by Lesley Lokko
‘We won’t stay long. It’s Christmas.’
‘But you haven’t told them anything. I mean, they don’t know about … they’re not expecting us. They’re certainly not expecting me.’
‘Niela, stop worrying about it. It’s fine.’ His voice carried with it the impatient warning tone she’d come to recognise.
She sighed but did not let go of his hand. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest. ‘Which one is it?’ she asked. They all looked the same. Tall, elegant, wealthy. Where she lived in Shepherd’s Bush, such houses had long since been chopped up, divided, scaled back. Here the opposite seemed to be true.
‘Here we go.’ He pulled up in front of one such house. ‘Stop worrying. Nothing’s going to happen.’
She said nothing. It didn’t seem right to her that her first introduction to his family would be after the fact of their marriage, not before. She didn’t care what he said – or, rather, didn’t say – about his tense relationship with them. She followed him up the short path to the front door, her stomach churning with nerves. He rang the bell and looked down at her, a strange expression on his face. Someone turned the handle on the other side and flung open the door. She blinked. Standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of light spilling out from behind her, was a woman whose face she immediately recognised. Niela stared at her in confusion. It was Diana Pryce. The lawyer. She knew who she was. She’d seen her on television, many times. What on earth were they doing at Diana Pryce’s house?
‘Josh?’ There was a look of stunned incredulity on the woman’s face. ‘Wh … what are you doing here? When did you come? When did you arrive?’
‘Hello, Mother.’ Josh bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I only just got here. A couple of days ago. I thought it would be a nice surprise. Where’s Dad?’
‘He’s in the living room. They’re all here … Rafe and Aaron and everyone.’ She looked behind Josh to Niela. ‘Who … who’s this?’
Niela had to resist the urge to turn and flee. Her mind was whirling. Josh had called Diana Pryce ‘Mother’ – she looked from one to the other, struggling to remember what Josh had said to her about his parents. Yes, he’d said his mother was a lawyer. Why hadn’t he mentioned who she really was? ‘I … I’m …’ she began, looking nervously at Josh. He drew her towards him. There was a brief pause; Diana looked at him expectantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Niela saw a small black cat pick its way delicately across the thickly carpeted floor and curl its tail around the banister, staring at them. ‘I probably should have warned you, I know …’ Josh spoke suddenly, putting out a hand to catch Niela’s. He put an arm round her, giving her a small squeeze. ‘Mother, this is Niela. My wife.’
They all looked up expectantly as the sound of footsteps carried down the stairs. Julia could hear a man’s voice, deep and resonant. Harvey stopped slicing; he put the knife down and looked towards the doorway, his face breaking out into a smile. ‘Josh?’ he called out in the instant before a man appeared, his frame and presence filling the doorway.
‘Josh? What the fuck’s he doing here?’ The expletive was ripped from Aaron’s lips.
‘Aaron!’ Harvey frowned at him as he moved towards the door. ‘Josh! What a surprise! What … when did you arrive?’ Harvey was laughing; he caught hold of Josh around the neck and pulled him close. ‘What a wonderful surprise!’ Behind them, Diana stood, an expression of absolute joy on her face.
Julia looked at Josh. Her breath caught and held. She could feel the anger burning off Aaron sitting next to her. Across the table, Rafe was similarly smouldering; Maddy too appeared dumbstruck. She turned her eyes back to the man in the doorway. So this was Josh. A secret thrill ran through her. The wayward, difficult brother. The rebel. The outcast. She almost smiled – the biblical references seemed hilariously out of place. It wasn’t that he was taller or bigger than anyone else, but she had never in her life seen anyone who looked quite so alive. Diana cleared her throat suddenly, like a bird about to sing, breaking the spell. Her face had the bright, carefully prepared look of authority upon it.
‘Well, everyone … it seems there’s a bit of an announcement to be made.’ She turned. There was someone standing behind her. She drew the young woman in. ‘This is Niela.’ She said the word carefully, glancing at the girl as if for confirmation. ‘Josh’s wife.’ She pressed her lips together until the flesh whitened to a cleft on either side of her nose. Julia looked on in amazement. Diana was crying! She put a hand up to her cheek as if she too were surprised by her own tears and then turned and walked quickly out of the room. There was another pained silence as Aaron and Rafe looked uneasily at one another, then at Harvey, as if, in his capacity as head of the household, there should be something from him. There wasn’t. Harvey got up, mumbled an apology and hurriedly left the room.
Niela sat with her knees pressed together, acutely aware of everyone’s stares. Someone had hurriedly produced a glass of red wine, which she held in her hand, not sure whether to drink it or not. Josh was sitting opposite her, his attention momentarily claimed by the red-haired woman whose name she’d already forgotten – Mary? Marie? She seemed to be married to the older brother, Rafe. Next to her, having got up to make room for herself and Josh, was the other wife – Julia? She was married to Aaron, who sat on her left. All three were silent. No one knew quite what to say. There were plates of half-served food congealing on the table. They’d arrived in the middle of Christmas lunch and swiftly put an end to it. It was strange. Back home in Mogadishu, everyone would just continue eating; it didn’t matter when people arrived or who they were … all were welcome, at all times. Here in England, it was different. You had to be invited, anticipated, prepared for. To do what she and Josh had done was, quite simply, rude. She took another sip of wine and stole a quick look across the table, where Josh sat drinking his wine in silence. The redhead had obviously given up trying to coax a conversation out of him.
‘Sorry, where did you say you were from?’ The older brother addressed her suddenly.
‘Somalia.’
‘Somalia?’ Julia looked at her, surprised. ‘You’re a long way from home.’
Niela met her gaze. Julia was dark-haired and quite coldly beautiful – ice-blue eyes, a porcelain complexion and a rather harsh voice that was at odds with her appearance. ‘Yes,’ she said simply, refusing to be drawn.
‘D’you miss it?’ It was the redhead. She was American; Niela caught the accent on the back of her tongue.
‘Yes, I do. Don’t you?’
She saw from the way a faint blush spread across the woman’s features that she’d made her point. She was also away from home.
‘D’you go back often to visit?’ Rafe asked.
‘There’s a war on, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ Josh’s voice was terse.
‘Where did you two meet?’ the other brother asked suddenly.
‘None of your business,’ Josh broke in. His eyes flickered over his brother with a look Niela couldn’t fathom. There was another short, embarrassed silence. ‘Right.’ Josh stood up suddenly. ‘We’re off. Say goodbye to Mother.’
Niela put down her wine glass and scrambled to her feet. They’d been in the house all of ten minutes. She was bewildered. They’d come all the way across London on Christmas Day for this? She followed Josh up the stairs, something close to anger surging in her chest. No wonder he wanted nothing to do with them. What kind of a family had he brought her into?
Diana stood by the bedroom window, looking down on to the garden. But it wasn’t the garden she saw – it was Josh. Josh as a baby, staring up at her from the cocoon of blankets the day she’d brought him home from the hospital. He was a June baby; the weather that year had been warm. She’d taken him outside on the second or third day, laying him gently down on the grass, swaddled in blankets, Rafe and Aaron hovering nearby, already entranced with this tiny, perfect baby brother she’d brought. Things were so different back then. They couldn’t stop staring at him, peering into
the crib that had been theirs before his. Even then the differences were marked – Josh’s olive-skinned face and dark hair and eyes a stark contrast to their fairness. She couldn’t remember when their fascination turned to irritation. It was the crying, then the screaming. Josh was unable to settle. No sooner had she put him down to sleep than he began wailing; no sooner had she fed him that his angry screams began again. He seemed consumed with a rage that no one could understand. It began to take its toll on them, all of them. She remembered Harvey’s face, numb with exhaustion as he stumbled from the operating theatre to the house and the sound of crying that never stopped. The boys too were affected. ‘Why’s he always crying?’ Rafe would ask her, only a hundred times a day. ‘What’ve we done?’ She couldn’t answer; she didn’t understand it herself. She tried everything. She and Harvey began to quarrel – she was over-attentive; she wasn’t attentive enough. She fussed over him and ignored the other two. She put Josh’s needs before everyone else’s – no wonder the child was becoming unmanageable. She ought to put her foot down. Leave him alone. He’ll stop screaming soon enough, you’ll see. He didn’t. She couldn’t stand it any longer. After that last argument with Harvey, she’d taken Josh and driven down to Mougins alone – that long, miserable drive, and then the shock and terror that had followed. A kaleidoscope more dreadful than anything anyone could possibly imagine. Her mind skirted dangerously around the territory she avoided every single second of every single day. Stop it. She drew in deep, shuddering breaths. It took all of her formidable control to stop herself from entering into the dark cave of her memory. It was that girl. Josh’s wife. When she opened the door and saw her standing there, half hidden by her son, she’d been unable to stop the thought running through her mind: he’s not so dark after all. Next to her, the dark, rich colour she’d always feared in Josh paled; he became more like her, like the others. Like her son. Stop. Stop. She clutched at the material of her dress, as if she could somehow physically push the thought away. The rest of the family were waiting downstairs for the lunch to proceed. She had to go back down; she had to. Behind her, she heard the toilet flush and the sound of the tap being turned on. Harvey would come out of the bathroom any minute now, cross the floor and wrap his arms around her as he always did when what he called her ‘dark moods’ came on. She heard the door open.
‘Are you all right, my love?’ He came to stand behind her. ‘I know it’s a bit of a shock.’ She leaned back into his embrace as if he might shield her from herself. How narrow the gap was between the balance of their lives and its complete destruction. A wrong word, a slip of the tongue, a gesture made out of place … and the whole thing would come crashing down around her. She thought back to the last time she’d seen Rufus. We can’t talk now. No, we can’t.
66
MADDY
London, Christmas Day, 1997
Christmas lunch had not been a success; an unqualified disaster would have been closer to the mark. In fact, the only good thing to be said about the whole tortuous afternoon was that she’d caught a glimpse of a smile on Julia’s face when Diana had come back downstairs and asked where everyone was. Maddy couldn’t help herself. The words were out before she could stop them. ‘They’ve fucked off and gone home. I would’ve too, to be honest. You didn’t make them feel very welcome.’ As soon as she spoke, she saw from Diana’s shocked expression that she’d overstepped the mark – by a very long shot. Diana said nothing, but the thin, angry line of her mouth spoke volumes. Rafe stared at Maddy as if she’d temporarily lost her mind. And then she’d looked quickly at Julia. Had she imagined it? The faintest hint of a smile, a ghostly flicker of solidarity? Despite her own embarrassment, Maddy was touched.
‘Harvey, would you be a dear and fetch the turkey?’ Diana asked icily, her eyes sweeping coldly over Maddy, then moving away. She’d been dismissed. ‘I do hope it won’t be all dried out.’ And that was that. The case, such as it was, was closed. The rest of the Christmas lunch proceeded uneasily but smoothly.
Now, sitting next to an uncharacteristically silent Rafe as they drove back home, going back over the events of the afternoon in her mind, she recalled again the look Julia had flashed her. What had she meant by it? Well done? Good for you? It was hard to tell, but the warmth it generated stayed with Maddy all afternoon. She’d almost been on the verge of asking Julia if she wanted to meet up or have a coffee perhaps, but she’d stopped herself just in time. No need to make an even greater fool of herself. Yes, she was lonely, and yes, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to other than Rafe and the few shopkeepers she’d struck up a passing acquaintance with, but there’d been no indication that Julia felt the same way. In fact, aside from Diana, Maddy had never met anyone quite as self-contained as Julia … she didn’t need anyone, least of all an overeager, desperate American with an eating disorder. She stopped herself just in time. Her thoughts had a nasty habit of running away with her. That was the problem with not having anyone to talk to. She didn’t have an eating disorder. A little difficulty around food, perhaps, every once in a while. Certainly not a disorder.
‘You OK?’ She turned to Rafe, anxious to break her sudden strange train of thought.
‘Mmm.’ Rafe was distracted.
‘What did you think of her?’
‘Who?’
‘Josh’s wife.’
He made a small face. ‘With Josh you never know.’
She glanced at him. ‘What do you mean? What on earth happened between you guys?’
‘Nothing,’ Rafe said shortly. ‘He’s just … he’s just difficult, that’s all.’
‘Come on. There’s more to it than that, surely?’
He shook his head. ‘There isn’t. Can we drop it, please? I don’t feel like talking about Josh right now.’
‘But you never want to talk about him. I’m just curious—’
‘Maddy. Please. Just drop it, will you?’
Maddy sighed. She turned her head to look out of the window. She could feel the resurgence of her old, familiar panic. How was she ever supposed to get a handle on things when everyone around her refused to talk? She thought of Niela, sitting there at the end of the table, so still and beautiful and composed, her face giving nothing away. And Josh. She’d seen something in him that first time, a few months back. He was strong and remarkably self-assured, but he was watchful too, as if for all his solidity and confidence he could be hurt. She’d seen it in him again that afternoon, when he’d stepped into the dining room and seen them all ranged against him. Looking into his face, she’d had the impression she was looking into a mask. His expression was one of someone who was so deep inside himself that he was no longer aware of what he might have to conceal. She’d recognised it because it was the look she herself wore when she was on stage. He was acting out a part, she realised. But which one?
Aaron and Julia left shortly after Maddy and Rafe. Diana was withdrawn all afternoon. She kissed them both – much to Julia’s surprise – and stood at the door waving until the taxi was out of sight.
‘God, what a lunch,’ Julia murmured against Aaron’s jacket as they sped off. She’d had rather too much to drink after Josh and Niela’s departure – she could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. ‘I felt a bit sorry for her, you know.’
‘I know. Poor Mother. Trust Josh to ruin things.’
‘I wasn’t talking about your mother,’ Julia replied, a touch impatiently. ‘I was talking about Niela. It must’ve been hard.’
‘What?’ Aaron’s voice held a note of scorn.
‘You know … being introduced to the family like that. What is it with you lot anyway?’ Aaron didn’t reply. He yawned, slowly and deliberately, and turned his face to the window. ‘No, I’m serious,’ Julia went on. ‘What happened between you and Josh? Why’d you all take against him like that?’
‘Can we stop talking about Josh for once?’ Aaron’s voice was tetchy.
Julia felt her own temper begin to rise. ‘What d’you mean, ‘‘for
once’’? We never talk about him. You never talk about him. I just don’t understand it. Why—’
‘Jules, just drop it, please. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. Josh has already ruined lunch, I don’t want him to ruin my night as well.’
‘But—’
‘Drop it, will you?’ Aaron’s voice rose a notch.
Julia’s lips tightened. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, turning her own head in the opposite direction. ‘If that’s your answer …’
‘It is.’ Aaron didn’t speak again until the cab pulled up in front of their flat. They walked upstairs to the front door in silence.
Some Christmas this has turned out to be, Julia thought to herself angrily as she took off her silk blouse and trousers, folding them neatly and hanging them up. She walked into the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind her. Sod Aaron. Sod them all. Couldn’t they see how lucky they were to have one another? She’d never met a family more careless of each other’s feelings. None of them knew what it was like to be without, that was the problem. She felt the unmistakable tug of tears in her throat as she turned on the tap and began brushing her teeth. She thought of Maddy suddenly. There’d been a moment at the table when she’d almost laughed out loud. She hadn’t thought Maddy capable of the sharp, stinging kind of comment that ran around perpetually in her own brain. They’ve fucked off and gone home. I would’ve too, to be honest. You didn’t make them feel very welcome. She smiled, in spite of her tears. She’d almost been too afraid to look at Diana’s face, but of course Diana had affected not to notice. She blew her nose, taken aback by the unexpected warmth she’d suddenly discovered for Maddy. Perhaps she’d misjudged her? No, she thought to herself firmly. She hadn’t.
67
NIELA/JOSH
London, Christmas Day, 1997
Josh was silent all evening. As soon as they came through the door, he’d switched on the television. He sat on the couch, watching the news. Niela knew better than to press him for an explanation of the day’s events, but she saw, as she quietly went about the task of folding laundry and setting up the ironing board, that his mind was elsewhere, not on the television or even in the room where she was at all. She said nothing, but after a while became aware of a change in the atmosphere between them. He looked up once or twice, but she kept her gaze averted, concentrating on the smooth, clean hiss of the iron and the smell of fresh linen as she pressed the sheets. She understood him in more ways than he perhaps knew. He was waiting until the anger in him had died down. Staying quiet until he knew where things stood, inside him, was the only way he could cope. She’d seen that in him in Djibouti; here in London, the understanding served her just as well.