NINE

Kitty leaned forwards over the steering wheel, peering at the petrol gauge. The red needle was hovering dangerously close to empty. She was glad Theo was not here to see how careless she’d been; he insisted his driver keep the Land Rover tank at least half full at all times. She let the car coast downhill, then drove evenly and slowly, watching the red needle all the way to the petrol pump outside Ahmed’s duka.

She left the car while it was being filled. Several times before, she’d had to ask Ahmed’s assistant not to smoke while operating the pump, and each time he’d made an elaborate protest about it. Crossing the road, she noticed the Daimler parked under a tree. James stood beside it, idly wiping away dust with a rag. She wondered if that meant Diana was up and about at last, supervising the shopping. If so, she’d probably be back at the Club tomorrow. Kitty shuddered at the thought of the scenes that would play out as everyone resumed their place in the old order. At the same time, though, she hoped to hear that Diana had indeed recovered. She was still haunted by the pitiful sounds she’d heard coming from the bedroom on her visit next door.

Diana’s houseboy and cook were selecting fruit from the row of baskets outside the greengrocer. Kitty looked around, but saw no sign of their mistress. She strolled over to James. When he saw her, he jumped to attention. ‘Good afternoon, Memsahib.’

‘Hello, James. Is Diana here?’

‘No, Memsahib. She is not shopping. She remains in her bed.’ He shook his head. ‘It is very bad.’

Kitty was puzzled. ‘I thought malaria was quite simple to treat.’

He made no response for a moment, then glanced around him as if afraid of being overheard. ‘She does not have malaria. She suffers from something else.’

Kitty thought of the pink pills she’d seen on the floor of the car. ‘I’ve heard she has a problem with her blood. Something that affects her nerves.’

James shook his head again. ‘It is in her heart.’

‘Her heart?’ Kitty’s eyes widened. Kongara was no place for someone with a heart complaint. The hospital looked impressive, but like many of the services here it operated in an erratic manner. Sometimes the facility seemed overstaffed; other times it was hard to get an appointment at the clinic. Rumour had it that while vital medical supplies often ran short, the storerooms were crammed with unnecessary items. And there wasn’t even a proper ambulance – the doctor just came in his jeep. The nearest real hospital was in Dar es Salaam. Kitty could see her concern mirrored in James’s eyes. She realised his solicitous manner was not just the result of good training. He cared about Diana.

‘I do not know the name in English,’ James continued, ‘but we call it hali ya kutokua na furaha.’

Kitty identified the word ‘joy’ straight away. Janet had used it a lot. The verb was more complicated. And it was in the negative. She pieced the translation together. ‘The state of being without joy.’ A chill came over her as she grasped the true meaning of Diana’s cry – it was the wail of a person lost in deep despair.

‘She is very ill,’ James said. He spread his hands, the pink palms upwards. ‘Her sisters should come to her aid. They should not leave her alone.’ There was a sharp note of outrage in his voice.

Kitty looked at him in confusion. Surely he must know that if Diana had any sisters, they would be far away in England? Then she understood – he was referring to Diana’s friends: the ladies she met with each day at the Club. Kitty tried to think which one of them Diana seemed closest to. In Kongara, nobody had known anybody for very long, but considering Diana spent so much free time with the other wives, some real bond between her and at least one of them must surely have grown.

Kitty searched her memory for signs of the kind of intimacy she’d shared with her oldest friend, Ruth Herbert. They’d met in Grade One at Wattle Creek School, and had been firm friends right up until Ruth had left the district to find work. Kitty thought of the infectious laughter they’d shared, the spontaneous hugs, the way they used to finish one another’s sentences. She couldn’t associate anything like this with Diana. The wife of the Managing Director was clever and funny and beautiful; she could be kind, too. But she was so unpredictable. That was the problem. You never knew what she was going to say or do – you never knew who she would be. People always sought Diana’s approval, but at the same time they kept a wary distance from her. As a result, Kitty now saw, Diana was quite isolated – perhaps even lonely. Kitty was glad she’d at least made the effort to take her neighbour a little gift.

‘Has no one else been to see her?’ she asked James.

‘Only you. And you did not speak to her.’ Anger flared in his eyes.

‘Mr Armstrong wouldn’t let me see her. He sent me away.’

James’s face became impassive. ‘I have just taken him back to Head Office after a lunch appointment at the Club. Now he sits at his desk. There are many papers for him to read. And people are waiting to see him. I believe he very will busy for the rest of the day.’

Kitty tapped at the front door. With the house staff out shopping, there was no one to answer it. She didn’t want to risk waking Diana by pounding on the door. She listened for footsteps, but the house remained silent.

James had given her his key. The residents of Millionaire Row had been instructed to keep their homes locked at all times, since a spate of burglaries had been carried out in the area of the Toolsheds. Crime was on the increase in Kongara, and the response of the OFC had so far been unsatisfactory. A new Chief Inspector had been sent over from Scotland Yard, but people referred jokingly to his inadequate station as Scotland Inch. After an outcry, the OFC had promised that an additional contingent of askaris – tried and true, from the King’s African Rifles regiment – would soon be brought from Dar es Salaam. Meanwhile, there was a general sense of unease about security. Alice blamed the problem on the shanty dwellers. She’d given her views over lunch at the Club, and proposed a solution.

‘We have plenty of bulldozers.’ She’d poked the air with one finger to underline her words. ‘We should just bring a few up from the Units and clear that slum. Push over all the huts. It could be gone in a morning.’

‘Where would the people go?’ Kitty asked. ‘All those women and children?’

Alice gave her a pitying look, as if she were slow-witted. ‘Back to where they belong.’

‘What about the prostitutes?’ Pippa queried. ‘All those men – and no one for them to have sex with. That could make things even more dangerous!’ She shuddered. ‘For us, I mean.’

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ Alice had retorted.

Luckily, Eliza had arrived just then, causing a distraction with a striking new hairdo – a pile of curls forming a pyramid on top of her head.

Kitty pushed open the front door and crept inside. ‘Diana?’ she called softly. ‘It’s me, Kitty.’

Slipping off her sandals in order to move quietly, she crept down the hall to the main bedroom.

The door was open a few inches. Through the crack Kitty could see Diana on the bed, stretched out on top of the sheets. Her blue silk negligee was rucked up, baring her legs to the thighs. She lay with her arms flung out carelessly, like a child abandoned to sleep. Her red hair flopped over the pillow, her face resting to one side. Kitty pushed the door open a little further. She had never seen Diana without make-up before. The woman was, if possible, even more beautiful. Her porcelain skin and even features made her resemble a statue of an angel. Her lips, parted, were a perfect bow. The only flaw in the picture was a line of saliva running from the corner of her mouth. Kitty drew away, embarrassed. Diana would hate anyone to see her in this state – bare-faced, dribbling. Kitty peering into her bedroom was an unforgivable invasion of privacy.

She was about to close the door when something else caught her eye – on the floor near the bed was a pill bottle. It lay on its side, the top missing. Kitty recognised the label: Aspro. Beside it was another open bottle of a different shape. Kitty could see that this one was empty. Looking back to the bed, she saw another container. It was plain brown glass, with a chemist’s label.

For a long moment, Kitty just stood there – as though gripped in the deep stillness that emanated from the figure on the bed. Then she launched into the room, jumping onto the bed, crouching by Diana. There was not only saliva at the corner of the woman’s mouth – there was a crust of dried vomit as well.

‘Diana!’ She grasped both shoulders and shook hard. ‘Diana – can you hear me?’ There was no response; not even the flutter of an eyelid.

Kitty pressed her ear against Diana’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. She could hear nothing behind the sound of her own panicked breath. Grabbing Diana’s wrist, she made herself calm down, feel for a pulse.

‘Thank God,’ she murmured as she picked up a faint but regular beat. She put her cheek to Diana’s mouth, but couldn’t feel any movement of air. Diana’s chest, her breasts – clothed in silk, a white ribbon at the neckline – were as still as the rest of her. On the bedside table Kitty noticed a small hand mirror. She reached for it, knocking over another empty pill bottle, and held it over Diana’s mouth and nose. She waited for a few seconds, gazing down at the silver oval engraved with the initials DA. Diana Armstrong. It was hard to fit the name – and all that it meant – with this helpless, inert figure.

A slight mist clouded the mirror. Kitty closed her eyes with relief – Janet had taught her how to do mouth-to-mouth but she wasn’t at all confident she could have carried it out properly. She stared at Diana. The woman was breathing, her heart was beating, but she was deeply unconscious.

Through the window, Kitty could see her car parked outside. Prompted by James she’d come straight here, not even pausing to deposit the Hillman in her own driveway. The fastest way to get Diana to the hospital would be to drive her there herself. But Kitty didn’t think she’d be able to carry her. She remembered how hard it was to move a sheep that had died in the paddock – even after it had been sheared, the farmer grabbing one last fleece. It wasn’t just the weight: a limp body was hard to manage. She’d have to call Eustace and Gabriel.

She ran into the hallway, but then she faltered. What if Diana were not really in danger? Kitty didn’t want to be the one who exposed her – in the state she was in – to the men’s mockery and derision.

She went into the sitting room, hunting around helplessly, her thoughts racing. She knew there were no telephones in the houses, but still found herself searching for the squat black shape. Then the drinks trolley seemed to rise into her vision, catching her eye. It was made of stainless steel; she and Theo had one the same. Theo joked that the OFC had ordered them specially reinforced to withstand a heavy load of liquor. Kitty swept the bottles to the floor. Something broke, scattering glass. The ice bucket rolled away with a clatter.

In the bedroom, she managed to pull Diana off the mattress, manoeuvring her so that she ended up resting belly down over the trolley, arms and legs hanging. She scooped the empty medicine containers into her pocket. Then she steered the trolley out through the kitchen door, where there was only one step down onto the concrete path. When she reached the gravel Kitty had to bend over, arms outstretched, and push with all her strength. She saw that Diana’s hands were being dragged in the gravel, but didn’t stop. Reaching the car, she wrenched open the rear side door, then she lined up the trolley and forced it to tip. As Diana fell onto the seat, her head bumped against the side of the car before coming to rest at an uncomfortable angle. Her knuckles were grazed – raw and bleeding.

Seconds later, Kitty was pumping the accelerator. The wheels spun on the gravel as she sped away.

There were no vehicles parked outside the hospital. The blinds were lowered, the doors closed. Apart from a cleaner sweeping the verandah, there was no sign of life.

Kitty jumped from the car, leaving the door open. She ran to an entrance marked Admissions and burst inside. It was quiet, the air dim and still.

‘Hello?’ she called out as she raced into one of the wards. The beds were all made up – sheets and blankets folded tightly over the mattresses – but there were no patients. The next ward was the same. She turned down a corridor.

‘Is anyone there?’

A man appeared in a doorway – a short, bulky figure in a white coat. ‘Whatever’s going on?’

‘I’ve got someone in my car, outside,’ Kitty panted. ‘She needs help.’

The man just stared at her. Kitty knew she looked a sight: there was monkey fur on her dress; her bare feet were dirty. She pushed back her hair. ‘Come with me. Please – it’s an emergency!’

‘Dr Meadows should be out there somewhere. And Nurse Edwards . . .’

‘Aren’t you a doctor?’

‘I’m a thoracic surgeon.’

Kitty grasped his arm. ‘There’s no one else around.’

‘I don’t do hands-on medicine,’ the surgeon protested as he followed her back along the hallway. ‘I just came in to check some X-rays.’

Without breaking her stride, Kitty pulled the medicine bottles from her pocket. ‘I think she’s taken all these. She’s unconscious.’

The surgeon jerked to a stop, picking out the one that bore a chemist’s label.

‘What is it?’ Kitty demanded. ‘Is it dangerous?’

He gave no answer, but broke into a run.

‘Hold her head,’ the surgeon instructed Kitty. He was rubbing liquid paraffin over the end of a long rubber tube. ‘I’m going to insert this into the oesophagus. I’m Frank, by the way.’

‘Kitty Hamilton.’

Frank looked up, the tube poised between Diana’s lips. ‘Wife of the Admin Manager?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll have to watch my language.’

Kitty didn’t reply. She wondered what he’d think if he knew how much time she’d spent in a shearing shed where every second word was an expletive. For his part, Frank seemed a mild-mannered person; well brought up.

‘Hold her nose shut, would you, please?’ he asked Kitty. He pushed the end of the tube into Diana’s mouth. He frowned anxiously. ‘I haven’t done anything like this for years.’

As he forced the tube further and further in, Kitty flinched. He was rough, almost clumsy, as though Diana were an object, not a person. Kitty had to remind herself he was trying to save the woman’s life. He was clearly very worried about Diana’s condition. He kept stopping to check her pulse. A fine sweat had broken over his brow.

‘The key thing is,’ he said, ‘you have to make sure you’re getting into the stomach, not the lungs.’ He motioned for Kitty to pick up a bowl he’d filled with water. He lowered the free end of the tube into it. After watching for half a minute, he nodded, satisfied. ‘No bubbles. That means we’re in the right place.’ He gestured towards the bench, where he’d placed a large funnel. ‘Get me that.’

He fitted the tube over its end. Next, he emptied a jug of water into the mouth of the funnel. Kitty swallowed on a wave of nausea as the liquid gurgled down the tube.

‘So who’s your friend, then?’

Kitty didn’t answer straight away. She felt a fraud, accepting his use of the term ‘friend’. ‘She is Mrs Armstrong.’

Frank froze, the jug tilted, ready to pour. ‘The General Manager’s wife? Bloody hell. Now I’m even more nervous.’ He pointed to the bench again. ‘Bucket. Thanks. Hold it below the level of the patient. The force of gravity will suck out the contents of the stomach.’

As Kitty followed his instructions, a memory came to her – she was a little kid, watching from behind a tree trunk as a couple of half-drunk shearers used a length of garden hose to steal petrol from their overseer’s car.

Water began to trickle from the end of the tube.

‘Looks pretty clear,’ Frank commented. But then a blob of white sludge fell into the bucket, along with a few flecks of blood. ‘Here it comes.’ The man’s face, as he watched the bucket, showed a mixture of concern and annoyance. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this. Where the hell is Meadows?’ He turned towards the door as if he could will the duty doctor to appear. ‘I suppose he thought since there are no inpatients at the moment, he could nick off for a bit.’ He snorted. ‘I bet he’s at the Club. And Sister Edwards has probably gone hunting for him. That’s one thing about Kongara – you can always be tracked down.’ A fleeting smile crossed his face. ‘She’ll give him a piece of her mind.’

The surgeon repeated the process, pouring in another jug of water. This time, when Kitty lowered the bucket to create suction, liquid spewed from Diana’s mouth as well as the tube. Kitty looked at Frank in alarm.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘That’s a good sign.’

He filled and emptied the jug seven or eight more times; Kitty lost count. He kept on taking Diana’s pulse, and pushing back her eyelids to check her pupils.

Finally, the water that was running into the bucket turned clear. While Frank was preparing to pour in a last jugful, Diana’s hand fluttered up, grabbing at the tube.

Frank shot Kitty a look of triumph. ‘She’s coming round.’ He began pulling the tubing back up. Diana coughed and moaned.

Kitty let out a ragged breath. As relief ran through her, she began to tremble. She realised how tense she’d been. ‘She’s going to be all right?’

‘Well, I hope so.’ Frank wiped his face on his forearm. ‘There could be organ damage – that’s the trouble with phenacetin. Sometimes the liver can’t recover.’

Kitty stared at him. ‘You mean she could still die?’

‘Let’s not fear the worst,’ Frank said hastily. ‘It’s lucky you found her when you did – and managed to get her here so quickly.’ He looked directly into Kitty’s eyes. ‘Do you know why she tried to do this?’

Kitty shook her head. Only James’s words came to her. The state of being without joy. That diagnosis could be applied to several people in Kitty’s life: her Auntie Madge; her own mother, at times; Louisa, too. And Theo, when he’d returned from the war. But what had driven Diana to the point of trying to kill herself, Kitty had no idea.

A faint moan came from Diana. Kitty bent over her, stroking her hair. It was stringy with oil; there were snarls and tangles. Along with the smells of vomit and disinfectant, she picked up the odour of stale sweat. She saw that the blue negligee was stained with spilled food. Kitty felt a surge of anger that Diana had been allowed to get into such a state. It seemed Richard was not the attentive husband she’d thought he was. The house staff had neglected their mistress as well. Unless, perhaps, Diana had simply refused to wash, or change her clothes.

‘We need to get her husband here as soon as possible,’ Frank said. ‘You’ll have to drive to Head Office.’

Kitty left Diana’s side reluctantly. As she headed for the door, Frank called after her. ‘When you’ve spoken to Mr Armstrong, get someone to find Meadows and tell him to get himself down here. War hero or not, he bloody well deserves to be sacked.’

His voice broke off as footsteps were heard in the hallway. Seconds later, Richard strode in.

‘What’s happened? What the hell’s going on?’ He sounded like a schoolteacher demanding an explanation for unruly behaviour. He stood by the table, staring at Diana. His eyes travelled over her body, then moved down to the bucket.

‘Your wife has taken an overdose,’ Frank said. ‘But we’ve washed out her stomach. I think she’ll be all right.’

Richard just frowned. Looking past him, Kitty glimpsed James hovering in the hallway. When he’d returned from the shops, he must have seen the trolley on its side in the driveway, then discovered Diana was missing and driven back to tell Richard. Kitty acknowledged him with a nod. On the driver’s face were all the emotions missing from Richard’s: concern, confusion, relief.

Richard swung towards Kitty. ‘What are you doing here?’

Kitty took a step back. ‘I found her – in the bedroom. I brought her here.’

‘She may well have saved your wife’s life.’ There was a steely note in Frank’s voice. Kitty could see he was as taken aback by Richard’s manner as she was.

‘Oh, she never takes enough to kill herself.’

A shocked silence filled the room. Water dripped into a sink somewhere. The electric light buzzed. Frank opened his mouth to say something, but then appeared to think better of it.

Suddenly, Richard seemed to get a grip on himself. Moving to Frank’s side, he clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Thank you, old chap. Looks like you’ve got things under control.’ He patted a piece of the blue negligee, draped over the edge of the table. ‘Poor Diana. She gets overemotional about things.’ He spread his hands. ‘One feels so helpless.’

Diana mumbled something, her fingers making little butterfly movements. Kitty was about to step towards her, but was daunted by Richard’s presence. She felt like an intruder now – her involvement no longer wanted.

‘I suppose I should probably go.’ She addressed Frank, avoiding Richard. ‘Shall I call in at the Club and look for the doctor?’

‘No!’ Richard wheeled round. The look on his face was – at last – one of urgency, almost fear. ‘I need to talk to you first.’ He turned back to Frank. ‘If you’d excuse us. It won’t take long.’ Without a glance at the figure laid out on the table, he led Kitty from the room.

‘It goes without saying, Kitty – your help is very much appreciated.’ Richard paced the waiting room as he spoke. Kitty stood near the door, which had been closed firmly behind her. She was taller than Richard, yet she felt childlike and small under his gaze. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. She struggled to quell the outrage she felt over the way he’d reacted when he first saw Diana.

‘I’m just glad I called in,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about – what could have happened. There were so many empty bottles . . .’

Richard came to stand in front of Kitty. She could smell his aftershave – something spicy and sweet. ‘Kitty, I cannot stress enough how important it is that this incident be kept private.’

‘I won’t say anything.’ Kitty spoke firmly. She didn’t like the thought of other Londoni people – especially the women at the Club – finding out what had happened, any more than he did. Having helped rescue Diana, she now felt a strange protectiveness towards her.

‘It’s for Diana’s sake, of course. But I’m thinking of the Scheme as well. It’s hardly reassuring to the rank and file, to have something like this connected with senior management. I can’t afford to let it get out.’

As Kitty took in his words, it dawned on her that the second issue could be the one that concerned him most. That the Scheme mattered more than Diana. ‘I understand,’ she said, forcing her tone to remain neutral.

‘I appreciate that, Kitty. I really do.’ He took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one.

‘I don’t smoke, thank you.’

‘Sensible girl.’ He bent over a flaring match, drawing on the cigarette until the tobacco glowed red. ‘I blame myself – I should have stepped in earlier.’ He blew out a stream of smoke. ‘It’s very clear. She needs to go home.’

Kitty frowned at him in confusion – of course, Diana would go home, as soon as she was well. Then she understood. ‘Home’ was England.

‘It was a mistake bringing her here in the first place,’ Richard continued. ‘I thought the change might help. Fresh start and all that. But I just have to face the facts. It hasn’t worked.’

‘What about you – your job?’ Kitty asked.

Richard gave her a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’ Then his face cleared. ‘Well, obviously, I’ll stay here. I couldn’t possibly abandon my post – just walk out on the Scheme. But she’ll be well looked after, don’t you worry.’

‘Who by?’ Kitty asked. Again, James’s words came back to her. ‘Does she have a sister in England?’

‘No. She has a brother in Cornwall. But what she needs is professional help. She’ll have the best available, you can be sure of that.’

Kitty nodded. His plan made sense; clearly Diana needed to see a psychiatrist. And if she was so unhappy here in Kongara, she’d no doubt be glad to leave – even if it meant being separated from her husband, at least for a while.

‘I’ll send her to Nairobi first. There’s a flight she could catch on Friday.’

The hasty nature of his plan made Kitty feel uneasy. ‘But she could recover here,’ she protested. ‘Where her friends can visit.’

‘What friends?’ Richard’s expression was suddenly raw – pained. Then he was remote and cool again. He shook his head. ‘There will be no visitors. I must make sure you understand, Kitty. We’re talking about suicide here. It’s a shocking thing. It’s against the law. It simply mustn’t get out.’ There was an almost panicky edge to his voice. ‘Frank will maintain professional silence. Meadows and the nurse won’t be in a hurry to expose the fact that they weren’t here when they should’ve been. James is a loyal servant – he won’t talk. That just leaves you, Kitty. You must not tell anyone what happened today. You must not even tell Theo.’

Kitty’s lips parted. She didn’t want to start keeping secrets from Theo again; it had bothered her enough, not telling him about her visits to the Mission.

‘Theo would understand,’ Richard said. ‘A gentleman knows the value of privacy.’

He was right, Kitty knew: Theo would indeed understand, if he were aware of the circumstances. After all, he’d had his turn of being embroiled in a public scandal.

‘I’ll make sure he’s kept back at Head Office,’ Richard said. ‘You go home, get changed, have a stiff drink. And think up a story about how you’ve filled your day.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘Don’t let me down.’ He drew on his cigarette, before saying the words again. ‘I mean it. Don’t let me down.’

There was a threatening tone in his voice, all the more potent for being delivered in his refined accent. Kitty wondered, suddenly, what it was like for Theo, working under Richard. Was this why Theo put in such long hours? Was he afraid of the consequences if he let his boss down?

Richard waited for Kitty to nod, then flashed her a smile. He had prominent eyeteeth that drew attention when he opened his mouth. They made him look slightly dangerous – and attractive, in a visceral way. Kitty could see how he’d managed to capture such a beautiful wife. She smiled back, as if he’d won her over completely.

‘I want to thank you, on Diana’s behalf,’ Richard said. ‘When she’s up to hearing about it, I’ll be sure to tell her how you came to the rescue. I expect she’ll send you a card.’

‘But I want to see her, before you take her away.’

‘I think not . . .’ He shook his head. ‘No.’

Kitty couldn’t bring herself to nod her head again, or murmur agreement. After all she’d been through today with Diana, she just had to see her again. Richard was waiting for her to respond. She knew she should accept his authority – as the General Manager, as Diana’s husband, as a man – but there was something about standing here in her bare feet, the concrete cool and firm beneath her, that made her feel strong. She remembered how she’d forced the trolley over the gravel, how she’d found Frank and convinced him to take her seriously. She lifted her chin, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘I want to say goodbye to Diana. I think you owe me the chance to do that.’ She kept on looking at Richard, refusing to blink.

‘She’ll be in a private room,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ll tell Edwards to let you in.’