I’m really here!’ she thought, squirming in excitement as the realisation of where she was finally hit her. Despite the gentle hum of the air conditioner, she could hear the strident toots of car horns, loud clucks from what sounded like an entire brood of chickens, and piercingly loud voices in a language she didn’t understand wafting in from outside her window.
‘I’m definitely not in Hampstead now,’ she said aloud and plumped up her pillows before lying back against them. She thought back dreamily over the events of the previous evening and Rocky’s face immediately came to mind.
She shook her head impatiently as if to dislodge the image, and wriggled out from under the mosquito net to walk over to the window. Pulling the metal tab, she peered through the louvre blades protected by the fine mosquito netting covering the window frames. Her room overlooked a large garden to the back of the house. At the far side of the garden, she could see part of a washing line with securely pegged clothes flapping lightly in the morning breeze. Directly behind the house, a green, neatly manicured lawn stretched back, surrounded by beds of brightly coloured flowering shrubs. To one side of the grass, a small open-sided structure with a thatched roof covered some tables and chairs. Alongside it was a large brick barbeque with a stand for a spit.
A knock at the door interrupted her survey of her temporary home.
‘Come in!’ she called, turning round to see who it was. The door opened slowly and Amma’s head came into view.
‘Good morning, Faye,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m glad you’re awake – I didn’t want to disturb you.’
Faye gestured to her to enter and she bounded happily into the room. Dressed in well-worn denims and a long white cotton shirt, she perched on the edge of the bed and looked at her guest critically.
‘You look well rested this morning’, she pronounced. ‘I must say you were looking pretty tired last night. Which, I suppose is not surprising after flying all the way from London. I remember when we went to Canada a few years ago how tiring it was just sitting on the plane and doing nothing for hours!’
Amma’s hair had been styled into a profusion of tiny braids that fell below her shoulders. She had twisted a bright red scarf into a hair band to keep the braids off her face and her soft round cheeks dimpled sweetly as she chattered non-stop.
‘Rocky didn’t get back home until midnight, you know,’ she carried on, barely pausing for breath. ‘Clarissa phoned me again after you went to bed and I could tell she didn’t believe me when I said he’d gone out.’
‘How long had they been going out before they broke up?’ Faye asked, trying to sound casual. She lifted away the corner of the mosquito net to make space on her bed and sat down facing Amma.
‘About a year or so,’ Amma shrugged. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘She’s still crazy about Rocky and is absolutely desperate to marry him. The trouble is Clarissa just doesn’t know when to stop – she was always dropping hints and going on and on about marriage, which is about the worst thing to do with my brother. If you know Rocky at all, you know you can’t make him do anything he’s not ready to do.’
Faye held her breath as Amma paused briefly to clear her throat before continuing.
‘Anyway, the whole bust-up happened because Clarissa decided that if she could get Rocky jealous, he’d go ahead and propose to her rather than lose her. So, what does she do? She starts flirting with Rocky’s boss, Stuart. He’s British – and a complete womaniser,’ she whispered the last as an aside before continuing.
‘Well, unfortunately for Clarissa, she got completely the opposite reaction. Rocky was furious when she started flirting with Stuart right in front of him and some other friends they were out with. When he took her home, he told her that he couldn’t trust her any more and ended things there and then!’
Amma paused dramatically and Faye leant forward, completely forgetting to look uninterested.
‘So what happened? How did she take it?’ she asked impatiently.
Amma rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘Not very well at all, to put it mildly. She still thinks Rocky didn’t mean what he said. Again, if you know my brother, you know he’s as stubborn as a mule and never goes back on something he’s said.’
Flicking back an errant braid, she went back to her story. ‘So now she just keeps calling me or phoning the house line because he never picks up when she calls his mobile, and acting as if nothing’s changed. I’ve told her to leave him alone for a while, but she thinks I don’t really like her and that I’m trying to fix him up with my best friend Baaba, who’s always had a huge crush on him.’
Confused at the sudden twist in the plot, Faye crossed her legs and shook her head in bewilderment.
‘Okay,’ she said slowly, trying to keep up. ‘So, then how does Rocky feel about Baaba – I mean, is he interested in her?’ She wondered why she was suddenly so interested in how Rocky felt about anything.
Amma gave a loud snort, slapping a hand against her plump thigh as she burst into hoots of laughter.
‘There are not many things my brother’s scared of – but Baaba is definitely one of them! He runs a mile whenever she’s around. He calls her a man-eater, which isn’t very nice. But it doesn’t help that the first time he met her, she was on the phone and all Rocky heard was her telling the guy at the other end, “No finance, no romance!”’
Unconsciously releasing a slow breath of relief, Faye ran a hand through her dishevelled hair and looked down at her crumpled shirt.
‘Well, it’s getting late. I’d better have a shower and get dressed,’ she said, getting up from the bed. ‘Have your parents gone to church?’
Amma stood up reluctantly and moved towards the door. ‘Yes – they’ll probably get back about twelve,’ she said. ‘They usually visit one or two of their friends after church before they come back home for lunch.’
She opened the door and turned back to Faye, who was rummaging through her suitcase for some clothes. ‘I’ll be in the living room when you’ve finished getting ready. We can have breakfast together,’ she said, before leaving the room.
Faye brushed her teeth, showered quickly and slipped into a pair of narrow cropped linen trousers she had bought in the summer sales. She teamed them with a white silk top that barely grazed the waistband of the trousers and brushed her hair vigorously, relieved to see that, despite the humidity, it still fell into place.
Sliding her feet into her canvas wedges, she grabbed a cotton handkerchief from the economy pack of ten Lottie had insisted on buying for her, and switched off the air conditioner before leaving the room.
Amma was stretched out on the couch engrossed in a glossy magazine when Faye walked into the living room. Without getting up, she lowered the magazine to look at Faye and shook her head enviously.
‘I wish I had your figure,’ she sighed. ‘My thighs are much too fat to wear trousers like those. Let’s go and get some breakfast.’ With that she stood up, dropped the publication on the centre table and led the way into the kitchen.
Like the other rooms Faye had seen so far, the kitchen was large and sunny and with an array of shining modern labour-saving devices that reminded her of Caroline’s kitchen. There was a large bleached-wood table in the middle of the room with several chairs pushed neatly under it. Pulling out a chair, Amma gestured to Faye to take a seat while she got to work. Explaining that Sunday was Martha’s day off, Amma busied herself opening the fridge and cupboards, chattering relentlessly as she prepared breakfast.
‘If it’s okay with you, we can go to the beach after lunch.’ She continued without waiting for a response. ‘It’s only a short drive away and it’s a popular place on Sundays. You’ll be able to meet my boyfriend Edwin and a few of our friends—’
‘Some of whom you should avoid like the plague!’
Both girls jumped as Rocky’s voice broke into Amma’s rambling narration. He strode into the kitchen and pulled out another chair. Spinning it round, he straddled the chair, and rested his arms o
n the back, ignoring the look of irritation his sister directed at him. Instead, he smiled at Faye, his eyes taking in her long legs and the silk cropped top.
‘Good morning,’ he said finally. ‘I hope you slept well.’ He was wearing a loose pale blue cotton shirt with jeans and looked cheerful and relaxed.
Amma deposited a pot of coffee, slices of toast and a tray containing sugar, milk, cheese and an assortment of jams and marmalades on the table. Placing plates in front of Faye and Rocky, she gestured airily at the food.
‘Go ahead, help yourselves.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat down and sipped the black liquid slowly.
Rocky offered the plate of toast to Faye first and then liberally spread two slices with butter before pouring coffee for Faye and then for himself. He glanced at Amma as he bit into his toast and almost choked at the expression of longing on her face.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ he demanded, when he could speak.
Amma shook her head and took another doleful sip of her coffee. Putting her cup down, she rested her elbows on the table and leant forward.
‘Edwin says I’m getting fat. So I’m dieting until he stops teasing me, or,’ she grinned at Faye, ‘until I’m as slim as you.’
Rocky polished off a second slice of toast then shook his head in exasperation.
‘If he doesn’t like you the way you are, just get rid of him,’ he said bluntly. He added two teaspoons of sugar to his coffee and sipped the drink with satisfaction. Looking up, he caught Faye’s eye; she was grinning and he smiled back.
‘What’s funny?’ he enquired. His pale brown eyes watched her finish the last bit of toast.
‘You two remind me so much of my brother, William, and me,’ she laughed. ‘He’s always so critical of my boyfriend.’
The smile slowly faded from Rocky’s lips and he continued drinking his coffee without comment. Amma’s face, on the other hand, lit up with interest and she leant towards Faye excitedly.
‘What’s your boyfriend like, Faye? Is he English?’ she asked.
‘Well, I suppose I should say ex-boyfriend, really,’ Faye admitted, aware that for the first time she didn’t feel anything when she thought about Michael. She tested the feeling again, like a tongue probing against a once sore tooth. Again, she felt nothing.
Suddenly conscious of the two of them staring at her, she laughed again, a heady feeling of sheer joy sweeping through her.
Amma brushed the short explanation aside and repeated her questions impatiently. Still laughing, Faye raised her hand in surrender. ‘Okay, okay!’ She went on more soberly. ‘Michael’s British and his family is originally from Jamaica. We went out together for about two years. He was at school with my brother – which is how we met – although, to be honest, William never had much time for him.’
Swallowing the rest of her coffee, Faye thought back over the period she and Michael had been together. With hindsight, she realised how much their relationship had fallen into the pattern of Michael leading while she followed. At his own instigation, Michael had taken on the role of her culture guru while she had been content to shelter in the attention that it brought her even when that attention, as she now recognised, had been mostly negative and critical.
‘Is the relationship really over?’ Surprisingly, this time the question came from Rocky, his eyes hooded as he studied his own empty coffee cup intently. She paused before answering and he looked straight up at her, his eyes probing hers. She flushed at the unexpected intensity of the look but this time she didn’t drop her gaze and stared back steadily at him.
‘Yes,’ she answered simply and smiled as he nodded his head in satisfaction.
Amma had observed the curious interchange with wide eyes and she rose from the table and collected the empty plates, for once lost for words. Faye forced her gaze away from Rocky and stood up to help clear the table and put the rest of the food back into the large refrigerator.
‘Rocky, do you want to come to the beach with us this afternoon?’ Amma had found her voice again and a new mission was taking seed in her fertile brain.
Faye concentrated on wiping the dishes the younger girl was washing and tried not to look interested in Rocky’s reply. Having done what he considered his share of the clearing – carrying two plates to the sink – he had perched on the edge of the table, from where he watched them finish the washing up.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied, his face expressionless. ‘I have to go to the office for a couple of hours.’
‘On a Sunday?’ Faye looked at him in surprise.
‘I have to write a report on the meeting we had with our clients last night. Unfortunately it needs to get to our London office tomorrow morning so I have to get it done today,’ he explained.
Amma scrubbed hard at a coffee stain on the cup she was washing. ‘We’re used to it, Faye. Rocky often goes to the office at weekends – Mama says he works too hard and that he’s far too ambitious.’ She smiled mischievously at her brother. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘if everything goes well, he’s likely to get a major promotion at work soon.’
Glancing at his watch, Rocky stood up abruptly, interrupting his sister’s seemingly endless flow of chatter.
‘I have to go now, so I’ll see you girls later. Amma, thanks for breakfast – and, if you’ve got any sense, you’ll eat something yourself before you pass out.’ He grinned at her, his expression teasing. ‘Knowing you, I don’t think you can survive until lunchtime on a cup of black coffee!’
As her brother strolled out of the kitchen, Amma glanced furtively at the look on Faye’s face as she watched him leave and, apparently satisfied with what she saw there, smiled cheerfully.
With the clearing up finished, the two of them went back to the living room and spent the rest of the morning playing some of Amma’s extensive music collection.
‘Who’s this by?’ Faye asked curiously as Amma put on a song that sounded like a mix of pop and reggae with a heavy horn section.
‘He’s called Daddy Lumba,’ Amma answered, dancing in time to the music. ‘He’s been around for a long time, but I love his music – although the lyrics are a bit rude.’
‘Dad used to play highlife music when we were kids,’ Faye said, jumping up to dance as the beat of the music became impossible to listen to sitting down. ‘He says that’s the music he grew up with in Ghana. I like this much better – I must buy some CDs before I go.’
They danced around the living room, collapsing into giggles as Amma tried to teach Faye some of the popular dance steps. When Uncle Fred and Auntie Amelia returned home from church, they went to the kitchen to help make lunch – a simple meal of freshly grilled fish, rice and a rich vegetable salad, which Amma, all thoughts of her diet clearly forgotten, ate with gusto.
The sun was at its height and Uncle Fred and Auntie Amelia soon retired to their room to rest. Mindful of the heat outside, Amma and Faye stayed in the cool living room where they read magazines and newspapers for another hour before going up to get ready for the beach.
Faye changed into a navy blue and white polka dot bikini and slipped a pair of brief cotton shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt over her swimwear. As she came down the stairs, she glanced at Rocky’s picture and shivered slightly, remembering the look in his eyes at breakfast that morning.
Oh Faye, stop it! She berated herself impatiently. You’re here on holiday – not to get involved with anyone.
For once Amma was ready first and Faye found her waiting in the hall. Her long braids were tied back and she had changed into a white cotton dress. She was carrying a plastic mat folded into a neat square, and a large bag.
‘I won’t be swimming but I’ve brought a couple of towels and some body lotion in case you want to go into the water. I’ve packed some bottled water as well.’
She pointed to a wide-brimmed straw hat on the hall table. ‘You’d better take that, Faye. You really don’t want to get sunstroke on your first day here – it’s very hot outside.’
Faye seized the hat gratefully and followed Amma outside to where her car was parked. The humidity was striking after the coolness of the house and even the short walk to the car caused beads of moisture to form on her forehead and upper lip. She slid into the front passenger seat of Amma’s small car and heaved a sigh of relief when the air conditioner started to hum.
‘It is seriously hot!’ She sat back in her seat, letting the blasts of air from the vents cool her heated skin.
Amma drove skilfully, weaving her way in and out of the traffic and cleverly dodging the careless taxi drivers who stopped without warning to drop off and pick up passengers. Faye scrutinised the passing landscape with interest, amazed at the contrast between the smooth modern dual carriageway and the wide-open gutters alongside. At one point, Amma was forced to slow to a halt to allow some errant goats that had escaped their shepherd to cross the highway.
Imagine a bunch of goats crossing the North Circular Road as you’re driving through Finchley, Faye thought in amusement, turning round to watch a young boy racing after the animals in his charge.
They turned onto another dual carriageway and sped down, past rickety shop fronts and kiosks, most of which were closed. Faye gasped with delight as the sparkling blue of the sea came into view. She could see the white foam at the edge of the waves curling into the sand, while further out to sea a couple of small boats bobbed lazily on the water.
Amma slowed the car down and turned off the main highway onto a narrow roughly pebbled road. They bumped along slowly until they reached a clearing where a number of other cars were parked.
‘Oh good, Edwin’s here – look, that’s his car.’ Amma parked alongside the sleek dark blue car she had pointed out and turned off the engine.
‘Nice car,’ Faye remarked with admiration, ‘What does Edwin do?’
‘Well, nothing at the moment,’ was Amma’s candid response. ‘We’ve both just finished our National Service.’
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