I first came to Kenya. Up to now they’ve never come to fruition and the tin hut has sufficed. I’d like you to have a look over them and see if there’s anything you want to change. Then I’ll get a team going on the building of it.’
‘Why, I’d be delighted to look at them.’
‘You’ll be there a lot more than I will, so you might as well have a say,’ Bill said, pouring himself another glass of champagne. ‘God, I hate this stuff! Have you any beer, Aleeki?’
‘Yes, sahib.’ As Aleeki scuttled away to get it, Cecily could read the tension on Bill’s face.
‘So,’ he said as Aleeki reappeared with the bottle of beer, ‘have you decided when we’re going to make the announcement?’
‘Well, as soon as we have a date for the wedding, I suppose. Kiki has suggested the third Friday in April.’
‘That sounds about right,’ Bill nodded. ‘Hopefully just before the rains arrive. And what about the ceremony itself?’
‘Kiki wants to hold it here.’
‘Whatever you want, Cecily, is fine by me. All that is your concern; I’ll just turn up wherever and whenever.’
‘The only thing I’d like is a minister to marry us. In the eyes of God and all that,’ Cecily said tentatively. ‘It just won’t feel the same if it’s a civil ceremony. Kiki says she knows a pastor in Nairobi who would conduct the service.’
‘Good, fine. If that’s important to you, then go ahead,’ Bill answered abruptly.
‘So you don’t believe in God?’ Cecily asked him.
‘Not in a traditional god per se, no. Haven’t you noticed how every god is made in the culture’s image? Jesus was an Arab from Israel – swarthy and dark-skinned, yet in every painting we see, his skin is as white as the average Christian’s idea of snow. However, I do believe in a magnificent maker, as I call it. In other words, something that created all we see in front of us.’ Bill swept his arms around. ‘Because it is a miracle that we can live in such beauty, don’t you think?’
‘Magnificent maker.’ Cecily repeated Bill’s words, pleasantly surprised by his uncharacteristic eloquence. ‘I like that.’
‘Well, thank you. Despite being a humble farmer, I do have my moments,’ Bill replied.
‘I . . . I was wondering where you were educated?’
‘I suppose your parents are asking for my credentials?’ He gave her a wry glance as Aleeki arrived with their supper.
‘No, it’s just that there are lots of things I feel I don’t know about you, and I should.’
‘Well, I went to Eton, which, as you may know, is a school where the British aristocracy are beaten into submission and made ready to go and run an empire. A hideous place.’ Bill shuddered. ‘I cried like a baby at night for months on end. Strange as it may seem, it was Joss Erroll who saved me. He was in the same year and house as me. On the surface not at all my type of chap, but for some reason we hit it off and we’ve remained good friends ever since. Sadly Joss was expelled from Eton – you can imagine he never played by the rules. I went to Oxford to study Law, but then I was drafted into the army at the age of eighteen towards the end of the Great War. I was lucky because by then it was all over, bar the shouting. I stayed in the army for a couple of years, having no idea what exactly I wanted to do with my life. Then my fiancée left me, and . . .’ – Bill took a gulp of his beer – ‘I rather lost the plot.’
‘I’m so sorry, Bill.’
‘Please don’t be, Cecily. You’ve suffered from the same malady recently, and in fact, it was a blessing in disguise. I’d given up thoughts of going back to the law by then, so Joss tipped me the wink that the British government was looking for young men to come out to Kenya and establish a community – as well as impose some sort of order on the locals, of course. They were offering land by way of a bribe. I signed up, got my thousand acres and out here I came. That’s not far off twenty years ago now. Can’t believe I’ve been here so long,’ he sighed. ‘So that’s a little more about me, now what about you? Perhaps you should at least tell me who the father is,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘So