Only the distant traffic noise penetrated the cacophony of birdsongs. He plucked an amaryllis flower and handed it to her and she leaned tenderly on his broad shoulders. They settled on the stone benches between the low-lying clumps of ivy and olive trees and pulled out various items from the basket; a napkin and some paper plates and two glasses. He placed the pancakes and the kebabs on tops of the plates and began to eat. All the while James was smiling, his oaken gaze smouldering over her luscious lips and her bountiful breasts and he licked his lips. He then picked up a bar of chocolate, unwrapped it and raised it to her and said. "Darling, my one and true mission is to be true to you, and like this chocolate which is about to enter your mouth, I too want to enter into your life, giving your every pleasure imaginable. I vow to love you unconditionally, and as I fall on my knees, I am once again asking you for your hand in marriage." She gazed into his brown irises and tears danced at the corners of her eyes and she held his cleanly shaved cheeks then spoke softly. "I love you from the bottom of my heart... and if I could... I would do anything to be with you... but unfortunately... I can't Sorry" She then stood up and stared at the sky which had now began to change its shades to grey with only some slight orange streaks which threatened to destroy its endlessness and then turned back to him. His head was bent to the ground and she touched him softly. "As I told you before... I'm not ready for marriage yet... I still have my career to think of... my life..." and she moved away from him. James sat slouched, speechless and then stared at her in frustration and growing anger.

"Is that all you can think of? A bank job! An empty life!" He thundered. "it's always about you... YOU!!!" and then he said softly. "What about me... about us? We've been together for eight months now, and this is the fourth time you have rejected my proposal. If you love me, what's holding you back?" Hilda was taken aback. She had never seen him throw a tantrum before and now tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"I think we better go," she announced as she started to repack the picnic basket. James sat back in a slump and held his head in the palm of his hands. I won't give up on you yet, is what he wanted to say, but what came out was, "It's late anyway," he mumbled as he shuffled behind her with his head hung low, following her down the gravelled path. He did not notice the man who was holding a digital camera and hiding in the thickets to his right. They drove without much talk and he later dropped her off at the junction of Tudor creek and Nyali Bridge then headed for his home in Kizingo.

                       ***

Going through the wrought iron gates of his house felt like entering a prison. The armed guards on stand-by accentuated the effect as he wondered. What makes a man? Is it the job? Is it the wealth? Is it the status in the society? What? And he felt that there was no use having all that if there was no one to share it with; no one to welcome you home; give you warmth whenever you need it and share in your joys and sorrows. He paused at his doorstep, wondering whether to go in or turn back; but where to? And he stepped inside the house. He walked swiftly across the green Moroccan rug and into the mini-bar, opened the cooler and poured himself Smirnoff vodka into a glass then swigged at it, distorted his face, and banged the glass on the counter and began to drink directly from the bottle. His cell phone rang and he threw it and it hit one of the two lamps which sat next to the piano and it exploded into small sparks. He then headed for the leather couch and sank deeper into it as the effects of the alcohol increased. He did not hear the door being opened and he only felt a human presence; a tall and well built form and with a cowboy hat on his head. He immediately recognised him as his dad. He was now staring down at him as he spoke. "Look at you! shameless brat." His father said as he picked up the almost empty bottle from the couch. "B-B-Baba. What are you doing here?" He stuttered. "I came to tell you to stop seeing her."

"W-W-Who ... w-w-what ... what are you talking about?" And James jolted up.

"HILDA! I'm talking about Hilda!" His father rumbled and James now faced him squarely. "Did I get you right?" He said as he moved across the room and stood next to the bookcase to his right. "What reason do you have now? Not rich enough? Too young for me? WHAT!?" He roared and banged on the reading table with clenched fists, upsetting the books there. "I will not be challenged on this."

"Damnit!" James answered abruptly as anger increased and he moved to his father's side. "Baba, must I always succumb to your every demand? Twice you have destroyed my chances at happiness, but this time you'll not succeed. At thirty-four I should be able to make my own decisions." "Not at the expense of my family you don't"

"Family! Family! Ours was dead when mother..."

WHACK!

"I will not have you talk about your mother!" James now held his burning cheek from the slap and felt a pressure mounting from within him. It was better to end this now, he felt and he pressed on. "I know she left you for another man…" WHACK! He was now sweating, his chest heaving as if with laboured breathing, his low grunts becoming the only sounds and he held both his cheeks in his palms. Just then Hilda stepped in and she froze on site of the two men. Her knees bunched and she leaned on one of the two life-sized bronze lion heads mounted on pedestals to take the form of herms which stood next to the door. Her heart pounded with turbulent emotions as she felt the two pairs of eyes bore into her soul. But what was Tom Mwaluka doing here? She wondered then heard the now composed voice of James call her but she did not move. James then went to her and hugged her but she still stood, stunned, and then said softly. "He's the reason I can't marry you."

"I know... and I won't let him."