30

She had to decide, and soon. To delay was not fair to Furniver. Would he join her on the shamba, helping to cultivate the coffee for which Kuwisha was famous, and care for the cattle? Or would they go their separate ways, retreat into their separate cultures and traditions?

Charity looked into her heart. The answer to him, she feared, had to be no.

Much as she loved Furniver, she could not live in England and be the same person. And if this were true of her, why should it not be true of Furniver? Did he not find the heat oppressive? And did he not hate the mud?

As to other differences, she could live with them: the extraordinary fact that Furniver’s children were growing up without knowing their father; that they had to endure the apparent absence of an extended family, poor things.

But before she finally acted, she should give Mudenge a chance.

Mildred was right. It was time to consult, for the second time in a matter of days, Clarence “Results” Mudenge.

“I can promise you,” he said at the end of the consultation, “that either I get the results or you get your money back.”

At the first session Mudenge had listened carefully, interrupting only to ask pertinent and penetrating questions that opened her mind.

“Yes, Mrs Mupanga” – he always addressed his customers as Mr or Mrs, a courtesy that Charity appreciated – “I must speak frankly. It is clear to me that there is a problem here. But like all problems, there is usually an answer – although I must tell you that it might not be the answer that makes you happy.”

Charity nodded her agreement.

“First, as Mildred told you, I need to know about his dreams.”

“That is easy – he is always dreaming. He talks about coffee grown without insect killers on the shamba. I tell him that’s fine but it will be his job to catch the goggas that eat the leaves and the coffee berries.”

She spoke with passion, leaving Results in no doubt that the subject was a delicate one.

“He dreams about power from the sun, about storing rain water. Oh yes, he is a man who dreams all right . . .”

“That is a good start”, said Mudenge, “but I am looking for other dreams. For proper dreams. The lion and the tortoise both dream . . .”

Charity looked at him sharply. Was he making fun of Furniver, who had filled two notebooks with Kuwisha proverbs before realising that most of them had been made up by Pearson, in a ridiculous competition with Shadrack, his steward?

“The dreams you mention are very interesting, but they are hopes and not so much dreams,” Mudenge continued. “I want to know his sleeping dreams.”

Charity was shocked.

“That is private business for any man.”

“Or woman,” replied Mudenge. “The fact is, Mrs Mupanga, our dreams tell us a lot. Please, think very carefully about Furniver’s dreams and I think we will find they have the answer to your problem.”

Results Mudenge studied Charity Mupanga. Not for the first time, he acknowledged that she was a fine woman indeed, with a strong handsome face, a throaty laugh and all the assets of a woman of Kuwisha.

“But I promise you the dreams will stay private. That is my business.”