flustered Bertie blinked sharply to hold back a tear. âOh, lots of things. I just saw you again at Ewanâs age. Itâs the time of year. You two look after each other out there. Donât bother to bring back the bike tonight. Solomon will come over in the morning.â
Within minutes Tom was travelling at a sedate speed down South Lake Road in the direction of Hellâs Gate. Clinging close to his back, Rebecca was enjoying her first ride on the Harley. The breeze they created caused her scalp to tingle and played with her long, black hair, making it dance about erratically. Progress was slow and not only because Tom wanted it that way. The workers on the flower farms had finished for the day and on both sides of the road hundreds of them were walking and chatting their way into Naivasha town. There was not a single one of them who did not know the young couple going in the opposite direction. In six months Rebecca had become the most famous woman in the country, an international singing star with the Toni Wajiru band. Tom had miraculously survived two violent attacks on his life. It was not only the local kids who had given him the nicknames of Superman and Lazarus.
So there was a great deal of smiling and waving and calling in their direction. It was Tomâs first outing on the bike since the day, nine months before, when he had taken Lucy, a friend visiting from England, on the same route, with almost fatal consequences to himself. He needed to try to regain his equilibrium after the visit of the Rubai family. It was not only Rebecca who needed to see the mind doctor. Abel Rubai who had supposedly come for some kind of reconciliation and his son, Reuben, had caught him unawares and, without realising it, unleashed the demon. Julius was dead. How much guilt did he bear for this death? Stephen, the pastor father of Rebecca, had almost succeeded in leading him out of this dark forest of his own creation. Rebecca could help him take those last few steps.
On the road to Eburu they would pass through a real forest. At the Kingoni police post they left the tarmac and were onto the wide, dusty trail that would bring them to the north side of the lake. One advantage of the late coming of the short rains was that where there normally would have been deep mud, the track was dry and the many potholes easy to see. Tom made brief stops, just as he had done when Lucy was his passenger.
Each time after the sound of the motor died and the dust had fallen to earth, they sat in silence and just looked around. Rebecca was aware that Tom was troubled, had been since that night when the bullet from Juliusâs gun lodged in his thigh. She knew that something had happened, something was said the day before to make things worse for him. The forgiveness talk had failed.
Since he was a boy Tom had never been one to share his problems, but Rebecca knew that there had been angry words exchanged in the meeting that was meant to bring some kind of peace. Nor was she fooled by the careless light-heartedness in his manner on their journey out.
After travelling along forest trails and over rough, undulating tracks, he parked the bike under a tree at the top end of a grass airstrip. It was wider and longer than the home strip on Crescent Island. On this road to Eburu, much further away from the lake water, big animals were rarely seen. Perhaps only the birds had a home here though. On his many visits, he had sometimes shared his refuge with giraffe or gazelle and others of the diminishing numbers of other creatures of the African plains who were passing through. They sat comfortably, arms interlinked with their backs resting against the smooth trunk of a yellow fever tree. They said nothing. It was enough to be part of the vast, dry landscape, with the sun well down in the western sky. Dusk was not far away. In the cool of the late afternoon, every blade of grass, every leaf seemed unwilling to break the stillness. The loudest
Within minutes Tom was travelling at a sedate speed down South Lake Road in the direction of Hellâs Gate. Clinging close to his back, Rebecca was enjoying her first ride on the Harley. The breeze they created caused her scalp to tingle and played with her long, black hair, making it dance about erratically. Progress was slow and not only because Tom wanted it that way. The workers on the flower farms had finished for the day and on both sides of the road hundreds of them were walking and chatting their way into Naivasha town. There was not a single one of them who did not know the young couple going in the opposite direction. In six months Rebecca had become the most famous woman in the country, an international singing star with the Toni Wajiru band. Tom had miraculously survived two violent attacks on his life. It was not only the local kids who had given him the nicknames of Superman and Lazarus.
So there was a great deal of smiling and waving and calling in their direction. It was Tomâs first outing on the bike since the day, nine months before, when he had taken Lucy, a friend visiting from England, on the same route, with almost fatal consequences to himself. He needed to try to regain his equilibrium after the visit of the Rubai family. It was not only Rebecca who needed to see the mind doctor. Abel Rubai who had supposedly come for some kind of reconciliation and his son, Reuben, had caught him unawares and, without realising it, unleashed the demon. Julius was dead. How much guilt did he bear for this death? Stephen, the pastor father of Rebecca, had almost succeeded in leading him out of this dark forest of his own creation. Rebecca could help him take those last few steps.
On the road to Eburu they would pass through a real forest. At the Kingoni police post they left the tarmac and were onto the wide, dusty trail that would bring them to the north side of the lake. One advantage of the late coming of the short rains was that where there normally would have been deep mud, the track was dry and the many potholes easy to see. Tom made brief stops, just as he had done when Lucy was his passenger.
Each time after the sound of the motor died and the dust had fallen to earth, they sat in silence and just looked around. Rebecca was aware that Tom was troubled, had been since that night when the bullet from Juliusâs gun lodged in his thigh. She knew that something had happened, something was said the day before to make things worse for him. The forgiveness talk had failed.
Since he was a boy Tom had never been one to share his problems, but Rebecca knew that there had been angry words exchanged in the meeting that was meant to bring some kind of peace. Nor was she fooled by the careless light-heartedness in his manner on their journey out.
After travelling along forest trails and over rough, undulating tracks, he parked the bike under a tree at the top end of a grass airstrip. It was wider and longer than the home strip on Crescent Island. On this road to Eburu, much further away from the lake water, big animals were rarely seen. Perhaps only the birds had a home here though. On his many visits, he had sometimes shared his refuge with giraffe or gazelle and others of the diminishing numbers of other creatures of the African plains who were passing through. They sat comfortably, arms interlinked with their backs resting against the smooth trunk of a yellow fever tree. They said nothing. It was enough to be part of the vast, dry landscape, with the sun well down in the western sky. Dusk was not far away. In the cool of the late afternoon, every blade of grass, every leaf seemed unwilling to break the stillness. The loudest
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