Beauty's Story

by Rita Edah

  Just then, Uncle Theo pulled up. In full gear. He said he’d come straight from work ’cos he didn’t want to have to come out again after getting in. And that Aunty Beauty was making jollof rice and lamb stew with dodo for dinner. Me, I think they planned it, so that them adults can outnumber us kids.

  Well, it worked. Josh came out with his flashpack, shrugged at me and off they went.

  I went to get my stuff, but it took me a bit of a while as it was harder than I thought to choose what to wear for three days and three nights. Friday was easy. Blazer, top, skirt, undies, socks, school shoes, school bag – with the right books and pencil case in it. However, I’m not going to go shopping in my uniform, so I need something for Friday afternoon, as well as Saturday and Sunday, and a spare couple of bits so I can mix and match if necessary or I can have something to change my mind for, seeing that I don’t have a credit or debit card and I have to save forever to be able to buy anything trendy. Anyway… this isn’t time to moan, especially as I decided not to nick or deal, so… just get on with it.

  Of course I mustn’t forget my pjs, sanitary towels, flannels, face wash and creams, hair stuff… Oh my gosh. I feel like a meltdown. “Mum! Do I have to go?”

  “Oh Ash.” It was Aunty Daisy. She’s so soft spoken.

  Mum was at my door in nothing flat. “You don’t have to if you really don’t want to, Ash. I’ll just give it a miss that’s all.”

  “Oh never mind. I’ll be fine.”

  To be honest, I didn’t want Mum to not go and then to be home with me. I wanted to be home alone. By myself. On my own. No Mum. No Josh. Just me. Which is really how it is.

  As it is, going shopping with Aunt Daisy was my next best option. “Another opportunity will come,” I said to myself in my head.

  So, choosing a yellow and green theme, I took my time and picked my stuff, wishing there was a way I could go away and never have to return home.

  The smell of chicken casserole greeted us as we got into Aunty Daisy’s house. You’d be forgiven if you thought Uncle Rob was a celebrity chef with his toque and greenchequered apron. As he swept me in a bear hug, I suddenly blinked back a tear.

  In that one moment I was hungry and happy and had forgotten that only a little while ago I was fighting with Mum.

  Friday morning, Aunty Daisy made me scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. Uncle Rob dropped me off at school before going to work. Trace saw me.

  Later, as I left my table after lunch, she and Scary Spice blocked my path. “So you now ride to school, hunh, baby girl?”

  I was like, “None of your business.”

  Not moving an inch and rocking her head from side to side, she poked a finger at me. “Do you dare talk back to me?”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” I kiss my teeth at her, trying to continue my journey. “You’re not my mother.”

  “You little faggot, of course I’m not,” she replied, giving me one heft of a push.

  I fell over the table, knocked a coke bottle off it, and then landed on the broken bottle. I bled from every single pore of my body. At least, it felt that way at the time.

  Just before I blacked out, I heard Scary Spice, “Where’s your bodyguard brother now? Shame …”

  When I woke up later at Newham General, Aunty Daisy was as white as my sheet. She lit up when she saw my eyes, and I could tell she’d been crying. “Hey Aunt D,” I stuttered, “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

  She took my hand in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Hey! It’s not your fault!”

  “I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

  “How could you have prevented this?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps advised you to be careful? Possibly homeschooled you?”

  I couldn’t help laughing, “For one day?”

  “I don’t know, Ash. If I can’t keep you safe for 24 hours, what will I do about Sunita? Babies can’t speak, how will I know what she needs? How can I keep her safe and secure?”

  Oh! I see. “I can help, if you would let me.”

  “Would you, Ash? I know you are only young but you are such a capable and clever girl. Sometimes I fear I will mess things up. I don’t think I can be a good mother – ouch!”

  “What? Are you okay?”

  She flashed the weirdest contorted smile ever. “I think Sunita is on the way.”

  Summer 2002

  Beauty

  I’d eaten too many rice cakes. And I felt like being sick.

  This was new.

  Normally I either lost my appetite completely and only ate for survival, or found it to be so rich that I had to bargain with myself to stop stuffing. That’s why I had healthy snacks in the cupboard so when that craving seized me, I would at least be eating popcorn rather than crisps, and rice cakes rather than chocolate digestives. Not that they seem to make any difference as far as my dress size is concerned.

  I’d never felt like being sick, no matter how much I’d eaten.

  What kind of example would I be to Josh? I’d jumped at the chance to be there for Mel. But I didn’t stop to take stock of how it would impact me, of how I would actually be responsible (okay, only in part) for a 14-year-old boy whose head teacher has promised never to give him a positive reference.

  Although I’d been part of his life all along, I soon realised that the only thing I knew about him was that he loved jollof rice and dodo. Hence my choice for dinner. But I should have paid more attention. Mel was doing a good job, all by herself. We should have been actively involved with her. After all, sharing the same DNA is not what makes you a sister, neither is sharing experiences, late night chitchats or even the commonality of faith. I cannot stand apart and still be a sister to Mel.

  My hand was making its way again to the pack of rice cakes when Theo and Josh walked in, obviously in the middle of a heated debate which carried on for most of the evening. If I were to give it a title, it would be ‘One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter’.

  They were quite a pair to watch, Josh and Theo.

  “You say it’s better to be safe, Uncle Theo.”

  “Yes, better safe than sorry.”

  “Would you say anyone was safer following the unlawful police killing of Jose de Souza?”

  Leaning forward intently, Theo said, “Hey, it was an accident. The intention, however, was to prevent a terrorist bomb attack on the capital. There’d been so much pressure following the 9/11 attacks in New York. In that respect, one man died for the safety of potentially thousands of others.”

  “Isn’t that a bit rich? What if it was me?”

  “It couldn’t be you, come on.”

  “But, let’s just pretend it was. Would you be satisfied that it was an accident? That your colleagues couldn’t tell a potential killer from a regular bloke just because of the colour of his skin? And they couldn’t tell the difference between the denim jacket de Souza wore and the bulky black one they reported that he had on to cover a device?”

  “Point taken. And a good one too.”

  It was good to hear Theo lose an argument to a lad. “

  So what are you planning to study then?” Theo queried. “Law?”

  Josh shrugged and excused himself.

  The next morning, I was surprised to find Theo lingering with toast and coffee at the breakfast table. He was usually in a big rush to go save the world.

  I guess he was practising what he’d been saying recently about trying to save his family first.

  After Josh had gone to bed, we’d lingered late into the night. We’d talked a lot, like the good old days. He’d said he’d be happy to grow old with me whether or not I gave him children. That he’d consider a career change so he could spend more time with me. That although adoption wasn’t on the agenda, my childcare course was. He would be happy to open up our home to a patter of tiny feet if that would make me happy.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. I couldn�
�t be surer.”

  And with a flourish, he pulled out an application pack from the local college. “Go ahead and pursue your dreams. My dream is to make your dreams come true,” he said, taking a mock bow before handing me the pack.

  Ah, I was all buttery on the inside, long distant and familiar feelings of love and joy welling up and overflowing… the ecstasy was real. His tenderness was touching. The man I’d married had returned.

  I knew it wasn’t all a dream because the application pack was by my bedside table in the morning. And Theo was at the breakfast table. There was hope yet for our relationship.

  CHAPTER 9

  New Year’s Eve 2003 (31st December 2002)

  Theo

  The one thing I’ve missed since my promotion has been pounding the streets. Therefore, I welcome tonight. Simon and I stroll up and down Oxford Street, a boulevard of lights, an avenue of people. The relative calm is oftentimes overshadowed by the excitement echoed by revellers in various stages of undress and intoxication.

  Simon and I seem to be joined at the hip as far as our walk in the Met is concerned. We were in the same training set in Hendon and have worked in the same division most of the time. Although he is now in charge of Policies and Procedures, he also welcomes the opportunity to walk the streets.

  “It seems like a regular night for a New Year’s Eve,” Simon offers.

  “It does, doesn’t it? No excitement, no drama, no trauma. Just plain raining. Not that I’m complaining.”

  Actually, that is the synopsis of my life at the moment. Beauty has cheered up a great deal since she started her childcare course in September. She even made me a packed lunch/dinner as I got ready for work today, happy – at least, content – to be home alone on a New Year’s Eve. She didn’t want to go to Mel’s who was going for a midnight service at her church.

  Mel. Now she’s a bit of an enigma these days. If I didn’t know her better I’d be worried. Since she came back from her camp in the summer, she’s been different. She’s been carrying on about “Jesus’ love is wonderful and unconditional.” My question is, if this were so, why is she working so hard for it? When she’s not at work, you can be sure she’s in church for one activity or another. She’s so totally consumed by him, I’m sure there won’t be room for any other guy in her life – actually, maybe that’s the whole point. Who knows with women?

  “Shall we stop by the Kings Arms for a glass of lemonade?” Simon cuts into my musings.

  “I don’t see why not. It’s still a couple of hours before midnight.”

  We walk the few hundred yards to the alleyway shortcut to the pub. We hear the commotion before seeing it. With a silent nod, we acknowledge the loss of our lemonade and sprint towards the crowd, Simon reporting the scene and our intentions to the station who promised standby and to send us backup if necessary.

  We have to hack our way through the crowd which was intent on the free live entertainment. The two lads engaged in the brawl carry on in spite of our loud orders for them to break it up. We have to pull them apart physically to restrain them. Simon has the lanky white young man, not a day older than 15, who is bleeding from his forehead and swearing profusely while I get the mixed-race one of about the same age who is fighting a losing battle of trying to wrest himself from my grip.

  After cuffing his hands behind his back, I turn him around as I read him his rights and freeze: Joshua.

  January 2003

  Beauty

  Theo has gone too far this time. I know he thinks he is better than me – even if he is, he does not have any right to be rude to me and about my family.

  I thought we’d had it cracked. I thought we’d turned the corner in our relationship and that as we were now more in harmony, the chances of my conceiving and keeping the pregnancy would be higher. After all, he changed his mind about the childcare course, and even though he’s been complaining lately that I’m studying too much (hello! I have assignments to complete, and I am working full time while studying this part-time day release plus two evenings a week); I put it down to a lack of understanding on his part on what it takes to complete an Early Years Care and Education Certificate Course successfully. He probably expects it’s child’s play.

  When he went off to work doing both his regular shift and overtime during the Christmas and New Year period, I willed myself to adopt a positive outlook – after all, he was working hard and not goofing off in a pub getting drunk or visiting seedy nightclubs (except in the line of duty one would hope). I wore a cheerful countenance for him, not wanting to add to his stresses.

  He comes in from work on New Year’s Day overcast like an impending African thunderstorm. I knew once he crossed the threshold that only a miracle would prevent a deluge. I hoped for a divine intervention, as Mel has been telling me all things are possible to him – or her – who believes.

  “Happy New Year, sweetheart.” I tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. The next thing I know I’m on my backside on the floor.

  “What’s that for?” I query from the depths of my shock.

  “I’m not in the mood; I’ve had a rough night.”

  “You’re not in the mood for what? You’re not in the mood to be civil?” By now I’d dragged myself up to my feet, refusing to show him how sore I was.

  “I say I am not in the mood – when I pound the streets of London trying to keep them safe, I do not expect to receive insults.”

  “But you know it comes with the territory.”

  “I didn’t know my own nephew would be part of the insulting and assaulting brigade.”

  “Your nephew?”

  “Actually, your nephew. No nephew of mine – if I had any – would dare behave like that.”

  “Theophilus, I need to hear what you’re saying.” I’d given up trying to hide my exasperation. “Please speak plainly.”

  “Speak plainly? I will speak plainly – I arrested Joshua last night, yes, Joshua, your nephew, your sister’s son. He split somebody’s head. He’s right now in detention.”

  “Why didn’t you just say so? Does Melody know?”

  “Because, like I said, I am not in the mood to have a conversation with spoilt brats.”

  “What are you being so rude to me for? I am not Joshua.”

  “No, but you might as well be – you are spoilt, Melody is spoilt, who instead of looking after her children is spending all her time in church. If your father had been firmer…”

  “Don’t even go there,” I sigh and slump on the sofa.

  “I will go wherever I please. If he had done a good job of bringing you all up properly, Josh would have turned out differently. I tell you now, no child of mine will be mollycoddled, irrespective of the circumstances of his birth…”

  He was bending over me, yelling and jabbing his forefinger… I soon ceased hearing the words having folded my head into my arms and balled into my favourite foetal position, and tucking myself into the furthermost part of the chair.

  January 2003

  Melody

  My heart crash-landed into a million fragments. My son. My baby boy. Is in detention. He will probably be charged with – ABH? GBH? What if the person dies? Oh my God! He’d then be a murderer. And I, a mum to a murderer. How did I let this happen? Oh my God!

  I’d gone to Daisy’s after seeing in the New Year at the Salvation Army Church of Christ. Ash didn’t want to come with me but was happy to go to Daisy’s. Josh said he’d go out with his friends, promised to be sober, clean and careful – how foolish I’ve been. How could I have let him go off on his own? And on New Year’s Eve too?

  When I got in at about 1.00am, they were all still awake, with Sunita crawling everywhere, behind and in between crevices being her favourite spots at the moment. At Rob’s invitation, we stayed the night. Ash was lost in her DVD marathon. The rest of us just lounged in the front room. Sunita, bottom-shuffling, got to Daisy’s leg and tried to pull herself up, babbling what sounded to me like “mam ma, mam ma!”

  “She’s such a
fast child,” I said, pointing out the obvious, “attempting to stand up already.”

  Daisy simply stared.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Lady D.”

  She smiled, “Simply daydreaming that’s all.”

  “Okay then, a pound for your dreams.”

  “Maybe… one day… see you all later…”

  And then she left us to it. Rob sighed, shrugged, picked up Sunita and began bouncing her on his knees, causing her to roll in fits of giggles.

  “She’ll be all right, you know that,” I said, nodding in the direction of Daisy’s exit.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’ve been there.” I was glad that Ash was out of earshot as I went ahead and shared with Rob the long dark shadows that had engulfed my world from the moment of her birth.

  Anyway, this was why we weren’t home when Beauty walked down to my flat that New Year’s Day to tell me about Josh. She eventually got me on the phone – and I asked why she hadn’t called in the first place. She said she needed the walk to clear her head. It was after she’d told me everything that I saw why she needed that head-clearing walk.

  That was two weeks ago. I haven’t yet been able to clear my own head. Or to stitch back the pieces of my splintered heart.

  Joshua, my baby Joshua, is now a jailbird. Why Theo felt that was necessary, I don’t know… maybe flexing his muscles made him feel good with himself. At least he looks after Beauty – that is something I can be grateful for.

  And Ash? Well, she wouldn’t speak to me. Not about things that matter anyway. I guess she still hates me. Can I blame her? I haven’t told her certain things that matter. Only to protect her heart though. Yet, she does have a right to know. They both have a right to know. Actually, they all have a right to know. I just wanted everyone to be happy. And now I’ve managed to make a miserable mess of everything.

  If Nick (or anyone else for that matter) wanted to leave, I wasn’t going to force him to stay. Was I wrong in this? Should I have fought for my children to have had a father? Should I have tried harder to marry or to at least get into a more permanent relationship? Would that have given them the stability they needed to have a regular childhood? What will become of them? Is Josh going to keep getting into trouble with the law? Is he going to be reserved a cell in the prison? I know he promised me he’ll turn his life around, but how can I be sure? And Ash, is Ash going to keep socialising only with people who are either too old or too young for her? Is she going to keep locking me out? And even if she eventually opens up to me, will I have anything worthwhile to impart to her?