‘Makeeda?’
‘Yes, Mum?’ I said, walking into the kitchen.
Mum was peeling a huge piece of yam, so I planted a kiss on her cheek. Tanisha was stirring some garden egg stew.
‘Good, you’re back. Did you get much research done?’ Mum asked.
‘Sort of,’ I lied.
I’d spent yet another evening at the library and found nothing. My parents thought I’d already started my history project and believed the extension was my real deadline.
‘Hey!’ Tanisha said, hugging me.
‘All right?’ I smiled back, but I wasn’t being genuine.
I hated seeing them together. It didn’t help that Tanisha has the same features as Mum, except she is bigger like her own mum was, and tall like Uncle James. Even Delphina and I don’t look like Mum.
‘Dinner will be a while, so why don’t you get some homework out of the way first?’
‘Yeah, OK,’ I replied reluctantly, and headed out of the kitchen.
I didn’t want to leave them. They always seemed to have fun together in a way that excluded everyone else. It had always been like that.
‘I hope you haven’t left your bag by the front door again?’ Mum called after me.
‘No,’ I said, retrieving my bag.
I used to just leave my bag and carry the books up to my room, but Dad sprained his ankle a few months ago, tripping over it as he walked into the house. I got into loads of trouble, but no one remembered that he’d been tipsy anyway.
Delphina popped her head round the corner from the living room.
‘I’m telling Mum,’ she said, shaking her braids at me for emphasis.
Delphina looks like Dad and is fair, whereas I am dark like Aunt Grace and look like her dad, my grandfather. Delphina’s first words weren’t ‘mama’ or ‘papa’, they were ‘I’m telling’ and nothing much has changed in nearly ten years.
‘Not if you want help with your art project,’ I said.
‘Deal,’ she said and disappeared again.
I grabbed my bag and headed to my room. I read my English textbook and answered some questions for RE and helped Delphina. An hour later, I was finishing off my answer to question two of Nick’s maths homework, when Tanisha popped her head round the door.
‘Dinner’s ready, Makeeda.’
‘Thanks.’
I walked downstairs and found Aunt Grace already seated at the table along with Delphina and Dad. Aunt Grace usually had dinner with us before doing a nightshift, as our house is closer to the hospital than hers.
‘Go and give them a hand,’ Dad said.
‘OK,’ I said, heading to the kitchen.
I only got as far as the doorway when I stopped. Mum was watching Tanisha transfer the stew from the saucepan to a bowl, with the biggest smile on her face. It all came flooding back from five years ago. Tanisha and Mum going to the shops, with me feeling like a spare part, clinging to Delphina for company, and the time Mum took nearly a week off work simply to hang out with her niece. It was like Delphina and I didn’t exist.
I’m so selfish! Tanisha had just lost her mum, Mum’s sister, she needed a mum. I guess she will always need mine.
‘Makeeda?’
‘Huh?’ I said, snapping out of my thoughts.
‘Take those plates in, or they’ll only be able to stare at the food Tanisha’s just put out,’ Mum said, smiling.
‘Yeah,’ I replied, but I couldn’t return her smile.
We sat around the dinning table and, as everyone closed their eyes in prayer (something that was only ever done at Christmas, Easter and when Aunt Grace was with us) I looked around the table. Delphina had her eyes scrunched up in concentration, and was sitting between Dad and Aunt Grace. Mum was sitting next to Tanisha, as usual. As we ate, the conversation focused on Tanisha’s inability to choose between going to a British or American university. Mum was eager for her to choose one in Britain. I wasn’t so sure. I’d miss her if she was in America, but I knew that if she was here, I’d have to deal with the whole Mum and Tanisha thing again.
After dinner I went to my room and a minute later Aunt Grace was at my door.
‘Why were you so quiet at dinner?’ Aunt Grace asked.
‘No reason,’ I replied.
I couldn’t tell her the truth. Aunt Grace was the last person in the world I wanted to annoy, and I knew she’d just think I was being selfish about Tanisha and Mum.
‘It’s nice having Tanisha around, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said, hoping she hadn’t noticed the strain in my voice.
‘Tanisha’s lucky to have your mum around.’
‘Uh huh,’ I said and averted my eyes.
‘But really lucky to have an understanding cousin like you.’
Ohmigod, she knows!
‘Auntie, what do you mean?’ I asked, looking up.
‘Makeeda, I know that it’s difficult for you.’
‘Uh huh,’ I said.
‘Do you feel jealous?’
‘Uh huh.’ To my horror tears started rolling down my cheeks. I’m not a baby, but I always felt like one when it came to Mum and Tanisha. ‘I don’t mean to be, Auntie, it’s just so . . . so unfair!’ I blurted out.
‘It’s OK, Makeeda,’ she said, hugging me. ‘I know you’re not a bad girl. You’re just a good girl caught up in a difficult situation. Now stop crying; go and wash your face.’
I did as I was told and overheard Mum and Tanisha’s laughter from below.
‘It will get easier,’ Aunt Grace said with a smile, on my return.
‘When, Auntie?’ I asked, but she pretended not to hear me and handed me a plastic bag.
‘Here you go. This might cheer you up.’
‘Thanks. Oh, it’s Agoo Magazine!’ I said, immediately leafing through the glossy pages of West African socialites, photographed in the style of Hello magazine.
‘On page forty-two is the woman you met at my house last month.’
‘Which one?’ I asked, hunting down the page. I’d met four women at Aunt Grace’s house when they’d all gone round to buy some ntoma from her.
‘You know, the one whose daughter’s on that TV programme in America.’
I still had no idea.
‘Do you remember the woman with a bright yellow scarf?’
How could I forget? I remember being accosted in the corridor at Aunt Grace’s place by a woman in her sixties wearing a red winter jacket, blue hat and bright yellow scarf.
‘The one with the really bad weave?’
‘Makeeda!’ Aunt Grace said, trying to suppress a smile.
‘Ohmigod, that’s her?’ I studied the photograph of the same woman dressed in a yellow, green and red Kente. She had her hair swept up in a bun and make-up that made her look like a celebrity. ‘Wow! So she changed her hairdresser then,’ I added.
‘Makeeda, stop that!’ Aunt Grace said, laughing. ‘Right, I’m off. Make sure you finish your homework before you start reading that. I know your mum prefers you to read it at the weekend – this was a one off. Therapeutic.’
‘Yes, Auntie,’ I replied closing the magazine and tossing it aside.
I hugged her and watched as she closed my bedroom door. I was sure this was her way of taking my mind off Tanisha and Mum. I waited two minutes to hear her feet on the stairs.
‘All mine now!’ I said, diving onto my bed with the magazine.
‘Ah ha! I’ve caught you!’ Aunt Grace said as she burst back through my door. ‘I knew you couldn’t leave that thing alone!’ she said, smirking.
‘I was just reading an article for my homework,’ I lied.
I scanned the contents page and found an article on Yaa Asantewaa, who was the Queen Mother of Egweso in the late 1800s.
‘Which one?’ Aunt Grace asked.
‘Yaa Asantewaa,’ I mumbled. Please let that be right.
‘Oh good! Then I’ll leave you alone,’ Aunt Grace said, leaving my room for a second time.
I’d better
read it in case she tests me later, I thought.
In 1900 Yaa Asantewaa, the formidable Egweso Queen Mother, engaged the British in one of the last wars involving the Asante Military.
Hey, maybe I really could use this for my project! At last, a legitimate reason for Mum to not hide the magazine from me! Mrs Hipman’s going to be so impressed!
My mobile beeped.
Nelson:
Wot u up 2?
Me:
Homework :(
Nelson:
Just finished mine :)
Me:
Stop showing off! ;)
Why hasn’t he replied? Ohmigod, what if I didn’t put the wink at the end of the sentence?
I quickly checked my sent messages and breathed a sigh of relief: it was there, but Nelson still hadn’t sent another message. I checked the time he sent his last message: it was 8.16 p.m. and I’d sent mine at 8.19 p.m. I looked at my watch; it said 8.30 p.m.!
I threw myself onto my bed and screamed into my pillow. Why was Nelson taking so long to reply?
My phone beeped again.
Nelson:
Do you want to come out on Sunday? I can’t do Saturdays in term time.
I stared at the message. Then I screamed and started dancing around my room.
Tanisha rushed in. ‘Makeeda, are you OK? Your dad asked me to —’
‘Tanisha, you’re not going to believe this! Look!’ I said, shoving my phone in her face.
She screamed. ‘Ohmigod!’
‘I know, I know!’ I said.
‘What is going on in here?’ Dad said angrily, appearing in my doorway.
‘Nothing,’ Tanisha and I chorused.
‘Then why are you both screaming?’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ I replied.
‘Right, well, stop that nonsense. Delphina’s trying to sleep,’ he said.
‘Sure, Uncle,’ Tanisha said.
As soon as Dad left, Tanisha grabbed me by the shoulders.
‘Makeeda?’
‘Yeah?’ I replied, dreamily staring at my phone.
‘I hate to point this out to you, but you haven’t replied.’
Tanisha covered my mouth before I could scream loudly.
‘Ohmigod, do you want your parents to know or something?’
I couldn’t see why not. I mean I lie to them about the small stuff but never anything this big. I couldn’t think about that now, I had to reply to Nelson.
Me:
OK. What time?
Nelson:
5pm?
Me:
OK, Where?
Nelson:
My dad will be out so you can come round.
‘Well?’ Tanisha asked impatiently.
‘He wants me to go to his place.’
‘For a first date? I don’t know, Makeeda. I’m sure that like breaks soo many dating rules!’
‘In the States maybe, but . . .’
‘I’m serious. He could do anything to you . . .’
‘Ohmigod, Tanisha, stop it!’ I said.
I knew she had a point, but I didn’t think Nelson was like that.
‘Call me every hour,’ Tanisha said.
‘What?’
‘If you’re going to his place, then I want to know you’re safe. Better still, I’ll teach you some defensive moves,’ Tanisha said.
Tanisha had taken self-defence classes in the USA, and had already taught her favourite moves to Mum and basically any other woman she came into contact with. So far, I’d managed to avoid it, but I knew she wasn’t going to let me get out of it now.
‘You know, my parents won’t mind . . .’ I began.
I was interrupted by Tanisha laughing hysterically.
‘Girl, sometimes you’re so funny!’ she said, clutching her stomach and doubling over.
I wasn’t laughing.
‘What now?’ I said, folding my arms across my chest to stop me hitting her. I hated it when she did her all-knowing older cousin thing. I always ended up looking stupid.
‘You can’t tell your parents,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ I asked.
‘There is no way they’d let you go,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘They might,’ I replied, irritated.
Just because she was older, it didn’t mean that she knew everything. Mum and Dad wouldn’t have that much of a problem with me having a boyfriend. I am fourteen, after all. Besides, Mel’s had a boyfriend since she was twelve and her dad can be as strict as mine.
‘OK, I’ll prove it to you. Follow me,’ Tanisha said.
We headed downstairs to find Mum curled up on the sofa flicking channels, and Dad sitting at the dining table engrossed in a Haynes car manual. Tanisha sat next to Mum, whilst I sat opposite Dad at the dining table.
‘That’s a good show, Auntie, you’ll like it,’ Tanisha said.
‘Thanks, what’s it about?’
‘Well, you see that woman on the right? She’s a detective and struggles with the whole work-life balance thing.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Mum replied.
‘Yeah, and she has this teenage daughter who she caught dating a boy, like, three grades above her,’ Tanisha added.
‘Oh dear.’
‘Then she messed up on a case and nearly lost her job.’
I couldn’t really see where this was going, so I caught Tanisha’s eye and tapped my watch. I still had to reply to Nelson and her experiment was taking for ever.
‘Auntie, how old were you, when you had your first boyfriend?’
‘Well . . . um, I was about twenty.’
Dad coughed like he was choking, then disappeared behind his manual.
‘Need some water?’ Mum asked him.
‘No thanks,’ Dad mumbled.
‘Twenty?’ I said, shocked.
‘Really?’ Tanisha added.
‘Yes. Personally I’m glad. I don’t think it is right for young girls to have boyfriends at an early age.’
Ohmigod! Tanisha’s right.
‘So how old do you think is right?’ Tanisha asked.
‘Well, at least eighteen.’
That’s it, my life is over! How can I tell Nelson to wait four years before going out with me? Why, why did my mother have to be a late bloomer? This is so unfair!
‘You see at that age you’re practically an adult . . .’ Mum began.
‘Um, aren’t you legally an adult at eighteen in the UK?’ Tanisha asked.
Ohmigod, I can’t believe Tanisha said that. Is she crazy? Mum is so going to spell it out.
‘Yes, but not in this house,’ Mum replied sternly. She held Tanisha’s gaze in the process.
‘I see. Well . . . it’s good to know,’ Tanisha said, averting her eyes. I could tell she was embarrassed.
‘Tanisha! Can you help me with something on my computer?’ I said, jumping from my seat. Dad looked at me curiously.
‘Sure, Makeeda,’ she said, smiling brightly.
We got to my room before I spoke again.
‘Thanks for that, but—’ I began.
‘Listen, if you want to see him, you have to lie,’ Tanisha interrupted.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah, unless you actually want to wait till you’re eighteen?’
‘Ohmigod! I hate this,’ I said, reaching for my phone.
I knew she was right though. There was no point telling my parents. They would never let me meet him.
Me:
That’s fine. Text me your address.
Nelson:
U took ages! I thought u’d turn me down.
Me:
Nah just had 2 sort something out.
Nelson:
Get the bus 114 and get off a stop before Kenton station. I’ll be at the bus stop.
Me:
OK. Nite.
Nelson:
Nite.
‘Are you going to be around on Sunday?’ I asked Tanisha.
‘Nope. I’m staying with Auntie Mary. You know, my mum’s friend
from uni.’
‘Oh yeah. Damn! I can’t use you as an excuse then.’
‘Bharti.’
‘Bharti?’
‘Yeah, all you have to do is show up at Bharti’s, stay for a few hours, and then go to Nelson’s,’ Tanisha said.
‘That’s risky. I mean at Bharti’s – I could end up staying longer.’
‘OK then, just pretend you’re going to Bharti’s . . .’ Tanisha said, just as the door opened.
‘Tanisha, your Auntie wants you,’ Dad said interrupting us.
‘OK,’ Tanisha replied.
‘Makeeda, are you all right? You look worried,’ Dad said.
‘Oh it’s nothing. Dad, um . . . is it OK for me to go to Bharti’s house on Sunday?’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ Dad replied. ‘Is that what’s been worrying you?’
Blimey I can’t lie again, can I?
‘Well, sort of . . .’ I said.
‘You really are a strange girl sometimes!’ Dad said, flicking my braids before leaving my room.
I gave him a huge grin as I grabbed my phone to tell Bharti.
Tanisha better be right about all of this lying or I’m a dead girl.
Chapter 6
Nelson and Stuff
Bharti picked Monday of all days to be ill. That left me with no one at school to talk to about my date. Mel was totally preoccupied with practising for the latest netball try-outs during every break we had. Plus, because of Tanisha’s weird ‘trust no one’ rule, I had texted her every hour just to let her know I was safe, so she’d already got my date details on Sunday night.
My phone rang as I walked home.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. When are you going to get home?’ Bharti asked.
‘Calm down. I’m two doors away.’
‘Calm down? You tell me via text you had a “nice” time and leave it at that? Girl, that was over twelve hours ago! I want details, so hurry up!’
‘Well, if you’d been in school . . .’ I said as I opened my front door.
‘Shut up and get on MSN!’ said Bharti, ending the call.
Talk about rude! She can wait till I’ve had a bit of tea and toast, I thought. I headed for the kitchen. Within ten minutes the house phone rang.
Growing Yams in London Page 4