She passed beside the man and crossed the yard very quickly. The torrential rain had eased, but it was still coming down. There was nobody on the ground floor of the house. She went toward the porch where Tomás had parked. Apart from a 4x4 that she had not seen before, it was empty. Where were the hundreds of workers? This was a ghost plantation. The best thing to do was go back to the office. But . . . if the big man was still there? She let out a snort. She was acting ridiculous. Was she really so skittish?
She turned with the intention of going back to her papers and saw that a not-very-tall man with completely white hair was coming toward her, waving his hands and speaking in a language she did not understand. The man scrutinized her, went back a few centimeters, and came closer again, murmuring strange words and shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you are saying,” said Clarence nervously, her heart beating rapidly.
She began to walk toward the red earth of the yard. The man followed, lifting his arthritis-deformed hands to the heavens and then directing them toward her as if he wanted to grab her. She got the feeling that he was scolding her.
“Leave me alone, please, I’m going now. Fernando Garuz is waiting for me in the office, do you see?” She pointed to the small building. “Yes, over there.”
She quickened her step and entered the room, looking behind to make sure that the strange man was not following her.
Then she ran into a granite wall wearing jeans and a white shirt.
“Are you blind?” A strong pair of hands gripped her arms and moved her away. She felt something damp dripping on her face. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Clarence brought her hand to her face and realized it was true. She went over to her bag to look for some tissues. So the giant was still there.
“I thought you would have gone by now,” she said as she tore off a piece of the tissue to plug her nose and stop the trickle of blood.
“I’m not in a hurry.”
“Well, I am. I have to gather all this up before Fernando gets here.”
The man sat down quietly in front of the desk. The chair creaked under his weight. Clarence began to move the mountains of ordered papers to the bookcase under his attentive supervision. His intense gaze made her nervous. And to top it all, he had not even offered to help her.
“Sorry for the delay, Clarence.” She gave a start. Fernando strode through the door and then greeted the other man. “I thought with this weather, you’d come another day. Have you been here long?”
Clarence came over to pick up the last pile of papers.
“Gosh, what happened to you?” Fernando asked.
“Nothing, I ran into a door.”
Fernando went with her over to the cabinet and had a look inside.
“What a difference! I see you have used the time well . . . Did you find anything interesting?”
“Very little I did not know already. I’m surprised there’s nothing about the children born on the plantation. Only the names of the mothers who gave birth in the hospital are listed. I had an idea that there were a lot of children in Sampaka, weren’t there?”
“Yes, there were.” Fernando pointed to the man in the corner. “You were one of them, no?”
Clarence’s interest piqued. She reckoned he was about forty, which would put him in the period she was interested in . . .
Fernando went on, “But I couldn’t tell you if there were records or not. Maybe in the school, though there is nothing left of it. What do you think, Iniko?”
Iniko, she repeated to herself. What a strange name.
“There were a lot of us,” he answered, without much enthusiasm. “Though I spent more time in the village with my mother’s family than on the plantation. As regards records, the Bubis were normally born in their villages and the Nigerians in the family barracks. Only when there were problems were the mothers brought to the plantation hospital. The whites went to the hospital in the city.”
“Why are you interested, Clarence?” Fernando asked.
“Well . . .” She looked for a plausible lie. “In my research, there is a section on the names of the children born in the colonial period . . .”
“What children?” Iniko interrupted her scathingly. “Our parents gave us a name, and in school they made us change it for another.”
Which complicates things further, thought Clarence.
“Ah.” Fernando clicked his tongue. “This one is a . . . thorny subject.”
“Yes.” Clarence nodded so as not to raise suspicions. “Well, as I said, I haven’t seen anything here that I didn’t know already.” Well, only that my father was very sick.
“I wasn’t able to finish tidying everything. If you’d allow me to come back another day, I promise to do it.”
“You have to come back. You haven’t seen anything!” Fernando turned to the other man. “Are you going to Malabo now?”
The man nodded.
“You could take Clarence back to the city.” He said it as a statement rather than a question. “This . . . I’m sorry, Clarence, but a small problem has come up. The generator room has flooded, and I can’t leave for the moment.” He took a key out of his pocket. “If you would excuse us, I’ll only keep Iniko for a minute.”
Clarence got her bag while Fernando opened a cabinet. She noticed that Iniko had his eyes, cold as icebergs, still fixed on her. He was probably as pleased as she was at having to spend time alone together. She pursed her lips and left, not looking forward to the ride all the way back to Malabo with him. She assumed that the 4x4 she had seen was Iniko’s, but she did not even think of crossing the yard to it for fear of meeting up with the other crazed man. Instead, she waited close to the door.
She heard them talking about accounts. There was a moment when they seemed to be arguing, because Iniko’s voice rose, but Fernando quieted him. Soon, they both came out. Fernando insisted that Clarence return to Sampaka as many times as she wished during her stay on the island, handed her a piece of paper with his telephone number, and made her promise to call him for anything she might need.
Before she knew it, Iniko had already crossed the yard. Clarence had to run to catch up with him at the white Land Rover. He got in, started it, and turned around. Is he not going to give me a lift? She saw that Iniko stretched to open the window on the passenger’s side.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
When she got into the car, she saw that her trousers were completely spattered with red drops. She tried to shake them off with her hand, but only succeeded in creating a fine film of dust.
The uncomfortable silence lasted several kilometers. Clarence looked out the window. It had stopped raining, but some low mists covered the brush and thickets along the road. The vehicle motored on at a fair speed to the main road. In a short while, she was able to make out the first buildings of the city in front of her. Beside her, Iniko looked at his watch.
“Where are you staying?”
She told him the name of the hotel, and he nodded.
“I have to go to the airport. If you would like me to take you to your hotel, you’ll have to wait. If not, I can leave you around here.”
Clarence frowned. She had no intention of walking the streets alone again. “Fine.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I’d prefer to go with you to the airport,” she responded, irritated. “I only hope that you don’t tell me later that you are going to catch a flight.”