As the tractor’s lights drop from view, Rudd turns to Father Norman. “Thanks for your help. You’ve been brilliant. Kept me standing.”

The priest grins. His hair is untidy, his shirt mud-splattered, and his trousers rolled lopsidedly up to his knees. “Don’t mention it. Can’t remember when I last had such fun. Or so much exercise. Not sure I’ll be able to move tomorrow, but it’s been a relief to do something useful and physical.” He pauses, and looks up at the night sky. “And these skies. Doesn’t feel the right thing to say right now, but they are something I’ll never forget.”

Rudd nods, and links his fingers behind his head. He looks up and lets his eyes sink in amongst the millions of stars above them. “I’m going to miss this,” he says, pulling his elbows back as tight as he can to stretch out the tension in his shoulders.

“Of course … but you’ll come back won’t you?”

“That’s my plan. Right now I just need a break. Although right, right now I need to go and sort out transport for the rest of the guests. The tractor driver told me that some vehicles had reached the village below the tea factory. He didn’t know where from, but they got there.”

“Sounds promising,” says Father Norman. “We should probably get back then.”

“Ja. And I’d like to catch the doctors. Saw their helicopter come in as we were heading up here.” The pair follow the others down over the wet slip of the road, churned up by tractor tracks.

Marybelle and the doctors are in the kitchen. The doctors are chatting, while she cooks by candlelight. The news is not good. The worst is that a school has been flattened, with at least ten children and two teachers missing, presumed dead. In another village a river has swept away two families. Dr Hove says he is certain the numbers lost will have doubled by the morning.

The only good news the doctors have, is that they came across Tim and Jacobus who were both well, and asked them to pass on the news that Tonderai’s family were safe.

“I’m so thankful to hear that,” says Marybelle, her tired face shining briefly as she grates cheese for the evening’s pasta.

“Hallelujah,” says Father Norman.

“Amen to that,” says Dr Hove.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” Rudd asks.

“Tomorrow. First they’ll hand out the medicines we left them, then they’ll walk back. It’s not too far,” says Dr Jabu Ndlovu.

Marybelle puts down her grater, and raps on the large saucepan beside her with a ladle. “Right everyone, supper is ready to be served. Rudd could you wash that dirt off your hands and pass me some plates from the cupboard there?”

“Sure,” says Rudd, taking over from Father Norman at the sink. He lathers his hands under the tap, wondering as he does so at Marybelle’s stamina. He collects the plates and takes them across to her.

“Thank you,” she says to him. “Let’s get these ready, and through to Fred and Bernard on the verandah. They’ll want to hear the news, and the others can come and help themselves.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Rudd and Father Norman find the car park heroes in the kitchen getting supplies together for their walk to Mutare.

 “Morning all. A big thank you to whoever did that clearing in the car park.” Rudd’s voice quietens the room.

“May I also pass on my own thanks, and tell you that the mission truck has started.” The pulpit tone of Father Norman reduces the noise even more, allowing replies to jostle towards them.

“Good news.”

“Cheers.”

“No worries.”

Hansie comes over to them. “Glad to hear your wheels are working Father,” he says, then turns to Rudd. “How long do you think it will take to get from here to Mutare on foot?”

“Depends. Not sure what’s out there, but two days at least I reckon. Best plan is to stick to the roads, and I’ll try to arrange for our Mutare transport guys to pick you up.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ve got a solar charger for my mobile if you need to call. We’ll head off ASAP.”

A shoulder knocks past Rudd. “Thanks for nothing, hey Rudd. Ruan, can you carry this for me?”

Rudd, his response swallowed, watches silently as Aneke’s back disappears into the thick of walkers heading outside behind Hansie. He and Father Norman follow them out, past the red truck, and on to where the security gate lies meshed beneath boulders. Bright t-shirts and laughter clamber around the blockage and disappear into the distance, with Aneke and Ruan bringing up the rear.

Once they are all out of sight, Rudd and Father Norman return to the lodge, and are making their way back to the verandah when they hear the rumble of a heavy vehicle approaching. From the entrance they see an old tractor manoeuvring slowly down through the trees. The driver is elderly, and there is a teenager sitting on one of the wheel arches. When the tractor reaches the mangle of boulders and wire by the gate, it is forced to stop, and turns around slowly, a grader blade swinging behind it.

“Good morning,” Rudd shouts, striding across to greet the driver, who waves cheerfully, his teeth gappy beneath a frayed sunhat.

Within minutes the clearing work begins. Rudd, Father Norman and the driver’s assistant work on foot alongside the tractor, with others joining them now and then. They work for hours, so many that the whole day is turned into a disjointed tangle of clearing and shifting, with occasional breaks for the food and drink being prepared for them in the kitchen. Rudd abandons the task only once, and that is to message through to Mutare about getting a bus out to the walkers.

By the end of the afternoon both the lodge’s truck, and the mission truck are parked up at the top of the hill, and the car park itself is cleared of all major obstacles, the last being the small tree that was on top of Fred and Bernard’s car.

It is dark by the time the driver and his grandson leave. As the tractor descends the hill, Rudd and the exhausted work party stand at the top wrapped in stars, watching as the headlights sway back down to the tea factory.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

“Where are you trying to get to?” Fred asks the priest.

“Well, to help around here a bit, then on to Bulawayo.”

“Bulawayo? Why?” asks Marybelle.

“The Lady Rodwell. Ever heard of that?”

“Of course. I was born there.” Marybelle’s voice chimes with pleasure.

 “I know the place,” says Fred. “You weren’t born there, were you Father?”

“No. Not me. I’ve been told it’s an adoption centre. I promised my mother I’d check some records. She died a few months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says Marybelle.

“Thank you. Mercifully hers was a peaceful end,” says Father Norman. A respectful pause settles over the group.

Rudd gives it a few moments, then stands up. “Father, let’s go and see if we can find that truck of yours.”

“Right. Excellent. Excuse us everyone,” says Father Norman.

“Hope it’s okay,” Marybelle shouts after them. “Remember that I’m still here, so just let me know what needs doing.”

The instant Rudd steps outside he sees the red gleam of the truck standing in the chaos, free of debris, scarred and partially crumpled, but looking good to go. He turns and grins at the priest. “There’s your chariot, Father.”

“What am I going to do with that?” asks the priest, dismayed.

“Drive it of course,” says Rudd, stepping out into the sunshine.

“But that’s not going to go!”

“Why not?” asks Rudd. “Let’s try it. Have you got the key?”

“Yes,” says Father Norman.

Rudd reaches the vehicle, creaks open the driver’s door, and steps around to hold it wide for the priest. Father Norman peers in hesitantly. “Really? You think this’ll go?” he asks as he folds himself into the driver’s seat.

“Looks fine to me,” says Rudd, leaning inside to wind the window down as Father Norman digs in his pocket for the key. Then Rudd slams the door shut and stands back. The engine starts on the second attempt.

“Hallelujah!” says the priest, beaming relief.

“Hallelujah,” repeats Rudd quietly. Then he slaps the top of the cab and asks the priest to give it a test drive along the small cleared area down towards the gate. Father Norman revs the engine twice then lets out the clutch slowly, and the truck trundles obligingly over the few yards available.

“A miracle …” says the priest, getting out. “I think those branches must have kept the worst of the storm off.”

“More good news for you. I managed to get a message through to the tea estate this morning, and they’ll try to get a tractor to us today to help clear the road. The other great news is that Jacobus’ truck over there doesn’t look too bad either.”

“Hallelujah, hallelujah,” says Father Norman. “And what vehicle do you have?”

“It’s in the garage by the cottage. Don’t usually put it away, but I did when I heard the forecast.” Rudd pauses, ashamed to be reminded that he’d been worried enough to protect his truck, but had decided not to warn the guests. He feels Father Norman’s hand on his shoulder.

 “We do what we can,” the priest says, as though reading his mind. “Now I want to thank Hansie and friends for clearing this up.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023