I accepted the invitation to visit the Bravers with mixed feelings. On one hand, I could not imagine that a person who I perceived to hate me so much could invite me to his family party. I thought he must be looking for an opportunity to humiliate me. He had done that in the front of patients, nurses, his secretary and medical staff. Now, he needed to ridicule me before his family. My other mind was telling me to give him a chance. Maybe he had a different side to his character. A normal aspect outside of work. Other doctors and nurses had been talking about the Bravers’ party for days. All the people that I’ve told indicated they would attend.
I almost lost faith in the taxi driver after sitting in his taxi for nearly half an hour and all I could see were farm houses and thick vegetation. The road looked only wide enough for a car and I never stopped wondering what would happen if a lorry or farm tractor was coming from the opposite direction. Then, almost like a sudden eruption, we came to what looked like the end of a long meander and I saw the sign The Bravers Castle strategically calved on the large heavy gate.
The Bravers’ residence was an isolated bungalow in the remote part of the county. The bungalow was spectacularly rebuilt from two large farm houses that had been knocked into one. Situated conspicuously on an elevation in a four-acre land, it enjoyed a magnificent view of the Dales.
Most of the guests had arrived by the time the taxi was able find the way to the house that seemed at first to be in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t feel at ease to go in. I stood on the front corridor, hoping that someone would pop outside to have a smoke or something or a late arrival could arrive and we could go in together. There was a lot of talking and giggling going on as well as bottles and glasses making noise as they served the drinks.
“That must be Dr Chuks,” Mrs Braver startled me, as she came from one of the side doors to the front of the house.
“Good evening Mrs Braver,” I replied, smiling reassuringly.
She looked incredibly beautiful in her simple T-shirt and jeans trousers.
“Nice to have you. Come on in, the party has started,” she said, as she ushered me into the lobby, gently squeezing my hand affectionately. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone as we entered. People were chatting in twos and threes, sipping at their glass of wine or whatever they were drinking. Looking across the room, Ruth Price sat down cross legged chatting away with her fellow medical students. I was hoping she would make eye contact with me but she looked away and seemed to be enjoying herself. I felt like going to her but wasn’t sure how she would take it. I knew I really fell for her. But what if she didn’t feel the same? What if one of the medical students was her boyfriend? And what if she wanted to keep her private affairs private? I wondered.
Whilst these thoughts were going through my mind, Mrs Braver and Mrs Guy came to me. As they stood in front of me both women did look alike. Same height. Similar lipstick and the same sexually captivating perfume. Dr Braver must have deliberately looked for a secretary that looked very much like his wife. Strange! I said to myself.
“Come on and get some drink,” both women said, as they led me to the bar area, walking one on each of my sides like two rivals. I could not get my head round why they both came to me and why they were both taking me to have a drink.
I nodded as both women giggled.
“So, tell me about yourself.” Mrs Braver said.
“Well, where do I start?” I wasn’t sure if this was a plan initiated by Dr Braver or a genuine interest in knowing about me. Yet I did not want to upset her by not telling her about myself.
“You can start anywhere.” Anna chipped in.
Suddenly I started to feel uncomfortable and rather suspicious. Both women wanted to know everything about me. Dr Braver did not feel concerned that his wife and secretary had spent most of the evening with this giant, fresh from the African jungle!
“OK. You do know my name of course. Well, I am the first of thirty three children.”
“What!” Both women exclaimed almost drawing the attentions of the other guests.
“I know why you reacted that way. Most people in the UK would feel the same. But in Africa that is not unusual.” I said.
“Did your mother have all the children?” Mrs Braver asked.
“Oh no. My mother has ten children of her own. The rest are my father’s other wives’.”
“How many wives has your dad?” Mrs Guy asked.
“Five in total. Three of his own. He inherited the other two from his uncles.”
“Inherited?” Mrs Braver screwed her face.
“Yeah. When his father’s elder brother died they passed his wives to my father who became their husband and father of their children.”
“Your dad must be very strong to sleep with all of them,” Mrs Guy said and covered her mouth with her hand afterwards.
“I guess you could say that. Most African men are strong.” I said.
“No wonder all these big muscles.” Mrs Braver touched my biceps. “Like father like son, eh.”
“Can I get you some drink?” I asked the women, now really wanting to ease off. I could pretend to be chatting to other guests or even go to Ruth and her mates.
“Oh, be my guest,” Mrs Braver said, as she grabbed my glass from me and collected Anna’s for refill.
“I thought there was going to be snow,” I remarked, trying to shift the discussion from something about me to something general.
“What made you think that way? Mrs Guy asked.
“Don’t know. I guess it’s one of those concepts we have in Africa. It always snows in Europe at Christmas.”
“I wished. But I don’t like the cold and I hate it when it’s cold and wet.” Mrs Guy said.
“So, as you were saying,” Mrs Braver said, as she handed our glasses back to us.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen any snow since I came …” I said, pretending not to know that she meant I should continue telling them about myself.
“I don’t mean that,” she interrupted. And both women giggled.
“Oh! Sorry,” I said, after sipping my wine. “Yes, as I was saying. I came from a large family…”
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