to turn the jeep. Then she put the car in second gear and crept out of the yard.

  As she drove out, she saw Ned come running out of the house, his hair sticking up in the air. He was waving and shouting, but she pretended not to hear or see him. Let him stew, she thought, and swung the jeep into the street almost hitting a cow that was wandering along the road outside the house. She swerved around it and set off down the street.

  When she got to the river, she sat in the car listening to the end of the song, singing along with R.E.M. ‘That was just a dream, just a dream, dream.’

  She gazed across the river, trying not to be upset. The trees were still in the hot air and a haze rose from the ground. Birds were squabbling over their tightly packed territories, squawking and flapping their dusty feathers. She took a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly and releasing the tension of the night before. Try as she might, she couldn’t fathom Ned’s reaction.