Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Rita Martinson stepped out of the International Office of European University, somehow satisfied that at least she is making inroads towards finding information about her rapist. She tossed up the file she was holding onto the front seat and walked to sit behind the steering wheel. Her next move was uncertain, yet she was determined to put finality to the matter. Montreux was her city. She was born and bred in Vevey, a village close by. After all she knew every corner of Montreux and since she had asked permission to stay off duty that day, she must finish or make progress towards finding the father of her son.

Montreux, which accommodated one of the satellite campuses of the University, was a municipality in the district of Riviera Pays-d’Enhaut in the Canton of Vaud. Some of the localities that share boundaries with Mon-treux included Vevey, Baugny, Brent, Caux and Fontainvent. The city is located along the Neuchatel-Lausanne-Geneva Highway. It derived its mild climatic conditions against the breathtaking backdrop of snow-covered Alps Mountain and nestled in the protected Lake Geneva Bay surrounded by chateaus.

Rita drove through the blooming Daffodils, where tourists were seen jumping and playing happily along beautifully lane flowers. She climbed over the Gruyères leaving behind the Golden Panoramic Express train from Montreux through Oberland to Berne. She turned east-wards to join the Boulevard Andre Maginot and drove four hundred metres toward Chateau de Chillon. She ne-gotiated the curve in front of Eurotel Montreux and sped off down town Montreux to Swiss Hotel, where she pulled a stop at the car park.

She went into the cafeteria and ordered for black coffee. She removed a stick of cigarette from a pack of Light Marlboro and placed the box on the table. Ever since she started smoking; thirty-something years ago, her favourite brand had been Marlboro because she desired its smooth-scented smell that flickered through her nostrils and taste. Yet again, she was won into the Marlboro country by the brand’s famous advertisement. She tried it one, two and developed taste for the jot. However she did not want to be addicted to the nicotine and also to free her lungs from the dangers of its tar constituent; rather, she preferred the light version to the rest of the poisonous devil’s tar in the market. With a match, she put fire on it and inhaled deep; delaying the smoke for close to ten seconds before releasing it to pollute the atmosphere. She gave deep sigh of relief with an infectious smile indicating contentment; after all the smoke has helped to fumigate her lungs of all unwanted microbes, which were recipes for stress. She quietly sipped the coffee and smoked her lungs out, while reading through the file in front of her; intermittently nodding and espousing positive outlook of gratification. She had made some progress to fish out some vital information about the young black boy who might have impregnated her fifteen or so years ago. None the less, where did she start from? She did not need to go to Lausanne to contact the Federal Office of Immigration for any more records of that young man who came to study in the Canton some fifteen years ago. After all, she had gotten the guy’s name and the country he came from. Whilst brooding over these and many other things, a tall lanky grey-haired bloke entered the Cafeteria.

He did not have any difficulty in locating Rita; her slim pointed nose gave her out as he walked straight to Rita’s table. Rita stood up with a smile to embrace him. “Hello, Charlie! Truly, years have not changed you so much.” Charlie smiled and said, “You too, Rita. Even if I am asleep, I would be able to make you out in the dark. You know why? Your pointed nose will always expose you, dear.” They simultaneously burst into uncontrollable laughter. She signalled him to sit down. The man smiled back and said. “I hope I have not wasted your time so much.” Rita replied. “Oh, Charlie, but, you were the last person I was expecting right now.” Even if you have, it is incomparable to your presence here right now. I am really glad destiny has brought you here.” Rita directed her attention to the Waitress. “Another Coffee, Please! Charlie how do you want your coffee?” “White, but no sugar.” Charlie responded. Rita offered him a cigarette but he refused. “I am not a fan of the lights. I love Cuban Cigars.” Rita laughed.” Charlie, will never change.”

Charles Timothy White was a young man in his mid to late forties and also the Managing Director of Saint Claire Dairy in Lausanne. However friends, fans and well-wishers knew him as Charlie. Indeed at school everyone knew him as a fun-loving guy, who was just passing through the system to while away time. Charlie was born with silver spoon in his mouth. His father, Saint Claire, was a bigger than life Swiss Aristocrat who owned one of the biggest companies in the Food Industry in the Canton of Vaud. After studying Business Management with ac-counting option at the European University, he joined the family business as an Accountant and rose through the ranks to become the Chief Financial Controller, until five years ago when he succeeded his late father as the Chief Executive Officer. Judging by Charlie’s lifestyle in school over fifteen years ago, no one would believe that he will be able to make great strides in steering and transform-ing the company successfully internationally. St Claire Diary, under his leadership, expanded vertically and hor-izontally across the globe and was visible in more than one hundred countries. Charlie was a very busy man and a global trotter.

It was dint of sheer hard luck that Rita came across Charlie at the Cantonal Office for the integration of foreigners and prevention of racism in Lausanne. Rita had gone there that Tuesday afternoon to enquire more about the likely father of her son, while Charlie was in the neighbourhood to regularise the work permit of two of his employees from India. They met in front of the flower lane at the main office block. Their meeting brought about nostalgic memories, but each one conducted him or herself decently and was very candid with one another. The two were not close friends in the right sense of the word, during their school days and yet they were not enemies as well. Perhaps one can say they had regular acquaintances. Allison was a friend and a neighbour of Rita, who invariably was the course mate of Charlie. Even though, Rita and Charlie were at Montreux campus and familiar with each other, it was through Allison that they talked to one another.

At their meeting, Charlie started the conversation. “Hello, Rita. It has been a while. Where has life taken you to?” Indeed, Charlie was the last person Rita was expecting to see at that ungodly hour. Again, she was shocked to hear him mentioning her name. Rita therefore responded. “Hi, Charlie! I have been looking for you.” “What for?” Charlie asked immediately. “Oh, relax; this is not something we could discuss here: may be the cafeteria at the Swiss Hotel.” Rita quickly added. She then paused momentarily to study his face for any reaction. However, she realised that Charlie was indifferent. She has to go down deep into her sleeves to convince him to meet her. Charlie looked directly at her face and said. “Bon! Thursday, at 11:30 in the forenoon. I will give you fifteen minutes.” He dipped his hand into his coat’s breast pocket and gave her a business card. “In case I delay, just call me. Good bye Rita.” He disappeared into one of the rooms, whereas Rita entered her car and drove off; hoping to meet again on the said Thursday.

“Charlie, truly, I feel disgusted to talk about this, but you know, my whole life depends on it. Therefore, be truthful and candid with me. After all the harm has already being done. What is needed now is the way forward.” Rita sermonised, while Charlie sat opposite her stupefied drinking his coffee and occasionally stealing a peep at her. He mustered courage. “Indeed, Rita, my dear, what happened on that fateful Homecoming night was disgraceful. You know, we were young then and that was one of our pranks. It has become part of our history anyway. However, life continues and we have all moved on. Please, let bygones be bygones.” “Charlie, what are you saying? The whole episode had left an indelible mark on me. Certainly, it is that part of my life that cannot be erased.” “I understand.” Charlie said inaudibly. Ten minutes had passed, since they started their meeting. Charlie had gotten only five minutes left to go. They continued to sit silently. Rita inhaled more of the fumes from the cigarette as Charlie used his index finger to rub the coffee cup. Rita felt she must push harder to get the in-formation she wanted. After all, Charlie has nothing to lose; since they did not report the incident to the Police over fifteen years ago. Again, does time really matter in cases of this nature? If she could find a smart lawyer to make a very strong case for her, she could redeem her image and perhaps win some compensation for all the harm and pain they had caused her and her friends. She conjectured. No, no, no…..It would be sheer waste of time, she concluded. She directed her gaze at Charlie. “Could you please tell me everything you can remember about all the guys in your car on that day?” Charlie laughed. “Rita, surely it has been a long while ago. I think we were four or three guys in the car that night.” Rita quickly retorted. “Charlie, you guys were four in the car. I can remember that vividly. What I cannot remember is what happened after we boarded your car.” Charlie resumed. “Okay! Then I remember Carlos; that Latino from Colombia. I can also recall Gunther Tweedle, the blond hair, long nosed, German, who was studying Business Communications. That is all.” Rita started snapping her fingers. “Charlie please, do not insult my intelligence. What about that black Africa called Greg?” “Rita, S’il vous plaît, but you know it, why are you asking me? Yeah, I knew Gregory Donkor; that Ghanaian studying MA in International Business. I understand he is working in a big firm in Accra.” Rita continued to probe for more details, particularly about Greg. “Do you have any contact details of him in Accra?” Charlie responded in the negative. “…..But, why are you so much interested in Greg? Any-way, I think he works with an advertising company called Event Channel. You can Google for more information about him on the Net.” Rita suddenly got up from her chair, offered her right hand to Charlie, who reciprocated. “Thank you Charlie for your time. You have been very helpful to me. I hope to reach out to you again when the need arise.” Charles Timothy White gulped the last flow of his coffee into his alimentary canal and left Rita behind at the cafeteria, with a mixed feeling of confusion, guilt and trepidation.

Armed with this information, Rita was confident to answer any question thrown at her by his son any day anytime. She finished her coffee, packed the loose leaf-lets into the file, puffed the last smoke and crushed the filter into the ash tray. She rushed into the car and zoomed off towards Vevey along the Rue des Remparts She drove past Français en Jeu Riviera, Collège Charle-magne before joining Rue des Communaux 2a and thence to her house in Vevey.