Moses Gama.
So great was the shock of seeing him that she was unable to utter a word.
A host of turbulent thoughts tumbled in confusion through her mind as she stared at Benjamin. She thought how his name, and the name of Tara Courtney, their mother, was never mentioned at Weltevreden - even after all these years the scandal and tragedy ~surrounding them cast a darlk shadow over the family. How would it be possible for her to secure employment for Benjamin in one of the Courtney companies? Nana would have a hernia, and Pater would throw a blue fit. Then there was Garry... Fortunately for Isabella, the CCI personnel manager was also evincing symptoms of acute distress, but the source of his concern was much more straightforward than Isabella's. It was merely the colour of Benjamin's skin. In the long pregnant pause that followed Benjamin's entry, Isabella was able to take control of hirself again and bring some order to her jumbled emotions. Benjamin had shown no sign of recognition, and she took her lead from him.
Abruptly the CCI manager leapt to his feet. To compensate for his initial reaction he now became over-effusive and ducked round the desk to seize Benjamin's hand.
'I'm David Meekin, head of personnel at CCI. I'm delighted to meet you, young man,'he babbled enthusiastically, and pulled out a chair for Benjamin. 'We have been studying your credentials and your CV. Very impressive -I mean truly impressive.' He seated Benjamin and offered him a cigarette. 'This is Dr. Courtney who is a director of CCI,' Meekin introduced them.
Benjamin half-rose from his seat and made a small bow. 'How do you do, ma'am.' Isabella did not trust herself to speak. She nodded and then gave all her attention to Benjamin's letter of application while Meekin began the interview.
He asked the usual questions about the work that Benjamin had done at ICI, and his reasons for wanting this job, but clearly Meekin's heart was not in the task. He wanted to get it over with. Meanwhile, Isabella was working out her own plans. If she had not recognized Ben's name, Afrika, then it was highly unlikely that anyone else athome would do so, either. Apart from Michael, no other member of the family, as far as she knew, had ever met Ben. There was no reason why they ever should. He would be a junior employee in one of a hundred factories in a town over a thousand miles from Weltevreden. Michael, of course, could be relied on to support her and Ben completely.
David Meekin had no more questions to ask, and he glanced at Isabella enquiringly.
'I see you were born in Cape Town, Mr. Afrika,' she spoke for the first time. 'Do you still have South African citizenship? You haven't taken naturalized British citizenship?' 'No, Dr. Courtney,' Ben shook his head. 'I am still a South African. I have a passport issued by South Africa House here in London.' I 'Good. Can you tell us something about your family? Do they still live in Cape Town?' 'Both my father and my mother were schoolteachers.
They were killed in a motor accident in Cape Town in 19e9.' 'I'm sorry.' She glanced down at her file. It was possible that Tara, their mother, had tried to conceal the facts of Ben's birth by contriving a false birth certificate. She could check that easily enough. She looked up again.
'I hope you will forgive my next question, Mr. Afrika. It may sound impertinent. However, Capricorn Chemicals is a defence contractor to Armscor, and all its employees are vetted by the South African security police. It would be best if you tell us now if you are, or have ever been, a member of any political organization.' Ben smiled softly. He really was a good-looking young man. By some fortunate chance he seemed to have inherited the best features from both sides of his racial ancestry.
'You want to know if I am a member of the ANC?' he asked, and Isabella's mouth tightened with annoyance.
'Or any other radical political organization,' she said curtly.
'I am not a political creature, Dr. Courtney. I am a scientist and an engineer. I am a member of the Society of Engineers, but of no other body.' So he was not interested in politics?
She remembered the bitter political argument they had become embroiled in at their last meeting - when was that? Almost eight years ago, she realized with surprise. Of course, the Red Rose instructions that she had received gave the lie to his protestations. None the less, she had to cover herself 'Again you must pardon the personal nature of my questions, but your frank replies now may save us all a great deal of embarrassment later. You must be aware of the racial situation in South Africa. As a coloured person you will not be allowed to vote, and furthermore you will be subject to a body of legislation and a policy known as apartheid, which, to say the least, restricts many of the freedoms which you will have taken as your natural right here in England.'
'Yes, I know all about apartheid,' Ben agreed.
'Then, why would you want to give up what you have here and return to a country where you will be treated as a second-class citizen, and where your prospects of advancement will be limited by your skin tone?' 'I am an African, Dr. Courtney. I want to go home. I think I can be of service to my country and my people. I believe I can make a good life for myself in the land of my birth.' They stared at each other for long seconds, and then Isabella said softly, 'I can find no fault with those sentiments, Mr. Afrika. Thank you for coming to talk to us. We have your address and telephone number. We will contact you one way or the other, just as soon as we are able to do so.' When Ben had left neither she nor Meekin spoke for a while. Isabella stood up and moved to the window. Looking down into the square she saw Ben leave the front door of the building. As he buttoned his overcoat he glanced up and saw her in the second-floor window. He lifted one hand in farewell and then set off towards Pont Street and turned the corner.
'Well,' said David Meekin beside her, 'we can cross that one off the list.' 'For what reason?' Isabella asked, and Meekin was flustered. He had expected her to agree immediately.
'His qualifications. His experience...' 'The colour of his skin?' Isabella suggested.
'That, too,' Meekin nodded. 'He would be in a position at Capricorn where he might have to give orders to white employees. He might actually have white females under him. It would cause ill-feelings.' 'There are at least a dozen black and coloured managers in other Courtney companies,' Isabella pointed out.
'Yes, I know,' Meekin acceded hurriedly, 'but they have coloureds and blacks under them, not whites.' 'My father and my brother are both very eager to advance blacks and coloureds; to managerial positions. My brother in particular feels that bringing all sections of our community to prosperity and responsibility is the only recipe for long-term peace and harmony in our country.' 'I would agree with that one hundred percent.' 'I found Mr. Afrika a most personable young man. I agree that he is a little young and lacking in experience for either of the senior posts, however-' Meekin changed tack, like the corporate survivor he was. 'I'd like to suggest that we short-list Afrika for the post of technical assistant to the director.' 'I agree with your suggestion wholeheartedly.' Isabella smiled her sweetest, most winning smile. Her estimate had been correct. David Meekin's most firmly held principles were subject to negotiation.
They finished the interview with the - last candidate at four o'clock that afternoon and, as soon as Meekin had left Cadogan Square to return to the Berkeley Hotel, Isabella telephoned her mother.
'The Lord Kitchener Hotel, good afternoon.' She recognized her mother's voice.
'Hallo, Tara. It's Isabella.' And then for emphasis, 'Isabella Courtney, your daughter.' 'Bella, my baby. It's been ever so long. Let's see now -eight years at least. I thought you'd forgotten your old mamma.' She always made Isabella feel guilty, and she made a lame excuse.
'I'm sorry, Tara. The pace of life - I don't seem to have time for anything...' 'Yes, Mickey tells me that you have been ever so successful and clever. He says that you are Dr. Courtney now, and a Senator,' Tara gushed on. 'Mind you, Bella, how you can bring yourself to have anything to do with that bunch of racist bigots that call themselves the National Party? In any civilized society, John Vorster would have been sent to the gallows years ago.' 'Tara, is Ben there?' Isabella cut her off.
'I thought it was too good to be true that my own daughter wanted to talk to me.' Tara's tone was mart I yred and long-suffering. 'I'll call Ben.' 'Hello, Bella.' He came on the phone almost immediately.
'We must talk ' 'she told him.
'Where?' he asked, and she thought swiftly.
'Hatchards.' 'The bookshop in Piccadilly? OK. When?' 'Tomorrow, ten in the morning.' Ben was in the African Fiction section, thumbing through a Nadine Gordimer novel. She stood beside him and picked a book at random from the shelves.
'Ben, I don't know what this is about.' 'I'm applying for a job, Bella. It's as simple as that.' He smiled easily.
'I don't want to know, either,' she went on quickly. 'Just tell me - do you really have valid papers in the name of Afrika?' 'Tara registered my birth in the name of a coloured couple, friends of hers. She was never married to my father - and of course their relationship was illegal. She could have been imprisoned for being in love with Moses Gama and giving birth to me.' His tone was easy; there was even a light smile on his lips. She looked for some sign of bitterness or anger, but found none. 'Officially my name is Benjamin Afrika. I have a birth certificate and South African passport in that name.' 'I have to warn you, Ben. There is terrible bitterness and hatred in the Courtney side of the family. Your father was convicted of murdering Nana's second husband, I mean Centaine Courtney-Malcomess's husband.' 'Yes, I know.' 'You and I will never be able to acknowledge each other in
