Yours truly, Victoria

Chapter I

It was an unusually warm Saturday in Northern Rhodesia. The sun was nowhere to be seen but it was hot enough for your clothes to stick to your skin as your body respired.

Victoria was the wife of a ruthless and upcoming British businessman Charles Goodwick, most popularly known amongst his peers and colleagues as Charlie. His success story is one that inspired many. He first left for Africa with only the clothes on his back and a few British pounds to his name. After ruthless years he worked his way into becoming one of the biggest names on the continent. He returned home and matched with the sweet Victoria after a few short weeks of courtship before they walked the aisle.

He owned a few mines and was part of the railroad project for logical reasons. The minerals he mined needed to be transported to port cities so it was only rational that he invested in rail works as well. Despite the hearty wealth his businesses had to offer he faced the trade-off of time spent at home. Charlie was always moving between sites or rushing to and for ensuring the smooth running of his businesses.

Victoria on the other hand spent her days in the capital of Northern Rhodesia. She was either strolling the church grounds or bonding with her staff of servants that answered her every beck and call. Once every fortnight she joined the town ladies for a cup of tea. They took turns hosting their tea parties and sharing recipes.

"When is Charles likely to return dear?" Father Philip asked as they strolled the Chapel grounds.

"I'm not sure father, he hardly ever comes home anymore and when he does it's not before his duties at the mines or the rails have him rushing back." She responds solemnly.

"I see." He responds, "remember those good things come to those who wait. Trust the Lord with all your heart's desires for only he can fulfil them, my dear." He adds.

Victoria flashes him a smile at his encouraging words. He always seemed to be overflowing with encouragement that helped her persevere through the loneliness.

"I do have to say the upkeep of the surrounding has changed, subtlety but the change is noticeable. " She points out.

"That's all thanks to a young man called Mutale who's been lending a helping hand." He informs her.

"The plants look healthier; this is truly marvellous. "

"I'll pass on the compliment, my dear."

○●○●○

Mutale sat perched under a tree resting from a long day trimming and grooming the parish grounds. His long limbs stretched in front of him and held his hands behind his head. His shirt hung on one of the branches because he didn't want to dirty it while working. He watched father Philip from a distance as he walked with a muzungu. Her face was obstructed from his view by the parasol she held up, even though the sun wasn't shining very brightly. She wore a yellow mid-length dress and its skirts swayed mesmerizingly with each step.

He looked over to father Philip who was draped in his robes. He chuckled and wondered if he's ever seen him without them.

A while later He bid farewell to the father and collected his wages before making his way home.

Mutale was raised by a single mother of two, none of whose fathers ever stuck around. He was the oldest of the two and after he comes Mwansa his half-sister.

Most men in his age group worked in the mines and railways but Mutale's asthma made it difficult to work. They couldn't access or afford the health care they needed so he mostly stayed in the capital. He recently started taking care of the parish grounds and that's how he earned his living, a few other British residents also offered him piecework from time to time.

He was mostly a quiet man and kept to himself. Despite his tall, fit physique he hadn't yet found a suitor. Most women preferred the men that worked in the mines or the railways because the pay was much higher than what they made. His mother feared he wouldn't be able to find a wife if he didn't find a better way to earn a living.

He went to church early on Sunday mornings, he mostly kept to himself. He got along well with Father Philip; he was probably the only white man that treated them fairly. He welcomed and accepted anyone willing to seek the kingdom of heaven.

During the evenings they sat together as a family and ate together. His mother complained about her back and joint pains while his sister rumbled on about her kind employer. Mutale remains quiet for most of the meal, listening to their stories before retiring for the night.

○●○●○

"The mass has ended go now and announce the gospel of the Lord." Father Philip dismisses at the end of morning Mass. He makes his way out with the altar boys before the members follow suit. He stands at the entrance waiting to greet everyone. Most people linger around and talk about the service and children run around and play.

Mutale is always one of the first people to leave, he doesn't stay back for the social interactions that follow. As he strolls home, he notices that the rosary that's usually secured around his neck isn't there. He frantically traces back his steps in hopes of hiding them. He finds himself back at the cathedral. With his eyes glued to the doing, he didn't notice the woman rushing towards his direction.

She's too busy waving back at father Philip to notice the man with his eyes zeroed in on the ground.

They collide with one another. Instinctively Mutale's hands reach out to stop the other person from falling. He looked down and realised the muzungu in his arms and he recoils as if he's been burnt.

Her face tints a rosy colour at the proximity. She looks down busying her hands with adjusting her skirts as he frantically apologises.

"We both weren't looking where we were going. " She dismisses.

Mutale takes another look at her and realises that she's the woman that usually takes walks with father Philip. She steps to the right to go around him, while he also thinks the same coming face to face with her again. She steps left and he mirrors her action. They continue this awkward dance for a few moments before they both stop. A blush makes its way up Victoria's neck and throat before she lets out a nervous chuckle. Mutale mutters an apology under his breath, "Sorry, you first." He says stepping aside for her to pass. 

She looks back at him as he continues scanning the ground. He glances back at her as she entered a vehicle with the door held open for her by her driver.