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  Mr Malik stared at him, then at the radiant face of his mother beside him – there seemed little doubt about Rose Mbikwa’s thoughts on the matter. He looked at his beautiful daughter Petula, who he loved with all his heart. In her crimson sari, and with the emerald bindi on her forehead, she looked just as her mother had looked when she had accepted his proposal of marriage under the mango tree. It was some time before he could speak.

  ‘With my daughter’s permission,’ he said, ‘you may –’

  At which Petula flung her arms round him.

  ‘Oh, Daddy … oh, Daddy … oh, Daddy,’ was all she could say.

  Once more the room erupted into cheering – if anything, even louder than before. Mr Malik had almost to shout to Petula to make himself heard.

  ‘And when, dear daughter, were you thinking of having the wedding?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, taking him aside, ‘I know how you feel about long engagements. So I said to Angus – he only plucked up the courage to ask me yesterday, you know, I’m afraid that’s why he couldn’t give the talk at the club on Thursday – I said that if he wanted to marry me it would have to be soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Today, actually. You know, before I change my mind?’

  ‘Today? Get married today? But the priests, the reception …?’

  Rose Mbikwa appeared beside him and slipped her arm into his.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, dear Mr Malik, but I’ve been busy too. At rather short notice I’ve managed to persuade my old friend Bishop Hodgkinson to come out of retirement and preside – he married my husband Joshua and me.’

  ‘And,’ said Petula, ‘Mr Kalia will be coming from the temple.’

  It had been Pundit Kalia who, more than forty years ago, had blessed the marriage of Mr Malik and his dear wife.

  Mr Malik felt a sudden panic.

  ‘But the food, what about the food?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Malik old chap,’ said Mr Patel. ‘Ally Dass has been working all night. I’ve just seen the birianis – not just silver leaf this time, but gold too.’

  ‘And he let me try one of the samosas – not a single pea,’ said Mr Gopez.

  ‘But the loos, what about the loos?’

  ‘I think I saw the Portaloo people just leaving,’ said Tiger Singh. ‘And I think that I can see someone else arriving.’

  Above the hubbub inside the club could be heard the hoot of a car horn and a screech of brakes. From the red Mercedes convertible that had pulled up beside the Tiger’s Range Rover they heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Hey, Rose baby!’ Harry Khan leapt from the driver’s seat and raced up the steps. ‘They’re right behind me.’

  ‘Hello, Harry. Who is right behind you?’

  ‘The police?’ said Mr Patel.

  ‘The men from the ministry?’ said Mr Gopez.

  ‘No – don’t worry, guys. All taken care of.’

  ‘Then who?’ said Mr Malik.

  ‘The band. Rose told me you might need some music later, right?’

  Rose Mbikwa laughed.

  ‘Don’t tell me …’

  ‘Sure. Like I said yesterday, Rose baby, leave it to me. What Harry wants, Harry gets.’

  A bus turned into the car park and pulled up behind the Mercedes. Harry Khan turned to Mr Malik.

  ‘I bring you Milton Kapriadis and his Safari Swingers – courtesy of Khan Enterprises. OK with you, Jack?’

  And so as the Nairobi sky turns from blue to black, as the stars come out and lanterns are lit around the lawns and rose beds of the Asadi Club, after Petula and Angus have exchanged their vows and circled the holy fire seven times, after the champagne has been drunk, the samosas swallowed, the countless dishes of curry consumed and the cake cut, we find the bride and her groom on the dance floor close in each other’s arms. The band is playing the ‘Blue Danube Waltz’. Also dancing to the music are their many relatives and friends, while on the edge of the floor, keeping slightly apart from the others, a short brown man is dancing with a graceful white woman. Perhaps Rose Mbikwa has been telling Mr Malik about the orphanage she is planning to start at her home in Serengeti Gardens. Perhaps he has offered to supply as many Jolly Man bonbons as the children will ever need. They both look very happy.

  At a table beside the dance floor Mr and Mrs Patel are in earnest conversation with Mr A. B. Gopez and his wife. No doubt they are discussing the significance of the small ripe mango that Benjamin had brought with him from Mr Malik’s garden that morning and presented to him at the end of his daughter’s marriage ceremony. It must have been a very special mango. Mrs Gopez says she was certain she saw a tear in Mr Malik’s eye as he took it.

  Harry Khan has been getting on very well with Sunita, radiant in her special new bridesmaid’s sari from Amin and Sons. He has been showing her a few new moves on the dance floor but now they are both sitting at a table, chatting with Dickie Johnson and Tiger Singh and his wife. Sunita has just finished explaining to everyone that the whole wedding was entirely her doing. Was it not she who told Angus Mbikwa at the Hilton only three nights ago that she was sure Petula would say yes? The Tiger has already told everyone that, after much reflection, he has changed his mind about helping Harry Khan with his shopping mall development. On Monday they will both be meeting the Minister of Transport – the old railway goods yard, right in the centre of town, could be just the place they’re looking for. With them at the table are Sanjay and Bobby Bashu, looking fit and trim after their three-week spiritual retreat down at the coast.

  Now everyone is laughing. I expect Harry has told them one of his stories about the American franchisees’ wives. He may even have admitted that it was he who hid the Kima Killer in the darkroom that night he played billiards with Tiger Singh. He still could never resist a tease.

  I hope Harry hasn’t said anything about who really won that game of billiards at the Asadi Club the night that the lion disappeared. When the Tiger agreed to help him, Harry promised that he wouldn’t. And as for me, I never shall.

  THE BEGINNING

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  First published 2012

  Copyright © Nicholas Drayson, 2012

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  Grateful acknowledgement is made for permission to reprint lyrics from ‘Is That All There Is’. Words and music by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. Copyright © 1966 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC; copyright renewed. All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, 8 Musi
c Square West, Nashville, Tennessee, TN 37203. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard Corporation.

  ISBN: 978-0-241-96918-2