“It is,” I replied, slowly moving away from his radius. His voice pulled me back.
“Did you know this house was built in less than six months? Hard to believe is it not, but it’s true. The…”
“Lawal,” Aiden called from behind me. “Don’t drive my guest away with your lectures.”
“Sorry sir, Mr Essien, sir.”
Aiden glided down from the stairs gracefully and came to stand by my side. He was wearing a sports shirt now. Lawal stood there, smiling sheepishly at his boss.
“Lawal, the reports.”
“Oh sorry sir, here they are.”
He handed the papers over to him.
“I’ll call you when I’m done with them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodnight Lawal.”
“Goodnight sir and I just wanted to say I read your interview with BUSINESS DAILY. Your words were such an inspiration, sir.”
“Thank you, Lawal.”
“Yes, sir,” he said finally and left.
“I think he’s in love with you,” I stated.
“Lawal’s a bit strange, but he’s eager to learn, and he gets his job done to the letter. I see you’re strong enough to walk and spy on people.” He looked at my feet.
Maybe I wasn't so fast after all.
“Yes, quite. And I wasn't spying.”
“Dinner will be served at seven-thirty.”
He headed up the stairs and disappeared into his room.
I met a robust woman in a denim skirt and a blouse laying out a dress on the bed when I stepped into my allocated room. Her face was round and her eyebrows thick, but it only succeeded in bringing out her peacock green eyes. Her brown/grey hair was in a bun which suited her smiling face perfectly.
“My name is Mrs Edna Patty, but everyone calls me Mrs P.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Simisola Oladeji.”
“Ooh what a pretty name. I was astonished when....." She giggled. "Mr Essien doesn’t bring any girls home. Never has. But you sure are a catch.”
“Thank… you. How long have you been working here?” I asked, hoping she would be open to answering more questions. I could use whatever information I could get. “For as long as I can remember.” She tipped her head upward when she answered. She smiled as she said this. “What do you do dear?”
“I’m a nurse.”
She let out a light squeal. “A nurse, how wonderful!” Her tone conveyed it was.
“And how long has Mr Henry been here?”
“For a very long time. Mister Essien asked me to bring this to you.”
She motioned at the dress on the bed. “I bet it’ll look marvellous on you.”
“I’ll bet…”
“I’ll leave you to clean up now. I’ll be back to show you to the dining room. With so many rooms in this house, one may get lost,” she said and left.
That went well. I ruled out Mrs P from my list of people to interrogate. Perhaps I could find another maid to interview. Or Henry himself.
Mrs P came by just as she had said and led the way to the dining room.
“My dear, you look absolutely stunning.”
Then she used the word radiant and then warm on the eyes after subsequent pauses. The dining room was at the end of the hallway hidden behind the bottom of the grand staircase. The floral tiled floor blended with the long curtains which were thrown open. The crystal chandelier hung low over the oval dining table where a banquet had been laid out. Aiden stood beside the table, arranging the centrepiece vase which held flowers of shades of blue, white and pink.
He looked up and said, “You look stunning,” a warm, inviting expression on his face. I looked down at the dress.
“Just as I said,” Mrs P chimed in.
Aiden thanked her, and we watched her leave. He came over and pulled the chair out, and I sat wondering if such manner of chivalry existed anywhere outside that room.
“Do you want to fatten me up for a sacrifice, huh?”
Aiden opened a round-bottomed bottle of wine and poured some into my glass.
“How do you feel? Are you better now?”
“Yes, I can leave today.”
“I’d rather you do not. You can stay one more night. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have Wallace take you home.”
“If you insist.”
I watched him through the corner of my eyes as we ate. He cut the grilled fish and potatoes in front of him and chewed slowly.
“You’ve been staring Simi.”
His voice startled me.
“I wasn’t. Okay, maybe a little.”
“Why?
“Nothing. Okay, maybe something.”
He laughed.
“A little birdie told me you don’t have much lady friends over, and it baffles me how someone like you could avoid not being suffocated under a pile of women every day.”
With an eyebrow raised, he asked, “like me?”
“You know what I mean; young, rich and handsome.”
Strikingly beautiful should have been the words to use.
“I haven't really thought about it. Well, you're a woman, and you're here, so that counts for something.”
“Hardly.'’
"It does. A whole lot."
"How?"
“It’s complicated.”
He was evasive again.
“I’ve had flings here and there, but nothing sticks. I know you must have broken a few hearts and then some more.”
“More like the opposite,” I replied with a mirthless laugh.
He cocked his head and arched a brow.
“Story for another day,” I said.
“You talked to your sister, I suppose.”
“Yes,” I answered, remembering the awkward conversation. “She’s less worried now although I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Big sister syndrome.”
“Ah,” he muttered. “You told her I had food poisoning. Why not just tell her I was found on the side of the road, passed out?”
“I figured she would have a panic attack. Big sister syndrome, you see,” he replied with a smirk. “It must be nice to have a sister. I always wanted a brother.”
Two Aidens? I imagined women falling over as they walked by.
“We would have conquered the world together,” he joked.
“I bet.”
After dinner, we slowly emptied the bottle of wine.
Aiden cleared his throat and said, “last time you were in my house, you were snooping around.”
I hid my face away.
“I could not help myself.”
“How would you like to see my favourite section of the house? It may yet satisfy your curiosity about me.”
I wanted to say I was not curious about him. That would have been a lie.
“I would love to,” I replied, suspicious of his reason for his request.
“Come on,” he said, putting down the wineglass.
As we walked towards a closed door at the back passageway, he lowered his voice. “This house was designed after my Grandfather’s in Northern Ireland. Only the land area is not as big. Every single detail was not left out except this.”
We got to the front of the wooden door, and he pushed a button by the side of it.
“I thought an elevator would give a better entrance to the place we’re about to enter. A staircase doesn’t do much justice to it.”
I asked as we ascended, “how many rooms are there in this house?”
“20.”
“And how many have you been in or used?”
“Probably less than the amount you’re thinking of right now.”
“It must be pretty lonely.”
“Sometimes. But I’ve got Henry and Miss P. They’re like family.”
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open. The gallery spread open before my eyes. The numerous canvasses with portraits were lined up on the white wall that seemed to lengthen and merge into an endless path. Dumbstruck, I ogled a
t the painting at my right.
“This is wonderful,” I spoke up at last.
“The gallery extends up to the third floor. My grandfather was a collector of famous portrait paintings. I, on the other hand, collect what I fancy. And some that could become assets.” Aiden walked carefully beside me but not close enough to disorient me. I noticed a painting and stopped.
“I know that painting. It’s Ovo’s, isn’t it?”
“You know your art.”
Aiden sounded impressed.
“I only know Ovo’s art truth to be told.”
“It’s a start,” he said, smiling down at me.
I trailed my finger on the painting staring at the doleful eyes of the young boy who had a fading sneer on his face. His face almost covered the entire canvas. Behind him was a mud hut with a battered thatched roof.
“It is gorgeous,” I whispered.
I turned to glance at Aiden to find him staring at me, lips parted slightly, a smile dangling at the edge of his mouth.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he replied, then paused before asking “how do you usually spend your Christmas? Not browsing through private galleries, I presume.”
“No, I usually spend it with my sister and her family. We’d go out and do something fun, and when we get back, my nieces and I would have a movie marathon until we fall asleep.”
“And?”
“And sometimes,” my gaze returned to the painting, “my grandpa would visit. He’s a delight.”
I remembered I had to go see him.
“And your parents?”
“Dead.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I know how you feel. But you have your sister and your grandpa, which is something.”
"I am lucky."
He was silent for a while. He placed both hands in the pocket of his slacks and leaned against the wall while I admired the sketch of a ballerina.
“When I was young I spent my Christmas at my father’s house in Calabar and sometimes at my grandfather’s in Germany but right now I celebrate it with my face buried deep in work.”
“You have no family you could spend it with?”
“My mother, but she's another story for another day.”
“Your father, how did he die?” I asked.
“You’re the first person who’s ever asked that of me. As for others, their phones or computers would be their first choice.”
“I’m not others. I am glad to say I have resisted the urge to go about researching you.”
“Why?”
“I think I much prefer this. No filters.”
“I prefer this too. My father, he died of a heart attack. Didn’t think that was how the old man would go out.” He chuckled loudly.
“I’m sorry.”
His warm hand fell on my shoulder for a brief moment. He squeezed slightly in a bid to let me know he was alright. He gestured for us to move forward.
We arrived in a secluded section of the gallery. There was a single portrait on the wall. Although the woman had only the right side of her face shown, anyone could tell she was incredibly beautiful. Hair face was straight and slim, ending in a strong chin. She looked like she was giving someone unseen a scolding but in a loving way. Her long blond hair fell flawlessly down her back and on her red dress. There was something familiar about her. Then I saw it.
“Is that...?”
“My grandmother.”
“She’s a knockout.”
He moved closer to the portrait and smiled.
“She told me she didn’t want to get her portrait done but was convinced by my grandfather who promised to do a naked portrait of himself and then she agreed.”
“Did he? I mean not that I want to see it.”
Aiden laughed in a way that soothed my uneasiness completely.
“Don’t be scared. He didn’t do it. He tricked her, but when she saw this,” Aiden pointed at the painting, “she didn’t mind being tricked.”
I scrutinised the portrait again, seeing much of Aiden in her with every look.
“You’re not going to tell me what really happened out there are you?”
The words came out like water from a damaged pipe. I had not planned to ask him there and then but the cat was out of the bag.
“What?” he asked, his brows knitted in a growing frown.
“Your story about how you found me out by the roadside sounds pretty farfetched.”
“It is not.”
“What are you covering up?”
Aiden backed away, giving me the same threatening scowl he had given me in his library.
“Why are you irrational?”
“I am not. You’re the one who is.”
He looked like he wanted to shake me until I gave up asking any more questions.
He groaned and said, “I don’t know why I’m so drawn to you.”
“I did not ask you to be,” I snapped, although his words made my heart flutter. “I think I should get back to bed. I’m tired.”
“Perhaps, you should.”
His wide sullen eyes almost made me sorry for my attitude. Almost.
Chapter 5
I was back in the comfort of my own bedroom shortly after the sun came up on Boxing Day. Aiden had seen to it that I got back home safe, but I had not seen him before leaving. Henry only gave a grunt of a reply when I asked about his boss’ whereabouts. After which he handed me my phone and my purse. I took that to mean my presence was no longer appreciated.
I chewed on my lower lip, irritated by the raspy knocks on the door. I opened it to find Femi looking worried and worn.
“Where have you been Simi? What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing, I called your sister when I could not find you yesterday, and she told me what happened.”
I did not bother to ask how he got her number. It was just like Ava to go about telling Femi what should clearly be a private affair. She had always taken a shine towards Femi ever since I introduced them to each other years ago. She had had silly notions in her head that we’d end up together, matrimonially. I could bet those notions came right back when she heard his voice again.
“Of course you did. I’m fine. Thanks for worrying.”
“I told you not to go to that party, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Next time I’ll heed your advice. I just have to rest,” I told him smiling if only to make him go away. He got the hint.
“I’ll leave you now, but be careful.”
“Alright. Thanks for stopping by.”
I made sure he was far off before heading back into the house to prepare for the journey I was about to embark. The cab I called to take me to my destination arrived in under an hour.
“We’ll make a stop at GRA first.”
“It will cost extra, oh.”
“I’ll pay.”
“Okay, ma,” he said before starting the car.
I met my sister and her family trooping outside their home and heading for their SUV.
“Aunt Simi!” The twins shouted excitedly.
“Hey, munchkins, where are you guys off to?”
“The mall!’ they chorused.
I handed their presents over to them and watched them scream.
“Are you not coming?” their mother asked.
“No, I’m on my way to see grandpa.”
“That’s good. Say hi to him for me, okay?”
“I will.”
A grin came out from the blue and clouded her face.
“What?”
She nudged me and winked and raised her brows several times. “You think I don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“Femi. No wonder you rejected my matchmaking gesture for you and six-fingered Alex.”
“No.”
“You can’t even deny properly.”
“I’m leaving,” I said.
Jep
hery came out of the house squinting as the sun hit his face.
“Hello Jephery, bye Jephery,” I said quickly and took the long walk back to the cab sitting by the roadside.
“Bye, Simi,” Jephery called after me. I waved without looking back.
***
The house Ava and I had lived in with my grandfather when growing up was a bungalow with an asbestos roof with just three rooms; a small but comfortable place in a serene environment. I braced myself for what I was going to see. The living room had not changed. Most of the furniture was made by my grandfather, who had a way with wood and cane.
On the mantelpiece were carvings of little men in canoes and a couple dancing. It still held pictures of Ava and me as children and of my parents.
My parents.
I stood staring at the picture of my father and mother on the wall. My hand wanted to reach out to touch them. I knew better than to do that. It would only bring back pain. It felt like yesterday when the news had come of their demise. The car had skidded off the road and hit a tree. They had both died instantly.
“Simisola, my beautiful child.”
My grandfather walked into the room with his arms held out.
“Grandpa," I greeted and went halfway down on my knees, but he quickly raised me up. His trembling hands were wrinkled and full of veins. My father had been his spitting image; they had the same brown hair from which my grandfather had refused to let go at his age, thin eyelashes, and incredibly white teeth.
“So very beautiful. I remember when everyone kept on calling you Abiku as a child, and you thought that was your name. Do you still get sick as often?”
“No grandpa.”
“Good,” he grinned. “Sit.”
He offered me a sofa, and I gently eased into it.
“Merry Christmas grandpa. I would have got you a present, but my plans took an unexpected turn. I’m…”
“You don’t need to apologise. Your presence is already a gift. How is work?”
“Work is good.”
“And you?”
“Never been better.”
My eyes found their way to the picture on the wall, and I winced.
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