I smiled at the irony. “What exactly is this plan you’re hatching?”
“Well,” she said, smiling as her eyes sparkled mischievously, “thanks to the list you provided me with, Joan is now taking bookings for private auditions for a new Irish play in about”-she lifted my hand and looked at my watch-“two hours’ time.”
I felt anxious about meeting people like Robin, but Helena’s plan made me laugh. “Surely there could have been an easier way to do this.”
“Of course,” Helena said, throwing her lemon pashmina over her right shoulder, “but this is so much more fun.”
“What makes you think that any of the people on my list will come to these auditions?”
“Are you joking?” She looked surprised, “Didn’t you see Bernard and Joan? Most people here really love to get involved in activities, especially ones held by people from home.”
“Won’t the non-Irish communities be jealous?” I half-joked. “I wouldn’t want them to think I’m omitting them from my grand production.”
“No.” Helena laughed. “Everyone will have a laugh at our expense come show time.”
“Show time? You mean we’re actually staging a play?” My eyes widened.
“Of course!” Helena laughed again. “We’re not dragging twenty people to the auditions just to tell them there’s no play, but what exactly that play will be we’ve yet to decide.”
My headache returned. “As soon as I start talking to them today they’re going to realize the likelihood of my running an acting agency is no greater than Bernard’s chances of landing a lead role.”
Helena laughed. “Don’t worry, they won’t suspect a thing, and even if they do they won’t mind. People tend to reinvent themselves here; they use this experience as a second chance in life. If what you were at home was not an acting agent, it doesn’t mean that you’re not one here. The longer you’re here the more you’ll notice that there really is a good atmosphere among everyone.”
I had noticed. The atmosphere was relaxed; people were peaceful and went about their daily duties efficiently yet without rushing or panic. There was room to breathe, space to think, time to spend wisely, and lessons to be learned. People who were once lost took time to reflect, to love, to miss, and to remember. Belonging was important, even if it meant joining a hopeless play.
“Won’t Joseph mind that he can’t take part?”
Helena laughed. “Oh, I don’t think that will worry him in the slightest.”
“Joseph is from Kenya?”
“Yes.” We began walking back toward the village. “Along the coast of Watamu.”
“What was it he called me yesterday?”
Helena’s expression changed and I knew she was feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Helena, I saw your face when he called me it, you were surprised. I can’t remember the word, kalla…kappa something; what does it mean?”
Her forehead wrinkled in pretend confusion. “Sorry, Sandy, I’ve no idea. I honestly can’t remember.”
I didn’t believe her. “Did you tell him what I do for a living?”
Her face changed to that same intrigued look from yesterday. “He knows now, of course, but he didn’t then.”
“He didn’t when?”
“When he met you.”
“Of course he didn’t, I don’t expect him to be psychic, I just want to know what he said.” I stopped walking out of frustration. “Helena, please be straight with me, I can’t take riddles.”
Her face pinked. “You’ll have to ask him, Sandy, because I don’t know. Whatever it was, it must have been in his local Kiswahili language, and I’m far from being an expert.”
I was convinced she was lying and so we walked in silence. I looked at my watch again, anxious that I would soon be sharing messages from family members at home. Messages they sent off in their prayers every night to land here and be told. I questioned my ability to transmit their sentiments accurately. What I had said to Helena the previous day was true, I wasn’t a people person; finding them didn’t mean wanting to spend time with them. Wondering where Jenny-May went didn’t mean wanting to go there or wishing she’d return.
Helena, as usual, in her own instinctive way picked up on my feelings. “It was nice being able to tell Joseph about my family at long last,” she said gently. “We spoke about them until my lids closed and I dreamed about them until the sun came up. I dreamed about my mother and her organization, about my father and his searching for me.” She closed her eyes. “I woke up in this place this morning hardly knowing where I was after spending hours in my dreams where I grew up.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m not quite sure how to tell people what it is their families would want me to say.” I twisted my watch around as we walked, wanting to turn back the time that kept ticking on around my wrist.
Helena’s eyes opened and I could see a layer of tears settling on her lower lashes, building up in an invisible reservoir. “Don’t think that about yourself, Sandy. I felt soothed by your words, how could I not be?” Her face brightened. “I woke up knowing I had a mother out there still minding me. Today I feel protected, like I’m swaddled in an invisible blanket. You know, you’re not the only one whose lifelong questions have been answered I now have photographs in my mind that I never had before; an entire catalog has been filed and stored, all in one night.”
I just nodded. There was nothing to say.
“You will be fine with these people; I know you will be more than fine. The people on the list you have given will be arriving in how long?”
I looked at my watch. “An hour and a half.”
“Right, in ninety minutes they’ll all be there with the full intention of spending a short while of their lives calling Romeo from a balcony or reenacting the great escape through the art of mime.”
I laughed.
“Anything more you tell them will be a bonus, no matter how you phrase it.”
“Thank you, Helena.”
“No problem.” She gave my arm a comforting pat and I tried to stop myself from stiffening.
I looked down at my clothes. “There’s just one more problem. I’ve been wearing this tracksuit for days and I would really love a change of clothes. Is there anything you have that I could borrow?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Helena said walking off in the direction of the trees. “You wait here; I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just a minute…” Her voice disappeared, along with her short salt-and-pepper hair and billowing lemon pashmina, into the darkness.
I tapped my foot impatiently, wondering and worrying about where she’d gone. I couldn’t lose Helena now. Up ahead I spotted the towering figure of Joseph leaving the woods, carrying logs in one hand, an axe in the other.
“Joseph!” I called.
He looked up and waved with the axe, a motion that wasn’t particularly heartwarming, and he made his way toward me. His bald head shone like a polished marble, his flawless skin making him appear younger than his years.
“Everything OK?” he asked with concern.
“Yes, I think so. Well, I don’t know,” I added with confusion. “Helena just disappeared into the woods and-”
“What?” His eyes darkened.
I realized my error. “I don’t mean disappeared. She walked, walked into the woods a few minutes ago.” Disappearing from here was impossible, so no wonder Joseph was alarmed. “She told me to wait here for her.”
He set the axe down and watched the woods. “She will return, kipepeo girl.” His voice was gentle.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she will come back,” he said with a smile.
“Not that, what does the Kenyan word mean?”