The Queen and Mr Dukes : 1

2. Two Weeks Earlier

2

Two Weeks Earlier

“THE OLD MAN WILL see you now!”

Bob Dukes lowered the phone with a shaking hand. His stomach was cramping as the fight-or-flight mechanism kicked in. This was it. Today he would learn his fate.

For months rumors had been circulating throughout the office, the town, the country. The wind of change of the fifties and early sixties was buffeting the British expatriate community, sweeping aside their style of life and their job tenure.

The Old Man was the Commissioner of Customs and Excise for East Africa. It was his duty to tell each of his expatriate employees what the political changes would mean to him or her.

Up till now the four East African countries of Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania and Opunto, known as KUTO for short, had been administered under the umbrella of a High Commission. But now with Tanzania already independent from British colonial rule and with Uganda and Kenya close to achieving the same status, Opunto was the last on the East African list. It was obvious to all that the High Commission had to be abolished and replaced with a separate administration for each of the four territories.

Bob took several slow, deep breaths to bring himself down from his state of mind-numbing and knee-trembling panic. He straightened his tropical uniform, tucking his white short-sleeved shirt into his white knee-length shorts, and pulling up his long white cotton stockings. He dipped his fingers in his water glass and ran his hand over his head to smarten up what remained of his dark brown hair. He polished his glasses and squared his shoulders.

Better to get this over with. The sooner he knew the worst, the sooner he could start tackling the repercussions.

But he was apprehensive. Yes, he stood to lose his job but also his three children. Only two weeks before he had taken them back from his estranged wife who had seized custody while he’d been touring the four territories on official business.

Bob had collected the children from their mother for his alternate day of custody and then had not returned them. Some might consider that kidnapping, but Bob had assured himself that he was rescuing them and offering them a better life. All that would prove false if he lost his job and with it his entitlement to subsidized housing and home leave to England. And the danger was that when the eventual divorce case took place, the courts would find in his wife’s favor.

“Come in, come in, Bob, and sit down,” said the Old Man as he patted Bob on the shoulder and led him to a chair. “Don’t look so glum. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Bob tried to smile but couldn’t. It was all he could do to stop his lips from jerking up and down. He must look like a complete i***t.

“Now, Bob, this is how things are.”

The Old Man explained what was going to happen. Yes, the High Commission of the four territories would be disbanded and Opunto itself would become independent. However, and this was the good part, the island of Mazita and its off lying isles were to be separated politically from Opunto, and be established as a Crown Protectorate along the lines of the Cayman Islands.

“Yes, but with all due respect, sir, where does that leave me?” asked Bob. He wished the Old Man would stop waffling and tell him his fate.

“Your contract will be ended, of course, and you will receive a golden handshake to compensate you for your loss of career, Bob, and the details of this will be sent to you in due course. I’m sure that doesn’t come as any surprise as you will have been following how similar situations have been handled in other ex-colonies.”

“That’s something at least, sir.”

“You’re a good man, Bob. The new government of Opunto would like to offer you a contract to mentor your Opuntan replacement. And you should consider this seriously. But a counter offer has been put forward by Her Majesty’s government. They would like you to accept the position of Commercial Officer in the new Mazita administration. You would be working directly for the Governor.”

“But why me, Sir? I have no experience in diplomacy.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Bob. Your work in compiling the Trade Report for the four territories has been exceptional. Always on time. You have an in-depth knowledge of the whole import/export field and will be an asset in the setting up of an off-shore base for British interests in the area.”

“I am taken aback, sir. I didn’t expect anything like this. How long do I have to make the decision?”

“The Governor Designate would like to meet with you and brief you on the requirements of the position. He’s hoping for a speedy decision, I understand.”

Bob thanked the Old Man for his interest and returned to his own office to do some serious thinking.

SIR PHILLIP JARVIS, THE GOVERNOR DESIGNATE, was a typical public school product: charming, polished and intelligent. Although he was shorter than Bob’s rangy six feet by at least four inches, his professional gravitas didn’t suffer because of that. Bob guessed him to be about fifty years old but he looked fit. Unlike Bob he had managed to keep his hair — a great mop of tawny blond which set off his sharp blue eyes.

Civilities out of the way, Sir Phillip explained to Bob that Mazita was to be a hub for investment and new development in the four territories. It would be his job to ease the way for British firms to take advantage of the expansion which was expected to follow independence. He would have to meet-and-greet prospective investors and brief them on the realities of operating in KUTO. Make them feel at home. Smooth out their problems. Help them network.

“It sounds like a challenging and interesting position, your Excellency,” ventured Bob, when he had a chance to speak.

“Oh, please, Bob, Sir Phillip or just sir will do informally. Do you have any questions?”

“Just a couple, sir. When would you like me to start? And, of a more personal nature, will there be housing provided as I have three children, and I need to settle them somewhere other than a hotel?”

“I’d like you to start as soon as possible, Bob. I’ve cleared it with the Commissioner, and your new office is ready for you. As to housing, there is an old colonial style house available next door to the grounds of Government House. I think it will do perfectly for your family. It has a large garden with plenty of trees and access to the beach. Will that do you?”

“That’s wonderful, Sir Phillip. It has been an anxious time around here for the past few months.”

“I’ll just get my secretary to show you your office and arrange for you to visit the house,” added Sir Phillip, as he picked up the internal phone and made the request.

“I think that’s all,” he said, rising to his feet and extending his hand across his desk to shake Bob’s. “Welcome aboard and don’t forget that you will be working directly for Her Majesty’s government here in Mazita.”