The Constant Gardener

Justin ponders this but evidently sees no reason not to reply. "Her brother Kioko. He slept beside her on the floor when he wasn't keeping the flies off her. And Ghita Pearson would make a point of sitting with her when she called on Tessa."

"Anyone else?"

"A white male doctor, I believe. I can't be sure."

"That he was white?"

"That he was a doctor. A white man in a white coat. And a stethoscope."

"Alone?"

The reserve again, falling like a shadow across his voice. "He was accompanied by a group of students. Or so I took them to be. They were young. They wore white coats."

With three golden bees embroidered on the pocket of each coat, he might have added, but his resolve held him back.

"Why do you say students? Did Tessa say they were students?"

"No."

"Did Arnold?"

"Arnold made no judgment about them in my hearing. It is pure presumption on my part. They were young."

"How about their leader? Their doctor, if that's what he was. Did Arnold say anything about him?"

"Not to me. If he had concerns, he addressed them to the man himself — the man with the stethoscope."

"In your presence?"

"But not in my hearing." Or almost not.

Rob like Lesley is craning forward to catch his every word. "Describe."

Justin is already doing so. For a brief truce he has joined their team. But the reserve has not left his voice. Caution and circumspection are written round his tired eyes. "Arnold took the man to one side. By the arm. The man with the stethoscope. They spoke to each other as doctors do. In low voices, apart."

"In English?"

"I believe so. When Arnold speaks French or kiSwahili he acquires a different body language." And when he speaks English he is inclined to raise his pitch a little, he might have added.

"Describe him — the bloke with the stethoscope," Rob commands.

"He was burly. A big man. Plump. Unkempt. I have a memory of suede shoes. I remember thinking it peculiar that a medical doctor should wear suede shoes, I am not sure why. But the memory of the shoes endures. His coat was grimy from nothing very particular. Suede shoes, a grimy coat, a red face. A showman of some kind. If it had not been for his white coat, an impresario." And three golden bees, tarnished but distinct, embroidered on his pocket, just like the nurse in the poster at the airport, he was thinking. "He seemed ashamed," he added, taking himself by surprise.

"What of?"

"Of his own presence there. Of what he was doing."

"Why do you say that?"

"He wouldn't look at Tessa. At either of us. He'd look anywhere else. Just not at us."

"Color of hair?"

"Fair. Fair to ginger. There was drink in his face. The reddish hair set it off. Do you know of him? Tessa was most curious about him."

"Beard? Mustache?"

"Clean-shaven. No. He was not. He had a day's stubble at least. It had a golden color to it. She asked him his name repeatedly. He declined to give it."

Rob comes crashing in again. "What kind of conversation did it look like?" he insists. "Was it an argument? Was it friendly? Were they inviting each other to lunch? What was going on?"

The caution back. I heard nothing. I only saw. "Arnold appeared to be protesting — reproaching. The doctor was denying. I had the impression — " he pauses, giving himself time to choose his words. Trust nobody, Tessa had said. Nobody but Ghita and Arnold. Promise me. I promise. "My impression was, this was not the first time a disagreement had taken place between them. What I was witnessing was part of a continuing argument. So I thought afterward, at least. That I had witnessed a resumption of hostilities between adversaries."

"You've thought about it a lot, then."

"Yes. Yes, I have," Justin agrees dubiously. "My other impression was that English was not the doctor's first language."

"But you didn't discuss any of this with Arnold and Tessa?"

"When the man had gone, Arnold returned to Tessa's bedside, took her pulse and spoke in her ear."

"Which again you didn't hear?"

"No and I was not intended to." Too thin, he thinks. Try harder. "It was a part I had become familiar with," he explains, avoiding their gaze. "To remain outside their circle."

"What medication was Wanza on?" Lesley asks.

"I've no idea."