7

Cultural Homecoming

In comparison with Heathrow Airport’s general air of calm, Kotoka International Airport was a frantic hub of activity. Faye stuck close to the other passengers heading towards the baggage collection area as busy officials rushed up and down barking instructions into mobile phones and uniformed security guards pushed through the throng of arriving travellers with barely concealed impatience, shouting across to each other in a combination of English mixed with other languages. Some, more obviously privileged, passengers were met by officious looking personnel and whisked off to a side room identified by a discreet sign as the VIP lounge.

Faye followed some of the people she recognised from her flight through to the large reclaim area. She walked past trolleys stacked against a wall and headed towards the baggage carousel.

‘My sister, I hope you had a pleasant flight.’ The voice came from behind her and, turning round, she almost bumped into Kwabena Nti with his ever-present smile.

‘It was fine, thank you,’ she replied. ‘Have you got many cases to collect?’ The carousel was still in motion although, as yet, there was nothing to be seen and she kept one eye on the moving belt as she spoke.

Kwabena shrugged amiably and said with a wry smile, ‘Well, I have five sisters and they each gave me a long list of things to bring them. I can only hope that the goods have all arrived safely!’

Just then the first suitcase appeared on the carousel and the crowd surged forward, their trolleys banging against the metal sides as everyone struggled to identify their own. Kwabena manoeuvred his so that it was next to Faye and wriggled his wiry frame in front of it, ready to seize any of his belongings as soon as they appeared. Faye watched in amazement as he deftly collected a total of seven suitcases and three large boxes, one of them clearly marked with a picture of a microwave.

After a few more minutes, Faye spied her case and reached out towards it, but Kwabena got there first and heaved it off the carousel, placing it with great care in front of her.

‘Here you are, my sister,’ he said, wiping off the dust on his hands down the sides of his jeans. ‘I am pleased that you have not lost your belongings.’

With a smile of thanks, Faye followed him as he navigated his overcrowded trolley through the crowd and walked confidently into the customs area. Just before they reached the exit, a portly shiny-faced official demanded to see their tickets and passports. Using a tired stub of chalk, the official scribbled an illegible mark on Faye’s case with a flourish and gestured for her to carry on through the exit. As she moved off, Kwabena waved a cheerful goodbye and returned to his task of arguing with another official who seemed determined to go through each item on his trolley in painstaking detail before granting the white chalk seal of approval.

Faye tossed her duffle bag over her shoulder and wheeled her case out into the hot and humid night air, stopping for a moment to slip off her jacket and drape it over her arm. Before she had taken more than a few steps outside the building, she was mobbed by a pack of young men shouting ‘trolley, trolley, madam!’ and ‘taxi, madam!’ A few exhausted security guards tried to disperse the over-helpful porters but with little effect, as several others rushed forward to take the place of those who were pushed out of her way.

Just as Faye was wondering what to do next, she heard a deep voice shouting, ‘Faye, Faye Bonsu… over here!’

Heaving a sigh of relief, she turned to see a middle-aged man moving rapidly towards her, followed by an attractive young woman. When the man reached her, he threw his arms out wide and gathered her into a warm embrace without saying a word. Releasing her, he prised her suitcase from her grip and propelled her away from the disappointed porters.

‘Faye, I’m Fred Asante – your Uncle Fred,’ he said, his voice loud over the cacophony. Gesturing at the young woman behind him who was smiling at her excitedly, he went on. ‘This is my daughter Amma. Let’s get you away from this commotion – the car is over here.’

The three of them walked down a flight of steps towards the car park and Uncle Fred briskly led the way to the car. Waving away some of the more optimistic porters who were still in hot pursuit, he opened the boot of the shiny 4x4 and manoeuvred her heavy suitcase inside with a short grunt before locking the boot carefully and coming round to open the car doors.

‘In you get, ladies,’ he said, opening the front door for Faye, who slid in gratefully, relieved to escape from the enthusiastic pack of porters still hanging around the car. Amma clambered into the back as her father settled himself into the driving seat before driving off slowly, carefully avoiding both the pedestrians and the porters milling around the newly arrived passengers.

Amma leaned forward from her seat in the back and rested her arm on the back of Faye’s seat, almost bouncing with excitement. ‘Did you have a good flight? We phoned from home to check if you would be on time but they told us that the plane had been delayed.’

Faye turned slightly to get a better view of the other girl. Amma looked remarkably like her father, with round brown eyes and soft full cheeks. She was wearing a long loose-fitting cotton shift dress with thin straps that accentuated a full bosom. Her sparkling white teeth glittered in the semi-darkness as she chattered on non-stop.

‘Oh Amma!’ her father protested after she had rattled through about ten questions without pausing long enough for Faye to answer. ‘Give the poor girl a chance to get a word in.’ He took his eyes off the road and glanced quickly in Faye’s direction. ‘Forgive her,’ he said apologetically, ‘she’s a terrible chatterbox.’

Ignoring his daughter’s indignant cry of protest, he gave Faye another quick glance.

‘My goodness, Faye,’ he said, a note of emotion creeping into his voice. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were a small child. We are so happy to have you here with us – the rest of the family are waiting anxiously to meet you.’

The warmth of the welcome she had received eased the anxiety that had begun to creep up on her as she left the airport terminal, and she settled comfortably into her seat, looking around her with interest.

With the windows rolled up and the powerful air conditioning blasting through the car, it was easy to forget the humidity outside. As they drove, mini buses crammed with people going home from work drove past them at full speed. The noise of car horns filled the night air as yellow and white taxis weaved in and out of their lanes, intent on picking up and depositing passengers and arrogantly dismissive of any other vehicles.

‘Oh my God… Uncle Fred!’ Faye exclaimed, wincing as she watched a taxi narrowly avoid a collision with a small van. ‘How on earth do you manage to drive here and stay in one piece?’

Uncle Fred nodded. His expression was grim and he didn’t take his eyes off the road for a second. ‘These roads can be a death trap if you’re not careful, Faye. I wouldn’t suggest that you try and drive while you are here – between Amma, Rocky and I, you’ll have plenty of people to take you around.’

At Faye’s enquiring look, Amma jumped in. ‘Rocky’s my older brother,’ she explained. ‘Actually his name is Richard but his friends started calling him Rocky years ago because he was really into boxing at one time. Even though he gave it up a long time ago, the nickname stuck and it’s what everyone calls him.’

Faye smiled at Amma’s detailed explanation and said firmly. ‘I’ve got no intention of driving while I’m in Ghana, Uncle Fred. Apart from the fact that I’m not used to driving on the right hand side of the road, I don’t think I would last three minutes against these taxi drivers!’

As they drew up to a particularly busy roundabout, Amma pointed in the direction of one of the exits, where cars could be seen slowing inching along, bumper to bumper.

‘That area over there is called Osu,’ she said. ‘We live in the centre of Accra and there are loads of pubs and nightclubs nearby. I’ll make sure we go out a lot while you’re here, Faye.’ Her father rolled his eyes and Amma ruffled his hair affectionately as he shook his head in resignation.

‘Actually, that particular road is known as Oxford Street, just like the one in London,’ he said. ‘And I can tell you that it’s probably just as busy!’

They drove on through busy intersections and speeding traffic until finally they emerged into a quieter, more residential part of the city. The roads were darker and Faye could see the silhouettes of large houses behind high walls and securely locked gates, some of which carried signs with drawings of ferocious-looking dogs ready to tear any intruder into shreds.

‘What’s this part of Accra called?’ Faye asked curiously.

Uncle Fred answered before Amma could speak. ‘It’s called Labone. In fact, we’re almost home.’

Just as he finished speaking, he turned sharply into a short driveway and stopped the car in front of a pair of black iron gates. He gave a short blast of the car horn and seconds later the gates opened a little way and a dark head emerged and stared at the car.

‘Togo, open the gate!’ Uncle Fred shouted through his window. As Togo continued to examine the car without making any attempt to move, the older man pressed on his horn again, glaring at Togo with growing impatience.

Slowly Togo retreated and moments later threw back the gates, peering openly into the car at Faye as they drove inside. Uncle Fred parked under a corrugated steel canopy at the side of the house and came round to Faye’s side to help her down. Amma slid out of the back and called Togo over to help with the suitcase.

Shuffling forward slowly, he made his way towards them. Staring at Faye, he raised his hand to his head in a brief salute and bared his teeth in a wide grin.

‘Akwaaba, madam,’ he said. ‘You are welcome.’

Faye watched with amusement as he hoisted her suitcase up on top his head and shuffled off in well-worn rubber sandals towards the back of the house, his skinny legs protruding from wide shorts.

Amma followed her gaze, smiling with amusement as they watched him amble away. ‘Togo’s our gardeners-lash-security-guard-slash-general-handyman. He’s been with us for years and knows just about everything that goes on in Labone. One or two of our neighbours have been burgled in the past, but it’s never happened to us. Someone told my mother that it’s because even the thieves in the area have heard about him and are too frightened to risk it.’

‘It sounds to me as though you’ve got a perfect one man neighbourhood watch scheme going on here,’ Faye giggled and they walked together towards the house.

They were still laughing when suddenly the front door was thrown wide open and a squealing figure came hurtling out, rooting them to the spot. As it reached where they stood, Faye had a momentary impression of a tall woman with high jutting cheekbones before she was crushed in a suffocating embrace. Focusing hard on trying to breathe, it was a few moments before she realised that the woman was weeping and laughing at the same time.

Just as suddenly, she was thrust back and found herself looking up into the woman’s face. Faye gazed fixedly at the woman and felt the brief flicker of a long buried memory. The caramel-coloured eyes and slightly copper-coloured skin of the older woman brought with them a sense of déjà vu and for a minute no one spoke.

Then, wiping the tears away from her cheeks with an impatient hand, the woman spoke, her voice soft.

‘My lord, I never thought I would see this day!’ She stroked Faye’s cheek gently and suddenly smiled. Despite the evening shadow, it was as though the sun had burst through the clouds.

‘Faye, my dearest child, I’m so happy to see you at last! Your mother and I were like sisters.’ Then suddenly her tone changed as she slapped at her forearm. ‘Come on, girls – let’s go in before the mosquitoes get us!’

Amma went ahead and her mother wrapped an arm around Faye and walked her quickly into the house.

‘Welcome to our home,’ she said as they entered a large hallway with high ceilings and a cool terrazzo floor. Moving ahead, she opened a side door and ushered Faye into what was clearly the living room.

The high walls of the room were painted white and decorated with large vibrant watercolours that reminded Faye of the painting in her bedroom. A long brown leather couch took up almost the length of one wall while a number of armchairs of soft matching leather were turned towards a large plasma TV. A profusion of brightly coloured flowers had been beautifully arranged in patterned ceramic vases all around the room, giving off a sweet fragrance. Two large fans suspended from the ceiling spun round quietly, creating an atmosphere of coolness and serenity.

Faye sat down in one of the armchairs, curling her legs into the soft leather, and sighed with pleasure.

‘What a beautiful room, Mrs Asante,’ she said, looking around the room with unconcealed admiration.

‘Call me Auntie Amelia, my dear,’ was the instant reply. Amma’s mother slipped off her embroidered sandals and settled herself in the chair next to Faye, barely taking her eyes off her.

Amma remained standing. ‘Faye, what would you like to drink?’ she asked in her distinctive breathless voice. Without waiting for an answer, she rattled on. ‘Martha’s in the kitchen – I’ll ask her to bring some drinks in so you can choose what you like.’

With that she left the room, almost bumping into her father who was just walking through the door. Within what seemed like a few seconds, Amma was back, sounding even more breathless than before.

‘Martha’s on her way,’ she announced, and crossed the room to sit next to her father on the long leather sofa. ‘By the way, Mama, Martha said that Rocky just phoned to say that he’d left the office and should be home soon.’

Her mother shook her head in resignation. ‘Why am I not surprised that he was at the office? Never mind the fact that today is Saturday.’

Amma grinned. ‘You know he would work eight days a week, if it was possible.’

From where she sat, and despite their age and gender difference, the resemblance between Amma and her father was striking. Although her colouring was exactly like her mother’s, she had clearly inherited Uncle Fred’s shorter and more rounded frame.

‘Fred!’ Auntie Amelia exclaimed, her eyes back on Faye. ‘Can you believe how much she looks like Annie?’

Faye shifted uncomfortably under the open scrutiny. Her own memories of her mother had largely faded over time. When she was much younger, she had spent hours poring over the few photographs she had of her, but had never seen any particular resemblance between her own childish features and her mother’s graceful adult beauty. It had been years since she had looked at the old photographs but now, hearing Auntie Amelia’s words, she felt a renewed curiosity about the woman who had given her life.

Before she could ask any questions, the door opened and a middle-aged woman entered carrying a tray laid out with several bottles. The drinks had clearly been well chilled and tiny droplets of water ran down the sides of the thick glass. The woman was plump and her pale blue polyester dress strained gently against her generous curves as she bent and placed the drinks on the glass-topped centre table.

‘Faye, this is Martha,’ Auntie Amelia said, standing up and walking over to the table. ‘Martha is our housekeeper and has been a member of our family for many years.’

Martha smiled warmly at Faye, her smooth round cheeks impervious to any wrinkles. Her voice was pleasant and she spoke in strongly accented English. ‘Welcome home. I hope you will enjoy being with us.’

She left the room and returned with a tray of glasses, briskly opened the bottles and served the drinks. After setting the bottles and glasses carefully on the smaller side tables, she picked up the empty trays and left the room.

Uncle Fred raised his glass and waited for his wife and daughter to follow suit.

‘Here’s to you, Faye, and to a wonderful visit back home.’ His voice was solemn, but his twinkling eyes belied the serious tone.

Everyone dutifully took a sip of their drinks. Faye took a long gulp of the chilled Coke in her glass and then almost spluttered as the living room door opened again and one of the most handsome men she had ever seen walked in.

She stared wordlessly as the tall, muscular man greeted Uncle Fred and kissed Auntie Amelia on both cheeks before turning to her. Coughing to clear her suddenly constricted throat, she looked up into a pair of caramel-coloured eyes that were identical to Auntie Amelia’s. But, although he had the same high cheekbones and dark-copper colouring of his beautiful mother, Rocky Asante’s muscular frame and closely-cropped hair removed any trace of femininity from his appearance. He was dressed in a dark suit with a silk tie of a swirling pale gold design on a black background. His white shirt, unfastened at the neck, still looked crisp and pristine, giving no hint of the heat and humidity outside.

Staring blankly at the hand he had extended towards her, she dimly realised that she was being introduced and forced herself to concentrate on what Auntie Amelia was saying. She stuck a hesitant hand out to shake his, the unexpected strength of his grip once again throwing her mind off track.

‘I’m Rocky,’ he said coolly and with a brief smile. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last – my parents have been so excited since they heard you were coming,’ he added.

Not as excited as I am now... Swallowing hard, Faye stared up into his eyes, struggling for something to say and unaware that her hand still remained in his. Oblivious to the suddenly knowing glance exchanged between the two elder Asantes, neither Rocky nor Faye moved for several moments. Then, releasing her hand abruptly, Rocky turned to his sister, who had been watching them with great interest.

‘Hi,’ he said in greeting, gently swatting the top of her head. ‘What’s up?’

Without waiting for an answer, he picked up Amma’s glass and took a quick sip of her drink before she could protest. He slipped off his jacket and sat next to her on the couch, one long leg casually crossed over the other knee, exposing dark socks and highly polished black shoes. Faye tried desperately not to stare but, despite her best intentions, her eyes kept straying back in his direction. Without the jacket, the breadth of his shoulders could be clearly seen and, as he further loosened his tie, the strong muscles in his upper arms pressed gently against the crisp cotton shirtsleeves.

Amma glared at her brother and picked up her drink hastily before he made any further inroads into it.

‘By the way, Clarissa’s called me about ten times today,’ she said with a wicked smile, ignoring his sudden frown. ‘She said she couldn’t get through to your phone and to remind you that that her new commercial is going to be on TV tomorrow night, so don’t miss it.’

Auntie Amelia leaned forward, her eyes widening with interest. ‘Oh really, how exciting! Rocky, what will she be advertising?’

Rocky shrugged and ran his hand over his head. With a look of complete innocence that almost had Faye melting into the floor, he smiled at his mother disarmingly.

‘Ma, you’ve got me there.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s probably some hair product or cosmetic or something – I honestly can’t remember.’

His mother snorted, disgusted by his obvious lack of interest in the subject. Turning to Faye, who had been listening intently to the exchange, she quickly explained.

‘Clarissa is Rocky’s girlfriend. She’s a beautiful girl – she won the Miss Ghana beauty competition a few years ago. She’s quite well known and is now an actress. She does quite a bit of modelling too, doesn’t she, Rocky?’

Amma butted in before he could speak. ‘I think you’re a little behind the times there, Mama. She and Rocky broke up almost a month ago.’

‘Really?’ Auntie Amelia stared at her son in surprise. ‘But Rocky, why…?’

Uncle Fred cleared his throat loudly, taking pity on his son, who was glaring angrily at his unrepentant sister, and suggested that Faye might want to freshen up before dinner.

Auntie Amelia rose gracefully to her feet and took Faye’s hand. ‘Come, my dear, I’ll show you to your room.’ Turning to her daughter, she went on. ‘Amma, let Martha know we’ll be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes.’

She led Faye out of the living room and up a broad flight of terrazzo stone steps. As she climbed the stairs, Faye admired the ebony-framed family photos hanging on the cream-coloured wall, most of which featured the Asante children. She smiled at one particular picture that showed a young Rocky leaning against a tree with Amma pulling on his arm. A huge portrait of a smiling chubby-faced Amma, aged around five, held pride of place at the top of the staircase.

When they reached the landing, Auntie Amelia gestured to her right. ‘Our room is over there; if you need anything during the night, just come and look for me.’

They turned left and walked past three doors. Explaining that they led to Amma and Rocky’s rooms and their shared bathroom, Auntie Amelia led Faye to the end of the passageway and opened another door.

‘This is our guest room,’ she said as Faye followed her into a large room with a huge bed in the centre covered by a thin white mosquito net draped over tall wooden posts at each corner of the bed. A cotton bedspread in a colourful tie-dye fabric and matching long curtains threw a cheerful glow against the white walls. The large windows, covered with mosquito netting, were fitted with slanted louvre panes, which had been left open wide enough to let through a cool breeze. There was an air conditioning unit in the far wall away from the bed, and two large built-in wardrobes and a matching dressing table and chair took up the right side of the room.

Auntie Amelia opened a door to the left of the bed and switched on the light. ‘This is your private bathroom.’ Pushing back a translucent white shower curtain, she quickly demonstrated how the shower unit worked and led the way back into the main room where Faye’s suitcase had been deposited near the bed, along with her jacket and handbag. Suddenly desperate for a long cool shower, Faye closed the door behind her departing hostess and stripped off her clothes.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a sleeveless white linen shift dress, Faye went back down, sneaking a quick look at the family photographs as she came down the stairs. She walked quickly into the living room and collided with Rocky who had clearly been on his way out.

‘Oh, sorry!’ she exclaimed, stepping back in confusion. Instinctively, he reached out and held her arm to prevent her from falling. As he continued to hold on to her, she looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height. At five feet and seven inches, she was fairly tall and yet she barely reached his shoulder. He gently released her arm and inclined his head slightly in apology.

‘I’m sorry, Faye,’ he said, his tone formal. ‘It’s my fault – I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

Forcing herself to tear her eyes away from his perfect features, Faye moved towards the sofa and sat down, conscious of his gaze following her. He had turned back into the room and watched her as she settled herself into the cushions.

‘I was just on my way to get a cold drink from the kitchen,’ he said. ‘Can I get you one while you’re waiting? I’m sure my parents will be down soon, although I can bet you Amma will be late.’ He grinned as he said it and, once again, his smile threw her into a state of confusion.

‘No, thank you,’ she stammered shyly. Frustrated at feeling so tongue-tied, she frantically cast around for something to say. The silence lengthened as Rocky abandoned his mission and sat in the armchair across from her. He had changed out of his suit into a sports shirt and a pair of cotton trousers and he sat back looking relaxed.

I don’t know what Clarissa looks like, Faye thought as her eyes strayed in his direction once again, but with that face and body, he should be a model. A picture of him posing shirtless suddenly flashed through her mind.

Rocky looked up suddenly and their eyes locked. For a moment no one spoke.

‘So what do you do for a living?’ Faye blurted out, flustered by the quizzical expression in his eyes.

‘I work for an investment bank here in Accra. It’s actually the Ghanaian branch of a British bank,’ Rocky replied easily. ‘I’ve been with them for a few years now.’

She nodded, trying – and failing – to look impressed. He laughed, clearly not offended. ‘Yes, I know. Banking is not exactly the sexiest job in the world, is it? Aren’t we all supposed to be heartless, money-sucking leeches?’

She tried to pretend the thought hadn’t crossed her mind and smiled at him instead.

‘Well, yes, if you were to believe all the horror stories about what banks have been up to. But I suppose it isn’t fair to tar everyone with the same brush.’

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked curiously at her, causing her heart to flip over again. Get a grip, Faye!

‘My father says you haven’t been back to Ghana since you were five.’ It was less a question than a statement and Faye nodded, feeling faint stirrings of anxiety at her cultural credentials being called into question again.

His full sculpted lips curved into a quizzical smile and she reluctantly forced her eyes away and tried to concentrate on his words. ‘It must feel very strange to be back here; I’m sure you can’t remember very much about the country.’

‘To be honest, I never really thought very much about Ghana – I suppose because both my father and my brother are in England, there was never that urgency to find out more about the country.’ She hesitated and then added quietly. ‘I think losing my mother was so hard for my father that he found it too painful to come back home that often. Also, his parents died when he was young and without any grandparents demanding to see us, there was really no real pressure on him to keep bringing us home.’

Rocky nodded, his expression indicating that he understood. He was about to speak when his parents entered the room.

‘Oh good, you’re both ready for dinner,’ Auntie Amelia said briskly as she bustled forward towards Faye. She had changed into a long mustard coloured caftan with gold embroidery around the curved neckline. She took Faye’s hand and helped her up. ‘Dinner’s ready so let’s go in and get started. Amma will just have to join us when she finally comes down.’

Uncle Fred and Rocky followed as Auntie Amelia led Faye across the hallway and into a dining room with high ceilings, dominated by a huge mirror with an ornate gold frame hanging on the far wall. A polished teak dining table had been set with white cotton place mats and gleaming white crockery and Faye was ushered to the chair next to Uncle Fred, who sat down at the head of the table.

Looking up, she found herself staring straight at Rocky who had taken his place directly opposite her. Oh great, she groaned inwardly. How am I supposed to eat with him sitting right in front of me!

Amma’s sudden arrival gave Faye a moment to compose herself and by the time the younger girl had slipped into the chair next to her, Faye was able to smile and compliment her on the brightly coloured traditional Ghanaian dress she was wearing.

‘Thanks,’ Amma replied, and her voice sounded even more breathless than usual after her rushed entry. ‘My friend Baaba made it – she’s a fantastic designer.’

Lifting the heavy cut-glass water pitcher from the centre of the table, she filled Faye’s glass with ice-cold water before filling her own and passing the jug to her mother.

‘Actually she sells a whole range of her clothes in Mama’s shop – my mother has a boutique in town,’ she rattled on, barely pausing for breath. ‘If you really like this dress, we could go over to the shop on Monday and you can get one for yourself.’

Martha entered the room carrying a tray laden with steaming serving dishes piled high with food. She set them down carefully on woven cane place mats in the centre of the table and went back to the kitchen. Returning with more dishes, she arranged the serving spoons next to them and smiling sweetly at Faye, wished them all a good meal before leaving the room, this time closing the door behind her.

Faye looked at the mouth-watering spread in front of her. Not having eaten since the meal on the plane, she eyed the deliciously herbed tender chicken pieces, the steaming white rice, the bowl of rich red spiced tomato gravy and piping hot vegetables laid out on the table with appreciation.

Auntie Amelia passed the dishes round and the clinking of cutlery and the whirring of the ceiling fan were the only noises to be heard in the room until Amma finally leaned back with a sigh.

‘That was delicious! I can’t believe I ate so much; I’m supposed to be on a diet,’ she groaned and looked at Faye enviously. ‘Faye, you’re so lucky that you’re tall and slim – do you exercise a lot?’

Faye snorted with laughter, nibbling at the remains of a piece of chicken she had picked up from her plate. ‘Me! Exercise? Okay, to be fair, I did try going to the gym with my best friend Caroline for a while. But it was all too much effort for me and I was really glad when she got fed up and stopped after three weeks.’

Uncle Fred finished the generous portion of food his wife had heaped on his plate and wiped his mouth with a white linen table napkin. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about your weight, Faye. You have a lovely figure.’

He turned to Rocky who was briskly forking the last of his rice into his mouth, and added mischievously, ‘Doesn’t she, son?’

Rocky almost choked on his last mouthful. His mother hid a smile behind her hand while Amma giggled openly. Faye looked across at him, a challenging expression in her eyes, and he wiped his mouth slowly and stared straight back at her.

‘Yes, Dad,’ he said softly. ‘She’s got a great figure.’

Faye’s eyes dropped in confusion and she felt a powerful surge of heat rise up into her face and all the way to her hairline, causing her scalp to prickle. Concentrating fiercely on slowly removing the last succulent piece of chicken from the bone, she only dared to look up again when Martha came back into the dining room to clear the table.

Amma rose and helped to stack the used dishes. Waving away Faye’s offer to help, she carried the plates to the kitchen while Martha collected the empty serving dishes before following her out of the room. Amma returned after a couple of minutes and took her seat at the dining table.

‘You look tired, Faye.’ She peered at their guest with concern. ‘I don’t suppose you feel like going out anywhere this evening?’

Her mother gave a tut of annoyance and shot an impatient glare at her daughter. ‘Amma, of course she doesn’t feel like going out! She must be exhausted after the long flight.’

She turned to look at Faye, her voice reassuring. ‘Martha is bringing some dessert in shortly and then you should get some rest. When we’ve finished dinner, you can call your father to let him know you’ve arrived safely?’

Faye nodded in agreement. Now that she had eaten, she was beginning to feel the effects of the day’s events. She perked up slightly as Martha come back in, this time carrying a long platter, which she laid on the table with a flourish. Slices of golden yellow pineapple had been carefully arranged on the white platter and garnished with tiny sprigs of mint.

Faye gasped with delight as she tasted a piece of the juicy fruit. ‘Mmm...! Auntie Amelia, this pineapple is fabulous – I’ve never tasted anything so sweet!’ Her expression was one of pure rapture as she leaned back with her eyes almost closed, savouring the delicious fruit.

Rocky smiled at her uninhibited enthusiasm. Swiftly disposing of two slices of pineapple, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and leant back in his chair.

‘You probably won’t remember eating these when you were a child but our pineapples are among the best in the world,’ he said. ‘This particular variety is particularly sweet and comes from Cape Coast – that’s further west along the coast from Accra.’

He went on, his tone casual. ‘If you have some free time while you’re here, I can take you to see Cape Coast – they have some beautiful beaches there.’

Faye nodded dumbly, her appetite suddenly vanishing as butterflies took flight in her stomach at the thought of going out anywhere with him. She forced herself to eat her last piece of pineapple, now barely tasting its tangy sweetness.

The dessert was quickly consumed and when everyone had finished eating, Auntie Amelia ushered Faye into the study, another large room off the hallway and left her alone to phone her family. After a few minutes of conversation with her father and William, she exchanged a few words with Lottie and went back into the living room to find the older couple and Amma watching a film on TV.

‘Rocky sends his apologies, but he had to leave,’ Auntie Amelia said, patting the seat beside her in invitation. Faye sat down next to the older woman and burrowed into the soft leather of the couch. ‘He has an appointment this evening with some business clients who are leaving Ghana tomorrow.’

Faye suppressed an unexpected pang of disappointment and watched the TV with the family for a few minutes, fascinated by the local drama involving a young village girl promised to the gods for a crime committed by her ancestors. But, despite herself, she soon found her eyelids drooping.

Uncle Fred nudged Auntie Amelia, who had been watching the film with barely concealed irritation at the storyline. His wife took one look at her tired guest and gathered her up from the couch.

‘Look at me getting caught up in this foolish film when you are so exhausted!’ she tutted in apology. After wishing Uncle Fred and Amma a good night, Faye followed as Auntie Amelia led the way to her room.

After her hostess had turned on the air conditioning unit and checked that fresh towels had been placed in the bathroom, she kissed Faye goodnight and hugged her. Once again her eyes moistened as she looked intently at the younger woman, and she shook her head from side to side as if she still could not believe what she was seeing. ‘My dear, I am so happy to have you here with us at last.’ Her voice softened. ‘In a way, it’s also like having Annie back again.’

Giving Faye a final hug, she released her and walked towards to the door. She turned back and added, ‘If I know your father, I’m sure you are a regular church-goer?’

At Faye’s rueful nod, she smiled. ‘Uncle Fred and I go to the eight-thirty Mass and you’re more than welcome to join us. But, if you’re feeling tired tomorrow morning, just stay in bed – you can always go another time.’

With a final ‘goodnight’, she left the room and Faye quickly brushed her teeth and changed into a cotton T-shirt. Shivering slightly at the cool air blasting from the air conditioner, she quickly climbed under the mosquito net into the large welcoming bed. Her last conscious thought as she snuggled under the covers was of a pair of caramel-coloured eyes looking into hers – and they didn’t belong to Auntie Amelia.