Coincidence: A Novel by J. W. Ironmonger Page B

compound was surrounded, then they should scatter as widely as possible. If the danger did not seem imminent, then they could run for the mission bus – but only if one of the mission staff was driving.
    For the adults of the mission, the alarm bell spelled out a different message. The adults were to assemble by the mission buildings, with no sense of panic; they should not suggest by voice or by gesture that the children had taken flight. Whatever the crisis that had summoned the alarm, the adults were there to project calm.
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    This was the day in Langadi when everything changed for Azalea, and yet everything about the morning was normal. The goats were milked, the breakfast was served, grace was said. The farm boys squabbled. Maria the matron barked sharp commands at the orphans. Rebecca lingered over her tea and her cigarette. Luke savoured his coffee. The VSO couple sat uncommonly close to each other and whispered things that no one else could hear. Odokonyero oversaw the whole meal with the righteous bonhomie of the cook, and Mzee Njonjo, the nightwatchman, hobbled to his hut to sleep away the day. This was June 1992. The mission dogs were drinking old milk from the cooking pan. A yellow-backed weaver bird hopped among the tables looking for crumbs; a gonolek bird flickered across the dusty yard. Crickets were calling; cockerels were scratching. The orphans began to trail off towards the schoolhouse in twos and threes, holding hands. Matron Maria lifted herself heavily out of her seat and started putting Little Michael, the only baby at the mission, into a wrap to tie on her back. The VSO couple disappeared off to their rooms in the mission hall. The nurse wandered over to her clinic. One dog barked and the gonolek flew up into a tree.
    And then it was uncommonly quiet, for just a brief and precious moment. Azalea slid down from her bench, and still in her nightdress she walked out of the mess hall and into the yard. A little dust devil, whipped up by the wind, tumbled past the mess hall and was gone. The dog barked again. And then there was a man in the drive.
    Azalea saw him first. He looked like an army man, in camouflage fatigues with a gun slung over his back like a quiver. He stopped when he saw Azalea, but now the dogs had seen him too and they rushed towards him, barking.
    Odokonyero came out, in his position as head of security, to investigate the commotion. He stopped as if struck by a stone, and shouted to the man in Acholi. The man shouted something back in a language unfamiliar to Azalea. Probably he was saying ‘call off your dogs’.
    Odokonyero whistled and the dogs drew back.
    There followed an exchange between the two men. It did not sound friendly.
    Luke Folley emerged. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
    Odokonyero spat on the ground. He grumbled something in Acholi.
    A second, younger man came sauntering down the driveway wearing the same combat uniform. The first man spoke to him. They approached Luke.
    â€˜What do you want of us?’ Luke asked.
    The first man began a long, angry-sounding tirade.
    â€˜Wait, wait, wait,’ Luke flattened out his hands as if trying to calm the situation down.
    The second man started now. There was a demanding urgency to his voice. Luke replied, and suddenly all three were speaking at once, and the volume was rising as each man competed to be heard.
    Then Rebecca Folley floated out, blowing smoke rings, and all three fell silent. ‘Darling,’ she said, ‘what is all this noise? I can barely hear myself think.’
    â€˜This man says . . . he is LRA,’ said Luke.
    Rebecca took a long pull on her cigarette. ‘My dear, if he’s a visitor you shall have to invite him in for tea. Or coffee. I suppose Odokonyero will have some of that disgusting brew left.’
    â€˜My wife says you must join us for tea,’ said Luke, talking in Acholi.
    â€˜And get him to explain to us what an “LRA”