Echoes From A Distant Land Part 49

The warmth of her hand on his arm made the skin beneath glow.

'Well ... isn't this a cosy little scene?' It was Raph, who was now standing at the rotunda steps. 'Making a move on my girl, are you, Jelani?' He was smiling, but the smile hadn't quite reached his eyes.

Jelani could see a flash of annoyance in Emerald's expression, and he had his answer about her feelings for Raph.

'Raph, don't be silly,' Emerald said, withdrawing her hand from Jelani's arm. 'We're just talking.'

'Oh, yeah ... talking about what?' Raph said.

'Well, if you must know, I told Jelani I was going to visit Kenya one day, and he was telling me about it.'

'Kenya? Huh! Another example of Mother England's f.u.c.king imperialism.'

'There's no need for that kind of language.'

'Oh, really? Listen to Lady Emerald Northcote-f.u.c.king-Middlebridge.'

'Raph,' Jelani said softly. 'You heard Emerald. Please be quiet. She doesn't like to hear you talk that way.'

'She didn't seem to mind it the other day in my bed - did you, sweetheart?'

Emerald coloured; she s.n.a.t.c.hed her hat from the table. Tears of anger welled in her eyes. She blinked them back, determined to be strong. She'd had enough of his crudity and his domineering att.i.tude.

'I'm going,' she said.

'Not until I'm finished,' Raph said, grabbing her by the arm as she swept past him.

'Raph! Let go. You're hurting me.'

'Leave her alone,' Jelani said, this time with a hint of threat in his voice.

'This is none of your business, n.i.g.g.e.r,' he snarled.

Jelani was on his feet in an instant, spinning Raph about and simultaneously landing a roundhouse punch to his jaw.

Raph, stunned, hurled himself at Jelani, who sprang aside, swinging a wild punch that missed Raph by a foot as he went by.

Jelani's slim build gave him the edge in speed and agility over Raph, who was slightly heavier. They sparred; Jelani dropped into a crouch, circling. Raph swung a kick at his legs. Jelani caught his ankle and spun him, throwing him to the ground and then leaping onto his back. He slipped an arm around Raph's neck and tightened his grip. Even Emerald could see that in a few seconds, Raph would be either unconscious or dead, depending on how long and how tight Jelani kept the hold.

'No!' Emerald screamed. 'Jelani, stop. You'll kill him!'

He hesitated a moment and then let Raph go.

Raph coughed and choked, spluttering obscenities and threats.

'Come on, Jelani,' she said, dragging him by the arm. 'Let's go.'

She almost ran, dragging Jelani behind her by the hand. He followed reluctantly. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, as if he was trying to get his rage under control. She'd never seen him in such a state. The young man - normally so shy and quiet - had become a frightening sight. A potential killer.

When they were some distance away from the incident, she drew him to a quiet bench seat away from the path.

'Are you hurt?' she asked.

He looked at his sc.r.a.ped knuckles. 'No,' he said.

'Thank you for defending me. You won't have to worry about Raph any more. That's the last I'll see of him.'

He nodded.

'Mother and I are leaving for Niagara Falls the day after tomorrow, and she's decided that we should leave New York immediately we come back.'

He nodded again. It was hard to read his emotions.

'So, I may not see you after tomorrow ...'

Again he remained silent, studying his clenched fist.

'Unless you can come to see me off at Grand Central. Would you do that for me ... Please?'

'I will be there.'

She kissed him on the cheek. 'Thank you, Jelani. And no matter what, we'll stay friends, won't we?'

He nodded.

'And one more thing.'

This time he met her eyes. 'Yes?'

'I want you to meet my mother.'

'Your ... mother?' His smile faltered.

'Yes. Tomorrow. I promised her I'd introduce my friends and now I have to convince her we have to go to Kenya, so I can see the place I was born. And you, of course. It's OK: we'll just have tea at the Algonquin.'

'You mean that big hotel in the middle of the city?'

'Yes. You'll love it.'

CHAPTER 54.

Dana strolled down West 4th Street with plenty of time to spare. They were leaving for Niagara the next day, so she was pleased that her last-minute shopping excursion had been successful. She had an hour or so to kill before meeting Emerald for tea with her friend.

A small banner slung outside an entrance to NYU caught her eye. It advertised a retrospective exhibition of African photographs. She decided to take a look.

Most of the photos were large black and white prints, and the photographer - a man by the name of Ketterman - had been remarkably successful in capturing the essence of Africa as Dana recalled it. As she studied the photos of landscapes and wildlife, she realised most of the collection came from Kenya and, in a flash of recognition that took her breath away, she recognised Sam in the portrait of a young warrior.

Dana's immediate thought was that she had projected Sam's likeness onto this image of a stranger - a Kikuyu man, in full traditional dress - because of a subconscious connection between him and the essence of Kenya that was portrayed in the photographs. But no, it was unquestionably Sam w.a.n.gira as a young man.

She leaned closer, raising her hand towards the print, feeling an urge to touch it; to touch him. Her fingers hovered near his torso; she remembered the silky hardness of his body. She sensed his maleness and she could smell the scent of wood fire, dry gra.s.s and sweat, when he came to her after a long trip from Abyssinia with his horses.

There were others of him. Sam in a uniform - perhaps as a safari porter. Another in a bush shirt, staring into the lens with a look of intense concentration. Something had enthralled him in that moment as the photographer snapped the shot. Her eyes roamed around the gallery. There was a significant portion of the body of work devoted to Sam. Dana went from print to print.

She again contemplated the life she and Sam might have had if she'd sent for him or merely told him she was expecting a child, for she felt sure he would have come to her. Her decision to give up one child to ensure security for the other could be seen, she knew, as brave or selfish.

The pa.s.sing of twenty years had done nothing to ease her mind. She had oscillated between the two over those years, but she had no doubt that if she and Sam had chosen a life together they would have been shunned by both white and black societies. It was an impossible situation.

No one in her life had affected her like Sam. Merely thinking about him made her old desires, so long dead, stir in their crypts. But it was a thing of the past, and she was surprised that it still had such intensity.

She looked at her little diamante wrist.w.a.tch. Time had vanished. She would be late for her afternoon tea with Emerald and her friend.

She glanced one more time at Sam the young warrior, and reluctantly headed to the exit.

Emerald had delayed honouring the promise she'd made to her mother about introducing her friends, hoping that the pa.s.sage of time and their departure for England would make the introductions unnecessary. Now that she had the ambition to visit Kenya, she had a reason of her own to introduce Jelani. Without the derisive Raph, and his caustic cynicism about the wealthy, it would be much easier.

She had made arrangements with Jelani to meet for tea in the Algonquin lobby but the morning was quite fine after two days of showers, so Emerald decided to wait for him outside the hotel.

He arrived on time, wearing a suit. She was pleased she'd worn her hat and gloves, but the suit surprised her. She didn't know he owned such a garment.

She gave him a hug. 'Jelani, you look so handsome. What a nice suit.'

He seemed pleased by the compliment, and looked down at his navy-blue suit, white shirt and blue tie with some pride.

'Thank you,' he said. 'The man said it was almost new. The previous owner only wore it to church on Sundays.'

Emerald smiled. 'Well, it fits you quite well.'

She hadn't dared to ask Jelani to dress conservatively, but now everything would be perfect. Her mother couldn't help but be impressed by his old-fashioned respect.

She led him into the lobby bar with its moulded ceilings, wood panelled walls and large padded chairs. Jelani was obviously impressed by the architecture and ambience. His eyes wandered around the interior as she chose a table.

They took their seats on opposite sides of a gla.s.s-topped coffee table. Jelani sat on the edge of his chair and looked uncomfortable.

Almost immediately a waiter appeared at Emerald's side. That's service! she thought, but the waiter was grim-faced.

'I'm sorry, madam, but I am unable to serve you.'

'What do you mean you can't serve us? I'm a guest in the Algonquin.'

'I am aware of that, madam. But madam should also be aware of our service policy.'

'Whatever are you talking about?' She was becoming fl.u.s.tered now.

His eyes didn't leave hers, but he inclined his head in Jelani's direction. 'We are unable to serve the ... dark person, madam.'

Emerald stared at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly. Then she looked at Jelani, sitting opposite, with an expression of utter embarra.s.sment.

'But he's African,' she offered, lamely.

'I'm sorry, madam. It's the hotel's rules.'

'Oh,' she said. She could think of nothing else to say. All her recently found confidence and sophistication abandoned her. She was a mumbling, stumbling child again, being admonished for a misdemeanour. She summoned all her dwindling courage and stood, almost meeting the diminutive waiter eye to eye.

'Well,' she said in a huff. 'I shall speak to my mother, I mean, the manager about this ... this ... outrage!'

Jelani now had no heart for a meeting with Emerald's mother. It had been difficult enough to come at all, but with the white waiter looking at him as if he were an unwanted dog, he just wanted to flee. In Kenya, he railed at patronising white settlers and the paternalistic white administration. In America it had been worse. On the streets of New York, whites looked at him as if he carried a bad odour.

Emerald had tears in her eyes and he felt sorry for her.

'I didn't realise there could be such monstrous restrictions in a place like New York,' she said. 'I'm so sorry, Jelani. I ... I'm going to do something about it, so it can never happen again.'

But her mortification made no difference to Jelani. He'd had similar snubs in the past and shrugged off his feelings of unworthiness by reminding himself he was a proud Kikuyu warrior, and a member of the feared Mau Mau. He would not let these white men make him feel shame.

He smiled. 'Don't worry, Emerald. I'm not upset. He said it was the hotel's rules.'

'Still ... It's not good enough.'

'Come on. If it makes you feel better, I could still meet your mother.'

She took his arm and squeezed it.

During the walk from the elevators to the door of her suite, Jelani had second thoughts. Being with a white girl in Kenya was unthinkable and he knew that Americans held similar views about friendships between blacks and whites. Before he could devise an excuse, they were at the door and Emerald swung ahead, dragging him in by the hand.

Jelani stood in the middle of the sumptuously furnished room, its chandelier dripping with twinkling stars of cut gla.s.s, never more aware of the stark differences between his world and Emerald's.

Dana heard Emerald's voice from the door. With a touch of annoyance she quickly checked her appearance in her bathroom mirror. Emerald was supposed to wait for her in the lobby bar. She straightened her dress, touched a hand to her hair, and then walked into the sitting room.

Her first sight was of Emerald, visibly upset. But it was her friend who most astonished Dana, and took her mind from her daughter's distress. He was black. And a Kikuyu. At that moment she couldn't explain how she knew, but of that fact she had no doubt.

Emerald introduced him. Dana spluttered a welcome, recovered her decorum, and invited him to take a seat while Emerald began a breathless explanation of the embarra.s.sing confrontation in the lobby bar. She went on to say that Jelani was from Kenya and that he was in the USA for only a short period.

Dana tried to concentrate, but she couldn't take her mind off the Kenyan - Jelani. And she couldn't stop taking furtive glances at him. He was a handsome young man, light-skinned for an African, with intelligent eyes and an engaging if somewhat reserved smile.

Hearing Emerald's rendition of the incident in the lobby bar made her annoyed with the waiter and the hotel's policy, but as she gathered her thoughts, she became more annoyed with Emerald for not telling her that her friend was black. If Dana had known, she could have warned Emerald of the likely outcome. It was her daughter's irritating habit of trying to shock her that had led to the embarra.s.sing situation in the first place.

She put her aggravation with Emerald to one side. 'Would you like tea? I have coffee, but it's the hotel's - that appalling instant variety, I'm afraid.'

He said he'd like tea and she went to the alcove where she'd had the hotel staff place a tea trolley and urn. It was an opportunity for her to take stock of her thoughts because the young man's appearance had taken her off guard. She realised she knew nothing about him and that as a responsible parent she should. How had they met? Why was he, a Kenyan, in America? What was the extent of their friendship?

She made the tea and, as she placed the cups and accoutrements on the tray she realised that she had completely forgotten the visitor's name. A further embarra.s.sment for the poor young man. The morning was deteriorating rapidly for Dana.

When she returned with the laden tea tray, she said, 'I'm sorry, it's completely unforgiveable of me, but in all the confusion, I've missed your name.'