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 ap
ology. 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.
8
Social Culture
The incongruous sound of a cock crowing roused Faye from a deep sleep. She lay quietly for a few moments, wondering if she had dreamt it. The cock crowed again, its plaintive cry wafting in through the windows. The room was still in semi-darkness as Faye peered at the luminous dial of her wristwatch. Realising with horror that it was only five-thirty, she pulled the covers up under her chin and forced herself to go back to sleep.
When she opened her eyes again, the room was flooded with sunlight straining through the thin cotton drapes. Blinking at the incredible brightness of the morning sun, Faye sat up and stretched slowly and luxuriously. She slumped back against the pillows and surveyed her bedroom through the mosquito netting.
From Pasta to Pigfoot Page 14
