30. Fire

Two days later, I said my goodbyes and set off for the plantations where we were ready to plant out a new section of young trees. Up in the hills, the atmosphere was relaxed. There had been no security incidents for some time and, in some ways, I thought that it would be good to get back to the day to day routine of the work there.

Usually I could lose myself completely in the exacting task of pegging out the planting pattern, selecting the best seedlings from the nursery beds and ensuring that they were given a good start in their permanent homes. It takes four years for a palm tree even to begin to produce and it will continue to fruit for anything up to twenty years. Setting out the young palms to make the best use of the slopes and ensuring that the ground is properly dug over and prepared is quite critical. That is something that the Guardians and the labourers don’t always understand and tend to try and shortcut.

There is also something very satisfying in watching the plantation develop, the neatly symmetrical rows with each young tree at last in its permanent place, and knowing that this design will endure and grow over the years ahead. With so many things in our lives open to doubt and disruption, the sight of the perfect pattern in the plantations is somehow reassuring.

This time, however, I found it difficult to settle to the familiar routine of the planting process. Somehow my mind seemed to be elsewhere. I won’t say that I was continually thinking of Rega but she was often on my mind. I accepted my father’s view that our relationship required clarification but I had no clear idea in what direction.

On the one hand, there was no doubt that we were comfortable together and, as he had pointed out, she was an attractive woman with a wicked sense of humour. On the other, she was thirty two years old and I had just turned forty four. Twelve years is a big difference at any age but while we were both young and active, it was not a problem. Twelve years between fifty eight and seventy on the other hand...
Even when I wasn’t directly thinking about Rega, however, I found myself preoccupied, questioning the value of what I was doing. Even the familiar dawn trip to the plantation site somehow failed to distract me and the workers and the Guardians teased me about my ‘girl at the hangar’.

One evening I went out to inspect a set of holes newly dug to prepare for planting. As I looked down the line of pits, it was instantly clear that the young Guardian who had pegged them out had made an error. Half way down the slope, the line kinked and swung away to the right so that, at the far end, the holes were more than a yard too far apart.

I began to give my standard speech for occasions of this type. “These trees will still be here when you are a grandfather. It may be a lot of work to fill the holes in and dig new ones but better a week’s extra work now than palms not producing the right amount of oil for the next twenty five years etc.”
“We hoped that you would not have noticed.” The lad replied. “The difference is only three trees at the edge of the plantation.”
“Oh, forget about it,” I shocked myself by saying. “Leave the damn things where they are.”

I was really in a bad way, I concluded.

The first week I decided that, at the weekend, I would go down to the Village, but of course when Friday evening came, there was too much to do so I decided to wait and go down ten days later when I had to for my meeting.

The next week, returning home on Wednesday evening to my room at the fort, I found a crowd milling about the gate. I knew most of them and walked over to one of the carpenters who made our wooden plant setters.

“What’s going on here?” I asked him.
“Nobody seems to know.” He replied. “The Tractor is here with the Gardener’s passenger carriage. It wasn’t scheduled here until the ploughing next month. A couple of Guardians came with it and one of them is with Captain Hasiki. Someone told me that there was an incident down at the Village but that’s as far as it goes.”

The Tractor was parked on the parade ground and, as I had been told, it was hitched to the Gardener’s luxurious coach. The coach was something of a bone of contention between Gardeners and Guardians. It was fitted with glass windows and completely weatherproof, with upholstered sofas for the occupants and even a cupboard for drinks.

Normally only Gardeners were allowed to travel in it. Paitor was the only other person who ever used it and the idea that it might have been made available to anyone else was quite strange. The crowd were pressing and jostling around it and attempting to engage the driver in conversation but he was resolutely silent. As I walked past, however, he came over to me.

“Tommu,” he called. “Where are you going to?”
“I was just on my way to the canteen. I feel thirsty after a day out in the sun.”
“Your father is here.” He said. “He’s waiting for you in your room and he needs to speak to you urgently.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “You mean that my father came up in the coach?”
“Yes. But don’t stand here talking to me. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense. Who else have you got with you?”
“Your dad will tell you as soon as he sees you. Hurry along. I’m not supposed to say anything to anyone. I just didn’t want you going out without seeing him.”
“Just a hint? You have to give me some clue.”
“I’ve already said too much. Now you go along and see your father.”

I turned and walked as quickly as I could to my room, my head whirling. Nothing in my experience could explain what was happening. How could my father have driven up to the plantations in Tahmo Lukuni’s private coach? Something he needed to see me about? My work certainly did not justify this sort of urgency and if my father was here, then he was OK. Surely?

As I passed down the corridor, one of the Sergeant Guardians came up to me.
“You know that your father is waiting in your room?”
I nodded.
“Have you spoken to him?” he asked, “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”
“Not the faintest. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing definite. They say there’s been a fire in the Village.” He shook his head. “You’d better get along there.”

I entered the room to find my father sitting on the bed, looking out of the window. He stood as I entered.
“Hi Tommu.” He looked down at the floor. “Are you well?”
“Yes Dad. I’m fine. Now tell me what on earth is going on.”
“Calm down.” He was still not looking at me. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
He gestured towards the arm chair. “I’ve had some tea sent over. Take a bowl.”

He began to pour the tea.
“I’m not thirsty! Now will you please tell me what is happening?”
“Just sit in the chair. You’ll know soon enough. Sit down.”
Reluctantly I sat down and accepted a bowl of tea. “OK. I’m sitting.”
“That little model of the Tractor,” he began, “do you still have it?”
“Yes, it’s right there.” I said. “Bottom drawer of my desk.”
He opened the drawer and looked inside. “The same.” He grunted. “I thought so. Well we’ve found a few more of them.”

“Dad!” I protested. Will you please tell me what, exactly, is going on.”
“Bad news. Very bad news.” He looked at me directly for the first time. “The hangar has been burnt down.”
“The hangar? Are you all right?”
“Me? Oh yes. I’m quite fine.” He was looking down at his feet again. “They killed the ones who did it. Three of them. And round their necks they were wearing things like that.”
“Models of the Tractor?”
“Yes. With the knife through it. Exactly like the one you took off your burglar.”

“When did this happen?”
“Lunch time today. Three men – at least three men – dressed as Guardians rolled a drum of gasoline down the hill and opened the bung. There was fuel everywhere, all across the entrance. One of our men came out to see what was happening and they stabbed him dead on the spot.

By the time that the rest of the men got out, they had set a light to it and the whole area was an inferno. The three of them tried to attack the Guardians and they were only armed with knives and axes so they really had no chance of survival. But the damage was done. The building was full of people attending the new court house so casualties were heavy.”

“Where were you while all this was happening?” My mind was reeling as I tried to grasp the impact.
“Off duty, fortunately. But you need to know the worst...” his voice trailed off.
“Rega!” I cried. “Rega was out at lunch. Tell me that she’s OK. She’s OK? Isn’t she?”
“I’m afraid not. Rega was in her office. She couldn’t escape. You need to know.” His voice shook. “That’s why I came. Someone had to tell you about Rega.”
“Burned. That is the most awful thing. The most painful thing.” I covered my eyes and sank back into the chair. “If... if I had been there. If I had been there she would have been at lunch.”

“You can’t think like that, Tommu. Pull yourself together, boy. There’s nothing you could have done. And they say that in a fire like that people aren’t killed by the flames. They always lose consciousness before the flames reach them. The fire uses all the oxygen, so they actually die of asphyxiation before they get burned.”

“Rega! I wanted to talk to her. I was going to go down at the weekend but I was too busy.” My mind skipped from one thought to another. “There must be some mistake. Perhaps she wasn’t at work today. Perhaps she was out interviewing a witness. There’s probably a simple explanation.”

“Try and stay calm, Tommu.” My father said gently. “I’m afraid there’s no mistake.”
He placed his arm on my shoulders. “There’s nothing you could have done. Have a sip of tea. It will help you to calm down.”
I picked up the bowl and looked blankly at the tea. “No!” I shouted. “No! I will not have tea!” I flung the bowl across the room so that it shattered on the opposite wall.
“No! No! No! Tea is the last thing I want!”