Rudd heads for the reception area, then hesitates. To his right the sun lies warm and beckoning over the grass. Imagining its warmth after the cool of the office, he steps down off the verandah on to it, and raises his arms above his head. Fingers linked, elbows stretched tight, he tips his face up to the sky, willing the muscles in his neck to relax. As he does so, he imagines Tonderai, master of the meet and greet, welcoming the guests.

Perfect day, Rudd thinks, all cyclone worries evaporating in the sunshine.

“Hi Rudd.”

He drops his arms, and spins around to see the broad bridegroom, Hansie, looking down at him from the edge of the verandah.

“Hi.” Rudd strides back up the steps to shake the outstretched hand. “Welcome! Who’s with you?”

“Tim’s over there by the bar. Tonderai said he would get us drinks.”

“Tim?”

“Best man. He flew out from the UK a few days ago. He’s clever hey, not like me. He’s a doctor.”

“Whaaat? An Englishman.”

“I know, hey? One of your lot. We’re getting soft.”

Rudd, laughs as he lengthens his step to match Hansie’s. He is always happy to see Hansie, four years his senior, and one of the decent prefects at his last school.

Up ahead Rudd sees a tall man leaning on the bar. He is silhouetted against the sun. As they get closer he picks out the details, the curly ginger hair, the glasses, the smile. Rudd holds out his hand, and he shakes it warmly.

“I’m Tim,” he says. “Beautiful place.”

“Rudd. Thanks. We think so.”

The mobile lying on the counter, lights up.

“You’re lucky to get any reception,” Rudd says, watching the best man’s grin widen as he checks the message.

“Yesss! They’ve got fuel. They’ve found some. I thought they were never going to get here.” He looks up at Hansie eyes half relief, half accusation. “Why go miles away when there’s no fuel? You’re mad. You know that? You’re completely mad.”

“This is normal for us, hey,” said Hansie. “You’ve been away too long.”

“Well, the bride is on her way.” Tim, raises his beer. “Cheers.”

“Cheers!” Hansie drains his glass. “No need for stress. I’m going to check on the dormitory. Is it good to go Rudd?”

“The squash courts?” Rudd laughs. “First time they’ve been called a dormitory. All fine when I looked in. Tonderai and Innocence set out the mattresses this morning.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. I’m fine thanks Tim. You just drink that beer of yours, and maybe you could talk Rudd through the stuff we’ve brought up with us.”

“Let me know if you need any changes over there,” Rudd calls after Hansie.

Hansie raises a hand in response but does not stop.

“Okay,” Tim says, pulling out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Let’s start with this.”

He unfolds the paper carefully and lays it on the table.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Rudd opens the door wider, and waits. At last Tonderai speaks.

“I think this is serious,” he says.

“Really?” Rudd, tries to lift the word, to make it light and listening, but his efforts achieve nothing more than a silent nod, so he carries on. “Think about it, Tonderai. A cyclone has never reached here before, and … well, look at today … it’s beautiful. We’re here. We’re on the ground. We know the conditions. The guys who wrote this, they’re in some office somewhere, looking at screens all day. What do they know? And what have they ever got right about Zim before?”

“But I am worried. The weather changes too much. And our Chief has concerns.”

“The Chief?” Rudd sighs, his impatience mounting. “Okay, I respect the Chief. I do. We all do. He’s a good farmer, and he knows everything about everyone, but how is he going to know about this? I don’t think he’s even got a computer.”

“He has a radio,” says Tonderai, voice low. “His children have computers, and he has friends who work in Mutare, in the government office. He travels widely around the area. People come to see him. Important people.”

“Okay, but can he, can you, remember any huge storms here, like that report says might happen?”

Tonderai shakes his head slowly.

“And you’re what – sixty? My father’s in his fifties. He’s never mentioned a cyclone … well not one that did any real damage.”

“No. But maybe the Chief remembers. He is an old man.”

Rudd pauses. He looks at Tonderai, still as a rock, and wonders whether he is worried, or just testing him.

 “What does Innocence think?” he asks.

Tonderai shrugs, his shoulders saying that he knows, but doesn’t want to say. Rudd realises then, that he must persuade Tonderai urgently that there is no need for alarm or to alarm others, for if he does not Innocence will spread panic like peanut butter, sticking it everywhere.

“Tonderai,” he says, his tone less offhand, “it’s just you, me and Innocence who’ve seen this report?”

“And the Chief.”

“Not the other staff?”

“No. We waited. We want to know what you know.”

“Right. I heard nothing in Harare. Now, until we hear anything else, something from the government perhaps, we need to keep going. We can’t cancel this wedding, and we have a visitor from London. We must give them a good time. If you hear more, please talk to me first. Tell Innocence I shall tell him if we need to do anything.”

Tonderai nods, his agreement is slow and careful.

“Right. We need the money to pay the wages. So let’s go. If Ipsos comes, we make a plan.“

Rudd holds Tonderai’s gaze. Neither man moves. They hear laughter, and the thud of a car door closing. Then Tonderai turns.

“Okay,” he says, as he walks out into the sunlight.

Rudd, with a deep feeling of unease, shuts the office, and follows him out to meet the new arrivals.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

“Yes. Our London visitor is happy. Have you read the report?”

Rudd raises his eyes. The look on Tonderai’s face warns him not to be dismissive. He clears his throat, and turns back to the computer.

“I’ve read it, and I’m looking. Can’t see anything else yet. No warnings that we need to evacuate.” He scrolls downwards, flicking past headlines, then pauses, frowning. “Here’s something from the Manica Post.”

He reads in silence for a few seconds.

“What does it say?” Tonderai asks.

“Can’t make much sense of it, but at least it’s reporting from this area.”

Rudd starts to read aloud from the text in front of him, skipping sections and emphasising those he is able to understand.

“Manicaland on high alert over Cyclone Ipsos … moving south-westwards … it is expected to start moistening the country’s atmosphere … beginning with the eastern highlands … path and speed can change drastically … we are likely to see some heavy flows … people need to be on the lookout … we will advise the nation through the relevant stakeholders …”

He looks up at Tonderai, who is shaking his head slowly, but saying nothing.

“Doesn’t make much sense. So … presume it’s no worse than usual? Do you have any other forecasts?” Rudd asks.

“No.”

Rudd scans down through several more websites, but can find nothing else that mentions Zimbabwe.

 “Okay,” he says, and switches off the computer. “You know what? Not much we can do. No warnings have been sent to us directly. From what I can see, it’s not clear where this cyclone is going to end up exactly, although it looks like bad news for Beira. You don’t have family in Beira do you?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s lucky. Does not look great for them, but I think we’ll be fine here. So, let’s just wait. Keep our ears open.”

He stands up, and looks directly at his assistant manager.

“Tonderai, thanks for the report. I can’t see any reason to be worried. I think we’ll be fine.”

He pulls his shoulders back, and waits for Tonderai to speak, but he doesn’t say anything, so Rudd, uncomfortable in the silence, steps out from behind the desk.

“Look Tonderai, only report I can see that mentions us is the one you found, and even then we’re only on a map right at the end. So, seems to me there’s no worries. Well, not about the storm at least. Plenty else though, like giving these guys a great wedding, and taking good care of Simi.”

Avoiding the silence in Tonderai’s eyes, he picks up the papers and walks back behind the desk to put them away in the top drawer. Then he walks purposefully around again to the door and pulls it wide. Bright sunlight falls between them and with it comes the sound of car tyres rolling over gravel. The first of the guests have arrived.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023