Life had now settled to a normal routine. I had got used to Jack's frequent late nights, even the occasional nights out. He had not done anything to remind me of that awful day of the robbery and consequent newspaper reports. He still came home often in the so-called company cars. Sometimes he would park them outside our gate, but often he would leave them down the street. Visitors were still alien to our house, and the four he had been with on the day of the robbery were the only ones that had ever set foot there, at least in my presence.
On this Saturday morning, I woke up to do the morning chores while Jack had his beauty sleep, the result of another late night. Later in the day we were to go and visit my mother as well as deliver some books I had bought for my brother and sister. It was almost 10.30 in the morning and Jack was still asleep. I'll never know what moved me to go over to the chest of drawers where I had kept the books at that particular time.
I took the books out and a matchbox that must have been somehow covered by them caught my eye. Jack never used matches, only lighters, for his smoking. I wondered what it could have been doing there and I reached for it. But it was too heavy for an ordinary matchbox and my curiosity got the better of me. I opened it and what I saw were certainly no ordinary matches. How could they have been so heavy? A closer look told me that the matches were too few in number, resting on a thin cardboard fitting nicely into the matchbox. I poured out the matches and removed the cardboard.
Packed to fit snugly in the bottom of the matchbox were six capsule-like objects. The tops of these objects were rounded off, like real capsules, but the bottoms were nicely cut to a flat base, as if the capsule had been halved. But what capsules! They were a dull gold colour and were it not for their weight, which led me to the conclusion that they must have been made of lead, I would have thought that they were little gold nuggets, unpolished of course. Studying one closely, I noticed some numbers inscribed on the flat bottom. Now, of course, my imagination ran away with me. What other wonders was my husband hiding in our house?
Like the naughty child who will hunt for more treasures once a little is sampled, I ventured back to the chest of drawers and this time I was making a conscious search. I pulled open a drawer and encountered a paper box similar to the kind that pieces of chalk are usually packed in. It was marked "chalk" and I wondered what in the world Jack would have wanted with a box of chalk, unless he had taken to tutoring classes when I was away from home. But on lifting the box, I knew that it contained no such thing. It was just too heavy for ordinary chalk, however many pieces it may have carried.
This time the capsules were slightly larger than those in the matchbox, but matching in shape and colour. I was so absorbed in studying them that I did not hear the bedroom door opening. When I looked up, Jack was standing there. He could not have fully taken in what I was doing, fot he was smiling tenderly at me. The smile, however, vanished as soon as he cast his eyes on my lap and saw his chalk box open, and a few samples of the heavy capsule-like objects in my hands.
"Put that down at once, Milly. Who told you to open the box? What were you looking for?"
"Oh, Jack, are there things in this house that I should not know about? I thought we understood…"
"Oh, Milly. At least listen to me this once, my dear. Do you know what those things are?"
"Maybe a new type of chalk. They were in the chalk-box," I said, trying to sound light-hearted about it, for I could see that he was greatly troubled.
"For God's sake, Milly, stop being such a mug and put them back." He was now on his way to helping me pack them. "These things are dangerous, poisonous. You should never have touched them in the first place, and certainly not with your bare hands. Put them down, wash your hands and come back with a handkerchief if you don't have gloves."
Why don't we use yours, dear? Please go for them while I rush to wash my hands," I told him in faked urgency. I knew it was hard for him to imagine that I would have the slightest idea of what they were.
"Now look, who told you I have got gloves?"
"Well. Considering the risks involved, I cannot imagine you without a pair."
"So what do we do? I do not have any."
"So? You stop hiding things from me. When will you know how much you mean to me? If you knew these things were dangerous why didn't you warn me so that I keep off them? Now, be a good boy and tell me what they are."
"They are called pistons. They belong to a friend who wanted them for his car. But he won't need them any longer, anyway."
"Why not? You put it as if he is dead." I only said this to rani time. I knew he was lying.
"He sold the car and bought a new one."
"Jack, please. For how long are we going to live this way? You know it hurts me to hear you lie. You are not a convincing liar, Jack. You hate it and this is why you aren't fooling me. I do not see why you should force yourself to lie to me."
"What is the lie this time?"
"These are not pistons or whatever else you may think of calling them. If my guess is right they are bullets. These big ones are scribbled 9mm. At least you should know that I read novels and James Hadley Chase knows more about these than you do." He smiled shyly. I knew I had cornered him.
"What would I need bullets for, Milly? I am not in the army."
"Let's not talk about that. The fact is I know they are bullets. Now tell me, do I need gloves to put them back?"
"Well, I am sorry that you have to doubt me. Anyway leave them to me." "So now I don't need to hurry and wash my hands?" I teased.
"That depends on the hygiene you were taught in school, if you ever got the chance."
"I never went to school, Jack. I guess that was why you thought I was so stupid as not to know what they are."
He packed them back and after taking a bath, he joined me for breakfast.
"Do you remember that we promised mom we would visit her today?"
"Yes I do. I'll be at Terrace Hotel from 3.30 p.m. You can come for me when you are ready to go."
"Can you manage a company car? 3.30 will be late." I asked knowing that he now knew he couldn't fool me any more about anything.
"A company car on Sunday? Don't be silly."
"It won't be the first Sunday you have borrowed one. Last …"I sensed danger and skipped the subject.
I arrived at Terrace Hotel at around 3.00 p.m. At the stairs I met two men coming down and from the way they were walking, it was easy to tell that they were very drunk. I was afraid that they would make a pass at me. I hated going into bars. Jack knew it, but once in a while he would force me to meet him at a bar. In such cases he always made sure that he chose a place he regarded as being safe and quiet. The two men tried to block my way and I stopped in my tracks. Seeing that I was afraid they got encouraged and came directly at me. One got hold of my hand by force and shook it violently, while the other one provided the greetings.
"Hellow babe, why are you so wild? Come on. You came here to fetch money.
What kind of man have you in mind?" He looked at the other and told him: "This one is good for me, Sam, what do you say?"
"Go with her. A hundred bob for this one is not a loss."
I pushed him away and he went staggering down the stairs. When he got up from where he had fallen, he came at me screaming blue murder. I had never been so afraid. I tried to scream but no sound would come out.
"Scream as much as you like. Who do you think will come to help you? Give her time to scream, Charlie."
I didn't have to be told the men were toughs; it showed all over their faces. I was so scared that I wished a miracle would happen. Where was Jack and why wasn't he coming to rescue me? Then I heard footsteps approach from behind and blessed God, praying that whoever was coming would be a good Samaritan. A man and a girl appeared. Sam was still holding me and Charlie had just slapped me on the face and was calling out insults. I was crying. The man stopped by and asked:
"What is the matter, young men? Why don't you talk to her politely? She'll understand."
"Mzee, go your way. Is she your daughter? Are you going to refund me the money I have spent on her while she has refused to keep her part of the bargain?"
That alone sent me raving mad. It was an allegation that I knew would stick, especially in a place like this, where I was not known and Jack's presence was not certain. I freed my right hand and hit him in the face with all my might, sending him crawling down the stairs on all fours. The man and the girl, sensing trouble, took the stairs two at a time and I was left alone with my assailants. Before Charlie got up from where he had fallen, I pushed his drunk colleague away and before they could recover, I was taking the stairs up two at a time, just like the man and his girl.
I could hear their footsteps as they came running after me, shouting insults and warning me they would get me no matter where I went. I reached the restaurant and caught sight of Jack, seated with a friend, drinking. I made straight for him with my assailants following close behind.
Jack's friend saw me first. He must have immediately realized that there was trouble, from the way the men were coming after me. He stood up quickly, causing one glass to fall from the table so as to alert Jack of possible trouble, then walked over and stood between me and the two men.
"What do you think you are doing, Charles? Do you know who this lady is?" he addressed one of the men.
"Captain, I do not care who or what she is, or even whose she is. The fact is, she must pay for what she had done. Whether I die in the process or not."
He pushed Captain aside to try and reach me, but before
he could get closer, Captain grabbed him again. Other drinkers had now noticed the fracas and were attentive. Some had even left their seats and had come closer and I could see they liked it. A man came from the furthest corner and addressed himself to Captain.
"You people make these prostitutes have big heads. Let Charlie get his woman and go with her."
"Any woman coming to a bar without her husband is a whore. Who can claim her? She is for me, you, and anyone else who feels like it," another quipped. I couldn't stand it any longer. I laid my head on the table and started crying.
Jack was quiet all through, I saw him light a cigarette and look at the two men who had talked. His eyes were red with anger, and I was afraid he would get involved in a fight with these toughies who were now ganging up. I put my right hand on his thigh and begged him: "Please, Jack, let's get out of here, I do not want …" He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at Charlie, puffing his cigarette and causing a cloud of smoke. He spoke to Charlie.
"Charles, what did I hear you say? Can you repeat whatever you said?" He then turned to the gathering people.
"And anyone who doesn't want to get involved with this coming murder should get as far away as possible." He turned back to Charlie, "I am still waiting for your answer."
A good number of those who had come closer moved away. I sensed that those who remained were Jack's friends, who were ready to assist him in whatever was to follow. Charlie was still in Captain's grip. I was surprised to see how he had abandoned his pride and cooled down as he talked to Jack. I looked at his face and saw it was a bit swollen where I had hit him. Part of his right eye was bloodshot.
"Jack," he called with respect, it is this lady; see what she did to my face? And she has spent a lot of my money. When we reached the stairs she refused to go further." I couldn't say anything. I didn't believe I was hearing right but he was telling it without fluttering an eyelid.
"Just a minute, Charlie," Jack interrupted. "You want to tell me you've been with this woman drinking together … I mean … do you want to tell me you have bought her beer?" He was speaking with that soft voice of his which feigned peace and innocence. I was to know later that he was at his angriest when he talked that way, not when he looked deadly.
"Yes … from 10.00 a.m this morning. We started at Rwathia, with her and Sam." "Is that so, Sam?" he asked my second assailant.
"Yes, it is true. We were seated in the inner bar. Don't you remember seeing us, when you passed to go to the toilets?" I watched and listened silently. I pitied these two for what would happen when Jack's anger unleashed. But even more, I pitied the women who spent their time in bars, if these were the type of men they dealt with. Jack then turned to Captain and said: "Do you hear that, Cap?" Captain didn't answer, instead he asked Charlie: "Do you know this lady?"
"Why should I? She invited herself to our table and I had to…" He did not get further. I saw Jack's right hand move and Charlie was on the floor. It happened so fast that I did not see what he hit the man with. Charlie then tried to sit up from where the blow had sent him and as he did so, Jack hit him all over the body with the heel of his shoe, so hard that he had no chance of getting up. Jack looked murderous and I was afraid of trying to stop him. As he went again for Charlie on the floor where he now lay, he was held from behind by a waiter who had come from the counter.
"Please, Master, do not start this thing here again. Can't you figure the loss it will cause?"
"Did you hear the story he gave me? And do you know who this woman is? He says he has been drinking with her since ten this morning. By that time we hadn't even got out of bed. How dare he do that to my wife?"
"I am sorry but I didn't know it was that serious. Why can't you call the police? He can be charged with assault."
Jack didn't take any heed, instead he went to where Charlie lay on the floor and kicked him again, making him roll over.
The waiter pleaded again: "Please don't con …"
"Come any nearer and you'll wish you never met me in your life."
The waiter went away. Jack then turned to Sam, who on sensing danger headed for the stairs. In a second he was in Captains hands, having it really rough. No one intervened. All seemed now to have changed their mind and were on my side. I heard someone say: "Do you want to tell us we will never bring our wives in bars because of you? Our wives must be shown where we go and you young people have sat on our shoulders so that we cannot risk bringing them here. Okay, have it from your equals."
What worried me was that when Charlie sat up, he was holding two of his teeth in his hand. I had heard stories of people losing their teeth in a fight, but I did not know that it was so bad. I felt pity grip me. Despite the embarrassment the two had caused me, they didn't deserve losing their teeth. I got hold of my handbag and stood up.
A man who had earlier on said I should be left to Charlie beckoned me. He didn't seem wild at all now, as a matter of fact he looked afraid.
"Is Jack your husband or only a friend? Please excuse me for asking."
"He is my husband. Why?"
"Because if that is so, then things won't stop here. You are now the only one who can stop it. Have you ever seen him fight?"
"Never, I am even surprised he has done it. I couldn't.
"Then, mother of the young one, if you do not want more and worse surprises, take his hand and lead him out of here. Please…"
I went and got hold of Jack's hand. I knew what the man meant and I was sure he was right. As his wife, I was the only person who wasn't afraid of him right then.
"That is enough Jack, let us go. Please stop it there."
He didn't argue. He left the man and we headed for the stairs. The waiter caught up with us at the top of the stairs.
"Captain," he called, "who was paying for the bill?"
I realized I was involved with dangerous men when, instead of answering, Captain hit the waiter on the nose and sent him to the floor bleeding. And as if nothing had happened, Jack took my hand and led me out.
"If it wasn't for your presence, we would have gone on until the police were summoned," he told me as we reached the street.
No mention of the fight in the bar was ever made after that and although the memory of how devastating Jack could be was ever present in my mind, there had been no reason to discuss it. But on this Sunday morning, the scene replayed over and over in my mind as I digested the news
that Jack had just given me. After having met Captain the previous day, Jack came back home to announce to me that he would be going out of town to visit a friend.
It had been a couple of months since the first encounter with his friends and traces of the money from that robbery were beginning to disappear. Jack was a big spender, living lavishly and showering me with gifts all the time. I had known for sometime now that he would run out of money, and was wondering what he would do next to replenish his dwindling resources.
His announcement of a visit out of town did bring the robbery, his denials and the fight in the bar back to mind. Although I did not voice what I was thinking, I made sure that I checked whether he had taken the match and chalk boxes with him. The matchbox was gone and the chalkbox was half empty. When saying goodbye that morning Jack was in such a hurry that he wouldn't even sit down for breakfast. His mood was foul and not even the forced smile could hide it. I dared not broach the subject of my suspicions.
I could not work that morning in the office. Images of what Jack could possibly be doing haunted me constantly. The robbery which I knew was taking place at that particular moment became so real that I worked myself into a real illness. I asked for a sick leave at lunchtime and went to see the doctor, who gave me two days off.
Back at home, I was faced with the emptiness of the house and the fear that my husband could have been injured, arrested and in police custody or maybe even shot dead. Along with my fears for him, were also worries about what could happen to whoever would stand in his way, for would Jack stop at anything to achieve what he wanted? Woe be unto the teller who would refuse to hand over the
money, or any security guard who would dare lock the door in his face. Scenes of gunshots, wounded bodies bleeding all over a bank floor and total confusion were flashing before my eyes, as if I was in a movie theatre. Yet, in it all I could not see who had won the battle, the good guys or the bad ones — in this case, my husband's gang. It was too much, and realizing that the silence in the house had something to do with my imagination running away with me, I switched on the radio, partly for background noise, partly to catch the news of the possible robbery, when VOK announced it in the hourly news bulletins. But I heard nothing. I couldn't bring myself to go to bed, so I tried to concentrate on a novel that I had picked up from the chest of drawers-cum-armoury. But instead of following the story, what I saw was Jack being chased by armed policemen. He dived into a river and was having difficulty in swimming. He was shouting for help from onlookers on the banks but all they did was to laugh at him. Police bloodhounds were swimming fast behind him and as the first one dug its fangs into his head, I screamed.
I woke up to find that it had all been a dream. The time was 3.30 a.m and I decided to go to bed.
I got out of bed after a restless sleep at about 9 a.m. I switched on the radio but again news was not forthcoming. I decided to go to the kiosk for milk. I hadn't reached the kiosk when the headline of the Standard newspaper on the pavement where the paperman sold his wares caught my eyes. Hurriedly, I threw money at him and did not wait for change. I grabbed the paper and tried to read and walk at the same time, towards home. I must have been quite a spectacle, because I remember a man asking me if I needed help for, as he said, I looked sick. I declined his help and realized that I had to get home before I started screaming right there in the street.
I straightened myself up and walked straight back home where I threw my kiondo down, sat on the sofa and read the whole story. "FIVE-MAN GANG ROB MACHAKOS BANK: 2 dead, 3 escape in police shoot-out," the headline screamed at me. The gangsters had been stopped at a roadblock and had refused to stop, at which point the police opened fire. They had given chase and the gangster's car had been shot at; it rolled twice and landed in a ditch. Two men had been shot dead, while three had escaped into the nearby bushes. But the area had been cordoned off, the paper said, "and there was no hope of the three robbers getting away with the crime". The robbers had got away with about Shs 175,000 from a KCB bank in Machakos. Their description again fitted the only visitors whom I had once entertained with tea.
I was screaming and crying out loudly. Jack was in trouble. My fears and nightmares had come true. What was to happen to him? And me? "Oh Lord, please, please save my husband!" I was overcome with despair and sadness and was beside myself with worry. I must \< ve gone on my knees for I remember praying loudly: "Lord, in the name of Jesus, your only son, who came to this world tc save sinners, please save my husband. He is a sinful man, a robber and a devil. Lord, please take away the evils in this house. Clean Jack and give him the desire to live an honest straight-forward life. Lord conquer the devil in my Jack…"
I don't know how long I beseeched the Lord to save my husband, but when I looked up from my prayers, I knew that the devil was really in our house right then. I could not believe my eyes, for sitting there opposite me was Jack, calmly blowing smoke rings into the air. How long he had been sitting there, I could not tell. But one thing I knew:
that he had heard my prayers, and from the look on his face, he must have considered them as useless as a bottle of whisky in a bishop's party.
We stared at each other for a long while and I saw that he wasn't going to break the silence. The onus fell upon me.
"Jack, tell me, my dear, how did you swim out of that river before the police dogs caught you?"
I was confused. I couldn't tell what I had read in the newspaper from what I had dreamt. But Jack just stared at me and wouldn't speak. I was getting frustrated. How could he not tell that I had been going through hell, thinking of him and his safety? Was he just going to sit there blowing smoke rings in the air and staring at me?
'Jack, please tell me. How did you get away?
When he decided to respond to me, it was not in answer to my question.
"Milly, tell me, have you mistaken our house for a church? Would you tell me the devil you were referring to in those prayers? Has someone been harrassing you while I have been away?"
"No, Jack, no one has disturbed me."
"Then what was all that talk about? And what trouble was I supposed to have swum away from?"
What could I say? Jack was evading the issue and torturing me in the process. We both knew what I had been talking about, but he wasn't going to admit it.
"You know, Miily, it takes a soft heart like yours no time at all to go mad and I don't want that to happen to you. Let's try and understand each other. Are you sick? Would you like to see a doctor? The way you are staring at me tells me something is awfully wrong with you. It's as if you have been hypnotised." Now who was fooling who? Here was the Jack I had seen
being shot with guns and mauled by dogs as he was swimming in a dirty river and drowning. Yet he was sitting right there in front of me? Could I really be innocent of the robbery that even the paper had written about?
Jack, my Jack. Away for 36 hours, a whole day and a half, during which I had tormented myself with all sorts of imagination as to the nature of danger he must have been facing. My Jack, who must have been out of town, visiting friends and all along thinking of his Milly and her safety. And now he was here, as concerned as ever about my safety.
I got up automatically, as if a switch had propelled me to where he was sitting. I threw my hands around him and ignored the bulge in his inside pocket that pressed against our bodies. I held him to me, eager to protect him from all the evils I had imagined might have befallen him. I never wanted to let him go. I was weeping silently, this time not from fear, but with joy in the knowledge that he was safe and with me. I squeezed him so tight that he gasped for breath. I eased my embrace a little.
"Jack, I had a bad dream. I dreamt that some bad people were chasing you across a river and you didn't know how to swim. You screamed for help, but no one would come to your rescue. You were drowning and…"
"That's a nice dream, dear. I like its spirit. You know, when people don't like you, you shouldn't like them either. And that gives you the courage to hit back effectively when the time comes."
I could not believe my ears! The man was joking about nightmares and giving no thought at all about the hell I had been going through on his account. But wait a minute, that was the typical Jack that I had come to know — the one who never allowed little incidents like dreams to run
the day for him. My Jack, my worry-proof Jack. The only thing that would really worry him was the person or thing that would dare come between him and his Milly.
'Jack, you don't have to sleep out without telling me. It is not very bad but it worries me."
"That is good news, dear, I am amused."
"What do you mean? I am very serious, Jack."
"I know, but it is great to know I have someone somewhere who worries and cares about me. But tell me, who was the devil you wanted your Lord to chase away from here? The way you put it shows that you had a particular person in mind."
"I was praying… I had to. I felt…"
"Do you normally pray in the living room, with the door wide open? Who were you praying for?"
"For…for…you. I could sense you were in some kind of trouble."
"What kind of trouble and why did you think I would be in trouble?"
Without knowing it, I looked at the newspaper on the coffee table. I saw him follow the direction of my eyes and his face paled. He picked it up and became so engrossed in it that he forgot I was there. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he read one paragraph after another. He took out a pen, sat down and did some calculations. He divided 175,000 by six, after subtracting 10,000. He then added two shares together and I saw his face light up with what I thought was satisfaction. His must have been a double share probably because he owned the gun, but I couldn't be so sure. When he pushed the paper away with a smile he remembered I was around and it almost surprised this rock of a man. As if the newspaper and what he had read had nothing to do with what we were talking about earlier on, he asked me: "You haven't answered my question, Milly, what was the trouble and why did you think I would be in it?"
It was hard to know when I had caught Jack off-balance. A few minutes ago, he had reacted to my gesture when I had looked at the newspaper. He had known what I meant and it had been proved by the calculations he had done. Yet now we were back to square one: hard questions. I remained quiet. I did not want to volunteer more of my suspicions lest he came up with more and harder questions.
"Milly, dear, if you go on worrying yourself, thinking that I am in trouble, because I failed to come home, you'll worry yourself to the grave. Would you like me to risk getting attacked by rogues and wild animals by coming on foot when my car develops a mechanical problem? Would it please you to see scratches and cuts from wild animals and rogues on my face?"
"I am sorry, Jack, but I…I thought I saw you carry some of those things you called pistons." He smiled. He understood I was up to something and he was giving me wider ground to manoeuvre.
"So what if I carried them? Is that enough reason to worry you? What do you think I carried them for?"
"I thought they would protect you in case of an attack. People fear them."
"Why? How can I use them?" I knew we were fooling each other and I liked it because in the process I knew I would hit the point.
"You simply put them in your gun and fire. I know the theory of the whole process."
"You are becoming interesting, Milly. Who told you I had a gun and what do you think I would need one for?"
"What is this hard object protruding from your coat?"
That ended the whole game; I had caught him red-handed and he knew it. He had forgotten that he had it on him and that I had felt it as I caressed him between talks. He stood up and headed for the bedroom. "You can go to hell, Milly," he said jokingly as he closed the door behind him. Three minutes later I followed him to the bedroom. From what I saw, I needed no more evidence to prove my suspicions of his involvement in the robbery.
On the bed was a big heap of money, in new currency notes, which had not passed through many hands, if at all it had ever left the bank. He was sorting the money out, heaping the notes separately: hundreds, fifties, twenties, and the few tens there were. I knew he was counting what he had got away with. Words failed me. All I could do was stare, as if I had not seen money in my life before. It was as if it would talk to me and tell me it had been stolen from Machakos.
Of course, I had seen money all my life, but never in such large sums and all for one person. I found myself wishing that the money would be put to good use — that it would be given to someone who would invest it for profit. But even as I entertained the thought, I knew my wishes would come to nought: those who knew how to invest money wisely rarely ever got it. Luck went to the desperate, the careless and the extravagant.
I looked at the money, the beautiful invention of man, which had turned the whole world crazy; money, that had motivated my good performance in school and hence the good job that I held. But it was the same money that turned people into murderers, robbers, prostitutes, conmen and conwomen. It made many women become shop-lifters and petty thieves; it created jealousy and lust. Money made man hungrier than his Creator intended him to be. All this
became clear to me as I beheld the display of currency on our bed. I moved my eyes away from its beauty.