The nigerwife, p.18
The Nigerwife, page 18
“Do they also talk about you and where you go every night?”
“It’s not about me. I’m a man. You will see what happens if you embarrass us.”
Nicole suddenly threw the pot of cream at him. He took a step back.
“So, I can’t be embarrassed?” she said. “Or does my embarrassment at the things you do not count?”
“I’m just saying.”
Nicole pushed past him, snatching her cream from where it had landed on the floor. Luckily it hadn’t burst open.
“Now, don’t play the victim and cry about how terrible your life is,” he said.
She put the cream on the dresser, her hand shaking. “Yeah, a husband who can’t talk about anything. A liar always off with different women. Whose main job is groveling to his father all the time.”
She watched his face start to change. His jaw hardened. Then there it was—the short laugh.
“What would you know? Where is your father? Your people have no culture to worry about, but here in Nigeria, we all have our role to play so we don’t end up completely dysfunctional like you guys.”
“I don’t want to play a role and live a fake life.”
“My father warned me not to marry you. I didn’t listen.”
“Because you wanted your British passport.”
“I didn’t need you for that.”
“Saved you some time, though. I should go back to London and leave you to it now.”
“Go and live wherever you want, do what you like, but don’t even think about involving my children in your stupid plans.” His tone was controlled.
“They go where I go!”
He leapt through the air balletically and slammed her back against the vanity, scattering the various pots on top of it. She cried out as she fell to the floor. He straddled her, his hands on her neck. He looked directly at her, searchingly, as she choked and pulled vainly at his grip. “I will never let you take my children away from this house.” Before he could say more, they both heard cries from the doorway and turned to see Timi sobbing in alarm. Tonye released her and she scrambled up from the floor, coughing, but Tonye stood and grabbed her arm to keep her from going to Timi.
“Blessing!” he shouted. “Blessing. Come here!”
Nicole struggled to get past him, but he blocked her with his body until Blessing arrived, pulling her nightclothes around her.
“Take him!” he ordered. Blessing picked Timi up, comforting him as she did so. She threw Nicole a worried look, then left the room, closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CLAUDINE
After
CLAUDINE WAS exhausted after her confrontation with Yohanna, but she called Mr. Ogunsanya from the car on the way back to the house from the boat club anyway.
“Yes, Mrs. Roberts?” he said. She didn’t have the energy to correct him.
“Did you check the jetties around the boat club? The other ones? Perhaps the ones that aren’t used much? She might have used those, because of—well, because of the affair.”
“Did you find some more information?”
“It’s just a hunch, talking to her friends, seeing where they all went.” She couldn’t let him know she had been speaking to Yohanna. Not that he seemed particularly interested.
“Thank you,” he said. “I have noted it down for my team. We will let you know if we find anything.”
She said good-bye, doubting he would tell her if he found anything anyway. She needed time to think things through. What it all meant. What her next steps should be.
Emmanuel opened the front door for her before she could ring the bell and bowed as per usual as she entered. Claudine thanked him. What a strange, self-contained man he seemed to be, buttoned up in his starched white uniform and speaking as little as possible, like Bilal. It might be the best way to survive on this compound, she supposed—keep your head down and speak little. But what did it do to you over time?
“Good afternoon, ma,” he said. “Chief would like to see you in his boardroom.”
“Oh, really? What is it about?”
Emmanuel just smiled, said nothing.
“Well? He wants to see me now—this minute?”
“Yes, ma.”
“But suppose I’ve got things to do. What then?”
His smile faltered as she glared at him. He looked worried, poor man. She imagined the tongue-lashing he received anytime he put a foot wrong.
“Well, I’m going to the toilet first. He’ll have to wait.”
Claudine started toward Tonye’s apartment, but noticed Emmanuel following a few steps behind. It was almost like being summoned to the headmaster. Well, she wouldn’t let him intimidate her.
“For God’s sake, am I under arrest?” Claudine snapped, and halted.
Emmanuel abruptly stopped, almost tipping into her. “No, ma. Sorry, ma.” He bowed and backed away, but continued to wait.
“I’ll come when I’m good and ready, and you’re not gonna stand against the door. Go about your business.”
“I will tell him you will be with him now.”
“Just go away.”
He bowed again, then turned on his heels and off he went, his tail between his legs.
It was a relief to go into Tonye’s apartment and shut the door behind her, her hands sweaty, still bristling. Why was her heart pounding? She washed her hands in her bathroom and splashed water on her face. It could be anything. He might just be asking how she was doing—he did that sometimes if he saw her in the reception area. Chief was a large man like Tonye, with a sterner face, but it wasn’t like he was going to get out the bamboo cane. Claudine laughed at herself in the mirror. But how rude to summon her like one of his lackeys. Why didn’t he get off his overfed ass and waddle over himself if he wanted to talk to her? What a cheek! She had a good mind not to go. What was so urgent? Had he heard about her trip to the boat club? Surely not—she’d just gotten back. Perhaps Bilal had said something about it to Tonye while she was there, but surely Tonye himself would’ve called her if he had an issue. Could Yohanna have complained to them, made threats? Not likely; he wanted nothing to do with it. Gosh, this family. This house. They knew how to put the frighteners on you. Nicole was a meek little thing. These big personalities must have crushed her. “Duppy know who fi frighten and who fi tell good night,” as Mummy liked to say if someone bullied her out there in the world. Many tried, but few succeeded. Mummy was the one everyone was afraid of. Claudine straightened up. If Chief wanted words, she had words for him, all right.
She didn’t really know where the boardroom was, but headed toward a shadowy corridor where it might be, and soon enough, raised voices met her. She paused. It sounded like the whole family was in there, talking at once. The door was open enough for her to see Chief’s Wife and the sisters, Abi and Tamara. The young one who was getting married was sobbing at the top of her lungs, hardly making sense. Tonye and Chief were invisible behind the door. She looked up and down the corridor—no one was coming—and listened.
“Why mention the wedding?” Chief’s Wife was saying. “What does that have to do with Nicole? Does this gist woman think we killed her?”
“The story even names the Governor’s Son. Jesu.” That was Chief, sounding a lot less sure of himself for once. This was something he couldn’t control. “She’s offering us a chance to add comments to the story or pay to keep it off her blog. Shall we just pay?”
“How much?” Tonye asked.
“Fifteen million naira,” said Chief. Claudine’s eyes widened. Ten thousand naira was forty quid, so anything in the millions was serious money.
“Na wao,” Claudine heard Abi exclaim, but with a certain sarcasm, as if it was all a bit of a joke. Though Claudine was too tense to laugh, it reaffirmed her sense of kinship with Abi, whom she’d always liked—they both seemed to be the only ones with sense in their families. “With all these secrets this woman keeps, no wonder she lives in Banana Island,” Abi added.
Had Claudine’s announcement about Nicole’s disappearance at the Nigerwives meeting the other day anything to do with this? Word must’ve traveled fast if they were already being blackmailed by some kind of journalist. And the family was having a crisis meeting about it. Feeling some dread about how angry they might be toward her, but also strangely exhilarated, she wondered what they would do now. Finally, it was out in the open. Their dirty secret. Wouldn’t this force them to do something?
“Banana Island?” asked Chief’s Wife.
“So they say,” said Abi.
“All that from blogging?” asked Tonye.
“It’s one of the most visited websites in Nigeria.” That was Abi again. “Gossip sells. And keeping secrets is even more lucrative.”
“It’s not as simple as writing a check.” Tonye again.
“Why not?” Chief said. “Isn’t it just about the money? Fifteen million. We can negotiate, nau.”
Claudine’s heart sank. Would they just pay off the blogger to sweep everything underneath the carpet?
“Fifteen million is just one Hermès bag,” added Abi.
“Will you be serious?” snapped Tonye.
“They want to ruin us,” cried Chief’s Wife, and it gratified Claudine that at least it had shaken up this family. Now that their reputation was at stake—they cared. She had never heard them like this.
“The word is out,” said Tonye. “It will soon be on the front pages of Vanguard, Punch, This Day, all the papers. Even if we pay her off, some other blog will publish. Word is spreading. What do we do now?”
That self-absorbed girl cried harder, making it impossible for Claudine to hear what the others were saying. Ooh, she wanted to grab her and shake her quiet.
“This woman has brought ruin on us.” Chief’s Wife meant Claudine, of course.
“Mummy, please don’t stress yourself.” Tonye sounded genuinely worried. The woman appeared to be hyperventilating. Good.
“How can I not stress myself? Two thousand people, Tonye. Caterer, venue paid. Planner all paid. What is fifteen million naira anymore if we have to postpone?” Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Claudine raised her eyebrows. More fool them. They should have canceled the wedding straightaway.
“Postpone?” The girl’s voice was so high-pitched she squeaked.
“Postpone.” A short laugh. Tonye again, but she wasn’t sure—Chief had a similar laugh. “Why should we postpone? Haven’t they already paid the bride price?”
“Oh yes, bride price.” It could only be Abi. “They’ve bought her like a chicken at market. I hope we specified no return to sender on the receipt.”
“Why, will they ask for it back?” Tamara’s horrified wails started up again. Couldn’t someone put her out of her misery?
“They can,” said Chief.
“Maybe they will say we have done juju on Nicole and made her disappear.” Claudine could imagine Chief’s Wife twisting her rings frantically until they flew off.
“I warned you not to marry her.” Chief’s words fell on Claudine like stones. She didn’t know why that hurt so much. She would have been surprised if they’d never said this. Even so, it stung and made her furious. She was about to throw the door open, but Tonye spoke first.
“Dad, no.”
“You had your pick. You chose this Akata woman over a Nigerian. Yoruba, Igbo, even Osu would have been better.”
“Ah, no.” Claudine couldn’t tell which of those “others” Chief’s Wife objected to.
“Their wahala is too much,” Chief went on. “Someone who understands our ways would have been a better choice.”
“Ehen.” Chief’s Wife now seemed to agree.
“You didn’t listen.”
“You didn’t approve of my wife, but you approve of the former governor’s son?” said Tonye. “The son of a man who stole his state’s money and spent it on cocaine and whores? During his tenure, he didn’t even lay one road.”
“Tonye, calm down.”
“Igho cannot even visit his home state again. I hear that whenever the townspeople get word he is coming, they collect rocks to throw. He cannot even get out of the car. They promise that if they ever find him in the street, they will throw a tire over him. And the son is not far from his papa.”
“Calm yourself!”
“I should never have listened to you and moved back here.” Claudine clicked her fingers. Thank you. Tell him. “She would still be here.” Before Chief could reply, there was the sound of something clattering onto the tiled floor. A chair? Footsteps. Claudine shrank back against the wall as the door flew open, but it was too late to hide. Tonye looked startled to see her in the shadows, but if he suspected she had been standing outside the room listening, he said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t even really notice her as he strode away. He seemed to tremble with anger. She had never seen him like that. Seconds later, the front door of the house slammed. She could hear him shouting for his driver. Then the screech of the compound gates. Tires. He was gone.
It was quiet in the room now. Exposed in the doorway, Claudine had no choice but to enter the room. The family was all seated around a long oval wooden table. Paintings hung on the wall—horses; Tonye and other men on a field, holding a trophy. The room smelled of despair and frustration. No one met her eyes except for Chief, who looked as though he wanted to smash something. Probably over her head.
“Claudine, how are you?”
“Good afternoon, Chief. You called? Family meeting?”
“Yes, except Tonye—he had to go,” said Chief. “Please join us. He’s coming back.”
Claudine sat down in an empty chair. “I don’t think so,” she said. “He just left the compound. What is this about?”
Chief closed his eyes. He pressed a hand to his head. “Let’s talk privately,” he said, waving his wife and daughters out of the room. Abi and Tamara looked at each other. They stood up and headed to the door, but Chief’s Wife hesitated.
“It’s all right, go,” he said.
Still she didn’t move. “But shouldn’t I—”
“Go!”
She rose, and the three left the room, shutting the door behind them. Claudine took it as a sign that he was about to let fly at her and clenched her fists on her lap under the table, steeling herself.
“This rubbish,” Chief muttered, wiping his brow. “I am tired.” For a while, he drummed his fingers on the table, which only made her anxiety worse.
“Did Tonye tell you about Ebipade?” he asked eventually. “My first son. Did he tell you what happened?”
Claudine shook her head.
“Tonye is not much of a talker when it comes to the things that really matter to him,” said Chief. “We are similar in that way. I wasn’t raised to show my face. You know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“My first son was Ebipade. He drowned some years ago. It was an accident. He and Tonye were roughhousing in the water at the beach. A riptide came and pulled Ebipade under. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“I’m sorry,” said Claudine. It made sense now, what Tonye had said about the water being deceptive.
Chief cleared something in his throat. “My father was a hard man. A good man, but very strict. He died young, during Biafra.” Claudine didn’t know what that was. “The civil war we had in the seventies. Millions died, including my father, who resisted the occupiers. He never got to see the man I would become. I tried not to be so harsh with Ebipade, but it didn’t make any difference. I also didn’t get to see the man he would become. It’s hard losing a child. Even the thought… I kept hoping that he had washed up somewhere farther along the beach, dazed and confused. I searched for him. But he was never recovered. I even bought this house so I could look for him daily in the water. As if he might swim past.”
Claudine nodded, sensing what he was trying to say but couldn’t speak aloud, afraid of what might come gushing out. She sat up straighter, stiffer.
“We are not so different, you and I,” he said slowly. “We both have our traditions. Some of ours you may think are good, some no longer right. Our people have a saying: ‘What is God in one town is meat in another.’ But as with yours, our traditions serve a purpose. They keep our families together. I think we can find somewhere in the middle. We have the wedding on Saturday. I should have canceled it, but I have this anxiety about time running out. Time is always against us. I should have done more to investigate. I’m sorry.”
He seemed sorry. It was hard to know. In spite of herself, she felt sorry for him.
“I didn’t approve of Tonye’s marriage. I still don’t. Culture is very important, and the woman is the heart of the culture. It was important to me that as head of our house, Tonye married a woman who understood. Nicole did not. But I still embraced her as a daughter. She has given me two grandsons, and we thank God for them.” He seemed somewhat genuine. “I hope you will find her.”
Claudine wanted to ask him what he would do about the blogger but didn’t want to admit to eavesdropping.
“I asked the Nigerwives for help,” she said.
“Yes, I know,” he replied. He didn’t volunteer any further information. “Ah, well, what’s done is done. We will deal with the consequences. Hopefully, the wedding will still go ahead.” Before she could object, he added, “Try to understand. The traditional engagement isn’t just a party—although it often looks that way. It’s difficult to explain. Please, allow us this. Our rituals are heavy with superstition and significance. If it doesn’t happen, under these circumstances—Tamara’s dignity will suffer. I worry a stigma will attach to her forever. I already have one spinster.”
“There are worse things than being a spinster,” Claudine said. Tamara’s fiancé didn’t sound so great anymore. But she knew Chief wouldn’t listen. And why should he? This was his world. The rules were different here, and although she herself had chosen to be alone—many men had looked at her, some still did—there wasn’t any magic about it. She still depended on others, was still spoken to as if she were a child. There hadn’t been anyone she’d liked before Len, but afterward she saw his face in every man who desired her, like a ghost.
