by Rita Edah
Nathan was to pick me from home at about 5pm so we could have some special time together before joining the others at 7.30pm. It was a surprise treat from him and he wouldn’t even give a hint at what it was. Well, I was happy to wait – I loved surprises.
When I heard my bedroom door creaking open that afternoon at about half three, I thought Mum had finished work early. I kept my eyes fixed on the mirror, intent on finishing off that last stroke of eyeliner as I said, “You’re back early.”
“Happy birthday, Ash.” I dropped my eye pencil at the sound of the muffled voice, swinging my chair in its direction. I only had a fraction of a minute to take in the two balaclava-clad figures before they were by my side.
The speaker carried on, “Sorry we have to do this, but we are under instructions.”
“Excuse me? Who are you and what do you want?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice as scenes from various episodes of Law and Order flashed through my mind.
“To accompany you for the rest of the evening for your birthday surprise,” he said, placing the Minnie Mouse patterned blindfold tenderly but firmly over my eyes and tying it up behind my head, messing up my delicate up-do in the process – all those hours in the salon going down the drain, and without a chance to put on my tiara.
“Just so you know, my uncle is a cop. You will not get away with this.”
It was the last thing I said before he tied the lavender-scented scarf around my nose and mouth, a bit tighter than necessary, I thought. As if reading my thoughts, one of them adjusted it a tad, giving me room to breathe. Obviously they didn’t want me dead – at least not straightaway.
“Now, be a good girl, do as you are told and no one gets hurt,” Muffler continued. “Each of us will take one of your hands, we will take you to a vehicle, and drive you to your destination.”
My destination? I shook my head furiously. They each took my hand in their gloved ones anyway and guided me through the flat, down the stairs, into a revving car in the parking lot. As we walked silently, I could perceive a faintly familiar smell, but couldn’t quite place it.
They sat on either side of me after doing up my seat belt and off we went to I don’t know where.
My mind went into overdrive. What will Nathan do when he gets to me and I’m not there? I don’t even have my mobile phone on me.
What about Mum? If I don’t turn up at the restaurant at half seven, will she put it down to my usual tardiness? At what point will she begin to worry? What then? Will Uncle Theo jump straight into a rescue mission? When will I officially be declared missing? Will I still be alive anyway? What if they thought I ran away – then they might not suspect foul play… Oh my gosh, and I have been threatening to run away from home for so long!
What do these people want? It can’t be money – how much can they expect to get from a single parent who lives in a council flat? It can’t be… no, I’ve got to think of positive things else I’d be gone before they even get me to the destination. To die on my 16th birthday never featured in any of my plans, including the running away from home ones. One way or another, it’s looking like these are my final moments on the earth.
Somehow, accepting that this was the end seemed to have helped; I was surprised to find myself nodding off to sleep. The radio was now a soothing lullaby, my captors now my bodyguards…
I awoke in a bed, with Nathan on a chair beside me, a frown framing his perfect face which relaxed into a smile as he saw me stir. “Hey babe, are you okay? You gave me a fright there for a minute.”
“My head is splitting. I am woozy. Where am I? And how did you find me?”
“You are at the top of Club Rocky where your 16th birthday party is in full swing at the moment.”
It was then I decided I was still asleep. This wasn’t my room. And my birthday party was at The Harvester’s where right now my mum must be going spare with worry.
“Come on babe, I know the journey was a surprise and the guys had to gag you for everyone’s safety. But you’re here and well, so please get up, get dressed, let’s rock and roll.”
His words were coming to me from very far away. His lips were moving out of sync with what he was saying. And it took me a while to begin to take it all in. I gradually pulled myself into a sitting position so I could look directly across at Nathan.
“You mean I am awake?”
“Of course you are!”
“And I am alive and well?”
“Yes, I can pinch you if you want.” And he did actually pinch me before I could decide whether I wanted him to do so or not.
“So, why am I here? And what’s been going on?” I was struggling to keep my voice firm.
Nathan stroking my cheeks, was like, “It’s okay baby, I arranged a surprise party for you.”
“But I told you I didn’t want a big party?”
“I know, hence I had to do it this way and get the guys to come for you.”
I slowly got on my feet, hands on my hips, drew close to him. “You kidnap me to get me to a party for me? How messed up is that? What if I’d been hurt?”
“It’s crazy only because I love you so much and couldn’t let a milestone birthday like this go without a bang.”
“It’s my birthday. It wasn’t going without a bang, I had it all planned, and my mum, she’ll be out of her mind with worry. You have no right…”
“Oh don’t worry about her or any of your family members – they know you are with me.”
I felt my knees wobble and had to hold on to the bed frame for support. “You told them you were kidnapping me to a surprise party?”
He sniggered, “Don’t be silly, only that I’d arranged something else for you today – to which they are welcome.”
“Will they be coming then?”
“Not a chance – oldies don’t turn up at places like this – but I have reserved a decent table for them should they decide to grace the occasion. But I’m pretty sure Josh will be here, and if you don’t turn up shortly, he’s going to be coming for my head.”
That was some six months ago. It was the most awful day of my life. Nathan introduced me to this crowd of screaming, burping and bopping strangers as his ‘woman’. He told me how happy he was that I was now a woman. And that legally I could pretty much do whatever I chose with him. As the night wore on, he got weirder and weirder and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands or his mouth off me.
By 10pm, with half the crowd being tipsy and leery, I told Nathan I was ready to go home. “It’s not yet midnight, Cinderella. Just a couple more hours and I’ll let you off while the rest of us proper adults rock the night away.”
I had to raise my voice above the din, “Nathan, take me home! Now!”
“And if I don’t?”
“Well then, I’ll walk.” As I made to walk past him, he grabbed my hand, laughing, “Do you even know how far you are from the nearest bus stop?”
“But I do.” Oh thank you Josh, I mouthed to him.
“Come on Ash, let’s get the heck out of this place.”
Early 2006
Melody
The light has gone out of her eyes. I know she hasn’t stopped crying; yet she doesn’t need to cry – he was a jerk and she’s well rid of him.
I should have seen it coming. I should have taken better care of my baby. I should have listened more to Beauty’s reservations about Nathan and I most certainly should not have agreed to his surprise party nonsense. I am only grateful to God that she wasn’t physically hurt. The effects of the sleeper she’d inhaled have long since worn off. As for the emotional wounds, worsened by his lies about her on Facebook, I can only pray for divine healing for her, and mercy for me. For I have failed my daughter. Again. I didn’t protect her. If I’d given her a father, perhaps he could have protected her better. Even though her dad didn’t stay, I was young, I could have met and married somebody else and raised both of them in a ‘proper’ family.
But I’m hopeful. She hasn’t given up her dreams of going to un
iversity to study to be a teacher. And Josh, he’s been such an encouragement to all of us, evidence that God does answer prayers; that there is always hope; that things can indeed get better. And I have to deliberately remember this rather frequently these days.
Josh is only home some holidays now, and even when he’s here, he’s different, grown up like. Ash’s leaving home soon. What will I do with myself then?
When Beauty and I ran away from home in Warri all those years ago, I never thought I would one day miss ‘home’. And I didn’t – until recently. When I look in the mirror these days, I see staring back at me a lighter skinned version of my Aunty Mary. I must look to my kids the way she looked to me when I was a teenager. But she was wiser, that’s the difference. And though she was single all her life and had no children of her own, her life was full and purposeful. She wasn’t stuck behind some counter as a ‘checkout girl’. Mind you, this job has paid the bills all these years. But my heart has never been in it, maybe now is the time to locate my heart and follow it.
What, though, if it leads me back home? Will I have the wherewithal to follow it? Do I really want to? Dad is dead. Aunt Mary is old. I have no real relationship with my half-sisters and stepmother. All my life really is here.
But… I remember how it was there, then. You never grew old and died alone (except if they thought you were a witch or something, then you were roundly ostracised).
You never had to pull the grey hairs out of your head all by yourself (but then a mischievous cousin could pull the black ones as well, leaving you with bald patches in addition to severe pain).
You never had to talk audibly to yourself to be sure your voice was still working.
You were certainly never overshadowed by the sounds of silence.
I probably would have been a social outcast anyway – a single parent whose children did not know their father? What a scandal. A body of attitude that presumes the woman guilty at the slightest hint of a relationship breakdown would not have worked to my advantage. But perhaps it would have compelled me to work harder at my relationships. Probably my children would each have known their dad, or at least the truth about them.
What a freak of nature I am, belonging neither here nor there. And how can I take this with me to my grave? Will it be fair, will it be right? What can I do to make it all right?
Discretion is the better part of valour
Honesty is the best policy
There is sorrow in too much knowledge
Deception is a cruel act
What do I do? Which of these apply to me?
“My Lord, my God, help me take the right path. Show me which way to go. Give me a fresh revelation of your love for me, in spite of my past errors and present doubts, help me to hide myself under the shadow of your wings. Help me to be still and to know that you are God… and that you will cause everything to work out right, because I love you, and I believe you have called me according to your purpose… Amen.”
CHAPTER 13
23rd June, 2006. Theo’s 40th birthday
Theo
One of the reasons I was attracted to the police force above the other uniformed professions is the order it brings into the everyday life of its community. It brings my love for order and for community into one sphere, feeds my need for structure and the security that a level of certainty brings with it. The uncertainties inherent in the job add the spice that expels the gremlins of boredom, for boredom feeds rebellion and rebellion brings anarchy.
I smiled as I reread the last bit. I wasn’t too keen initially when I was told that I was to visit one of the local school’s careers days and speak about a career in the police force. Then after I agreed to do it (I didn’t have much of a choice really), I struggled over what to say. One evening as I sat glued to the TV but not seeing, pen and pad in hand but not writing, Beauty asked if she could help.
“Frankly, this is more up your street. What do I say to a bunch of teenagers about the police force?”
“Do you love working there?”
“Of course! Is that a question?”
“Hey! If you’re going to be like that – do it your own way!”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“Why the police force? Why not say the army or navy or air force?”
Then I saw what she was doing. By the end of the exercise, we had drafted a little speech that showed a part of me I would not ordinarily reveal. But Beauty’s point was that the kids needed to know that there is a heart in the force, and what better way to show this than to open up what it means to me personally and how it affects the community globally.
The speech went so well, many kids requested further information and a couple of the girls even asked for an autograph! For the first time in my life, I was close to being a celebrity. And it was all thanks to Beauty.
My dear brainy Beauty. I sometimes wonder if the ‘gremlins of boredom’ are getting to her. I think now that maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged her to go on that blasted Early Years course. Since that course, she seems to have lost all sense of purpose and perspective. Subsequently, she seems to be looking for one cause or another to champion; she’s now getting about as cantankerous as the slightly off-balanced elderly Mrs Smith down at Tentercourt Place whose neighbours are on the phone to us at least once a week to settle one matter or the other.
Take my 40th for example. It’s my birthday after all and I should have a say – well, and my way – about how it should be celebrated. So I wanted a cruise – not just because I’ve wanted one for years, but also because it would be an opportunity for us to spend the elusive ‘quality time’ together, only this time it would also be in quantity – two full weeks without interruption from work or any other aspects of our lives at home, to explore new places and new experiences together. I thought it would reignite our romance, and bridge the gulf that seems to be increasingly edging its way between us.
My time off work was already settled. I’d researched a few places, but frankly, I wouldn’t have minded which of the cruises as long as I was aboard with the love of my life. So I gave her the first option – Mediterranean or Caribbean? Surely she couldn’t now accuse me of taking unilateral decisions, something she’s been doing a lot of herself lately.
“Neither,” was all she offered. I sat at the end of dinner, waiting for an elaboration. When none was forthcoming, I said, “Why neither – do you want to go on a different cruise?”
“No, Theo, I don’t want to go on a cruise at all.”
“But it’s my birthday and I want to go on a cruise with you. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, it’s not. But look at it this way. You are 40 only once. Would it not be better to mark it with family and friends rather than with strangers on the ocean somewhere?”
“But I’ll be with you.”
“Yes, I know, but if you did it here, you’ll also be with me.”
The sadness in her eyes mitigated my rising rage. I had to fight to not be overwhelmed by my deflation. “So what do you suggest?”
“Well, we could have friends and family over for dinner or go out to a restaurant or something… we could always do the cruise another time.”
So that was how my birthday cruise sank faster than the Titanic.
And D-Day is here. At home, the dinner party organised by Beauty will be kicking off in another couple of hours or so. I must say though that she has thrown herself into it, dragging me along with such a determination and enthusiasm that I soon lost my grumpy reluctance along the way.
The first major hurdle was deciding between a formal sit-down dinner and a buffet. Once we’d agreed on the buffet style, we arranged the lounge in a rough triangle. The side nearest the kitchen had the largest table. This would hold the food. Then there was a round table that held the well-labelled drinks: ginger beer, lemonade, buoy shot (a cocktail of Captain Morgan, orange juice and a touch of cherry); buoy coke (Captain Morgan and Coca-Cola) and ahoy! (Mt Gay rum with a dash of sherr
y and some cinnamon spice).
I was a bit concerned with having so much alcoholic drink available while we had youngsters on our guest list. But Beauty allayed my fears, reminding me that Ash was teetotaller and Josh had grown to be a responsible young man who could be trusted. Sunita – well, she was just too little to be able to help herself to drinks.
And the third angle had the other round table which just about fitted nine standard chairs and one high one. As I put the finishing touches to the décor – navy and white broad-striped tablecloths with mini sailboats dotted over them, placing matching serviettes in strategic locations and a touch of blue and silver glitter here and there – my mind drifted to some of our expected guests.
Simon and Sandra. They bring a kind of spark to every setting that is uniquely theirs. She has a way with words, doesn’t say a lot, but what she does say is usually packed. Simon does more of the talking, and from what he says, they are missing the twins a lot and can’t wait for the grandchildren to start popping out so they can get busy with grandparenting.
Rob. He has done well holding the fort – both business and home – while Daisy recovered from her depression. I don’t quite understand it – how a perfectly healthy and happy lady who wanted a baby could suffer from depression on having a fulfilment of her heart’s desire. But then, I’m neither a doctor nor a psychologist and I am intrigued by the complexities of human nature, especially of the female variety.
Joshua. He seems to have settled down a lot. He’s completed his diploma and is hoping to go to university in the autumn. I couldn’t help smiling as I recalled the flak I received from Beauty and Mel following the detention incident. But here he is, a living example to the testimony that sometimes extreme measures are required in desperate situations. And the way he stood up for Ash and rescued her from her thug of a boyfriend at that party last year – what a gentleman.