20

Cultural Triumphs

The cold November wind stung Faye’s exposed face, bringing tears to her eyes as she ducked her head to avoid the impact of another gust. She thrust her gloved hands into her pockets and trudged up the short hill leading to Caroline’s flat. Although it was only seven o’clock, the short day had given way to darkness and the streetlights provided the only lighting on the gloomy street.

The chilly winter evening made the short distance from the tube station to her friend’s house seem like miles, and once again she cursed her car for leaving her at the mercy of public transport and the elements. As though in retribution for her absence, her Fiesta had refused point blank to cooperate when she tried to start the engine on her return home and she had finally given up in disgust, phoning the AA to have it towed to the local garage.

Arriving at Caroline’s block, she pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later, the door opened and Caroline charged her with a loud shriek.

‘Oh, Faye! I’ve missed you so much!’ She hugged Faye so hard she almost knocked her over. Grinning at her friend’s euphoric reception, Faye detached herself gently, pushing Caroline back inside the building to escape the cold.

‘I’ve missed you too, Caro,’ she said. She slipped out of her bulky winter coat and, after hugging her friend excitedly, stepped back and rubbed her cold hands together.

‘Quick, give me a drink. It’s freezing out there!’ She turned and scooted up the steep flight of stairs leading to Caroline and Marcus’s flat. Once inside the warm flat, she looked around the familiar living room in bemusement.

‘I can’t believe it’s only four weeks since I was last in here. It feels like a lifetime ago!’

Caroline tossed Faye’s coat onto the coat rack before walking over to the sideboard where the drinks were kept. Her face was pink with excitement and strands of her red hair, which had been tucked up into a bun, now stuck out in all directions. Faye watched her best friend affectionately as she poured red wine into a huge wine glass.

‘You’re not driving tonight, so you might as well drink all you want,’ Caroline said, handing the glass to Faye. ‘Marcus will be home shortly and we can have dinner as soon as he gets here.’

Faye took a large gulp of the wine and closed her eyes in bliss.

‘Oh, and Dermot will probably stop by since I told him you’d be here tonight,’ Caroline added as she headed for the kitchen. ‘Let me just check quickly that I haven’t burned the salmon. Sit down and get ready to tell me everything!’

Faye slipped off her short winter boots and stretched out on the coffee-coloured leather sofa before taking another sip of her wine. Putting the glass down carefully, she stared at the ceiling, trying to stop her mind from turning back to the thoughts of Rocky that, try as she might, she had not succeeded in banishing since her arrival back in London. Although she had talked at length about her trip and answered the multitude of questions her father, William and Lottie had posed, apart from the occasional casual reference to Amma’s brother, she had managed to avoid mentioning Rocky’s name. It had been less easy to banish his face from her mind, however, or the crushing pain of his rejection.

‘So, who is he?’ Caroline asked with unerring accuracy. Walking back quietly into the room, she was immediately struck by the sad expression on her friend’s face as Faye, unaware that she was being observed, lay motionless on the sofa.

‘Who’s who?’ Faye parried, unwilling to revisit the raw emotions that discussing Rocky was going to involve. For that evening, all she wanted to do was to bask in the love and comfort of her friends and try to forget her broken heart.

For a moment Caroline looked as though she was going to press the point, but one look at Faye’s stubborn expression told her that any further questioning along that line would prove useless. Instead, she contented herself with pouring a small glass of wine for herself and settled into the armchair across from the couch.

‘Okay, I won’t push it…’ She paused and took a sip of her wine, then added, ‘for now. So how was Ghana, then?’ She looked at Faye speculatively. ‘You look…’ she hesitated, ‘really well. I mean you look a bit tired but, you know, glowing as well...’ She ground to a halt and then giggled. ‘You wouldn’t believe I write scripts for TV would you, judging by that sentence?’

The sound of a key in the lock cut short Faye’s reply and she scrambled off the sofa to launch herself at Marcus as he walked in.

‘Hey, stranger!’ He dropped his briefcase and hugged her. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ he grinned. ‘If I have to go clothes shopping with Caro one more time, I’ll shoot myself!’

Ruffling his indignant partner’s hair affectionately, he kissed her freckled nose and turned back to look at Faye.

‘Don’t move,’ he ordered. ‘Let me hang my coat up and take a good look at what Ghana’s done to you.’

Hanging his coat neatly on the rack, he turned and peered at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. Marcus was as tall and lean as Caroline was small and round. Although he was only thirty, his fair hair was already thinning and he stubbornly refused to change his old-fashioned glasses for more modern frames, or even contact lenses. His face had a rumpled, slept-in quality that belied the sharpness of a brain which looked destined to take him into the ranks of the hedge fund titans dominating the financial sector.

‘You’ve definitely got a tan,’ he pronounced as he eyed Faye critically. ‘Apart from that, you don’t look any the worse for wear,’ he said. ‘Although you might want to try sleeping a bit more – I distinctly see some little shadows under those gorgeous eyes,’ he teased.

Faye grimaced and punched him lightly on the shoulder before returning to the sofa, her long legs outstretched.

‘You’d stay awake all night too if you had to catch up on almost a month of filing,’ she retorted. ‘The wretched temp that was supposed to cover for me walked out after two weeks – not that I blame her, knowing what my boss is like. But, did she have to leave me all the filing?’

Caroline smiled in sympathy and poured some more wine into Faye’s glass while waiting for Marcus to reappear from the bathroom, where he had gone to wash his hands.

‘Okay, dinner’s ready.’ She looked at the two of them in enquiry. ‘Shall we start? I don’t know what time Dermot’s planning to get here – you know what he’s like.’

‘Well, I’m starving,’ Faye declared, jumping off the sofa. ‘Let’s go ahead and he can join us when he arrives.’ Seizing her wine glass, she led the way to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Marcus opened another bottle of wine and dutifully carried the basket of sliced baguettes to the table while Caroline dished up the baked salmon, pasta and mixed salad.

Faye eyed the serving dishes on the table gleefully, her mouth watering at the contents of the huge bowl.

‘Ooh, I’ve missed eating pasta,’ she exclaimed happily. ‘This looks great. Can I start?’

Marcus shook his head indulgently as he watched her spooning a heap of the steaming pappardelle onto her plate. ‘Well, some things never change. How on earth did you manage in Ghana?’

Faye swallowed before replying. ‘Well, believe it or not, I didn’t actually notice after a while,’ she said honestly. ‘I really got into eating all the local food, even pigfoot! Caro, can you imagine?’

Caroline laughed, spooning a modest portion of the thick, flat ribbons of garlic pasta onto her plate. ‘This stuff is incredibly fattening,’ she said regretfully as she stabbed at her food. ‘I’m supposed to be on a diet.’

Faye took a long sip of her wine and looked enquiringly at the other girl. ‘Is this the same Caroline who said “Read my lips; no more diets. E-ver”?’

Caroline blushed. ‘I know, I know! But I’m not walking down the aisle looking like a butterball.’

Faye continued chewing for a moment before the import of her friend’s words hit her. With a shriek of astonishment, she stared in disbelief at Caroline’s flushed face.

‘You’ve set a date!’ she cried. Caroline nodded, beaming happily, while Marcus raised his wine glass with a broad grin. ‘Yes, that’s what we wanted to tell you this evening. We’re getting married on April fifteenth. I know the weather might still be a bit chilly, but we didn’t want to put it off any longer.’

Faye jumped up from the table and rushed over to Caroline, enveloping her in a suffocating hug. Marcus stood up and opened his arms for a hug, stooping low for her to kiss his flushed cheeks. The sound of the doorbell cut through the general hilarity and Caroline sped downstairs to let Dermot in. The sound of his heavy boots clumping up the stairs preceded his arrival into the flat and within seconds he had swept Faye off her feet.

‘Welcome back, my beautiful Nubian princess!’ He swung her round and deposited her back on the ground, none too gently. ‘Life has been horribly boring without you.’

Tossing his woolly hat onto the ancient rocking chair, he shrugged off his thick wool jacket and turned to the dining table, rubbing his hands purposefully.

‘Okay, sister mine, what culinary delights have you fetched up for us tonight?’ He peered into the serving dishes. ‘I didn’t need to ask, did I, since Faye’s here,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Of course it’s pasta.’

He sat down across the table from Faye and served himself, scooping liberal helpings of the salmon and garlicky pasta onto his plate while Marcus poured him a glass of wine.

‘Never mind the food, Dermot,’ Faye said impatiently. ‘Have you heard their news or I am the only one who didn’t know?’

Dermot looked at her in silent enquiry, his mouth full. She looked back at him with exaggerated patience while he continued chewing.

‘Dermot!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Have you heard that they have set a date for their wedding?’ She said the words slowly and distinctly as though she was speaking to a child.

‘Yes, I have,’ he said mildly, taking a sip of his wine. ‘And very good news it is too. I’ve told them the band will play for them for free,’ he added magnanimously, missing the look of dread his sister and her fiancé exchanged.

Caroline swiftly changed the subject. ‘Faye, you’ll be my bridesmaid, of course,’ she said firmly.

‘Only if you promise not to make me wear one of those awful frilly dresses,’ was the reply.

Faye finished the remains of her salmon and pasta and took another sip of her wine, feeling distinctly light-headed. She smiled dreamily at her friends, listening to their familiar banter as Dermot ate his way through most of the food on the table. When even he had declared himself full, she stood up and helped Caroline carry the used plates across the kitchen to the dishwasher.

‘So what finally brought on the wedding date?’ she asked in a low voice as she scraped the remnants of the food off the dishes. Caroline giggled and glanced furtively across to where the two men were engaged in a loud discussion about the rugby match that had taken place the night before. Satisfied that they couldn’t hear, she turned back to Faye.

‘I was four days late last month and I was terrified that I was pregnant,’ she whispered. ‘Marcus went ballistic when I told him. You should have heard him.’ She bit back the giggles that threatened to erupt. ‘He just stood there staring at me, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, ‘No one in my family has ever been born out of wedlock and I’m not breaking that tradition now!’

Faye burst into giggles and Caroline, unable to hold hers back, joined in. Marcus and Dermot stopped talking and looked over in amazement at the two of them clutching their sides and literally weeping with laughter. The two men looked at each other, shook their heads in unison at the inexplicable behaviour of women, and carried on with their conversation.

Two hours later, Faye was yawning widely. ‘Sorry, guys, I think I’m still suffering from jet lag.’

Caroline was sitting on the carpet, propped up against Marcus’s knees. She sounded sceptical as she looked across to where Faye and Dermot had occupied the length of the sofa, their heads resting at opposite ends. ‘I thought you said Ghana is on the same time zone as us. How can you have jet lag?’

‘I can, if I say I can,’ Faye retorted, her head beginning to buzz from the multiple glasses of red wine she had consumed. Caroline looked meaningfully at Dermot, who rose with a sigh and dragged Faye to her feet.

‘Come on, my princess,’ he said resignedly. ‘Since your chariot is out of commission, I’ll drive you home.’

Faye looked at him, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. ‘You’ve got a car?’

‘I’ll have you know that thanks to all the gigs we’ve been getting this year, I’m now the proud owner of a nicely souped up Golf.’ He grabbed his hat from the rocking chair and jammed it down over his unruly curls, then held out his arm to support her.

Caroline reached up for Faye’s winter coat and handed it over to her.

‘Call me tomorrow,’ she instructed, walking with her to the front door and with Marcus close behind. ‘We’ve got loads of catching up to do, not to mention shopping!’

Faye nodded and yawned again. Giving them a final hug, she stumbled down the stairs and followed Dermot outside to his car. Coming from the warmth of the house, the cold air cut like a knife, shaking off the drowsiness that threatened to engulf her. Shivering violently, she waited impatiently for Dermot to open the door, sliding into the car as soon as he released the lock.

‘I cannot believe how cold it is,’ she moaned, rubbing her hands together. ‘Only a few days ago, I was in shorts and a T-shirt and I still felt hot!’

His teeth chattering, Dermot nodded and concentrated on demisting the windscreen before slowly pulling out into the road. The heater soon warmed the interior of the car and they were able to speak normally again.

‘So, did you meet any hot guys in Ghana?’ Dermot glanced over at her with a teasing grin. ‘No holiday romance or anything?’

Faye bit her lip, unnerved by the unexpected question. ‘I was only there for three weeks, for goodness’ sake. Of course not!’ she said shortly, and turned her head to look out of the window.

Dermot raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the abrupt reply. He said nothing further about it and changed the subject to talk about the bargain price he had negotiated for his new car. When they reached her house, Faye stumbled out, shivering once more as the cold hit her.

Dermot leaned out the window to say goodbye, his expression suddenly serious. ‘I’m glad you’re back, even if I’m not too sure it’s in one piece,’ he said quietly. ‘Whoever the bastard is, I hope he realises what he’s missing.’

Blowing her a kiss, he drove off, leaving her staring in astonishment at the disappearing tail lights of his car.

Waking up the next day with a head heavy from the effects of the red wine and a heart heavy from restless dreams of Rocky, Faye spent the morning finally unpacking the suitcase she had consigned to the bottom of her wardrobe on her return. Slowly unfolding the lightweight clothing, she mentally relived the events that had taken place with each outfit worn, before sorting out what needed washing, and packing the rest into the heavy trunk she used to store her summer clothes. By the time she had finished, the gold and bead bracelet – which had yet to leave her wrist – was the only physical reminder left of her trip.

Just before midday, she trudged down to the local garage to check on the state of her car, sighing in frustration as the mechanic cheerfully assured her that it would not be ready for collection before mid-week. She headed gloomily for the high road to catch the bus that would drop her close to Caroline’s flat, and was almost at the bus stop when she noticed a young couple coming out of the large building that housed the local library. She stared thoughtfully at the imposing Victorian edifice for a few moments and then walked in quickly before she could change her mind.

She strode into the reference room and after asking for directions from the busy librarian, moved off in search of what she needed. She logged onto one of the computers and browsed through several websites before finding the information she was after. She quickly printed out a number of sheets, crammed them into her coat pocket, and logged off the machine.

After a hilarious afternoon of shopping with Caroline, Faye returned home exhausted and empty handed. Because most of her last pay packet had gone on taxis and shopping during her holiday, she had been forced to stick to window shopping and watching Caroline spend her own generous salary on what she referred to as ‘my marriage wardrobe’.

Having turned down her friend’s offer of dinner with the explanation that William and Lucinda had insisted on her joining them for dinner at home that night, Faye went off in search of her brother and found him lounging in an armchair in the spacious family room. He looked up from the legal magazine he was reading and smiled affectionately at her as she sauntered in and curled her long legs into the brown leather couch.

‘Hi, kiddo,’ he said, casually tossing the magazine onto the worn Persian rug. ‘How many shops have you left stripped bare of merchandise in your wake?’ he teased. With his long legs sprawled over the side of the armchair, his lean physique was clearly visible. Faye looked at him thoughtfully, thinking how remarkably similar in build he was to Rocky.

‘What?’ her brother asked, his eyes narrowing in amusement at Faye’s prolonged scrutiny.

She laughed, shaking her head in apology. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about something.’ Legs still crossed, she bounced up and down in excitement.

‘Will, did I tell you about our cousin, Joshua?’ Taking no notice of her brother’s feigned not-another-story-from-Ghana expression, she continued excitedly. ‘You won’t believe this, but he’s the spitting image of you!’

William sat up, clearly interested in this particular story. ‘Really? What does he do? Don’t tell me he’s also a lawyer.’

Faye shook her head. ‘No, he’s a teacher and he’s really sweet. He told me so much about the cultural traditions that were taking place when we went to the funeral in Ntriso.’ Although she had spent hours talking to her father, Lottie and her brother about her trip, she was never sure whether she had included all the details.

Their reactions to her account of three weeks in Ghana had been varied. Lottie listened patiently to everything, asking questions and never minding if she repeated a story. In William’s case, while he had been fascinated with her picture of the country in which he had been born, and moved by the details of their mother’s early life, his reaction had been more detached and intellectual and less emotional than she had expected. Her father, on the other hand, had listened without interruption to her stories about Ntriso, her mother’s family and the visit to the cemetery, often with tears in his eyes. Even her light-hearted stories about Frieda’s engagement ceremony and the hilarious dinners she had shared with the Asantes and the Debrahs had been received with emotional self-recriminations about his failure in not giving her the chance to enjoy these experiences sooner.

She was brought back to the present by the sound of the chimes from the antique clock on the far wall. Exclaiming at the time, she shooed William off to get ready for dinner and rushed upstairs to change. After a quick shower, she pulled a long, grape-coloured dress over her head, letting its unstructured length fall loosely over her slender form. She brushed her hair and sighed wistfully, already missing the expert hairdressers in Accra who had put new life into her locks. Spraying herself liberally with her favourite perfume, she went back downstairs.

William had also changed and was wearing a pristine white shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of dark trousers. Lucinda arrived just as Faye was walking downstairs and looked radiant in a midnight-blue dress with a pair of tiny diamond studs in her ears.

Faye hugged her warmly and stood back to admire the other girl’s sparkling beauty. ‘You look gorgeous, as usual,’ she said in admiration. Lucinda was so beautiful that there was simply no point being jealous of her. Tonight, she looked even more stunning than usual and was flushed with excitement, causing Faye to look at her curiously.

‘Is there something going on that I should know?’ Her gaze swung between Lucinda and William, her eyes narrow with suspicion.

‘Good evening, everyone,’ her father said, interrupting her attempted interrogation. He kissed Lucinda in greeting and led the way into the dining room. A stickler for punctuality, he insisted on dinner being served at exactly seven-thirty and had little sympathy for any excuses for lateness.

Lottie served the meal; a rich beef stew with lightly curried rice and a heaped bowl of steamed vegetables. While she was always welcome to join them for meals, she rarely did so, preferring to leave the family to spend time together during the doctor’s infrequent spells at home. Tonight, however, William had insisted she join them and she sat down at the other end of the table from her employer, passing the serving dishes around the table before helping herself.

Faye chewed on her food and watched with mounting suspicion as her brother and Lucinda appeared content to just smile at each other, seemingly oblivious to the others at the table. Dr Bonsu was in a particularly good mood; laughing and joking throughout dinner and chatting at length with Lottie about their plans to start a rockery at one end of the garden. After yet another exchange of unusually adoring looks between William and Lucinda, Faye put down her fork with an audible clatter.

‘Okay, that’s enough!’ she said in exasperation. ‘What on earth is wrong with everyone tonight?’ She wiped her mouth on her napkin and looked accusingly at her brother. ‘You insisted that I should be here for dinner and all I can see is you and Lucinda making eyes at each other like you’ve been apart for six months. What is going on?’

William almost choked on his food and Lucinda giggled, her face turning pink with embarrassment. Dr Bonsu looked at his son and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

‘I think you had better go ahead and say what’s on your mind, William,’ he said mildly. ‘Otherwise, I don’t think you’re going to get to the end of your meal.’

William cleared his throat and looked sheepishly at his blushing girlfriend. Taking her hand in his, he turned to Faye.

‘Okay, Dad already knows but we wanted to tell you and Lottie together,’ he said. ‘Lucinda and I are getting married next summer.’

Faye squealed in shock, while Lottie clapped her hands together in excitement and rushed around the table to hug the couple. Faye sat in a daze, trying to take in the news. Although she had always known her brother would eventually tie the knot and move out, she was ill-prepared for the rapid changes suddenly taking place in her previously well ordered life. Suddenly aware of everyone’s eyes upon her, she smiled warmly at Lucinda and moved over to kiss and congratulate her, before hugging her brother fiercely.

‘Have I been gone three weeks or three months?’ she asked in bemusement, looking up into his smiling face. ‘First it’s Caro and Marcus, and now the two of you!’

Lucinda took a sip of her water and stared fixedly at Faye. ‘You do know you have to be my bridesmaid, don’t you?’ she asked, her tone making it clear that it was a statement rather than a question.

The old adage Always the bridesmaid, never the bride popped into Faye’s mind. ‘Make me your maid of honour instead, and you’re on,’ she said hastily as she sat down. ‘And no frilly dresses!’

‘You never know,’ William grinned. ’You just might catch the bouquet if you’re lucky.’ He pretended not to see the glare she directed at him and continued unabashed. ‘Speaking of which, we called you one evening when you were in Ghana and they said you were out with someone called Rocky. What’s the story with him, then?’

Faye tensed and stared blankly at her brother, unable to think of a response that would shut him up. At her continued silence, her father looked across at her in surprise before turning to William.

‘Rocky is Mr Asante’s son,’ he said, and looked back at Faye curiously. ‘He’s a banker, I believe. Is that right, Faye?’

She nodded and took refuge in her glass, trying to breathe despite the sudden heavy weight that was pressing down on her chest. Lucinda sensed Faye’s distress and quickly changed the subject back to the topic of their forthcoming wedding.

It was on the following Tuesday as she returned to the office from the nearby sandwich shop, that she thrust her hand into her coat pocket and came across the documents she had printed out in the library. Caught up in the excitement of both William and Caroline’s impending nuptials, she had completely forgotten about her research. She walked into the empty staff sitting room and smoothed out the crumpled pages while she finished her sandwich.

She jumped at the sound of the door opening and sighed in relief when she saw Miss Campbell walking in, turning back to the sheets she had hastily turned over. The older woman was dressed in her customary twin-set and after making herself a cup of tea, came over to where Faye sat frowning in concentration as she went through the forms.

‘What are you up to, young lady?’ The older woman sat in the armchair opposite Faye. ‘You looked terribly guilty when I walked in just now.’ She raised an eyebrow in enquiry as she slowly sipped her hot tea.

Faye looked at her and hesitated for a moment before impulsively thrusting the sheaf of papers towards her. Miss Campbell put down her cup carefully, pushed her glasses back onto her pert little nose and slowly studied the documents. When she had read through them all, she took another sip of her tea and sat back in her chair. ‘Now, why am I not surprised to see this?’ Her eyes twinkled behind her rimless glasses. ‘I’ve noticed something has changed in you since you returned to work and it’s high time, if you ask me.’

Faye looked at her in surprise and reached out to take back the papers. ‘Do you think I can do it?’ Her eyes mirrored the uncertainty in her voice. The older woman looked back at her quizzically. ‘The real question, my dear, is do you think you can do it?’

Faye thought for a long moment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do.’

Miss Campbell nodded slowly. ‘Well then, that’s all that matters. Let me know how it goes, will you?’ With that, she swallowed the rest of her tea, patted Faye’s shoulder in gentle encouragement and left the room.

The next three weeks came and went, with life apparently carrying on as usual. Faye slipped back into the routine of life at Fiske, Fiske & Partners, spending most of her spare time with Caroline and going on occasional shopping expeditions with Lucinda.

Returning home after work on a Friday evening, she spotted the envelope addressed to her lying on the mantelpiece in the hall. With shaking fingers, she turned it over and read the address printed on the back of the envelope over and over again. Taking a deep breath, she tore the envelope open and scanned the contents of the single sheet inside before letting out a blood-curdling shout and jumping up and down unrestrainedly, her long legs flying.

‘Faye! What on earth is the matter…?’ Lottie stood in the hallway, her hands covered in flour. The expression of alarm on her face rapidly turned into irritation as she realised that Faye was not, in fact, being murdered.

Dr Bonsu, who had been working on a research paper, hurried out of his study into the hall, clutching his reading glasses. ‘Faye! Are you all right?’

She rushed over to hug him, still waving the letter in the air. ‘I’ve never been better, Dad,’ she said, almost squealing in her excitement. She handed over the letter and he stared at her for a moment before slipping on his glasses and reading it. He looked up in surprise to find her grinning at him.

‘Faye…’ he started, pausing in search of words that he suddenly couldn’t find. Lottie wiped her hands on her apron and hurried forward to take the letter from him. Reading it swiftly, she looked at Faye in disbelief.

‘Well, no wonder you made such a rumpus, you secretive thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘When did all this happen?’

Faye grinned in excitement. ‘I went into the library a few weeks ago and looked it up. I had to go for an interview, but I didn’t want to jinx my chances by telling anyone.’ She seized the letter back from Lottie and kissed it soundly, twirling around with joy.

‘Daddy, can you believe it? I’m finally going to college!’