Sunlit Shadow Dance (39 page)

Still h
e had to give it to Mark; he knew his
rocks and had collected the good ones. The two gem assessors had
drooled over them, saying they might be worth as much as five
million pounds or even more, perhaps as much as all the rest of his
assets was sitting in that one little pouch. But that was the
business of another day.

It was the list of things in
the will that he needed to discuss
, a long list of properties, shares and
many other assets. Vic’s own rough estimate was that this list
easily translated into upwards of ten million Aussie dollars, or
five million English pounds.

The bequests
to come out were
pretty simple, an amount of $500,000 for him and the same for Buck,
a few smaller amounts for others like Mark’s Uncle and some other
bush mates, say another couple hundred thousand Australian
dollars.

The rest was all the property
of Susan
,
which seemed doubly fitting as it would become Mark’s own
children’s inheritance one day, though Mark had not known that when
he gave it to her. So in due course he and Buck would talk to Susan
together, in their joint role, about how to realize the value, what
to sell and what to hold, all those mundane details.

What he really wanted to
discuss with Buck most was what to do about the African
boy
,
Nathaniel. Mark clearly named him as his own child and had asked
them to ensure his care and support as they saw fit. But apart from
a name and address they knew nothing about where he lived and what
his circumstances were, not even an age.

So now they sat and talked. Vic
had two copies of the will in his hand, one him and one for Buck.
The original he had left with the family lawyer, locked in
his
office
safe for safe keeping.

He passed
a copy to Buck saying, “I see
your signature here alongside mine. I think you have seen this
before. He sat silent as Buck read and digested, letting out a
whistle.

“
I knew the old bastard was
loaded; it was obvious despite his simple life. But all this! It
somehow seems wrong to take from him after what he has done.
Perhaps the money should go to the families of those he harmed.
What about you, I see you are named like me as a
beneficiary.”

Vic said, “I have thought about
it, the same as you. At first I thought I should not take it, Susan
has plenty to meet her needs and I can make my own money. But then
I thought:
He was my friend; he wanted me to have
it
. So I
will accept his wishes and take it with gratitude, as should
you.

“
You have always talked buying
your own place to run cattle back in Queensland, separate from your
family’s farm. Mark would have wanted you to have that. He would
rather that your farm be a continuance of what he once owned; good
horses in a paddock and cattle growing fat rather than money or
shares in a bank vault.

“
For me, I have a yen to return
to the land of my birth and I think Susan would like it too. We
have not properly talked about it, but since seeing her Aussie
friends she has said it, she would like to live in bright sunlight
and see her best friend, Anne, often. So perhaps I shall buy a new
helicopter and return to the life I knew. I must talk it fully
through with her first but, if she agrees, that is what I will
do.

“
But the reason I wanted to talk
today is to decide what to do about the one other person Mark names
in his will, not as a beneficiary but as a child of his. I know
nothing of Africa, other than Mark told me once he fought there as
a mercenary, the bullet fragments in his arm tell of that too. It
appears he did more than that; he sired a brat, a child with an
African name.

“
All I know, as you can see too,
is this boy of his lives in Mozambique somewhere. It must be a
small village. I cannot find it on a map. Did Mark ever tell you of
this?”

Buck should his head.

Vic went on. “So we must discover this
child. We could pay someone to go and find him, using money from
the estate. But I do not think this is what Mark intended,
something to be done at arm’s length.

“
As he is Mark’s own I feel I
must meet him and know him, in order to know best what to do. I
don’t want to just send money. Mark would have wanted more than
that. I think we must make sure this boy has the chances his father
never had, education perhaps, maybe something more, not just things
but the care and support of Mark’s friends. So what do you think?
Should I go and find him, should I take Susan and the children or
go alone?”

Buck said, “You are coming home in a
month. Why don’t you leave a week early and fly by Africa, a flight
to South Africa would get you close. Then, after you find him and
know what to do, you can fly on to Perth and up to Darwin in time
for the weddings. I could come too but this is our first trip away
to this side of the world. Julie has my life visiting castles all
mapped out. So, if needed, I could leave her for a part and come
too.

“
But, in truth, I would rather
it was just you. We can talk on the phone if you need my agreement.
But I think it is something you should decide when you get there.
And yes, Susan must come too. Any decision you make must be a
decision of two.”

So that was how it was. They
flew out a week earlier than planned
to Johannesburg and from there they flew
on to Maputo which was only two hours’ drive from the village where
the boy lived. They rented an apartment on the beach for the week,
a place of white sand and a view out across the Indian Ocean.
Somewhere over the horizon to the north-east sat the fabled land of
Madagascar, the exotic sound has always resonated in Vic’s mind
along with images of its strange monkeys called lemurs. Further
away, east, was his own home, a mere ten thousand kilometers away,
if he could but glimpse it. It felt closer than for a long time,
knowing it was the next land past the sea, over the distant
horizon. It felt like a cord pulling him back.

On the first day
in Mozambique they
rested and relaxed, enjoying their children’s play on the beach.
Little Vic was now six months. He sat like a Buddha grasping
handfuls of sand and trying to eat it while goggling at his older
brother and sister. Susan had bought a new bikini which showed off
her ‘back to flat’ figure. Vic feasted his eyes; he never tired of
looking at her.

On the second day they
hired a four wheel
drive and a local guide who drove the vehicle and spoke the
language. He took them to the village by a mix of roads and tracks.
It had an unpronounceable name and was not much more than a
collection of mud houses and a few houses made of tin.

Their guide
made inquiries where the boy
Nathaniel lived. Once he had directions he paid local boys some
centavos to keep the car safe while they walked there along a dusty
footpath. It was just a simple hut but better looking than most,
neatly swept and clean. As they came close the word went around of
who they were seeking. An old woman came out and conversed with
their guide, who translated.

“
She is Nathaniel’s grandmother.
The boy lives with her as his mother is long dead, she died when
the boy was only a few months old, of the wasting disease; you call
it Aids. The father lives in a faraway country, somewhere across
the ocean, a land she thinks is Austria. He visits occasionally and
gives her some money, enough for the village school where the boy
is now and also to buy books and food. The father has not been now
for over three years and the money for school fees and other
expenses is running low.”

Vic found an old passport photo of Mark and
passed it to the interpreter to show to the old lady, saying,
“Please ask her if this is the father?”

The woman looked and then nodded intently,
letting forth a stream of words where the name Marco was
heard.

The translator
interposed
,
breaking her story into bite sized bits, making her pause as he
translated each part. “This man, Marco, is a good man, he loved my
daughter. She was a prostitute until she met Mark. Soon after they
met the sickness made her unable to work. Because we are poor here
she worked around the mines of the Witwatersrand, it was how she
supported herself and me. She always sent me money but I saw her
rarely.

“
One day this man, Mark, brought
her home. She was expecting a baby and getting sick. He gave me
money and asked me to care for her. He came when he could to see
her, telling me he had met her when working in a mine. He was
convinced the child was his; she had promised him that since she
had been with him she had not been with other men.

“
For six months, from when the
child was nearly due and she was very sick, Mark stayed with us. He
helped me care for her and the child until she died when the baby
was only a few months old. He was very sad, but he had to work to
make money and could not care for a small baby.

“
After that he would come when
he could, maybe every second year and other times he would send me
money, at least twice a year. It was enough for me and the boy to
live on and also to buy books and pay for school when he grew
older. But no money has come now for three years. I am too old to
work so it is hard to survive.

“
Nathaniel is a good boy but
there is nothing for him here in the village. He is too clever for
his own good, he has learnt to speak and read English. Before he
used to study and read many books. But now the older boys and men
of the village are trying to lead him astray. Because he is clever
and can speak to strangers they think it will make them rich. So
they get him to buy and sell things for them, even things they do
not own.

“
He listens to me still, but it
is getting much harder. He knows we need money. He thinks that
their promises of riches will help. But I know trouble is coming.
One day he will end up in jail or beaten by bigger men.

“
Can you take him away and give
him the chance I cannot? If you are his father’s friends I know it
is what he would have wanted. Soon the boy will not listen to me
and then I will be unable to control him and keep him
safe.

“
I am an old woman and will die
soon. But I want a better life for the son of my daughter, and I
know that this man Mark would have wanted it too.”

T
hey sat with her and she served them food
from the little she had. They would have protested, but their guide
said she would be offended if they refused her hospitality. So they
ate, dipping their fingers in a common pot of corn gruel,
accompanied by pieces of coarse bred and a tea like liquid served
in earthenware cups.

As they waited they exchanged further
stories of this boy becoming a man, of his own mother as a child of
the village and of their own families.

Vic, with his dark
skin
, was a
source of curiosity, particularly when he explained that most
others in his family had darker skin than him, nearer to the color
of the guide and old lady. It was something in common, a sense of
kinship. It was a friendly exchange though, with all communication
coming through the guide, it was hard to fully understand. At last
a shout went up, morning classes were over and Nathaniel was
returning.

He was
a sturdy boy with a serious face and
with the gawky maturing body of someone between childhood and
adolescence. They understood he was twelve, soon to be thirteen. He
was expecting visitors, having heard the village gossip, and now
looked awkward and self-conscious in the face of these strangers,
come just to meet him.

However
, once they explained their
connection to his father, he was full of chatter. He particularly
loved Vic whose skin was almost the same color as his own, along
with the chubby baby of the same name, with his small brown hands
and face. Soon he had the baby on his own lap, chortling with
delight at this new face to poke and hair to pull.

His English was surprisingly good; he
proudly told how each time his father had visited he had taught him
new English words and made him read from the English books that he
kept stored in his part of the hut. After an hour of talking they
knew that they had reached a point of decision. They could either
leave money and go, with arrangements for more money as needed, or
they could try to do something further.

They asked the guide to make their excuses
for a minute while they walked outside along the dusty track, small
village children at their feet calling out with curiosity. Vic
asked Susan what she thought.

She spoke without hesitation, “We should
bring him with us, offer him the chance of a new life.” Vic felt as
she did but knew it was not so simple.

So he said,
“We have five days yet in
Mozambique, we had talked of making a trip to a national park and
staying there for two nights to see the wildlife. Why don’t we do
that, invite Nathaniel to come with us; at least ask our guide
about how that part can be arranged? Then, if he spends those days
with us and it still seems right, we can see how we can legally
bring him out to live with us.

“
If it is not possible at least
we can continue to be his friends, support him and his grandmother
and visit them again.”