'Nothing in this world would keep me from this wonderful man! He has been my mother's lover since before the death of my father, while I was just getting into adolescence,' I thought. I had first noticed the computer man at school going with her to social occasions. The first time was at the Concours d'Elegance to see classic cars of a bygone age, that had been lovingly restored, so that they gleamed and shone. In truth my elder sister and I had no interest in cars but were more attracted to the kids' playground where lots of games were available for us. Fun food was also in plenty. Mum did not object when we asked to be bought what she always called 'junk food', and seemed to want to stay with Mr Kerrie more than she wanted us. We were also busy and did not mind in the least!
At school I tried to be at the table he would be serving during lunch. It was the custom that we kids sat on benches at a long table, at the head of which the teacher sat. He or she would serve each child with portions we described as either large, medium or pathetic. I chose a position three places away from the teacher and when I succeeded in being at the computer man's table would ask for a pathetic (small) portion so that I could ask for a second helping. Then when we had had enough, and dessert was served, I would help clear the table by stacking the dishes at the head of the table near him so that the duty teacher would let our table out first because it was the tidiest. He always thanked me for doing that in his musical voice that I loved so much.
In the computer room, he worked in an alcove just inside the door, and through which we must troop to get into the lab proper. I would find him at his computer and wish him good morning, to which he replied in that awesome voice. After the lesson as we left I would wave at him. Sometimes I managed to arrive earlier and stop by his desk and chat him up about the computers or to ask him what he was doing on his screen which looked so different from what Mrs Insole taught us in the lab. If I encountered him in another part of the school I took it as a bonus, since it was so rare.
With my mother, they must have been seeing each other when we were not present, and away from dad's presence. I thought about this much later when I was in high school but at the time, I just enjoyed that I could speak to him at school and outside as well.
Once, during school holidays we came back from piano lessons to find him and mum in the living room on the same seat. She was a bit red in the face when we walked in on them, and she looked sort of shy. As we went upstairs I remarked on it to my sister who simply told me to shut up. I thought it all very strange. What was he doing in our house? Why were they on the same seat yet there was plenty of space in the living room?
I remember other instances of coming upon them and they looked surprised. So I resolved to be more alert. My sister always refused to talk about it with me. But I began to notice him touching her, or holding her hand furtively, especially when my father was around.
Came the evening when my father was on a foreign trip, and I heard movement in the upstairs corridor near my parents' bedroom after we had been sent to bed. I crept out of my room taking care not to wake my sister in hers, and found my parents' bedroom door slightly ajar. Through the chink I spied Mr Kerrie holding my mother and their mouths locked to each other. My God! What was he doing here at night? Before I could work out an answer, they started removing their clothes. All this confused me. Before I knew it my legs were carrying me away from that scene back to my room. There was a strange tingling between my legs. When I went to the toilet, I noticed a slippery wetness on my panties I had never known before, adding to my confusion. What was happening to my body? I put on a fresh pair and climbed into my bed. I longed to go and ask my mother but I knew this was not the time do so. I would wait until morning, I resolved. Soon I fell asleep.
I woke as the light was creeping back. I remembered what had taken place in my parents' bedroom and my heart fluttered in an unfamiliar manner. In the bathroom I could not see anything but a dried up spot where the slippery stuff had been. What could that have been, I wondered.
A faint sound like a door closing, in the direction of my mother's room startled me. Then I heard someone miss a step on the staircase as they went down. I thought maybe Mr Kerrie, unused to the house in the darkness, had made that sound. So he had spent the night with my mother! I badly wanted to ask her about my body's strange behaviour, but I somehow knew from my sister's reactions these matters were not to be talked about.
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My father was dead! We stood in a tight group beside his grave as his body was being lowered. My mother held my sister and I closely, our tears falling uncontrollably. The news of his motorcycle accident near Naivasha had come as a shock. I remembered my mother trying to dissuade him from that sport, now that he was no longer young. But he loved his machines almost too much. He kept them in an addition to the car garage where he would spend time cleaning and polishing them. Why didn't he let the driver do that as he cleaned the cars? Now those awful motorcycles had stolen my father from us.
I wanted Mr Kerrie to be with us, but he stood a little distance away, outside the family circle with a few teachers from school. I could see his eyes were on us, as if he too wanted to come to us, but was somehow prevented. After the short ceremony was over people came to tell us how sorry they were about our loss but their words sounded hollow to my ears. Then we were guided gently to our car to take us home. So many of our relatives were there. I did not want any of them as much as I wanted to see Mr Kerrie, who was nowhere to be seen.
He only showed up the next day among other guests. I rushed to him and held him.
"Where have you been Mr Kerrie? We have been so lonely!"
"Don't cry now, Ummi! Your aunts and uncles kept you company, didn't they?" he said soothingly.
"But it is not the same!" I almost wailed.
"Ummi, please let Mr Kerrie greet the rest of us. Don't be selfish," my mother chided me.
He held my sister briefly then embraced my mother, rubbing her back. I thought her eyes looked moist. At that precise moment the image of the two in my parents' room came back, and the tingling of my secret place started up. It was all very strange.
"Girls, you may go upstairs now," my mother said.
I was more than glad to get to the privacy of my room away from all the strangers in our house. I was still torn between that wish and that of wanting to stay near Mr Kerrie.
My ardour for Mr Kerrie only increased the more I saw of him, in school or at home. One afternoon, during hockey training, I sprained my ankle and had to sit on the sidelines. I asked Miss Mbochi if I could go and look for a shade to sit in. As I walked off the field towards the Music Rooms, an idea struck me. Could Mr Kerrie be in the computer room? I hoped he would be alone, although I would not have been able to say why I wanted it to be so.
He was busy at his laptop which he once told me he brought to school to use in his work. I had asked him why he did not get the school to buy him one, and he said there was no need since his own was already available.
"Mr Kerrie, may I please come in?" I said from the entrance.
He looked up suddenly, obviously not expecting anybody.
"Oh, its you, Ummi! Come in! Should you not be at hockey?"
