Cry of the Firebird Read online

  It wasn’t going to be easy to step into his shoes. Walking into the World Health private clinic he’d set up, knowing that everyone there was possibly colluding with him. But she needed his last few years of research on HIV in the community of Kimberley, and anything he had about the meningitis patients.

  Her specialisation in cluster medicine was an ace up her sleeve and one that Marion was now calling on. As Lily had lived in South Africa through the apartheid era, she knew the dynamics of the country already, which would help speed her investigation into his research along.

  Admittedly, both she and Quintin knew they were walking into a viper’s nest. Hijackings in South Africa were common enough. She had friends who’d been hijacked at gunpoint, and some had their babies or children in the back seat stolen with the vehicles. Sometimes they’d been found on the side of the road, occasionally alive, a few of them dead. This had become a way of life here. Although the ever-resilient South Africans had come up with a hijack mesh to put on the driver’s window to stop the smash’n’grab attacks, it didn’t appear to be helping as the hijacks continued.

  She squeezed Quintin’s hand. He was like the Yin to her Yang and would help them to blend quickly into the community with his music. And while she would be at the clinic all day, at night they’d be in Ian’s home, Hacienda El Paradiso, where she’d be able to hopefully understand him more by living in his space.

  She heard Quintin’s voice in her head: We’ve had the displeasure of knowing Ian personally. They’d worked alongside Ian in Sudan while at the Zam Zam refugee camp when Doctors Without Borders had put out a call for help with the influx of displaced people in the region, and the need for personnel on the ground. The fact that their amazing organisation had packed up and left that camp in 2004 was testament to how bad the conditions were, for both the refugees and the aid workers. But the actual ending, that was all on Ian, every injury, and every death that day, including the two scarred bullet wounds on Lily’s shoulder.

  According to Marion, Ian had taken a government post in South Africa after the Sudan incident and had been in various NGO positions since then before starting this project about two years ago.

  Quintin and Lily hadn’t contacted Ian after Sudan, and they’d not even formed a bond with him over the horrific experience. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory before it swamped her.

  As if sensing she was struggling, Quintin turned to her and smiled. She lifted her hand and ran it down his strong, tanned neck and laid it to rest on his chest, as if touching him could keep her here in the present and away from memories of the past.

  ‘You nervous?’ she asked.

  ‘A little. Walking into trouble was once normal for us, but this time, it seems different. It’s been a while since we were here. And knowing that Ian was killed doesn’t make it easier for me. It’s more personal now than your outreach missions and even the refugee camps. Dangerous.’ He kissed her hand. ‘You know I’ll always have your back, but it’s South Africa. It’s a totally different beast to when you were growing up here, even from when we got married. I’m worried about what we’ve got ourselves into, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but hell, I still love you, even all these years later!’ She leaned into him. As his lips touched hers, warm and soft, she knew that no matter what Africa threw at them, they would be okay.

  They still had each other. And together they would conquer the world.

  * * *

  Lily grinned at Quintin as he indicated to turn the loaded Land Cruiser off the main Midlands Road and onto the unnamed gravel access to Hacienda El Paradiso. Situated twelve-point-two kilometres north of Kimberley’s city centre, it was a small, isolated eight-hectare farm within the Roodepan area, surrounded by a six-foot fence topped with razor wire, like all the other properties.

  Quintin keyed the code into the control panel, and the metal gates slowly dragged themselves back against the wall, welcoming them into their new semi-rural dwelling.

  There were lights on in the house at the end of the long driveway, as expected. They would’ve been switched on by the live-in maid, Bessie, and her gardener/handyman husband, Lincoln, whom they’d inherited along with the use of Ian’s house because the couple had worked for him and had been looking after the house since his death, waiting for someone else to take over.

  Despite it only being sundown, Lily looked back behind the Cruiser to ensure the gates had closed and no one had snuck in from outside, a trick they’d been warned had started happening with more frequency in South Africa. They drove towards where lights already twinkled and finally stopped in front of a building.

  Quintin switched off the engine and they both took a moment to take in the wide verandah that surrounded the iron-clad roof and the big windows. The sprawling farmhouse in front of them could’ve been found anywhere that there was once colonial rule. The Federation style of the English architecture had reached all over the world, as evident here. Its name obviously came from the fact that it was painted a rustic orange. Thick burglar bars dominated each window.

  Lily opened her door and stepped out. The cold hit her in the face, and she shivered. She had forgotten how cold Kimberley could get. Right near zero now, the air from her mouth immediately smoked as she blew on her hands and put them under her armpits.

  The crunch of the loosely compacted road base under her boots was familiar. Instead of tarmac or bricks, it was not uncommon in South African properties with long driveways, and while it sometimes became corrugated in big rains or with the use of large trucks, in a home setting it was generally a good alternative to nothing. She could see the garden was well-tended, its borders neat and trimmed, the bare branches, waiting patiently to burst into action again in spring, toughing out the colder months. But then there were those that had been planted especially for winter, their glossy green foliage surrounded by soft petals of white, light purple and pink. ‘By the look of this garden, we inherited more than one gardener or at least a service. Look, it’s amazing.’

  ‘Probably. There’s no way a doctor working full-time would have a smallholding like this without help,’ Quintin said.

  The front door opened as they walked towards it. A maid was silhouetted against the lights. ‘Welcome, Madam and Baas. I’m Bessie. I used to look after Dr Ian.’ She shook her head and clicked her tongue in a manner that said she was unhappy about his passing and she made the sign of the cross over her chest. ‘Mrs Marion told me you were coming to live here, and now I must look after you good-good like I did Dr Ian.’

  ‘Thank you for being here so late to meet us,’ Lily said as she stepped into the bright-white light that had flashed on with a sensor as she got closer to the house. She could see Bessie now, standing with a security gate open behind her that would usually have guarded the front door, its thick metal bars making a statement of ‘keep out’ to anyone who didn’t have an invitation. Bessie looked to be in her late sixties, perhaps early seventies, like she should be at home with her grandchildren, not being someone’s maid. Her steel-grey hair was plaited neatly, and she didn’t wear the customary doek that most maids in uniforms in South Africa wore to cover their hair. Even her dress was not some unsightly floral fabric with a matching apron, but rather Bessie wore a long tunic top, like those worn in theatre, and some soft tights. She didn’t look like any maid that Lily had ever seen.

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Bessie, I’m Quintin, and this is my wife, Lily. Please call us by our names, not madam and boss.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bessie said, holding back the security gate for them.

  ‘I can’t wait to see inside; the garden looks beautiful. Does your husband do it all by himself or does he have somebody come in and help?’ Lily said.

  ‘Lincoln, he is a hard worker, there is no slowing him down. He also looks after the sheep, goats, chickens, guineafowl and the ducks that Dr Ian had been given by the people who can’t pay money, so give him what they can. There is also the l
ittle horse, Perdy, and her foul, Dee-Dee, and Pedro the donkey. They are naughty, they eat the flowers in the garden. Sometimes, Lincoln gets help from our friend Klein-Piet, the medicine man, and some of the teenagers from Platfontein that he brings with him, to keep them out of trouble. If there is lots to do, they are hard workers, too.’

  ‘Wow. Didn’t expect Ian to help some random teenagers, that’s new.’

  ‘No. That was more Klein-Piet’s idea. I think Dr Ian just went along with it because teenagers are cheaper labour than men.’

  ‘That’s more like the Ian I knew,’ Lily said. ‘Please don’t misunderstand me, it’s good that Ian shared his home with all those animals. No one should be alone …’ She was fishing for news of an ‘other’ that might have been off Marion’s radar, and Bessie knew it.

  ‘Dr Ian was never alone. We are always here. Come, I have made dinner, and while you have some hot tea, Lincoln can bring in your suitcases and empty your bakkie. I have made up your bed with fresh sheets in Dr Ian’s bedroom because it is the best room in the house. In the morning, you will agree with me when you see the view out the window. I have cleared out all his cupboards, so that I can unpack your suitcases. Mrs Marion, she told me not to take any of Dr Ian’s clothes in case you wanted to keep anything, but she said after you are ready, I can take them and give them to the people.’

  ‘Thank you, Bessie,’ Lily said as she walked into the small entrance way. ‘But we can unpack our cases, there’s no need for you to do that.’ The feeling of déjà vu slithered over her, and she stopped, looking around. The house was decorated by a professional stylist. There was no way that Ian could have pulled together the type of collection and style that flowed from one room to another. She had worked with him; he was a slob. His house so far reflected nothing of the man she knew.

  As well as the antique furniture, a large original David Shepherd painting dominated the cream wall behind that: a herd of oryx galloping in dry country and dust tufting up from their easy gait across the earth. It was stunning and would’ve cost a few thousand.

  A faint smell of lemon myrtle and wax hung in the air. Lily smiled. She knew that scent well from her own childhood in this country, where maids polished the wooden furniture till it glistened.

  ‘This is the lounge.’ Bessie’s voice cut into her thoughts, bringing her back to the present, and she took a few steps to catch up to Quintin while looking at the teal curtains and white shutters, and the large cream rug laid over marble-tiled flooring that shone proudly.

  ‘This is the kitchen and the laundry. There is a formal dining room, and formal lounge, and upstairs are all the bedrooms and the office,’ Bessie said. ‘There is a bathroom downstairs, too.’

  ‘Where do we put the Cruiser at night? When we drove in we could see the large garages next to the house. Perhaps you have the button to open the doors as we weren’t given that?’ Quintin asked.

  ‘The doors do not open anymore. The bakkie stays on the driveway. Dr Ian, he made a hothouse for his flowers inside the garages.’

  ‘Okay, then, expensive car outside where it can be stolen, and flowers in a garage. Interesting choice, Ian,’ Lily said.

  Bessie carried on walking as if she hadn’t heard what Lily had just said.

  They reached the dining room, which was dominated by an elegant and over-the-top mix of furniture. Large photos of a San, the first people of Africa, in his home somewhere in the Kalahari Desert were framed and put into a sequence along the wall. The pictures were stunning.

  Looking around, Lily saw that a tall vase of tightly packed magenta roses in the centre of the table softened the whole room and filled it with their sweet scent. A special touch of a housekeeper, not an interior designer. Bessie had set two places at the large French provincial table.

  ‘I will serve your dinner now. Please leave the dishes, I can do them in the morning. I am in at six-thirty, and then I work until five o’clock, with lunchtime from one to two. I work weekends if you need me to, but that is extra pay. Mrs Marion, she said she told you my wages and that I needed to let you know right away what my working hours were because you might want to change them. Here is Lincoln.’

  A big man appeared in the doorway carrying two of the cases. He put them down and stepped into the room, bowing his head in respect.

  ‘Hello, Lincoln,’ Lily said as she stepped forward and shook his hand. Quintin followed suit.

  ‘Nice to meet you and thank you for bringing those in. You can leave them there; I’ll come help with the rest,’ Quintin said as he and Lincoln disappeared, leaving Lily and Bessie in the dining room.

  ‘Bessie, your hours sound fine, but with only Quintin and me in the house, and us mostly away at work, I’m not sure what you’ll do all the time.’

  ‘Keeping this place clean is a full-time job. There are six bedrooms. I never understood why Dr Ian moved in here when it was just him. I was always in the house more than he was. The family before he moved in here, they had four children and dogs everywhere.’

  ‘Space, I suspect. It’s a luxury that doctors who work in critical situations seldom have. And this house is beautiful, and has so much land outside that he could just walk around and not feel confined. I understand completely.’

  Bessie nodded.

  ‘Thank you for cooking dinner. It’s lovely to arrive and not have to worry about that.’

  ‘Mrs Marion said this is a new town for you, so I did not want you getting lost on the first night you got here trying to find food. Driving at night is dangerous for people who do not always live in South Africa, to know where to stop and where not to. You could drive into a bad township area. I cannot lose you on the first night that you come into this house. And Dr Ian always liked for me to cook dinner. Make his lunch so he could take it with him, and he ate a cooked breakfast every day with his coffee. But I am happy to learn what you like.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lily said as she reached out and placed her hand on Bessie’s arm. ‘It’s terrible what happened to him.’

  ‘He was a good baas,’ Bessie said softly, but when she looked at Lily, the warmth of the words did not show in her eyes.

  ‘Let’s hope we can make a different standard, then,’ Lily said, smiling. ‘And we are not too hard to work for.’

  Bessie smiled, and this time Lily could see it shine in her crinkled eyes, too.

  So, Ian had not been liked by his staff, an interesting first night’s observation. Lily was sure that once Bessie got to know her, she would talk about Ian more.

  ‘Right, all inside and the Cruiser is locked,’ Quintin said as Lincoln put the last case on the floor in the dining room. ‘Thank you both.’

  ‘Great,’ Lily said. ‘Actually, Bessie, perhaps tonight Quintin and I will serve ourselves. Why don’t you take your lovely husband home and we’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘I need to show you the alarm system. Mrs Marion, she said even though she had put it in your letter, I must show you. Make sure you understand, so no skabengas get into the house.’

  Skabengas—naughty people. Now that was a word she hadn’t heard in a while. ‘Let’s run through that, then you can go. It’s late and I hate that we’re keeping you from your family,’ Lily said.

  Bessie looked downwards. ‘It’s only Lincoln and me here. My daughter—she is now learning to be a nurse at the university in Johannesburg. And my sister, she is in Alexandra. Lincoln’s first wife and two sons, they are with God already.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Quintin said.

  ‘It is the way now—with the thinnings disease. Dr Ian used to say this disease comes for the old as well as the young. That it is the new plague in Africa. To be feared more than God and his locusts and floods.’

  ‘A harsh way to put it,’ Lily said. ‘But there’s still no cure—at least there are now drugs that can slow it down.’

  Bessie showed them the alarm with its two different codes—one for normal usage, and the other as an ‘under duress’ switch that w
ould alert the security company if there was a problem.

  ‘The cat, Tiger, he is out hunting now, but he will come back inside later. His food is on the counter, but he sleeps on the bed in the spare bedroom mostly. He is a very friendly cat that is also very loud. He talks all the time,’ Bessie said. ‘Even when I am doing the housework, that cat he comes and checks on me and talks to me from room to room. He is not like any other cat that I have ever met.’

  ‘I had a cat when I was growing up. I’ll make sure that he’s okay,’ Lily said.

  ‘Welcome to your new home,’ Bessie said as she left the kitchen. Lincoln was waiting for her just outside. Lily heard the back door close and lock loudly, and then lights appeared along a pathway to the annexed building. Together the couple walked the small distance to their own little detached ikhaya near the rear of the house.

  ‘So, this is it, Mrs Winters. Alone at last again in South Africa.’ Quintin stepped up to Lily and backed her against the counter-top in the kitchen. He dipped his head and kissed her, and her hands didn’t need a second invitation to curl up, wrap around him and pull him closer. Even after so many years together, Lily still couldn’t say no to Quintin, and couldn’t get enough of him. ‘What say we take this upstairs and test-drive that bed, because as much as I want to make love to you here in the kitchen, I suspect that the silhouettes in the window will shock our new helpers.’

  Lily giggled against his mouth, then moved her lips along his chin, giving him small kisses all the way to his ear. He shivered and put his head back, granting her easier access to his neck.

  Lily whispered against his skin, ‘I think perhaps it’s a good idea because we both know that dining-room-table sex didn’t end well last time.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know that that was a trestle table and we’d both land on the floor!’ Quintin said, laughing. ‘Come on, wifie, let’s go.’ He ran his hand down her arm, threaded his fingers with hers and gave her a small tug in the direction of the stairs. ‘HIV and its cluster meningitis, along with dinner, can wait. I’m starving for my Lily.’