The Two Sisters

Ikoyi, Lagos, Nigeria.

Judith Kwalu closed and laid her newspaper on the table, as Bello straightened out the mat and made room for the silver tray.  He removed the teapot, a plate of buttered toast and lined them up in front of the mat.  Placing the empty tray under his arm, he went into the kitchen and returned with serving dishes carrying an omelette, fried plantain, yams and baked beans which she had for breakfast every Tuesday. She took her knife and fork, looked on with satisfaction at the food displayed in her favourite breakfast ware and tucked in. As she bit into the toast, her attention was taken to the garden - the top heavy tree that hid its young mangoes and the huge palm whose finger like leaves bowed and swayed with each breath the wind passed its way. She raised and then lowered her head to get an accurate view of the ‘sour sop’ plant which was planted by the gardener a few months ago.  She was intrigued by its rapid growth and looked forward to the fruit it would hopefully bear.
The sky was vast, colourless; resembling a clean canvas and not too far in the distant, the quiet but thunderous rolls of the sea, could be heard culminating into a crescendo of sound and energy before lashing the beach. For Judith, it was all part of the landscape: sounds juxtaposed with the quiet, and always the best time of the day when the sun wasn’t fully awake, not ready to reveal its oppressive power. She continued to be lost in her thoughts when Bello accidentally dropped some cutlery on the table disturbing this tranquil picture.  She sighed impatiently and looked over to the far side of the room where the images from the TV screen blinked at her. 

‘Bello, can you change the channel to BBC World?  HardTalk should be on right now. And increase the volume. Thank you!’  Bello gave a small nod and went to the sideboard to pick up the remote.  He tapped out the number and waited for the logo to appear then rolled the volume control. He put the remote on the sideboard and asked if there was anything else.
‘No. That will be all Bello.  Thank you.’  Her gaze followed and watched him disappear through the swing doors.  As she cut the plantain into small pieces, she wondered how long Bello had worked for the family.  One year.  No, it was two years.  Yes, two years she thought.  She had been in the country for a total of four years. She paused in thought as her mouth was instantly brought to life with the yams the cook had dusted in black pepper.  Delicious she thought.  Yes, it had been four years to the month when she told her family she would be leaving England, with her husband, for Nigeria. The whole thing was triggered when her father in law passed away and left one of the largest legal firms in the country. As her husband, Kingsley, was the first son, he automatically inherited all that his father owned.  Although she had never been to Nigeria and had read and heard all the negative stories about the country, she couldn’t wait to go. Her friends were confused: Do you think you could live there?  You are not a Nigerian; you’re Brit - born of West Indian descent!  What about the famine? Oh, you poor thing!!  She gave an irreverent snort at these memories, as she scraped the plate clean and popped the last bit of toast in her mouth.  She got up from the table and pressed the small button on the wall.  The doors swung open.

‘Would you get me a glass of water please?’ 

Bello disappeared as quickly as he appeared, placing the glass carefully on the coaster.  She drank the water and allowed her thoughts to drift some more.  She was happy and comfortable, more than she had ever been.  Her mouth moved and shaped itself into a satisfactory smile.  Switching her thoughts trying to remember what was on today; she got up, removed her handbag from one of the coffee tables and took out her diary, and turned to the page marked Tuesday.  Her face dropped when she saw in her own handwriting the Naija Wives Association. It was one of those coffee morning events where foreign women married to Nigerians met.  She had been to it more than once.  An organisation made up of mainly elderly women who never let you forget how good Nigeria was in the past.  Distant memories of how things were and regrets of how those days were never coming back.  It annoyed Judith that such discussions invaded the meetings, and how the older members felt it was their right to dictate what and what, would be discussed!  It was all too much.  It was at the last meeting she told herself it would be her last. She decided to phone its president, Vivian Knight, and tell her just that.  As she was about to move towards the phone it started to ring.  Bello came through the swing doors and picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?  Yes?  Yes. Madam is here.’ Bello turned and handed the receiver to Judith.

‘Hello. Mrs Kwalu speaking….Marcia! Hi!  How are you?  It’s been a while since we spoke.  How’s........?’ 

‘It’s Dad, Judith. He’s been admitted to hospital.  North Midd.  He’s in some sort of coma. I’ve not been to see him yet......’  Bello went into the kitchen and returned with the silver tray under his arm. He placed it on the table and picked up the items, one by one deliberately taking his time.
‘Hospital!  Wh...What do you mean he’s...he’s in hospital?  What’s happened? I spoke to him just a few days ago and he didn’t give me the impression there was anything wrong.’  Bello put the cutlery back on the table and put them in the cup, again one by one.  He stopped momentarily, hooked by his intense curiosity without looking in Judith’s direction. ‘Is it bad?’  She asked.

‘I don’t know Judith.  As I said, I’ve yet to see him. I just thought I should call and let you know...’  An uncomfortable silence sat between them. Judith was struck by her sister’s matter of fact style, but then, Judith was always struck by Marcia’s distance, especially when it came to her. It was just as well, as Judith’s indifference matched Marcia’s distance perfectly. They were used to being civil to each other.

‘Yeah, thanks for letting me know’, Judith replied in a measured tone, looking at her watch.  ‘Let me call Kingsley’s office to see if they can book me an immediate flight to London this evening.

‘We will be expecting you’, said Marcia in the manner of a CEO who had just agreed with its director on the next meeting.  As Judith was about to say goodbye, she was met with the sound of the dialling tone.  Judith raised one eyebrow as she replaced the receiver. She turned and glanced over her shoulder to see Bello rushing to pile everything on the tray.  She picked up the phone again, and dialled.

‘Hello.  Mrs Kwalu here.  Can you put me through to my husband?’  The secretary didn’t hesitate and within a second she was speaking to Kingsley.  She gave Bello a look and he responded by staggering with the loaded tray into the kitchen. 
‘Kingsley, Dad has been admitted into hospital.  He’s in a coma.  Marcia just called to let me know; she didn’t say too much. But you know what she’s like...such a dark horse.  But I guess she’s upset.’ Judith added quickly knowing too well Marcia’s personality was not the issue right now.  Kingsley was silent before answering.

‘Hhm!  Do you think it could be serious?’  He asked eventually,

‘I don’t know.  Who knows whether it’s serious or not?’  She said with some impatience. 

‘And Marcia didn’t say any more? 

‘No. She did not.’

‘Okay, let’s not jump to anything and perhaps wait for more details?’

‘Wait for more details? No Kingsley.  Dad is ill.  This has never happened before.  A fit and healthy man in his early 70s suddenly is struck by a coma?’  She placed her hand over the receiver and took a deep breath, hoping Kingsley would not object to her wanting to travel. Then she released her hand.  ‘I want to go London right away.  I want your office to arrange my flight. Please.’  Kingsley was handling a high profile case that was demanding and one he could not leave.  He watched his personal assistant put the weighty documents on his desk.  He always felt Judith was inclined to dramatise things but this wasn’t the time to argue with her right now.  He prayed it was a false alarm; prayed his father in law was all right.

‘Okay Judith. Whatever you say.  I’ll tell Ade to call the British Airways office.  See if there are any seats left on this evening’s eleven thirty flight.  Alright?’ 

Judith pulled some clothes from her wardrobe, and remembered it was late March: the weather could go either way in London. After a few minutes her case was made up of a combination of sweaters, thermal underwear to thin cardigans and silk tops.  She knew once she was in London she would probably buy more clothing. She zipped up the case and removed from her draw, one of many padlocks then wheeled the case across the granite floor to the landing.  Judith leaned over the balcony and called Bright to take the suitcase to the car. Bright lugged the case with both hands taking each step at a time as she carefully walked down the stairs.
         ‘And Bright?’
         ‘Madam?’
         ‘I’m travelling to London this evening and I don’t know how long I’ll be.  Please make sure Bello goes to the market regularly to buy the food for Oga!  And tell the cook he should come to the house every day, and, look after the house for me.’ 
         ‘Don’t worry Madam.’  Bright smiled her usual positive grin.  Judith checked the contents of her bag then scanned the bedroom, making sure she had collected all she needed.  As she got down to the bottom of the staircase, Bright rushed into the house to inform her that Chima, Judith’s bodyguard was not on duty.
         ‘Should I call the office, Madam?’  Judith peered through the glass door, and saw the driver Taiwo, in the Mercedes. It was already gone six thirty and it was virtually dark.  There had been a spate of kidnappings in this part of the town, and some of their well placed friends had become victims of this crime. She picked her mobile from her bag only for her to throw it back.  There was no time to disturb her husband and make a fuss, but she knew he would bitterly complain once he had found out that she had travelled to the airport unaccompanied. Bright stepped back out and took a few steps to the car. She caught Taiwo’s eye and beckoned him to come. Judith watched Taiwo step out of the car, being careful not to ruin his leather pointed shoes on the gravel path. 
         ‘Good evening Ma! Oga said I should give you this.’  Taiwo handed to her two envelops: a thin white one and underneath it the envelop was brown and bulky. She thanked Taiwo and tore the top of the envelop. Inside was the ticket, then she removed one of the staples embedded in the brown envelop.  The contents were a mixture of sterling, dollars and cheques. Under her breath she thanked her husband and thanked the Almighty.  Judith removed some Naira notes from her purse and handed it to Bright. Her face lit up when she saw the amount and the two women placed their arms around each other. Judith then stepped aside to say goodbye. 
         ‘Take care of yourself and say goodbye to everyone. I’ll speak to you when I get to London.’
The flight from Lagos was packed and comfortable. Passengers ate their meals and keenly watched their chosen films before drifting off to sleep.  Judith stared at the actors moving silently on the collapsible screen as many thoughts jostled over her father’s situation. Her mother passed away some years ago and her father still missed his wife but he had adapted well. Although they both thought he would not find the strength to continue his life without his beloved but through regular involvement with the church, the Caribbean society for pensioners and other activities, he was active and seemed to find enjoyment in life.  It was always something Judith looked forward to when visiting London, apart from anything else, was seeing her father. He seemed to represent her past, the history they all had as a family in Tottenham. As Judith extended her seat and positioned her body so she could sleep, it seemed strange how memories of her life growing up in Tottenham had become idealistic by no fault of her own.  The usual story of struggles and problems seemed too belong to another era, another time that had no bearing on her life. At least not now. As she turned her body sideways and laid her head on her hands, she opened her eyes for a moment, wondering, if she should feel guilty about this, then she closed her eyes.
The journey from Heathrow to Tottenham appeared like sweeping flash through the countryside, traffic jams and eventually built up towns until she arrived at her destination.  As the taxi parked outside her parent’s house, Judith was surprised by the number of ‘bumps’ imprinted into the roads.  She was further surprised the bumps had failed to slow down anxious motorists. It had been a year when she was last in this road but she was always amazed whenever she returned to London, the changes that had been made.