War Cry. Wilbur Smith

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СКАЧАТЬ his way through the crowd. Of all the people all around her, whether black or white, his was the only face not alight with the sheer thrill of what they had all just witnessed. He looked sombre, and she could see him becoming cross as he had to force his way through all the people blocking his way.

      The doctor was looking from side to side, clearly searching for someone. Then he spotted Saffron. He’d often treated her for colds and upset tummies and general bumps and bruises so he recognized her at once and came towards her.

      ‘Hello, Saffron,’ he said, not giving her his usual smile. And before she could even say hello back, he asked, ‘Where’s your father?’

      ‘He’s over there, by Manyoro,’ she said, pointing towards them. ‘Is something the matter?’

      The doctor didn’t reply and suddenly Saffron had a terrible, frightening feeling that she knew what the matter was. She reached up and tugged on the doctor’s sleeve. ‘Is Mummy all right?’

      He looked down at her, his face grave, opened his mouth, but then closed it again, as if he did not know what to say. He turned his head, looked towards her father and pushed his way through the mass of people lining up to offer their congratulations.

      Saffron watched the doctor talking to Daddy. She saw the happiness drain from her father’s face, to be replaced by a look as sad and serious as the doctor’s. Then her father turned to Manyoro, and said something. Both men looked towards her and then they started moving: her father with Doctor Thompson, heading back up to the clubhouse, Manyoro towards her.

      Saffron knew what that meant. Daddy was going to see Mummy, who must be really ill, or he and the doctor wouldn’t be looking so worried. Manyoro was supposed to be looking after her.

      Saffron loved Manyoro. But she loved her mother more and she had to see her, no matter how ill she was. She just had to.

      She thought for a second. Black people aren’t allowed in the clubhouse. Not unless they’re staff. So if I can get there before Manyoro he can’t come in after me.

      She looked towards Manyoro. For a second their eyes met. Then Saffron turned and dashed away, nipping between the much bigger grown-ups all around her while Manyoro had to go slowly and steadily, asking permission of all the settlers to let him through. Saffron knew that she was being cruel, forcing a man as proud and dignified as Manyoro to lower himself to men and women who weren’t half as fine as him, simply because of the colour of his skin. But she had no choice. She had to see her mother.

      Saffron kept moving, constantly expecting to feel the weight of Manyoro’s hand on her shoulder until she reached the short flight of steps leading up to the clubhouse veranda. She dashed up the steps, knowing that once she’d reached the top she was safe and only then looked around to see where Manyoro was.

      The Masai wasn’t hard to spot. He was a good head taller than any of the settlers around him and he was looking at her with an expression of disappointment and something else Saffron had never seen in him before. She frowned, wondering what it was and then she realized that Manyoro was in pain. He clenched his fist and bumped it against his chest, over his heart.

      The pain he’s feeling is for me, Saffron thought as she turned and made her way to the spot where Mummy had been sitting. Her chair was empty, but her handbag was still there, on the table beside the chair, and the book she had brought with her to read, The Green Hat.

      Saffron remembered the first time she’d seen it, a few days earlier. ‘Who wants to read a book about a hat?’ she’d asked.

      Mummy had laughed and said, ‘It’s not just about a hat. It’s more about the woman who wears it. She’s called Iris Storm and she’s very daring and rather wicked.’

      ‘Is she the baddie, then?’

      ‘No, she’s more like a tragic heroine – someone beautiful and rather wonderful, but doomed.’

      ‘Oh …’ Saffron had not been entirely sure what Mummy had meant by that, but then she’d perked up when Mummy leaned over, with a cheeky smile on her face and a wicked glint in her eye, and whispered, ‘Would you like to hear a secret about this book?’

      ‘Ooh, yes please!’ cried Saffron, who loved secrets and could tell from Mummy’s expression that this was going to be a really good one.

      ‘Well, Iris Storm is a pretend character, but she’s based on a real person.’

      ‘Is that the secret?’ asked Saffron, disappointedly.

      ‘It’s part of the secret,’ Eva said. ‘The other part is that the real woman is someone you know.’

      Now that was interesting. Saffron’s eyes widened. ‘Who?’ she gasped.

      ‘I can’t tell you, because it’s a secret … but …’ Mummy let the word hang tantalizingly in the air, ‘In the book, Iris Storm drives a great big yellow Hispano–Suiza car with a silver stork on the bonnet. What do you think about that?’

      Saffron frowned in concentration. And then it struck her. She had seen a great big yellow car with a stork. ‘I know, I know!’ she squealed excitedly. ‘It’s …’

      ‘Ssshhh …’ Mummy had put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t say a word. It’s a secret.’

      Moments like that, when she and Mummy were sharing things and it felt as though they lived in their own little world – although Daddy and Kippy were allowed into it too, of course – were one of the things Saffron loved about her mother. So now she smiled to herself as she picked up the book and put it into Mummy’s bag, taking care not to let the bookmark fall out, so that Mummy didn’t lose her place.

      ‘Hey you … Missy!’ someone called out. ‘What do you think you’re doing with that bag?’

      Saffron turned and saw a cross-looking man she didn’t recognise.

      ‘It’s my mummy’s bag,’ she said. ‘I’m going to take it to her.’ Then she stopped and, suddenly feeling very frightened, said, ‘I don’t know where she is.’

      The man’s face fell. He looked around as if looking for an escape route.

      ‘My mummy is Eva Courtney,’ Saffron said. ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’

      ‘Ah … I … that’s to say … must dash,’ the man said and disappeared into the crowd.

      Saffron was surrounded by people yet utterly alone. More alone than she’d ever been in her life. She wished she’d let Manyoro look after her. She always felt completely safe when she was with him.

      A waitress came up to her and got down on her haunches in front of her. ‘I will take you to your mother,’ she said, and held out her hand.

      Saffron took it. The feel of the waitress’s smooth warm skin calmed and comforted her a little. She walked with her into the main body of the clubhouse, still clutching her mother’s handbag tight to her body with her spare hand. There was a bar inside where children weren’t supposed to go, filled with men talking about the race, settling up their own side bets and loudly calling for more beer. No one paid Saffron any attention as the waitress led her across the bar and opened a door with a wooden sign on it that said ‘Committee Room’.

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ