43. Iliva's Story

“Do you think there is somewhere that I can borrow a towel?” I asked, as my brain failed completely to keep up with changing circumstances.

“Tommu! You’re soaking wet.” Iliva responded in the same, matter of fact tone. “You’d better come with me. Share my umbrella. But tell me, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I came to interview Manaku Jim,” I replied, “I was asking him about Our Granny. Then we had lunch and I drank more than I was used to and got lost on the way back from the bathroom.”

“Easily done.” Iliva replied, not specifying whether she meant the drinking or the getting lost.

She led me across to the building from which she had just emerged and opened the door.

“This is my house,” she said, “but no-one must find out. Please promise you won’t tell.”

“If you insist, I’ll promise. Although I would much rather let Fasi know where you are and stop her worrying about you.”

“No. No one must know. But now that you’re here, how are my children? You have to tell me everything about them.”

“Both well. They are living with Langanipa and Fasi and they always speak about you.” I followed her into her bathroom and she handed me a soft, woolly bath towel.

“There’s not a moment that I don’t think of them.” She continued. “You know that when Jim brought me here we thought they would be able to follow, but Manla Kulu hid them so that not even Jim’s connections could bring them out without letting them know where I was. All I have been able to get was an occasional report when someone happened to see them. You’ve no idea how it’s been.

I don’t even know if they would recognise me or what they look like.” She began to cry, “And how are Lanaganipa and Fasi? And Bahla and your dad?”

“Langanipa is getting on a bit. He could retire if he wanted to but you couldn’t get him away from his machines at any price. And Fasi says that he would be under her feet all day long if he was at home.

The kids keep them young. Your boy's a real credit to you. He’s a reader now and even though he’s only nineteen, Bahla relies on him a lot for the reference material on electricity. As for Ina, she seems to be carrying on where you left off too. She knows more about how the Americans make and dye cloth than you would believe.”

“But didn’t Manla Kulu stop them? He would never let them read at all, let alone take it seriously.”

“He tried, I know. But you can’t stop someone who really wants something. And over the last few years, Manla Kulu wasn’t really capable of stopping anyone, not even himself.”

“Yes,” Iliva agreed, “self control was never his strong point. He would get angry and lose his temper and then he'd beat me. He never knew when to stop. I think that I would have been killed if Jim hadn’t helped me. Manla Kulu used to lock me into the house when he went out so that I was like his prisoner.”

“How did Jim get involved?” I asked, “Everyone thought you were living in the forest.”

“Yes. Jim managed to lead people’s thoughts in that direction. He arranged everything so that when his friends broke into the house and rescued me, we took away with us things that would have been useful out there. Jim was really the only one who could have protected me.”

“What did Jim get out of it?” I don’t think I would have asked the question if it had not been for all the punch I had drunk.

Iliva looked at me coolly and then answered, “There was a bit of that at the beginning she said. But I was already older than his normal women, even when her rescued me. So, mainly, he has had cooking. And someone he can’t just push around. He needs that sometimes.

He manages to get the odd book for me and, over the years, it has become less likely that anyone would recognise me so I can socialise quite freely with most of the guests.”

“But why have you stayed away so long?” I asked. “Surely now that Manla Kulu is dead, no one would care about you one way or another.”

“Manla Kulu?” her voice rose incredulously, “What did I just hear you say about Manla Kulu?”

“I said that with Manla Kulu dead and, in any case, completely discredited, I doubt that anyone would touch you if you came home.”

“Dead!” she stopped in mid sentence, “But then he must have known that! And he didn’t tell me. Oh the Swine!”

“Who?” I asked. “Oh, Jim?”

“Wait here a minute, Tommu. I’ll get you some dry clothes. The footballers are always leaving things behind and you can use a clean shirt and shorts. Then I’ll come with you and show you the way back to the lunch. Mr Manaku Jim has been very kind to me over the years but I think that he has some explaining to do at this point.”

Suddenly Iliva was all business. She led me around to the front of the house. The rain had passed and the grass was steaming as the water evaporated. We walked together under the thatched roof of the veranda where Manaku Jim greeted us.

“Ah, Iliva,” he said, “I see you have found our missing guest. We thought he had forgotten us.”

“I’m afraid that I took a wrong turning.” I answered.

“Jim!” Iliva’s voice was like thunder, “Did you know that my husband was dead?”

“Dead?” Manaku Jim looked shifty, “Dead? Well, er, I may have heard a rumour to that effect.”

“And you didn’t think I might be interested in a rumour like that?”

“That isn’t something one would mention if one wasn’t certain.” Jim studiously avoided her gaze. “It wouldn’t have been right to tell you something like that and then find out that it wasn’t true, would it?”

“Jim, you know very well that you should have told me the moment that you heard even the whisper of a rumour.” Iliva looked at him angrily, “And if you had doubts, didn’t you have the means to check on the rumour very easily?”

“I would have done that. In fact, I was waiting for a report to confirm it and then, of course, I would have told you.”

“You mean that it was convenient that I didn’t know? You know how much it would mean to me to see my children and my family again. How could you think that you could keep it from me?”

Jim looked uncertain.

“Well, I knew that you had to be told, of course. You would find out sooner or later. It’s just that the occasion never arose. Manla Kulu has only died recently, isn’t that true, Tommu?” He looked at me for confirmation.

“I don’t suppose that it can be more than a couple of months.” I said.

“You see, Iliva, it would have been confirmed quite soon and then I would have been sure to tell you.” Jim was relieved.

“Well I think it's too late now.” Iliva replied. “With Manla Kulu dead, there is nothing to stop me from returning to my family. So that's what I'm going to do.”

“No, Iliva, wait.” Jim said, “You have been well looked after here. You have had access to books, you have had interesting work, and we depend on you. You know how much you are valued here.”

“That’s something you should have thought of before you hid the news of Kulu’s death.”

“Iliva, while you’ve been here, we have had a good time. You always had the opportunity to experiment with the best ingredients and work with the best equipment money could buy. You’re better off here, I’m sure.”

Almost as an afterthought, he continued, “And you are the best cook there is. What could I ever do to replace you? You must stay.”

“Jim,” Iliva responded, “there you are, thinking about yourself again. Me! Me! Me! Well that is no longer my problem. You know very well that I have wanted nothing, over all these long years but to see my children and my family. Now I can be with them, and that is where I am going.”

“And what will you do if I decide to stop you?” Jim’s expression was one of almost childish spite. “You know that it was the Gardener’s Courts that sentenced you in absentia. That didn’t depend on Manla Kulu and there is no limit on what they have decided.”

“You would be sentencing yourself,” she said, “You know very well that you have been harbouring me as a fugitive. You can’t just turn me in and get away scot free.”

“What? You mean that there would be no mitigation if I handed you over? Better late than never! That’s how they might see it. Would you like to try it and see?”

I could feel my head thumping as this exchange developed. I seemed to have precipitated a disastrous turn of events and I needed to find some way of making things better.

“Jim! Iliva!” I interrupted, “Please don’t fall out like this. Iliva, you know how much you owe to Jim. He has looked after you and protected you, probably even saved your life. Jim, would it be an honourable thing to keep Iliva from her children if she really wants to go to them? I don’t think that you could look at yourself in the mirror if you did that to someone who trusted you.

In any case, I know that Iliva is a brilliant manager and an even better cook, but there are other cooks on the island who could look after you. And against that, if you were to let her go, then perhaps I could offer you something in exchange that is quite unique.”

“What might that be?” Jim asked, “What can you give me that would make up for losing the best chef in the world?”

“What about the coloured portrait I showed you earlier? How would you like to have that picture of Our Granny to hang in your house?”

Jim looked at me slowly.

“Let me have another look at it.” He said.

I took the picture from my document wallet and handed it to him. He scrutinised it deliberately.

“It’s a very beautiful thing,” he said, “a very beautiful thing, indeed.”

He thought for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “Well perhaps she can go; but not immediately. I need time to find a replacement. I have come to depend on her.”

“But I will go with Tommu today, just to visit my children.” Iliva said decisively, “I can come back in the morning and then we can make an arrangement for the longer term. But today I must see them.”

Jim looked distractedly at the portrait.

“A very beautiful thing.” He said, “and the only one of its kind. Very well. Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk.”