David’s ‘Buck’s Night’ was a night straight from his Australian home; to Vic it seemed that most voices in the crowd had broad Aussie accents. Buck and Julie had come over as part of the gang and their trip for the wedding was to be followed by some European sightseeing. Alan and Sandy were here too, talking of plans for their own outback wedding in Darwin. The night started at the hotel where they were staying, with pre-drinks for the whole Aussie contingent, gradually added to by locals such as Anne and Susan’s joint friends from their English lives and a few well heeled legal eagles from the city firm that Anne had worked for. Once all the boys were assembled they took to a bus and moved on in the best Aussie style towards central London, doing the whole nine yards with a succession of pubs and increasingly raunchy venues, finished by a late night stripper, though David was, by then, in no state for any serious action.
Sandy professed disappointment at being unable to come along with the boys. So she and Julie, along with Susan, Anne and Susan’s Australian cousins decided on their own impromptu girls’ night out together, though it was in a different part of the town, to ensure their paths did not cross.
Next day was not flash for the boys, hangover cures aplenty were touted, greasy bacon and eggs, hair of the dog. None really worked though, slowly, as the day wore on, the passage of time ensured that all began to feel better.
The Australians, and others from out of town, had taken over a large part of their hotel in downtown Reading. The smoking room was now the place of the boys, dark glasses to avoid the glare, nursing watered drinks, with female partners showing a complete lack of sympathy as they sipped Gin and Tonics, consumed plates of fries and mocked their men folk for being piss-weak and having poor staying power.
Vic was one of the better off though he had enjoyed the best night out since he left home, the ‘Ocker’ humor worked best for him, full of mocking asides and little put downs; David parodied by brothers and others alike.
But that was last night. Now he needed to talk to Buck, his fellow will executor, about Mark’s bequests and directions. He and Susan had only spent brief moments together since his arrival at her family’s house after dark the night before last, she was busy with a church rehearsal when he arrived and, by the end of a night of many meetings and greetings, they had both slumped into bed exhausted.
So, yesterday morning, he had only mentioned the will to her and told her briefly of the contents. He actually wanted to talk to Buck in the first instance; it was up to the two of them had to work out the details. Susan was the main beneficiary once all the dust had settled, but their job came first, to interpret and follow the written instructions.
The stones Susan had discovered were now stored in an Edinburgh bank vault, with a conservative estimate placing their value at two to three million pounds plus. It was likely a big plus due to the quality of what was seen. But they were Susan’s private inheritance, as the letter from Mark made clear. So, even though Susan said they should be considered as part of the estate, Vic did not agree and he planned to forget about them for now.
He had to give it to Mark he knew his rocks and had collected the good ones. The two gem assessors had drooled over them, saying they might be worth up to five million pounds, maybe even more. Perhaps the real value of what was sitting in that one little pouch was much as all the rest of his assets combined. But that was the business of another day.
It was the list of things in the will that he needed to discuss now, a long list of properties, shares and many other assets. Vic’s own rough estimate was the list easily translated into upwards of ten million Aussie dollars worth, or, in the currency of this place, above five million English pounds. The bequests to come out were pretty simple, an amount of $500,000 for him and the same for Buck, a few smaller amounts for others like Mark’s Uncle and some other bush mates, say another couple hundred thousand Australian dollars.
The rest was all the property of Susan, which seemed doubly fitting as it would become Mark’s own children’s inheritance one day, though Mark had not known that when he gave it to her. In due course he and Buck would talk to Susan together, in their joint role, about how to realize this value, what to sell and what to hold, all those mundane details.
What he really wanted to discuss with Buck most was what to do about the African boy, Nathaniel. Mark clearly named him as his own child and had asked them to ensure his care and support as they saw fit. But apart from a name and address they knew nothing about him, the place where he lived and what his circumstances were, not even an age. So now they sat and talked. Vic had two copies of the will in an envelope, one for him and another for Buck. The original had been left with the family lawyer, locked in his office safe for safe keeping. He passed a copy to Buck saying, “I see your signature here alongside mine. I think you have seen this before.” He sat silently as Buck read and digested it, letting out a whistle.
“I knew the old bastard was loaded; it was obvious despite his simple life. But all this! It somehow seems wrong to take it from him after what he has done. Perhaps the money should go to the families of those he harmed. What about you, I see you are named like me as a beneficiary.”
Vic said, “I have thought about it, the same as you. At first I thought I should not take it, Susan has plenty to meet her needs and I can make my own money. But then I thought: He was my friend; he wanted me to have it. So I will accept his wishes and take it with gratitude, as should you.
“You have always talked buying your own place to run cattle, back home in Queensland, separate from your family’s farm. Mark would have wanted you to have that. He would far rather your farm be a continuance of what he once owned; good horses in a paddock and cattle growing fat rather than a pile of money or shares in a bank vault.
“For me, I have a yen to return to the land of my birth and I think Susan would like it too. We have not properly talked about it, but since seeing her Aussie friends she has said it, she would like to live in bright sunlight and see her best friend, Anne, often. So perhaps I shall buy a new helicopter, return to the life I once knew. I must talk it fully through with her first, but if she agrees, that is what I will do.
“However the main reason I wanted to talk today is to decide what to do about the one other person Mark names in his will, not as a beneficiary but as a child of his. I know nothing of Africa, other than Mark told me once he fought there as a mercenary, the bullet fragments in his arm tell of that too. But it appears he did much more than that; he sired a brat, a child with an African name. All I know, as you can see too, is this boy of his lives in Mozambique somewhere. It must be a small village. I cannot find it on a map. Did Mark ever tell you of this?”
Buck should his head.
Vic went on. “So we must discover this child. We could pay someone to go and find him, using money from the estate. But I do not think this is what Mark intended, something to be done at arm’s length. As he is Mark’s own I feel I must meet him and know him, in order to know best what to do. I don’t want to just send money. Mark would have wanted more than that. I think we must make sure this boy has the chances his father never had, education perhaps, maybe something more, not just things but the care and support of Mark’s friends. So what do you think? Should I go and find him, should I take Susan and the children or go alone?”
Buck said, “You are coming home in a month for the weddings. Why don’t you leave a week early and fly by Africa, a flight to South Africa would get you close. Then, once you find him you will see the way it is, what he is like, how old he is, what he needs. Then you will properly know. Once it is done you can fly on to Perth and up to Darwin in time for the weddings. I could come too but this is our first trip away to this side of the world. Julie has my life visiting castles all mapped out. So, if needed, I could leave her for a part and come too. But, in truth, I would rather it was just you. We’ll talk on the phone if needed. But I think it is something you should decide when you get there. And yes, Susan must come too. Any decision you make must be a decision of two.”
So that was how it was. The wedding passed by and was great. They returned to Scotland to pack up their lives there. They flew out a week earlier than planned to Johannesburg and from there they flew on to Maputo which was only two hours’ drive from the village where the boy lived. They rented an apartment on the beach for the week, a place of white sand and a view out across the Indian Ocean. Somewhere over the horizon to the north-east sat the fabled land of Madagascar, the exotic sound had always resonated in Vic’s mind along with images of its strange monkeys called lemurs. Further away, east, was his own home, a mere ten thousand kilometers away, if he could but glimpse it. It felt closer than for a long time, to know it was the next land past the sea, over the distant horizon. It felt like a cord pulling him back.
On the first day in Mozambique they rested and relaxed, enjoying their children’s play on the beach. Little Vic was now six months. He sat like a Buddha, grasping handfuls of sand and trying to eat it, while goggling at his older brother and sister. Susan had bought a new bikini which showed off her ‘back to flat’ figure. Vic feasted his eyes; he never tired of looking at her.
On the second day they hired a four wheel drive and a local guide who drove the vehicle and spoke the language. He took them to the village by a mix of roads and tracks. It had an unpronounceable name and was not much more than a collection of mud houses and a few houses made of tin.
Their guide made inquiries as to where the boy Nathaniel lived. Once he had directions he paid the local boys some centavos to keep the car safe while they walked there along a dusty footpath. It was a simple hut but better looking than most, neatly swept and clean. As they came close the word went around of who they were seeking. An old woman came out and conversed with their guide, who translated.
“She is Nathaniel’s grandmother. The boy lives with her as his mother is long dead, she died when the boy was only a few months old, of the wasting disease; you call it Aids. The father lives in a faraway country, somewhere across the ocean, a land she thinks is Austria. He visits occasionally and gives her some money, enough for the village school where the boy is now and also to buy books and food. The father has not been now for over three years and the money for school fees and other expenses is running low.”
Vic found an old passport photo of Mark and passed it to the interpreter to show to the old lady, saying, “Please ask her if this is the father?”
The woman looked and then nodded intently, letting forth a stream of words where the name Marco was heard.
The translator interposed, breaking her story into bite sized bits, making her pause as he translated each part. “This man, Marco, is a good man, he loved my daughter. She was a prostitute until she met Mark. Soon after they met the sickness made her unable to work. Because we are poor here she worked around the mines of the Witwatersrand, it was how she supported herself and me. She always sent me money but I saw her rarely.
“One day this man, Mark, brought her home. She was expecting a baby and getting sick. He gave me money and asked me to care for her. He came when he could to see her, telling me he had met her when working in a mine. He was convinced the child was his; she had promised him that since she had been with him she had not been with other men.
“For six months, from when the child was nearly due and she was very sick, Mark stayed with us. He helped me care for her and the child until she died when the baby was only a few months old. He was very sad, but he had to work to make money and could not care for a small baby.
“After that he would come when he could, maybe every second year and other times he would send me money, at least twice a year. It was enough for me and the boy to live on and also to buy books and pay for school when he grew older. But no money has come now for three years. I am too old to work so it is hard to survive.
“Nathaniel is a good boy but there is nothing for him here in the village. He is too clever for his own good, he has learnt to speak and read English. Before he used to study and read many books. But now the older boys and men of the village are trying to lead him astray. Because he is clever and can speak to strangers they think it will make them rich. So they get him to buy and sell things for them, even things they do not own.
“He listens to me still, but it is getting much harder. He knows we need money. He thinks that their promises of riches will help. But I know trouble is coming. One day he will end up in jail or beaten by bigger men.
“Can you take him away and give him the chance I cannot? If you are his father’s friends I know it is what he would have wanted. Soon the boy will not listen to me and then I will be unable to control him and keep him safe.
“I am an old woman and will die soon. But I want a better life for the son of my daughter, and I know that this man Mark would have wanted it too.”
They sat with her and she served them food from the little she had. They would have protested, but their guide said she would be offended if they refused her hospitality. So they ate, dipping their fingers in a common pot of corn gruel, accompanied by pieces of coarse bred and a tea like liquid served in earthenware cups.
As they waited they exchanged further stories of this boy becoming a man, of his own mother as a child of the village and of their own families.
Vic, with his dark skin, was a source of curiosity, particularly when he explained that most others in his family had darker skin than him, nearer to the colour of the guide and old lady. It was something in common, a sense of kinship. It was a friendly exchange though, with all communication coming through the guide, it was hard to fully understand. At last a shout went up, morning classes were over and Nathaniel was returning.
He was a sturdy boy with a serious face and with the gawky maturing body of someone between childhood and adolescence. They understood he was twelve, soon to be thirteen. He was expecting visitors, having heard the village gossip. He now looked awkward and self-conscious in the face of these strangers, who had come just to meet him.
However, once they explained their connection to his father, he was full of chatter. He particularly loved Vic whose skin was almost the same colour as his own, along with the chubby baby of the same name, with his small brown hands and face. Soon he had the baby on his own lap, chortling with delight at this new face to poke and hair to pull.
His English was surprisingly good; he proudly told how each time his father had visited he had taught him new English words and made him read from the English books that he kept stored in his part of the hut. After an hour of talking they knew that they had reached a point of decision. They could either leave money and go, with arrangements for more money as needed, or they could try to do something further.
They asked the guide to make their excuses for a minute while they walked outside along the dusty track, small village children at their feet calling out with curiosity. Vic asked Susan what she thought.
She spoke without hesitation, “We should bring him with us, offer him the chance of a new life.” Vic felt as she did but knew it was not so simple.
So he said, “We have five days yet in Mozambique, we had talked of making a trip to a national park and staying there for two nights to see the wildlife. Why don’t we do that, invite Nathaniel to come with us; at least ask our guide about how that part can be arranged? Then, if he spends those days with us and it still seems right, we can see how we can legally bring him out to live with us.
“If it is not possible at least we can continue to be his friends, support him and his grandmother and visit them again.”
So they returned to ask the guide how these things were done. The guide said that, if his grandmother approved, Nathaniel could come and stay with them in Maputo until they left.
As for going to a national park that part was easy. He suggested they go to Limpopo National Park. It ran along the mighty Limpopo River and adjoined Kruger National Park in South Africa, world famous for its wildlife.
It was a four hour drive in the four wheel drive they had hired; he would continue the hire. Bringing one more made no difference. All would fit in the car and he would drive them if they wished. He knew the road well and he was happy to be their guide for this part too, just another three days of guide fees, very cheap for tourists.
If he brought them he would show them all the wildlife, lions, elephants, giraffes, zebras and much, much more. He even had a relative there who ran a lodge for guests and would ensure they got an extra good deal.
Vic could see this man’s business brain working, how to get the most from his tourist visitors. But he did not mind, Mark was paying for this bit and he could well afford it, he had asked that they do something like this.
So Limpopo National Park it was. He said it to Susan who was talking to her children and Nathaniel.
She grinned, “To the ‘great grey-green greasy Limpopo River, all set about by fever trees,’… Seeing that would be something. Perhaps we could even see the elephant child of Rudyard Kipling’s story. Oh do let’s go.”
So the guide asked the grandmother. She gave a beaming smile which told of her agreement. They invited the boy themselves, conversing with him in his good English. They could tell he was delighted, grinning widely. He said it was a long time since he had left the village. It sounded like a whole new and exciting adventure.
They said nothing about his leaving his grandmother and coming to Australia, just of coming with them to Maputo and Limpopo National Park for the next five days. His eyes told them how desperately he wanted to come.
So he packed his clothes and a few other belongings in a plastic shopping bag and sat in the car, between the other children who thought he was totally wonderful, a new grown up play friend.
Next morning the family packed up in the car with their guide and drove inland until they came to the park of the mighty Limpopo River. That evening they stayed in the lodge their guide had recommended and looked out over the Limpopo River’s bank.
On the bookshelf Susan found a copy of the ‘Just So Stories’ by Rudyard Kipling, much thumbed by many other readers. In the falling dusk she read the story of the Elephant’s Child to her assembled family.
As she spoke of the broad hippopotamus aunt, who smacked the Elephant’s Child with her broad, broad hoof, they watched a hippopotamus rise from the water and make a mighty yawn. Soon after, walking down the river bank, came a group of elephants with a baby elephant following close behind. It looked like just they imagined the Elephant’s Child, full of 'satiable curtiosity’ to discover the world. Fortunately of crocodiles there was no sign.
Next day they drove out onto wide grassy plains dotted with zebra, giraffe and innumerable antelope. They watched a group of hunting lions as they fanned out in search of prey. Later they saw a leopard resting in a tree, troupes of baboons and the dark shadowed bulk of a rhino half hidden behind thorn trees. None of them wanted their holiday to end.
By the end of the trip it felt like Nathaniel belonged with them, he was just one more of their family. He asked endless questions of Vic, most about how he learnt to fly a helicopter. Vic knew he really wanted to fly in one and felt a strong desire to show him, maybe even to teach him to fly as he had been taught. Even though he looked very different from his father, Vic felt the shadow of Mark in him, his intense and focused interest and his ability to concentrate and learn new things.
So, that night, back in Maputo, as they sat on the beach looking across the vast Indian Ocean towards the continent on the other side, Australia, they asked him if he would like to come and live with them there.
Now he had a shy and nervous look on his face as if this fortune was beyond all dreams. He answered, “Yes, I will come if grandmother and the spirits will it,” He gave a rapturous smile to his new brothers and sister.
So, on the final day before they caught the plane, they went and saw his grandmother and sought her permission. She gave it by signing of legal paper with the imprint of her thumb, indicating her agreement.
It was not an official adoption form, but a document quickly drawn up by a Maputo lawyer which stated that wished to adopt this boy, Nathaniel, and had the agreement of his grandmother to do so. They did not know if it was be legally valid, but it was a start, a promise of intent.
Vic also promised he would come back as needed to complete the full process. It would take time for all the formalities to be done in both Australia and Mozambique, but they stated their willingness to give sponsorship and other undertakings as required. Formal adoption was what they proposed.
In the meantime they arranged for a payment of $100 Australian dollars a month to come to the grandmother, with an extra $20 month commission to their guide in return for him ensuring that the money got to her and any other needs of her and her grandson were met. They also promised the guide a bonus of $1000 if he could ensure the legal adoption steps were completed quickly, along with another $1000 paid as needed to cover any expenses he had to meet along the way to achieve it.
For their guide this was a vast sum that he could use to buy a new life for himself and his family, even to buy his own car for his business. So they were confident he would hold to his side of the deal. Even if he did not it was only money, and with more money they would find someone else to do it.
The lawyer was also left with a good retainer for the work he needed to undertake, and again there was a promise of more if success was achieved.
So they had done all they could for now. One day, very soon, they told Nathaniel, they hoped he would join their family in a new home far away.
Nathaniel nodded, saying. “Yes, if the spirits will.”
Susan hugged him to herself, and the children hugged him too, before they waved goodbye. Vic shook his hand and told him that soon he would teach him how to fly a helicopter.