‘No need to worry. We wait a bit. Things will resolve themselves. It’s only been a day.’
‘And a half.’ It shot from Karl’s mouth. ‘A day and a half.’ His voice trailed off, not as sure as it had started.
‘Yes, a day and a half,’ Uncle T confirmed. ‘Not long at all. He probably got stuck somewhere and his phone ran out of battery.’ It sounded like a lazy effort. Uncle T continued. ‘For now we have to figure out what you will do with your time here, eh?’ His tone, supposed to be light-hearted, dropped flat on itself. No one smiled.
‘Do you not go to the police or something?’
The four men all looked at Karl.
‘Yes.’
‘I mean at least they can register it, right?’
‘Yes, they could.’
Uncle T looked tired. Of course it wouldn’t make any sense. They wouldn’t register anything. Not here. Not now. And why would they? If not for some large sum, nothing would be done.
‘It is late. Try and get some rest. Tomorrow is another day. John will take you around. Show you Port Harcourt. Then, in the evening we figure out what needs to be done.’
Karl was relieved. At least he wouldn’t be trapped inside all day again.
John rose and extended his hand. ‘I come for you in the morning. You get up early?’
Karl nodded. He didn’t need to sleep in on holidays. Although it wasn’t so clear what exactly this was. Not pleasant, not holiday-like at all. What to do with this?
Mr. Layeni got up too. ‘If I have news I will let you know straight away. Very nice to meet you.’
And he put his hand on Karl’s shoulder. When everyone left, Uncle T showed him the fridge. It was full. Bottled water, soft drinks. The house help was coming back the following day. She would cook.
There were too many questions. He felt numb and without energy.
‘What if he doesn’t come back?’
‘He will, Karl. He will.’
It almost sounded convincing.
12
* * *
Junctions are not made for
all-round vision but for
choosing the way ahead.
It would have been a good time to call Godfrey. To mention the detail of the father’s disappearance. Naturally neither Uncle T nor Karl thought of it. Conveniently blanked that part out. They would not be thrown by a little hitch, not in the first week out. Things were just getting started.
Both made their way to their rooms for the night. Their rooms. Meaning one of them was Karl’s. For the time being, but still. He was welcome here. For Uncle T at least. Karl was thinking what to do about this journey. A bit of fear bubbled to the surface. The excitement drowned it straight away. He, the father, would appear. Uncle T had said so. He would know. He was from here. He had known that this would be the best thing, to come here. The best thing for Karl. Meanwhile it was time to find out what the city was like.
It was getting late. The numbness was making his body heavy, very heavy. Time to sleep. He wanted to be up bright and early so John could show him around. So he could get a proper taste of this city in case this was going to be over much sooner than anticipated.
‘I will just send Godfrey an email tonight, OK?’
Two minds. Karl nodded and smiled.
‘Thanks. Was just thinking that. Can you let him know I’ll text him tomorrow, please? I can’t text him like all the time otherwise I’ll run out of credit too quickly.’
Uncle T nodded. ‘Maybe we wait a couple of days before we call. Until we know what to say.’ He laughed. It was like the name-calling. A bit helpless.
‘No need to wake sleeping dogs.’ God, Abu would crack up if he could hear him. Now there were half-arsed sayings as well?
‘Goodnight, Uncle.’
Both doors closed. Uncle T tapped an email into the laptop that spoke of the good arrival. That he was staying a little longer in Port Harcourt with Karl, so things could settle in properly. How interesting Karl was finding everything, already taking to the food and to the distant but much trusted cousin of his wife. That he might take Karl to Lagos for a few days, to spend time at Uncle T’s own house. Meet Uncle T’s wife. That they would call as soon as possible. Probably not the following day because they had planned a full day. Quite full. Very, in fact. Probably the day after. The calling home. That things had been very busy since touchdown. Business. All that business.
* * *
Abu brushed off the dirt. Leicester, Connor and Sammy were at it again. Had been quiet for a while, busy with other targets. When they’d remembered him, they’d run past him, snatching his bag, pretending to be on their way somewhere. Meaning from some building to another, between all the glamour that the new King’s Cross still left them. This was a back-of-a-building road. Small, no reason for many people to be here. Shortcut but also a trap.
They threw the bag in a dried puddle by the side of the road.
‘Whatever.’
It was quieter without Karl. He was an even easier target but the wannabes’ interest had halved. At least he hoped so. He got a few of those words thrown at him that were supposed to make him twitch with anxiety. Like the ‘C-word’. And ‘want to be close with the pavement again?’
‘Whatever. You’ve been there. Do it again. I’ll live.’
The last bbm had been cryptic. cant really say much. Abu had no clue what that meant. More details soon. Abu had replied, landline number pls ur starting 2 wori me. need more info. Ill call u. It was as if his left ventricle had decreased in capacity. Blood flow stagnant. He was missing his main man. What if something went wrong in Nigeria? What the eff would he do? They were an organism that worked best in close proximity. In and out. Ying and yang. And so forth. He got the getting to know yourself Karl was trying to do. But still. King’s Cross was already promising a very dry couple of weeks. And dryness was the least of his problems.
Abu arrived at the tech shop. The wannabes hadn’t followed. Too lazy to make it out into real daylight. Cowards. It was much busier than in their little forgotten quarter behind the fancy-pantsy King’s Cross major reconstruction mayhem. How much building could you do in one effing junction? Talk about out of control. The construction sites spread further and further, some of it unrelated, some of it inevitably part of the whole area regeneration.
The junction by Warren Street tube was busy and it felt like he had suddenly woken up. His street was like, forgotten. Sleepy. Here it was speed galore and pushing your way through people and past major traffic. Rows and rows of cars, different lanes colliding almost, the typical London pedestrian pushing forward in tense hurry as if behind them the world was breaking off into nothingness. Buses weaving in and out of traffic, overtaking each other, unnecessarily, just to make it two seconds earlier to the next stop.
Abu’s mother wanted him to pick up Skype headphones. A little present for Rebecca. You couldn’t be more obvious. Make sure she clocked the whole on-the-other-side-of-the-world thing straight away. Karl had asked him to go see his mum. Take her some of his mother’s food. Make sure she was OK.
Abu was glad there was something to do. It was cramped at home. The twins were in some loud phase, omnipresent and noisily enforcing their own personality, like they were one single character or something. They were constantly teasing him. See? This is what we’ve both settled for. You will have to deal with it. And in a couple of weeks, when school was out for the summer, they’d proper drive him mad.
Too much for Abu, who was used to offloading and hanging with Karl. All the things he did, he did them with Karl. Listen to music. Check up on those bands they liked, online. Internet window shopping. Walk around the block, the neighbourhood, Karl’s house, youth centre. Talk to the girls (or women as his bloody highness kept insisting). With Karl. Karl was good with the women but Abu liked them too. Just too shy to say much, to even stay long enough, but amazed how they drew their lashes wider and longer, gazing into Karl’s eyes just because he said ‘let’s talk about it’ to
them.
Abu’s body was getting grown. His round face started to get longer, losing the baby fat on his cheeks, and it featured a few stray hairs on his chin. It was still brand new, not real growth, but he was liking the way it felt when he caught a glimpse in the mirror.
Abu walked through the aisles of the tech shop. The new phones were wicked. He held a Samsung Galaxy in his hand. I wish. The headphones were further back. The customer service person had followed him. Abu turned around.
‘Looking for something?’
Customer service person just looked at him. No answer, no laugh, no nothing. Just stood, waited. When Abu moved further and tried a few headphones he finally found some words.
‘These are for customers. You have to buy shit if you want to try them on.’
‘Oh really,’ Abu replied. ‘And I’m just wasting my fucking time, yeah? Because I don’t got no money to pick up some bleeping headphones?’
Another man in a T-shirt the colour of the chain came closer, concerned.
‘Everything OK here?’
‘Your colleague needs to keep his stereotypes to himself. Fucking racist.’
The person looked like it had happened before and he wasn’t happy about it.
‘You need to stop that, you know. I will report you. No need to follow anyone on discriminatory assumption.’
The first customer service guy whatevered away, leaving a cloud of effing and blinding in his wake.
Abu pressed the intercom bottom. He could hear noises from the open windows. Mothers telling their kids off, someone else on a very loud phone convo. Rebecca’s voice sounded happy when he said, ‘Hello, it’s me, Abu.’ She hadn’t seen much of them since Karl’s disappearing act. Mama Abu was on strike. Kept saying she wasn’t going to lie. She wasn’t going to sit with Rebecca, pretending. Now Abu had to come up with some bullshit just because everyone was avoiding her.
Rebecca held the flat door open, smiling. A woman had followed her to the door, still talking.
‘Such a waste.’ The friend’s dress was bright green. ‘It’s not just fans; we are all shocked. I cried yesterday, Rebecca. I really did.’
Amy Winehouse had died unexpectedly, after relapsing for the umpteenth time into heavy drinking.
‘Such an amazing voice. Just bad habits,’ the friend continued.
The city was on pilgrimage to her Camden home.
‘Do you listen to her music, young man?’
Abu just shook his head. Not so much. Not his style.
‘Such a waste. But you knew it would happen. You know it’s inevitable. Unless you change your environment. When you’re in that deep, and I mean drugs here, you need to go cold turkey all the way. Even leave your man behind. Anything it takes to get you out of it. Everyone can have another chance but you have to grab it. You really have to want it.’
She didn’t need breath; she was able to yak on without any pause or visible use of her lips. The words just catapulted out in her nice but non-stop voice.
‘Coming back to that Norwegian murderer …’
Rebecca stopped her. ‘No no no, I do not agree with you. Since when does the terrorist get all the attention? The victims should. Not his sorry excuse of a being.’
Abu closed the door. The two women were already back on their way to the living room. Rebecca looked better, the chalkiness gone and her eyes alert again.
The woman in the green dress responded, ‘But it is important to understand him, why he has done such a horrible thing.’
‘Why?’ Rebecca was unconvinced. ‘What do you get out of it? Other than him spewing more of his hatred on national and international television.’
Rebecca went into a proper rant. She could get like that. All righteous. Could break it down like no man’s business and you had to be quick to keep up and find your own shit to say. That’s where Karl got his the order of things and how they are so out of order opinions from. Not that he agreed with Rebecca. Most of the time they didn’t. But they liked to reason.
Now Rebecca was going on about white supremacists taking over, etc. etc. She got well heated up saying that normally a terrorist wouldn’t get so much airtime but of course, because he was white and shit, we got to know all about his bad childhood. About why and whatnot and his inner life. No time for the actual monstrosity. Or the victims.
‘There is some understanding that needs to happen. On society’s side,’ her friend offered.
‘Not on that level. Not by giving room as if his sick mind had some justifiable reasons. I don’t think so.’
Her friend stopped and smiled. ‘I think your young friend needs some attention.’ She pointed to Abu, whose body was all inward-pointing, shy. It always happened around Rebecca. He was still standing at the door to the room, bag in hands. She stopped herself, motioned for Abu to come closer, hugged him.
‘How are you dear? Mum and dad? The twins? Haven’t seen any of you. If I didn’t know better I would think you are all avoiding me.’
Abu looked at his beige boots. His denims were folded over. On his waist, a leather belt with a shiny buckle. Armani. Karl thought it was a bit too much. And embarrassing. Not the buckle itself but the free advertising Abu was giving. Whatever. It looked wicked.
‘Everyone is well, thank you. Just busy, end of term, you know. My mum asked me to bring some food. Just something simple. Rice and vegetables.’
Rebecca perked up. The Tupperware opened with four separate clips.
‘Your mum is such an angel. Please tell her how much I appreciate it.’
She patted Abu’s arm and put the container on the side table.
‘And you? How is everything? Have you heard from Karl? He texted me yesterday and said he was getting on well.’
‘Haven’t spoken to him yet.’
Rebecca doubted the story everyone was keeping up about Karl’s whereabouts. He had been on weekends away with one of his support groups before but two weeks was taking her for a ride. During term time. They had caught her in a low phase. Was easy to play her then. She had just gone along, with those questions in her eyes of course. But Godfrey shrugged it all off. Avoiding.
‘Will you tell your mother that I’d like to speak with her?’
Abu felt the room close in a little more. Why did he have to straighten out all of Karl’s bull? Why?
‘I’ll tell her.’
‘If she’s busy I’ll call her. The twins are off already?’
‘They’re breaking up next week. Starting summer programme the week after. Here, my mother also wanted you to have this.’ He gave Rebecca the plastic bag with the headphones and mic inside.
Rebecca was pleased when she opened the box.
‘Look, I’m going to be a cool mum now and stay in touch with Karl, in an up-to-date way. I’m finally arriving in this century.’
Her friend laughed. Abu was all like why me inside. But he smiled as well. Awkward.
‘Yes, they are quite handy. If you get good Internet. Not sure Karl has much connection actually.’
It was proper awful. Rebecca’s excitement. Abu made his exit. Yes, he would pass it on. All of it. For sure.
* * *
In the morning Karl was determined to speak to Abu. Before he could follow John to yet another unknown place he would have to use the phone. The landline.
i’m goin 2 call frm my numba. call me bck NOW.
When John returned, Karl was sitting sideways on the large armchair, legs dangling over one side, chatting away. His face relaxed, his cheeks rosy in excitement. He was laughing.
‘I’m not sure,’ came through the receiver. Abu was shouting. ‘Godfrey is going crazy, man. He’s worried sick. You need to call, like for real.’
‘I’m here, innit? No point to run straight back. How’s mum?’
The last bit had an edge to it. Like when they saw the wannabes strutting down towards them and they quickly checked, left, right, behind them and in front, to see whether anyone else was on the street. Anyone who would help.
‘She’s good. Karl, call her. It’s not fair, you get me.’
‘Thanks man. I will, I will.’ It wasn’t that easy. Who and when to call. And the what to say? What could you say? Better just let that shit take care of itself, right? Karl saw John and straightened up.
‘Need to go bruv. We do the same again soon. I’ll bbm you when you can reach me on this line.’
He jumped off the armchair, still laughing.
‘Well, you got Internet at your disposal. Cheap calls. Use it.’
All of his gangly self was swaying from the abrupt movement. Abu had told him funny things. Nalini was teasing him. In a good way. Giving him proper lip and everything. Was it his ears that made him shoot off each time they came closer to him? If he thought they were for flying she would have to tell him that they were just cute. Something, something distinctive. Winked, walked off. Afsana had been off sick the last few days and Abu had caught Nalini alone. Just the two of them.
And now Abu, of all people, started talking to her regularly. First shy, then oh OK you do like me. Karl couldn’t believe it. Abu, who’d push him forward when they bumped into the women. Who was fascinated but would run off to class instead. Things were changing, for real. He had only been gone a couple of days. Ha. Abu. Wasted no time. Karl didn’t think he had it in him.
‘I’m ready,’ he said and John looked up from the paper in his hand. A blue taxi was parked in front of the bungalow. The driver was leaning against the door, going through his phone. Still had the thin plastic film to protect the display. The man looked up and nodded, opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat.
‘Your uncle is using the car today so I booked a taxi,’ John said.
Uncle T appeared on cue on the little lawn in front.
‘Call me, Karl. If there are any problems, you have my number. I know John is already waiting for me to get back inside.’
It seemed true. John was cheerful. It was proper moving. All because of him? Some strange teenager who appeared out of nowhere? Maybe he was just a morning person.
When We Speak of Nothing Page 9