Chris drove Rose and Heather to St George’s church on Saturday morning in Rose’s battered Land Rover Defender. Parked cars lined the approach road.
“It looks like a good turnout for Dad,” observed Chris.
“It certainly does, and the car park must be full. I do hope they’ve saved us a space,” Rose fretted.
Chris turned into the car park and spotted an empty parking space, with a reserved sign leaning against a wooden chair, to the left of the church entrance. It was a modest stone church which had replaced the original wooden one built in 1927.
Rose stood on the church’s threshold as she heard the Moipei Sisters begin to sing. The last time she had walked down the aisle of a church, before a packed congregation, had been over forty years ago when she and Craig had married in St. Mary’s Church in Nakuru.
She registered many faces, all turned towards her, as she walked steadily towards the front of the church flanked by Chris and Heather. There were farmers, not only from Laikipia but from as far afield as Eldoret and Narok, near the Maasai Mara.
Most of the local polo and horse show community appeared to be present, and many more had travelled from Gilgil and Nairobi. And she recognised a group of African workers from the last farm Craig had managed outside Timau, who were huddled together on the right-hand side of the church.
Rose, Chris and Heather took their places in the front pew as the Bishop of Marsabit, who had agreed to make a special visit to lead the memorial service, began the ceremony with the words, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of one of our own, Craig Michael Hardie.”
Heather stood on the stone step, leading into the choir stalls. She faced the congregation and read Psalm 23.
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Chris had chosen his own reading. He told the packed church, “I wish to remember my father’s life rather than mourn his death and so I have chosen to read, ‘I Thank Thee God, That I Have Lived,’ by Elizabeth Craven.”
“I thank you, God, that I have lived
In this great world and known its many joys;
The song of birds, the strong, sweet smell of hay,
And cooling breezes in the secret dusk,
The flaming sunsets at the close of day,
Hills, and the lonely, heather-covered moors,
Music at night, and moonlight on the sea,
The beat of waves upon the rocky shore
And wild, white spray, flung high in ecstasy;
The faithful eyes of dogs, and treasured books,
The love of kin and fellowship of friends,
And all that makes life dear and beautiful.
I thank you, too, that there has come to me
A little sorrow and, sometimes, defeat,
A little heartache and the loneliness
That comes with parting, and the word ‘Goodbye’,
Dawn breaking after dreary hours of pain,
When I discovered that night’s gloom must yield
And morning light break through to me again.
Because of these and other blessings poured
Unasked upon my wondering head,
Because I know that there is yet to come
An even richer and more glorious life,
And most of all, because Your only Son
Once sacrificed life’s loveliness for me,
I thank you, God, that I have lived.”
Rose laughed and cried through Dickie Chambers’ eulogy, and she was relieved that his uplifting words, and the amused response of the congregation, raised the spirits inside the church. It began to feel like a celebration of Craig’s life, rather than a memorial of his death. She was thankful, as she knew Craig had wanted a jolly good party to mark his departure.
But when the Moipei Sisters ended the service by singing ‘My Land is Kenya’ she heard many sobs and the opening of bags as people searched for tissues and hankies to mop their eyes. A number of the men blew their noses.
Finally, the bishop stood in front of the congregation and announced, “Rose, Heather and Chris would like to invite you all to Cape Chestnut for lunch, and to raise a glass, or two, in celebration of Craig’s life.”
He approached Rose, clasped her hands in his and said, “It’s wonderful to see so many people here. And I know how well Craig was liked and respected in the community.”
Rose replied, “Thank you. It was a very moving service. Will you join us for lunch?”
“For a short time, thank you, and then I will be visiting patients in the Cottage Hospital and some of those who are now living in the Louise Decker Centre.”
The party already appeared to be in full swing as Rose walked through the wooden gate into the garden at the Cape Chestnut restaurant.
She was greeted by a cluster of farmers. “A very fitting send-off,” one of them said.
“Thank you for coming so far. Craig would have appreciated it,” Rose responded.
Dickie Chambers hovered by the steps to the restaurant veranda. “I hope my eulogy wasn’t too long, but there are so many stories, it was difficult to pick just a few.”
She touched his arm. “Thank you, Dickie, it was perfect. And so wonderful to remember some of the antics Craig got up to. I’d forgotten many of the stories and his narrow escapes, and I never knew that he was involved in hanging Sybil’s underwear from the polo goal posts.”
A smiling Chloe approached Rose and handed her a glass of prosecco. “I thought you might need this.”
“Oh thank you,” Rose replied. “And I think I need some air and a moment to breathe.”
Chloe escorted her through the milling crowd towards the large Cape Chestnut tree.
Rose noticed a glow to Chloe’s skin and enquired, “Something’s changed. Have you and Dan sorted yourselves out?”
Chloe smiled, “We’re getting there. I think it may be a bumpy journey, but I feel that for now, at least, we are moving together in the right direction.”
Commissioner Akida, Sam and Constable Wachira stood beside the trunk of the Cape Chestnut tree.
“A fabulous turnout for Bwana Craig,” greeted the commissioner. “And there are some faces here I haven’t seen for decades. Not since I was a young sergeant.” He sipped his beer and leant forward, saying, “We have processed Robert Scott Watson and Vivian Scott, but they are to be returned to the UK and prosecuted by the Thames Valley Police.”
“And are you happy with that?” Rose asked.
“Extremely. It would be a high-profile case with the potential for bribery and delay. Frankly, I am relieved to hand it over to authorities in the UK so we can return to our quiet lives in Nanyuki.”
“They haven’t been that quiet recently,” mused Sam.
“That is true, and one of the reasons I would like to put forward Constable Wachira for the upcoming sergeant’s exams. Her report into the Nina Scott Watson case was clear, concise and comprehensive. Whilst it was Mama Rose who joined the pieces together, I believe Constable Wachira did some excellent investigative work.”
“Aren’t I a bit young to be a sergeant?” asked Constable Wachira. “And what about Constables Adan and Ngetich. I know they are expecting to be put forward this year.”
The commissioner drew his lips together before saying, “Adan is lazy and Ngetich is more interested in lining her own pockets with traffic fines than actually making the roads a safer place. I need a sergeant with initiative who I can rely on to do the right thing.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Sam, encircling the constable’s small, athletic shoulders with his large, muscular arm.
“I agree,” said Rose. “And what about you, Sam?”
The large man scratched his chin. “I leave tomorrow for an undercover operation in Tsavo. But for the first time, I’m not excited about going. In fact, I’d rather stay in Nanyuki and solve some more crimes with you, Mama Rose.” He grinned.
“Please, I really have had enough of death and murder.”
As if remembering why they were there, they all stood in respectful silence. Rose smiled and said, “But I doubt the status quo will last for long. So for now I shall enjoy being reunited with my family and friends.”
Sam raised his glass and echoed, “Family and friends.” The commissioner, Constable Wachira and Chloe followed his lead.
“I think we should get back to the party,” Chloe suggested.
Rose nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”
They walked back and spotted Thabiti and Pearl standing beside the raised wooden veranda.
Pearl greeted Rose. “Wonderful service. Craig …”
There was a commotion above them and a shout from the restaurant proprietor. “This is a private party. And it’s a funeral, so please show some respect.”
“I’ve got every right to be here and pay my respects to Mr Hardie.” An African man stood indignantly above them holding a plate piled with food. He swayed unsteadily on his feet.
“You’re a disgrace. It’s not even noon and you’re already drunk.”
“I’ve just had a few drinks to wish Bwana Hardie safari njema.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The crowd parted as the restaurant proprietor led the African man, who wore a good quality, but worn, pinstripe suit, towards the gate.
As he reached Rose, he beamed, “Thabiti, Pearl, there you are. Please, can you ask this woman to let go of me?”
The proprietor looked at Thabiti with raised eyebrows and asked, “Do you know this man?”
Thabiti kicked at the dusty ground and muttered, “Yes, he’s my father.”
Dear Reader
I do hope you’ve enjoyed Jackal & Hide. If so, please leave a review on the platform you bought from, and any others you are willing and able to post on. Reviews will help bring Jackal & Hide to the attention of other readers. A couple of lines highlighting what you like most, such as characters, setting, plot etc. are sufficient.
Writing the scenes with Rose, Craig and Chris was very emotional and I was crying as I wrote about Craig’s death, and the scattering of his ashes. I’ve written a bonus scene from Craig’s point of view, when Chris and he were in the hospital ward. It discusses their relationship, and that which they both have with Rose. If you would like to read it please Click Here. (If you have bought this as a pre-order or during launch week the Bonus Scene is included after the introduction to book 5, Grevy Danger)
I was lucky enough to take part in the Lewa Half Marathon and whilst it was hard work, it was an amazing experience.
I also visited the wonderful Borana Conservancy on a number of occasions, including teaching and supervising children on a pony club trekking camp. Some of the children, including my own son were only five, and at times it was stressful as their ponies rounded a corner and came face to face with a giraffe!
How will Rose cope without Craig? And what will her young friends Thabiti, Pearl, Marina and Chloe decide to do with their lives? Has Commissioner Akida met his match, as a new character elbows her way into the stories? Join me in Grevy Danger where greed, historic land issues, wildlife conservation, tribal curses and of course, suspicious deaths, leave Mama Rose with much to think about. Buy Grevy Danger.
Best wishes
Victoria
Grevy Danger: An Entertaining Cozy Murder Mystery (A Kenya Kanga Mystery Book 5)
Two deaths. No crime. For this determined sleuth the answers are not black and white.
Community vet ‘Mama Rose’ Hardie is hoping for peace and tranquility to mourn the death of her faithful husband. But when a woman collapses and dies in her arms, she’s shaken to the core.
She joins an endangered zebra expedition, but alarms bells start ringing when a second woman mysteriously dies in her care.
Despite the lack of evidence, and the authorities’ insistence that the tragedies are coincidental, Rose acts on her own instincts to prove they’re deliberate killings. But with clues luring her deep into the corrupt lion’s den, unmasking this deadly plot could claim her last breath.
Will Rose’s pursuit of justice lead to her own extinction?
Grevy Danger is the fifth book in the compelling Kenya Kanga Mystery series. If you like intuitive heroines, mysteries full of twists and turns, and sweeping African landscapes, then you’ll love Victoria Tait’s intelligent tale.
Buy Grevy Danger and ensure that justice is delivered today!
Bonus Scene
As Rose closed the door of the small ward in the Cottage Hospital Craig looked across at his son. Chris appeared agitated as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“What’s the matter?” asked Craig.
“Well, it’s Mum. Are you happy that she dashes off as soon as someone calls and asks for her help?” Chris paced up and down the small room.
“The call was from Dr Emma, who has a patient arriving and needs your mother’s assistance.”
Chris stopped and faced his father, opening his arms. “I know, but next time it will be a friend who needs something doing, or the police wanting her help with a case. Why can’t she just say no?”
Craig felt weary, but knew it was important that Chris understood his mother’s actions, particularly as the next few days, weeks or months were likely to be a strain for everyone. “Your mother has a strong sense of duty, and she knows that what goes around comes around in our small community. Neither you nor I is going to be here much longer, and when I’m dead and you’ve returned to the UK, the people who contact her now will be the ones who’ll support her in the future.”
Chris sighed, “I wish you wouldn’t speak like that.”
“What? About my death? We all need to face up to it, including your mother, who I think may be keeping herself active as a way to put off having to think about it.”
Chris tapped his thigh. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s just that in the army supporting my teammates was my priority, and we are Mum’s team, and I think she should be here, putting you first.”
Craig considered his son and wondered how much he remembered, or had been told about his parents and their early years. Perhaps if he knew it might help him to understand his mother better.
He said, “Why don’t you go and find yourself a fresh cup of coffee. I’m not allowed coffee, but would you mind fetching me a weak tea, without sugar?”
When Chris had left, the African man in the opposite bed said, ‘Bwana, your son may be a grown man, but he sounds like a small boy. I think his worries are about himself. He lacks the confidence to take over your role as the man of the house.”
“You’re probably right. Perhaps he remembers his mother’s role as caring for him and his years in the army wouldn’t have changed that view. It might be rather confusing for him to discover that his mother is an independent woman, and rather a headstrong one at that.” Craig chuckled. “And is not sitting vigil by my bedside day and night.”
Craig considered that there were times he’d wished Rose would spend more time with him instead of rushing between her veterinary work and a committee meeting for the Mount Kenya Horse Show, or a gathering of the East Africa Women’s League.
But he understood how important these aspects of her life were and how they helped give her meaning and purpose. And she would need to have a reason to get up each morning, when he was gone, and to keep going. He did not want her to be like other women he had known, including his own mother back in Scotland. She had been dominated by his father all her life, but instead of feeling a sense of freedom when he died, she was at such a loss that she gave up on life and was dead within a year.
No, he didn’t want that for Rose. And whilst Chris talked about teams and priorities, Rose’s team was much larger and included many people in the community. They were the ones who would support and console her.
Chris returned with the drinks and placed them on the bedside cabinet.
“Your tea is hot, so I’ll just let it cool down,” he said. He sipped his own coffee and sat down in the chair his mother had vacated.
Craig noted that Chris’s mouth was pinched and his face and shoulders were tense. He said, “Let me tell you about your mother and how she and I first met.”
“It was in Nakuru, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’d answered an advertisement back home in Scotland for an accountant to work on farm accounts in Kenya. It sounded magical. Because of my polio and my slow road to recovery, I spent most of my childhood indoors, so I longed for the outdoor life. I’d been working as a trainee accountant for a firm on the outskirts of Glasgow and it was pretty grim. When I read about Kenya, it sounded like the promised land and the lure was too great. I packed my bags and left Scotland.”
Chris stood and picked up Craig’s tea. He took a sip and declared, “This should be OK now.” He helped his father raise the cup to his lips and enquired, “But it wasn’t all cocktail parties and wildlife safaris?”
“No, far from it. Nakuru was a busy, bustling city back then and in some ways it reminded me of Glasgow. On the surface it portrayed success and economic prosperity, but underneath there was a huge amount of poverty. But oh how I loved wandering through the back streets where the tailors and other craftsman worked away outside their shops, where the light was better. And there was always so much noise and bustle as people, dogs, cattle and a few motor vehicles mixed. Of course, the railway was running then and it was the main means of communication with Nairobi, and on to Mombasa. Taking the train to the coast was a magical experience.”
“And what about Mum?”
“I’d heard about her before I met her. She had lost her mother when she was young and had grown up rather feral, running around her father’s farm and surrounding areas with the local African children. Eventually her father was persuaded to send her away to a prestigious all girls boarding school in Nairobi, but I don’t think they ever tamed her. When her father lost his farm during independence, I believe it was like the final brick of stability being removed, especially as many of her friends returned to England. She became wild, neglected her school work in favour of parties and outings, and was finally forced to leave school.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound like Mum at all.”
Craig laughed, “No, I guess it doesn’t. And I was expecting some wild party animal, but instead the Rose I met was quiet and withdrawn. And she carried so much sadness.”
‘Depression?” asked Chris.
Craig sipped his tea, considering. “Yes, I guess it was. And nowadays no doubt she would have received counselling, but there was nothing like that back then.”
“Some things have changed for the better,” mused Chris.
“Anyway,” continued Craig, “she was working for a recently arrived Scottish vet, Iain Brown, and because of our shared roots, Iain and I became pals. He’s long dead now, bless him. A bull he was treating went wild and literally crushed him to death. Your mother was working for Iain doing his paperwork, looking after clients, and she also helped with operations and simple medical treatments. I guess that’s where her veterinary training really began. Can you take this?”
Chris placed Craig’s half empty cup of tea back on the bedside cabinet.
Craig continued, “She dismissed me at first. I think she saw me as a dour and crippled Scotsman. But she was lonely, so we talked, and slowly she began to feel more content with life and we became friends. And it went from there.”
Craig looked at his son and in a sterner tone said, “But the important thing is, I knew your mother was not one of those women who wanted a man to look after and provide for her. And she’s not interested in what others might call the finer things in life, like smart clothes, jewellery and exotic holidays. She sought a partner in life. Someone who would be her equal and would provide mutual support. And over the years, we have done just that, and when one or other of us has been down or in trouble, the other has taken over responsibility for the family, until the burdens of life could be shared equally again.”
Chris looked down and fiddled with his coffee cup. “But that still doesn’t excuse her for not being here.”
“But you’re here, so why does she need to be as well? Besides, there have been many times when your assistance would have been preferable, but you weren’t here and your mother provided the help I needed.”
“But …” protested Chris.
“I know,” Craig interrupted. “I’m not blaming you and I now know it was my fault you didn’t want to associate with us, but I’m just saying, don’t judge your mother too harshly. And it’s time for you to step up to your role as my son. Come on. Let’s have a look at one of those crosswords your mother left.”
Chris stood and was about to reach for the envelope of crossword puzzles his mother had left when the door opened and Dr Farrukh entered.
“Hello, Craig, and you’re his son I presume?” She addressed Chris. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to formally introduce myself yesterday.”
Chris automatically extended his hand and said, “Yes, Chris.”
But Dr Farrukh was already reading Craig’s chart. She looked up and asked Chris, “Is your mother coming?”
“No, she’s … been called away.”
Craig added, “Dr Emma asked her to help with a patient, but she’ll be back soon.”
“Well if you don’t mind, I’ll tell you my prognosis and you can pass it onto Rose.”
Chris and Craig both nodded.
“Actually, there’s not much I can tell you, as it’s still too early to determine if the fracture is healing. And I understand you have a nasty bruise.”
The doctor moved to Craig’s side and gently leaned him forward whilst she lifted his pyjama top and examined the large bruise on his back.
“Nasty,” she murmured. She returned Craig to a sitting position and said, “I think we’ll need to keep you in hospital under observation for a week or so.”
“And then can I return home?” Craig asked in a tense voice.
The doctor hesitated. “I’m not sure. And at this stage I won’t dismiss it, as you may surprise us all and make a complete recovery, but realistically, I think you’ll need to be able to call upon round the clock care. Have you considered our newly completed Louise Decker Centre?”
“What’s that?” asked Chris
“It’s a care facility for the eld … for those patients who do not need to be in hospital but still require twenty-four hour attendance. We have a dedicated team who specialise in geriatric care.”
Chris mused, “It might be worth considering.” He looked across at his father and asked, “What do you think, Dad?”
Craig thought he would rather be at home, but smiled politely at Chris and the doctor.
Dr Farrukh continued, “The centre has a lovely atmosphere and it’s brighter and airier than these hospital rooms. Something to consider,” she said brightly, as she returned Craig’s chart to the foot of his bed and opened the door. “I’ll see you later, on my afternoon rounds.”
“That sounds like a possible longer-term solution,” Chris said brightly.
Craig wasn’t certain he would need, or want, a longer-term solution. The pain was returning and eating away at his mind as well as his body. It never completely went away and sometimes he just wished he could lie down, go to sleep and never wake up. But he knew he mustn’t think like that. And he must keep himself going until he saw his daughter.
“Heather. When is Heather coming?” he asked.
“You know she’s booked her flights for the end of the month. But I’ll call her this afternoon and tell her that you had a fall and that you’re in hospital. You never know, she might be able to arrange things so she can come over earlier.”
Craig smiled.
“Why were you always so much kinder to Heather than to me? I don’t remember you telling her what she should do with her life.”
Craig sighed. “You know things were different when you were growing up. A man was expected to be the breadwinner and support a wife and children. Women could get excellent education, and some were very capable, but the majority still gave up work when they married and had children. I’m delighted that your sister has turned her love of plants into a full blown floral decoration company. At least I think that’s what she calls her business providing flower arrangements and decorations for weddings and events. But you, I admit I wanted great things for you, and to be able to boast to my friends about you being an officer in the British army, and share photographs of you in smart regimental uniform.”
Chris looked down at the floor and said in a sarcastic voice, “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
Craig felt tired again. Were he and Chris going to continue going around in circles? He tried to make his voice light and jovial as he said, “Perhaps we had better not go back there. I’m very proud of your achievements and it’s no longer important to me what other people think. It’s how I feel about you, and I know that you have suffered through situations that I cannot even imagine. But you have survived and we are blessed to be together as a family. Or we soon will be, when your sister joins us. Why don’t we have a go at those crossword puzzles?”
He watched Chris stand and move across to the cabinet with a set expression on his face and wondered if he and his son would ever be completely reunited.