Some home truths
Chapter 21
Home truths
I asked to see Vitaly urgently the following morning.
‘It was like being in a lion’s den,’ I began. ‘I was asked for my telephone number but got out of that one for the time being. I forgot to give it. They know I’m supposed to work for the African Trading Company. What happens if one of them phones the company this morning?’ I said with my fists clenched.
‘Relax, Robert. We can prepare a business card for you for next week.’
‘But if they phone the trading company this morning?’
‘Relax I said. If they phone the African Trading Company this morning, Yaa will direct the call here.’
I thought for a moment. Was Yaa a servant of the Russian state?
‘We finance the African Trading Company. Just like the Groundnut factory. Of course—we do not speak about it. Rest assured if anyone calls to speak to you, Yaa will put the call through to me.’
I sat back in relief for a moment, but only briefly. ‘The Welshman works for Barclay’s bank. They have monthly soirées—the accountants and the bankers and their wives. I have been invited to attend the next one with Morag. You approve?’
‘Approve? Of course. There might be some information you could find in that scenario.’
That night I returned to see Morag. I found her in the staff dining room, where she was slicing through some fresh pineapple. She put her fork down and pulled out a seat for me.
‘Finished work for the day?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but keep your affections till later. The eyes of many are watching us.’
‘You sound like a spy,’ I laughed.
‘No laughing matter, this spying of yours. It does worry me.’
‘Well, the latest is that I am playing squash on a Wednesday night.’
‘Yes, I got your note. That’s good. Out of the embassy and meeting normal people, at last.’
‘I’m meant to listen out for something valuable or perhaps just of interest, but I do enjoy their company.’
‘You mean it wasn’t you who decided on playing squash, it was the Russians?’
‘Yes, but they only set the ground rules. I play their game and only give them harmless information.’
‘Let’s go to my room to talk,’ she said.
As she unlocked the door I told her we were invited to the next banker’s soiree.
‘Us?’ she enquired.
‘Yes, us, that’s you Morag Sutherland and me— Ewan Shankland.’
‘Ewan Shankland? For God’s sake, whatever next?’
‘It’s my final job for them. I’m Ewan Shankland, an accountant at the African Trading Company here in Accra. That’s my cover.’
She stood still before me. I was unsure of how she would respond. What I had said might have ended our relationship and if it did, I had only myself to blame. But I saw a glint of understanding in her eyes.
‘Oh Robert, darling. You are a puzzle at times. Yet I see how you are still trapped.’
She came close and put her arms around my waist.
‘We are on the homeward leg. I have devised an escape plan but can only put it into practice when you leave to return home. I’ve thought it through and know I can pull it off. But don’t ask me about it.’
She kissed me. I kissed her and we sat on the bed as a tear fell from my eye. It caused her tears to fall too.
‘Robert, I have to start work tomorrow at 6 a.m. That means up at 5 a.m. I’m getting tired.’
I could see she was tired from being on her feet all day, and tired of my service to the Russians. ‘Okay, I’d better be on my way. It’s been a difficult week.’
I stood up and faced Morag. She stood too. I was expecting a good-night kiss. Instead, she said, ‘Will you stay with me here tonight?’
And I did.
When I woke the following morning I was alone. Morag was already at work on a ward. I took a shower and dressed. Then I saw a paper on her side of the bed. It was more than a note—a billet-doux. It read:
I did not wake you as my eyes dwelt on your sleeping body this early morning. I thought, but could not say, I’d like to wake up each day with you. Perhaps that gives you an indication of the way I feel for you.
Take care in all you do. Be safe. I trust you.
Love Morag xxx
I folded the note and placed it in my linen jacket pocket. I left the hospital that morning with my head in the clouds. I only hoped my departure was discreet. I had broken the hospital rules.
I did not head straight to my room in the embassy but deviated through Makola market square, where a hive of colourful activity unfolded before my eyes. Pyramids of tomatoes and borders of onions lined the aged wooden tables. An array of traditional Kente cloths contrasted with the rich blue sky. The stench of drying fish balanced on the heads of the market women caught my nose and made me hold my breath.
I continued past endless begging —‘please mister, buy some....’ of....this or that. However I was on a specific mission and I found the shop I had in mind at the far end of the market, on Kojo Thompson Road.
I got back to the embassy around mid-day and was greeted by Ambassador Leskov.
‘A fruitful excursion, Robert?’ he asked, his manner paternal.
I gave a disarming smile. ‘The sports club is likely to throw up some interesting information,’ I said hoping to satisfy him. But his mind was elsewhere.
He placed his arm on my shoulder and moved me along the path bordering the front lawn.
‘Your doctor friend—is she just an acquaintance in Accra, a friendly white face, or something much more?’
‘I’d say much more. I don’t deny I am very much in love.’
‘I see.’
We continued to walk and I realised he might have plans for both of us. My inkling gained credence with his next words.
‘Would you, the two of you, be willing to take on a position somewhere else? I have a place in mind.’
I felt pins and needles prickling me and sweat break out on my forehead,
‘You realise she is still a student? She has to complete her final year back in Glasgow.’
‘Ah, of course. But if we found a hospital or clinic for her—to work in Bolivia.’
‘Bolivia! Why there? What would I do?’
‘You speak Spanish, not so?’
‘Er....yes.’
‘Then Bolivia because Hugo Banzer is in power. The scourge of the left. He has imprisoned and had tortured many left-wing dissenters. He needs to be toppled.’
‘So where does his power lie?’
‘With America, of course.’
That night I returned to the hospital. I simply had to tell Morag about the Ambassador’s plans for us, but stressed it was our future what mattered to me. She was in total agreement.
‘So what do you intend to do?’ she asked.
‘It looks like I’ll be able to come home with you and—well, you complete your studies and then we find work and make ourselves unavailable to the Russians.’
‘Do you think it will be as easy as that?’
I knew there was no certainty in dealing with the Russians, but so far I had coped quite well. I had reason to believe I could pull it off. ‘I think we can do it, and I’m keeping you out of their grasp. They have no reason to recruit you.’
She hugged me and we kissed.
‘Morag, I’ve reached that magical moment. Have you?’
She looked at me quizzically. I took a pace backwards and placed my hand in my back pocket. As I brought out the silver-lined box, I knelt before her.
‘Morag darling, I love you so much. Will you be my wife?’
I could have sworn almost ten silent seconds elapsed, but I saw her smile grow wider by each moment.
‘Yes, of course, Robert, of course I’ll marry you.’
She took the engagement ring from its box and placed it on her marriage finger. ‘It fits.’
Then we kissed again.
‘We are so alone. No family to join in our happiness.’
‘You have a phone here. Can you ring your parents?’
It was not the clearest of lines and the synchronisation of voices left much to be desired. I managed to speak to her parents briefly and expressed my love for their daughter while apologising for not requesting her hand in marriage in person. Her father wondered if the marriage would be in Ghana or Scotland. I replied it would be in Motherwell in just over a year after Morag qualified.
After Morag replaced the telephone in its carriage, we kissed once more.
‘You can stay the night again. I’d like that.’
‘Darling, so would I.’
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