Girl with the Golden Voice Read Online Free

were looking ‘round for Tom and he was smiling his welcome to Nairobi. She could feel the soft touch of the blonde hair as he pulled her towards him for a kiss of greeting.
    She forced herself to watch the scene play over and over with its subtle variations. Panic soon shifted to moments of sheer terror. She was about to lose him. She had lost him. Full stop!
    Overcome by a rush of exhaustion, she flopped into an armchair. The terror had scorched her mind, leaving it burned out, empty. She sat with head down, eyes shut. She had bottomed out. Deep inside all emotion was numbed and there was a kind of peace.
    Eventually little shoots of guilt reminded her of her work. Her physical energy began a new surge and with it came unexpected glimmerings of hope. She reminded herself that she, too, had input into this situation. She had a choice. She could do nothing and trust that in some unlikely way events would work out for her. No, that would not suit her. It would be a dangerous waste of time and boring, too. Better to act, do something, scratch the minx’s eyes out, anything. She would come up with the details later.
    The wheels of the white craft reached down for its home strip. Waterbuck and wildebeeste lumbered from its path. Within a minute Tom had brought her down, buzzed her along the dusty runway and shut down in the glade close to the shed that was out of Rebecca’s view. The morning air reclaimed its silence. As she began her slow wander back to work, a single burst of female laughter came wafting towards her from the island.
    Normally mother and daughter enjoyed the companionship of their time together in the laundry garden. It was pleasant, creative work in a beautiful setting. A huge grassy area at the back of the house had been set aside for the job. It caught the sun until late afternoon, perfect for drying. The slope was mown regularly right up to the borders of bougainvillea, flame and banana. A cei-apple hedge, heavy with little, yellow fruits, masked the house from where the two women stood on rough stone slabs set in front of deep stainless steel troughs.
    There was an abundance of hot water available close by. They drew it in buckets from a tap fixed to a long, hump-backed, brick furnace heated at the open end by handfuls of wood. It had been built on the jua kali principles of engineering by Tim Hutchinson, a Kericho tea-planter. He had based it on what he had seen in the boilers of old steam locomotives, close set lines of copper piping. It was fast and efficient.
    The suds bubbled up under the crash of heavy pails of water. Angela and Rebecca plunged their arms deep to work the clothes backwards and forwards in rhythmic movements.
    In no time the drying lines were transformed into billowing sails of colour puffed up by the breeze.
    â€˜They’re coming!’
    The new guest was on the full tour of the house straight away. Angela had been expecting this and was ready. Rebecca was lost in a daydream.
    â€˜Who, Mama?’
    For the second time she heard that new laughter. For the second time she left her post without a word. She hurried off, making sure that she was moving away from the direction of the sound of the voices. She wasn’t ready for a direct confrontation.
    The door to the lower sitting room was open. She burst in noisily, mumbling to herself.
    â€˜Child, what are you chattering about?’
    Rebecca realised her mistake too late. She had come into the darkened room where Rafaella was having her quiet time.
    Rafaella and Rebecca shared a special bond. In the days when she was mistress of Londiani, Rafaella had known all her people, especially those in the rondavel village. She saved them money by bulk buying necessities like flour and sugar from Gilani wholesalers in Nakuru. She made sure that they received good medical attention. For over thirty years she and Don sponsored a local boy’s education in boarding schools in Nairobi. Only once did they regret a choice. That