A sudden wave of frustration swamps Rudd. He shoves his mug to the middle of the table. “Why does this country keep falling apart? It’s embarrassing. And it just becomes normal. Then other people fix us. I don’t get it.”

Bernard clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“Oh well,” says Fred, winking, “at least you might get some business out of the Aid gurus who’ll come in now, to help us sort this out. They’re going to need somewhere to stay.”

Rudd gives a half smile, his eyes resigned.

“Oh dear! What a mess,” says Marybelle cheerfully. “Rudd, why not go to Vic Falls? Everyone says it’s brilliant there.”

 “Doesn’t appeal,” says Rudd with a shrug.

“Oh? Not go to Vic Falls? I was told I must,” says Father Norman.

Rudd looks across at the priest with his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. “Of course you must go,” he says. “The Falls are amazing. I just wouldn’t want to work there.”

 “Got to see the Falls,” agrees Fred.

“I’ve been once,” says Marybelle. “Went with my mother when I was little. She used to say the Falls were like the Earth pouring out its soul.” She is about to enthuse some more, when the sound of helicopter rotors whines up from the golf course below. “That must be the doctors,” she says, squinting her eyes towards the sound.

“Not going to be an easy day for them,” says Father Norman.

Rudd gets up and walks to the edge of the verandah, and watches the helicopter blades wind faster and faster, sunlight bouncing off them as they lift up and over the trees, and then spin off into the distance.

“At least they’re Zimbabwean,” Uncle Fred calls out to him as he walks back to the table and sits down again. Rudd smiles and tips his chair back, hands linked behind his head, half listening to the conversation, half wondering what it will be like to work on boats in the Med. He hears Fred ask Marybelle about her plans.

“Me? I’m staying here. Not here, here, although maybe a few days more, if I can be some help.”

 “You could do with her help couldn’t you Rudd?” Fred asks.

 Rudd brings his chair straight again. “Of course, but if there’s the chance of a ride back to Harare, I think you should take it Marybelle.” As he says this Rudd realises suddenly how Marybelle will react. He tries to apologise. “No … I … didn’t mean …”

“Don’t want to be a burden,” says Marybelle softly.

“Marybelle, please, you know what I mean. I can’t even begin to tell you how much of a help you’ve been. For a start, you’ve fed us all. You’ve been brilliant.”

Marybelle sniffs, and smiles. “Oh Rudd. Ignore me,” she says. “I just hate this getting old thing. Of course it makes sense for me to go if there’s a chance.”

“Anyway Marybelle,” says Fred, “that wasn’t my question really. I want to know what you’re going to do in the future? Any plans? Off to anywhere?”

“Me? I’m staying in Zim. Can’t go anywhere anyway. No passport. No money.”

“Like most of us,” says Fred.

 “Me too,” says Father Norman, sighing heavily. “I’m not going anywhere until that mission truck gets unburied.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

“Who’s in the helicopter?” Bernard asks Rudd.

“Three went. Katania, Simi and the young doctor.”

“Simi?”

“Ja Fred. The doctors are worried about her hand. Got a cut on it that’s infected. They want her in Harare to check it out properly.”

“Wish I’d said goodbye. I liked her.”

“And she can sing,” says Bernard, closing his eyes and starting to hum Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

“That’s the one!” Fred smiles.

“She can sing,” Rudd agrees, as Marybelle arrives. He helps Marybelle set her tray of coffee mugs down in the middle of the table. As she starts to hand around the mugs he notices the sweatshirt tied around her waist, and tilts his head to try to read the lettering. “Marybelle, what does your sweatshirt say?” he asks, straightening up.

She looks down. “Oh this? Came out of the school lost property. Old stuff that’s been there a couple of years. Says Mutorashanga Triathlon. And, before you ask, I did not take part.”

“What?” winks Fred.

“Fred!” Marybelle cautions, waving a finger at him.

As they drink their coffee they discuss the clear up – some of it done while others were cooking, much of it still to be done.

 “Weird thing is that looking this way, over the golf course, almost looks normal. Most of the trees down there are fine. Must have been sheltered in the valley. The rest is a mess though,” says Rudd.

 Father Norman’s gaze lands on Rudd like a magnet. “What are you going to do Rudd? Gave me the impression you might not be staying.”

Rudd looks at the priest. “No. Not staying. I’ve had enough. Taken a while to figure it out, but watching that helicopter take off, I wanted to leave. Spent way too much time hoping it’s going to get better. I need to try something else.”

“Oh Rudd …”

“Marybelle, please don’t give me a hard time. I need a break.”

 Fred coughs and clears his throat. “Good for you, young man. Go and have some fun. Find a place that works, and learn how it’s done.”

Bernard shakes his head. “Eish. Harsh, but true. Zimbabwe needs a new engine, for sure.”

“And the lodge?” asks Father Norman.

“The tea estate perhaps? They might be interested. Tonderai could run it for them I suppose. Don’t know. Have never asked.”

“But what will you do?” asks Marybelle.

“Might go to the Med – to work on the boats,” Rudd says, knowing it’s only a sticking plaster idea. He takes a sip of his coffee, and then places the mug down carefully. He smiles at Marybelle. “Time to start again, while I’m still young enough.”

 “Oh! Makes me so sad, Rudd. But maybe Fred’s right. Let us old bones stay here. I don’t even want to think about you going though.”

Fred coughs again. “Yes. I think it’s a good move young man. Go and take a look. Get out before you get corrupted, that’s what I say. Then come back. Come back when there’s more sense at the wheel.”

“For sure,” says Bernard, nodding his head. “Too much easy easy one side … too much nothing other side.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

 

Rudd watches the helicopter until all that’s left of it is a black dot below the clouds. Then even that is gone. He envies Simi her leaving.

He looks across at Marybelle beside him, slight and still, her eyes fixed silently on the point of disappearance.

“Hope she’ll be okay,” Rudd says.

Marybelle turns to look at him. “Oh she will, Rudd. Simi’s strong. She’ll be fine, and the doctors are wonderful.” She smiles, as she tugs wayward strands of fringe out of her eyes. “I’ll say lots of prayers Rudd, and so will Father Norman here, won’t you Father?”

“Of course,” says the priest, bending slightly at the waist, hands clasped behind his back.

“Right,” says Rudd, suddenly impatient. “Well, there’s no point worrying. Let’s see what’s going on at the Lodge.”

He walks without talking, the grass squelching under his feet. As he walks the tension in his shoulders begins to slip away, its grip loosened by the sunshine and the birdsong, and by knowing that Simi is no longer his responsibility. Gradually the feeling of relief flickers into something like energy, and he lengthens his stride. It’s not his old energy, but a within-reach sense of resolve, enough to get going and to keep going. He takes a deep breath, then a few more, each filled with the richness of damp earth meeting the sun. At the grassy steps up to the lodge, he turns to wait for Marybelle and Father Norman.

“I think it’ll feel like we’re missing something without Simi,” he says.

“I know, but she’ll be back. She’ll miss us, I know she will,” says Marybelle, coming up beside him.

“I agree,” says Father Norman. “I can’t speak for Simi, but I’ll want to come back, especially after this. It’s such a beautiful place. We can’t just walk away.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Rudd softly, then adds a little louder. “Either of you fancy a cup of coffee?”

“Been dreaming of it,” says Marybelle, starting to climb the steps. “The doctors might have left some. I’ll go and see. Where do you want it?”

Rudd sees Fred and Bernard sitting around the table by the bar. “Why not with those two?”

“They’re up early,” says Father Norman. “Looks like their batteries are recharged.”

 “Morning, morning. Mind if we join you?” Rudd asks, as he and Father Norman go across to join the two men.

“Not at all,” says Fred, trying to stand up.

“Don’t get up. We’ll just pull up some chairs.”

“Good morning,” says Bernard.

“Good morning. Would you like some coffee?” Rudd asks, as he places extra chairs around the table.

“Already had ours,” says Fred. “Young Sal’s sorted us out. They’re all in the dining-room there, getting their bags ready for the walk to Mutare.”

“Oh, of course. That’s where Jen and Hansie were headed in such a hurry. Saw them coming up when we were on our way down to the helicopters.”

“Yes. They have a plan,” says Bernard.

“Not like us old guys, just sitting around. No use to anyone.”

“That’s gloomy talk Fred,” says Father Norman. “You’ve forged a path for us. You show us what good men look like.”

“Ha!” says Uncle Fred, as the priest pulls up a chair beside him.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023