Kitty stared ahead at the drooping branches of the peppercorn tree. Clusters of pink seeds, hanging among the feathery leaves, lent their spicy tang to the air. She peered through them at the blue sky. The sun had moved on past noon into its slow descent. She and Father Remi had been sitting together a long time. It must be close to the hour when the bells were rung for afternoon prayers.
With her hands, she wiped tears from her eyes. They felt hot and red – she’d not been able to tell her story in the matter-of-fact way she’d planned. But Father Remi hadn’t minded. When she was unable to speak, he just told her to take her time. There was nothing more important that he was planning to do.
She told him everything – honestly, hiding nothing. When she’d finished her account of what happened back in England, she went on to explain how the events still affected her life now. She told him about the agreement she’d made with Theo to give up being an artist – so that no one would link her with her old self, and so that he need not be reminded of what she’d done. She talked about the tension that still persisted between her and her husband. She even expressed her fears about Theo’s relationship with Charlotte.
During her long speech, Father Remi had shown little reaction. He was a still, quiet presence beside her.
When she finally reached the end of what she had to say, she felt a huge sense of relief – it had been good to be able to talk openly to someone at last. But at the same time she was now even more mixed up than she had been before. Over the two years that had passed since the terrible day of the exhibition, she’d forgotten how she’d felt when she made her decision to pose as Katya, and then to send the painting to Jean-Jacques. She’d been influenced by the views of others: that what she’d done was dirty, deceitful, irresponsible, even cruel. But now, as she revisited the whole story, feeling the emotions again, she understood the path she’d taken. When she thought of how she’d been treated by Theo and his family, anger welled inside her. Yet during the journey into the past, she’d also relived the distress she’d caused Theo, and felt the pain of the rift that had grown between them. Her hands twisted tensely in her lap, her thoughts and feelings in turmoil.
Glancing sideways, she could see no clue to how Father Remi felt about her, now that he knew everything. His head was bent, his hands clasping his knees. When he eventually looked up, she was surprised to see the hint of tears in his eyes. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm and firm.
‘You’ve made your confession, Kitty. What happens next, in our church, is that the priest declares Absolution, assuring the parishioner of God’s grace and forgiveness.’ Father Remi’s accent grew stronger as he said these words – as if the phrases had their origin long ago, in some distant seminary. ‘Then he suggests an act of penance. It might involve reading scripture, saying prayers. Sometimes there are pilgrimages or special offerings.’
Kitty nodded. She didn’t mind what kind of penance he prescribed – as long as it helped in some way to draw a line under the past.
‘In this case,’ Father Remi continued, ‘I cannot declare Absolution.’
Kitty stared at him in dismay – then she lowered her gaze to the ground. A beetle scurried by, printing tracks in the sand with its busy feet. Her hands gripped the bench. The priest’s manner was gentle, but there was no room for confusion over what he’d just said. She heard him take a breath, ready to continue, and dreaded what was coming next.
‘When I think of what you did for your friend Yuri – what it must have meant to him – and the consequences you have suffered. I feel . . .’ He broke off; Kitty realised his voice was choked with emotion. He took another breath, and began again. ‘What I see is a brave young woman choosing to offer herself up to an act of mercy. I see no sin, Kitty. I see only love.’
Kitty looked up. ‘But I let Theo down. I hid things from him. I —’
Father Remi held up his hand. ‘Sometimes it’s not possible to make a simple choice between right and wrong. Doing good can also cause harm.’
‘So what can I do?’ Kitty suddenly felt desperate. Her marriage – her life – was a mess. Father Remi’s sympathy would not solve her problems.
‘It’s simple,’ Father Remi said. ‘Put aside all the things others believe about you, all the things they want from you. Be true to who you really are.’ He laid his hand over the badge of his order. ‘The heart knows the truth. Search your heart.’
He waved an arm towards the garden, as though it were out there, beyond the confines of talk and deliberation, that she would discover his meaning. Kitty forced a smile, hiding her disappointment. If there was none of Tesfa’s dangerous magic to be given out, she’d at least hoped for some practical guidance.
The priest picked up the basket and held it out to her. ‘Let’s pick that fruit.’ He smiled back at her. ‘Then I want to show you our grotto.’
A path made of flat stones led between two oleander bushes dotted with magenta flowers. Kitty ducked her head, avoiding the spiked tips of the leaves. Her loaded basket bumped her knee as she followed Father Remi on, matching his brisk pace.
Peering past him, she saw what looked like a child’s playhouse, except that it was a solid building made of rendered concrete, with a gabled roof. In the middle of the façade was an arched entrance with no door – clearly, this place Father Remi called a grotto was intended to be available for use at all times. The walls were thick and sturdy, out of keeping with the miniature scale of the structure. They were unpainted, but a line of whitewash had been daubed around the entrance, perhaps intended to draw the eye of a passerby, inviting them in.
Father Remi stood aside, letting Kitty approach the grotto. ‘We finished the building over a year ago. It was built to mark a very special miracle that took place here.’ He spoke as if the occurrence of ordinary, everyday miracles could be taken for granted, like the arrival of migratory birds after winter, or the coming of night after day. ‘A child was healed of blindness. She was six years old and had been unable to see all her life. For many years, her father refused to bring her to us. But then he died from malaria and the mother decided to come. Father Paulo prayed over her and she was healed. She can even read now.’
‘She’d been completely blind?’ Kitty couldn’t help sounding sceptical.
Father Remi nodded. ‘She was led everywhere by her older sister. It was the most wonderful of all the miracles we have seen.’
Kitty raised her eyebrows. ‘So there have been others?’
He nodded. ‘Father Paulo has a gift.’
‘You mean he just prays for people and they get healed?’
‘It’s not that simple. I wish it was. Then we wouldn’t have to bother with our clinic. The nuns could give up their nutrition and hygiene teaching. Everyone could be healthy. But a true miracle is the deepest of mysteries. It is something that our minds, trained in logic, simply cannot understand. It’s not such a puzzle to the Africans, of course. Their minds are undamaged by rationalism. That’s one of the reasons I love working here. There is so much for me to learn.’
He guided Kitty towards the archway. ‘The village people decided there should be a grotto built right here, where the child was standing when she was healed. They worry that Father Paulo is old – he will leave this world soon. They hope something of him will remain here. And so do I.’ As he spoke, Father Remi looked in the direction of the small graveyard where past inhabitants of the Mission were buried. Kitty felt sad for him. She guessed that when he lost his colleague a replacement priest would be sent. Someone chosen in faraway Rome – a complete stranger, moved here like a chess piece in a game. She was glad Father Remi would still have his friend on the next-door farm. The thought of Taylor brought a half-smile to her face. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been inexplicably dancing some kind of jig with one of the prison guards. Gili’s attempts to mimic the pair had caused widespread amusement among the onlookers. Kitty could still remember the sound of laughter spreading through a crowd of a hundred men. While it lasted, they were bound together – prisoners and guards, serious criminals and petty thieves, the hopeful and despairing, weak and strong.
Putting down her basket, Kitty walked inside. The air was cool and smelled of concrete and stone. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw a pair of low wooden stools offering a place to kneel before an altar set out from the back wall. The front of the table was draped with a cloth of green and white stripes, faintly tinged with red dust. On the bare wooden top was a stand for candles, along with two matching ceramic vases. But there was no dripped wax marking the timber, and no wilting flowers, not even a single curled petal. Clearly, the grotto was not yet in use.
‘As you see,’ said Father Remi, ‘there is no statue.’ He pointed to where a concrete plinth had been erected behind the altar. ‘We are still waiting for it to come.’
‘You order them from Italy?’
‘The ones in the church come from there. However, they are very expensive and we need our money for other things.’ He came up beside Kitty, turning to meet her gaze. ‘But that isn’t the main reason the grotto is not yet finished. We want something different for this place. We’d like a statue of a child – an African child. So of course, we cannot get that from Italy.’ He eyed the blank space behind the altar thoughtfully as if he could already see what he envisioned standing there. He turned to Kitty, his face brightening. ‘Really, we should have the statue made here, with one of the local children as a model.’
Kitty looked at him without speaking. She couldn’t tell if this thought had just occurred to him, or if he was simply feigning a new idea. Regardless, a thread of excitement stirred inside her. She could already feel the clay beneath her fingers. A child’s shape forming – big head, willowy arms, rounded belly . . . Her heart beat faster. Then she shook her head. ‘I can’t do it. I’m not an artist any more.’
‘Yes, you are. The children showed me the model you made of Gili. I suspected you were a trained artist. And now, I know your story.’ He took Kitty by the shoulders, turning her around to face him square on. ‘You can’t go on denying this part of yourself. No one has the right to ask you to do that.’
Kitty nodded slowly. She felt excited, daunted. She was afraid of what his words would mean – but she could feel that they were true.
‘Sunflowers are the solution,’ Theo announced to Kitty. ‘They’re going to save our bacon.’ He was pacing the sitting room, glass in hand. ‘They grow like weeds in Australia, apparently. The Ministry of Food has got several schemes being set up over there as we speak.’ He broke off to take a swig of whisky, then laughed. ‘We’re going to try them here – on a big scale, just like the groundnuts. And all because of a parrot!’
Kitty smiled guardedly. She understood his relief that there was hope of rescuing the reputation of the Groundnut Scheme: sunflower seeds could be made into margarine just as easily as peanuts. And the thought of plantations full of big yellow flowers was instantly uplifting. But Kitty was aware of an edge to Theo’s voice. His movements were a fraction too quick, his eyes overly bright. She wasn’t sure if he’d been drinking before coming home, or if he was not as relaxed as he pretended to be.
‘Some fellow from the Ministry of Food was in Queensland,’ Theo continued, ‘at the home of one of the Australian staff. There was a parrot in a cage. The Australian commented that the bird kept spilling sunflower seeds through the bars. Wherever they landed, they grew!’ He laughed again. ‘Sounds like an improvement on groundnuts.’
‘Are they easier to harvest as well?’ Kitty had never heard of farming sunflowers (it certainly wasn’t done around Wattle Creek) but that wasn’t why she’d asked this. She just wanted to frame a sensible question – the kind Charlotte might have posed. Perhaps now that Theo was talking seriously to a woman about his work, this new approach could be extended to include Kitty too.
‘Well, obviously – but you don’t need to know about all that.’ Theo crossed to the trolley and poured himself another whisky. These days, Gabriel didn’t linger after preparing the first round of drinks. When Theo had taken a long gulp, he raised the glass as though to propose a toast. ‘I’ve got some good news for you.’
Kitty kept her small smile on her lips, concealing her unease about what could be coming.
‘Your days of slaving at that Catholic place will soon be over! Aren’t you pleased?’
Kitty stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Richard and Diana are taking home leave at the beginning of January. You won’t have to babysit her for much longer.’
Kitty couldn’t decide how to react. She already knew Diana and her husband were making a trip back to England. It was a big step for them. Seeing family and friends would bring up fresh grief over their son’s death, but they wanted to make this step towards acknowledging their past. Kitty was glad they were going. But it hadn’t occurred to her that with Diana away she would lose her reason to be at the Mission.
‘I’m to be Acting General Manager,’ Theo announced.
‘Congratulations,’ Kitty said softly.
‘When they return,’ he went on, ‘I see no need for you to take up this charity work again. You’ve done a great deal to support Diana – but enough is enough.’ The way he spoke with such authority, he might already have stepped into Richard’s shoes. ‘If she wants to keep going there when she comes back, she can do it on her own.’
When she responded, Kitty tried to make her tone light. ‘Oh, I’m happy to keep helping out. I’ve come to rather enjoy it.’
Theo gave her a sharp look, then waved one hand dismissively. ‘Well, very soon you won’t have time. You will be the senior memsahib of Kongara. This is your chance to make your mark!’
Kitty twisted her glass in her hands. She tried out different words and phrases in her head: reasons why she still had to go to the Mission. But nothing sounded right. In the end, she just opened her mouth and began.
‘I want to keep on going there, Theo. I have things to do.’
Theo’s eyes widened with surprise. What she’d said was close to open defiance.
‘What things, exactly, would those be?’ There was a sneer in his voice – but behind it, Kitty sensed rising anxiety. Theo hated anything disorderly, and she was breaking the rules. But she could not give in.
‘I’ve been asked to make a statue.’
‘Statue?’ Theo froze, his drink poised halfway to his lips.
‘It’s going to be of a child. An African. I’ll work in clay first, then make a plaster cast. Unless I can find a way to work in bronze . . .’ She knew she was running on, saying too much. It was not as if there was any chance Theo might be seduced by the details of her project. Eventually, she fell quiet.
Theo said nothing for a while. Then he spoke to Kitty slowly, as though to a child or a foreigner. ‘You made a promise to me. You gave up being an artist.’
Kitty licked her lips before taking a breath. ‘I shouldn’t have made that promise. And you shouldn’t have asked me to.’ She forced herself to hold Theo’s gaze, though every part of her recoiled from the look on his face. ‘Theo, when we met, I was an artist. Don’t you remember? It was my dream. It was why I came to England – leaving my family behind, using all my grandmother’s money. Becoming a real artist meant everything to me.’
‘Clearly it means more to you than I do.’
‘It’s not like that. I’m not choosing between you and art.’ Kitty felt sick, her legs shaky. She sensed everything was at stake in this exchange. The outcome would determine the future happiness of her marriage – her whole life.
‘Oh, yes you are, Kitty. Because you made a promise. Now you’re going to let me down again. You think you can do what you like. Maybe that’s how people behave where you come from. Or is it that you just can’t stick to anything? You get led astray by whomever’s around. That Russian. Now Diana. You can’t see what’s in front of you.’
Kitty looked helplessly at him. He wasn’t even making sense.
‘But I must warn you, if you are intent on this flagrant disobedience – thumbing your nose at everything I stand for – you are making a grave mistake, and one that could cost you a great deal.’
Kitty moved towards him, holding out her hands. ‘Please, Theo. We don’t have to argue like this. Can’t we just talk calmly? Listen to each other . . .’ Reaching him, she put one hand on his arm.
‘Don’t touch me,’ he said coldly, brushing her away like an insect that might bite. He slammed his empty glass down on the coffee table. ‘I’m going out.’
Kitty opened her mouth to tell him to wait, stay. But he was already at the door.
‘I won’t be back for dinner. And don’t expect Charlotte, either.’
Moments later came the sound of the Land Rover engine revving loudly. Then there was the grinding of gears as Theo drove off.
Kitty collapsed into a chair. Her heart was pounding. She covered her face with her hands. She knew Theo would be going straight to the Shoebox, into Charlotte’s understanding embrace. Almost certainly, he would not come back until late. He’d be drunk by then. He’d probably stagger to the single room – unless he decided to come and issue more threats to his wife. She watched herself as if from a distance. This situation was a disaster. She should be crying, at least. Instead she just closed her eyes. As the tension of the argument faded, she felt a dull anger take its place. Then she felt deeply exhausted. She curled up in the chair, losing herself in sleep.
The next thing she knew, Gabriel was bending over her, announcing that dinner would soon be served.
‘The bwana is returning?’ he asked. ‘With Lady Charlotte?’
Kitty could see the gleam of interest in his eyes. No doubt he’d overheard everything that had been said. She shook her head wearily. ‘No, he’s not coming. In fact, why don’t you and Eustace eat the dinner? I’m not hungry.’
Surprisingly, a flicker of concern passed over the young man’s face. ‘The memsahib should eat.’
The meagre words of kindness broke through Kitty’s defences. She found she could not speak.
‘I have an idea,’ Gabriel said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I will bring some food to your room. A plate of sandi-wichi.’
‘Thank you.’ Kitty smiled, her eyes blurred with tears. ‘Sandwiches would be perfect.’