From Pasta to Pigfoot

by Frances Mensah Williams

  ‘I see you’re a coffee drinker, not a tea person like me,’ Auntie Amelia said, with a nod at Faye’s cup. ‘Your mother was a coffee drinker too, you know,’ she mused. ‘In our day, it was considered very ladylike and genteel to drink tea. But Annie, as usual, didn’t care about such things. She loved her coffee and that was that!’ Settling back in her chair, she sipped her tea and smiled in remembrance.

  ‘She sounds more like William than me,’ said Faye, looking wistful. She was only too aware of her talent for bending over backwards to accommodate other people. While she always wanted to be liked, William was just the opposite and had never been known to compromise about anything if he could help it. It was a quality that had helped to make him a successful barrister but also a resolutely stubborn or – in Faye’s words – pig-headed older brother.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Auntie Amelia said, looking at Faye over the top of her coffee cup. ‘I would say you have quite a bit of your mother in you. I mean, look at that striking combination of clothes you’re wearing – I noticed it as soon as you walked in. You see, that’s probably the way Annie would have dressed if she were your age today. She loved fashion and was always designing clothes for herself and her friends. Obviously you won’t remember, but she used to make most of your clothes herself, and you always looked beautiful.’ She paused for a moment in thought. ‘There was always something slightly different about the way Annie put things together.’

  ‘Really? That’s what William says about me,’ said Faye in surprise, and a rush of pleasure flowed through her at the unexpected connection to her mother she had just discovered.

  ‘So what work do you do in London, Faye? Are you in the fashion business?’ Auntie Amelia looked at her curiously.

  Faye grimaced. ‘No, I’m the secretary to a partner in a law firm.’

  Auntie Amelia raised her shapely eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really – why is that?’ she queried. ‘Do you find it interesting?’

  Faye shrugged awkwardly, embarrassed to admit that she didn’t have the confidence or the brains to look for a better job. Auntie Amelia patted her arm and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You are still young, my dear, I’m sure you’ll find out what you really want to do in time. Just make sure it’s something that really interests you and pursue it with all you’ve got. As I’m always telling Amma, look for what you feel passionate about and then just go for it, as you young people say.’

  She paused for a moment, and then shook her head in resignation. ‘Unfortunately, my daughter seems to have interpreted my advice that she should focus on her passion to mean Edwin!’

  Faye was still giggling as the subject of their conversation entered the room, yawning widely as she sat at the table next to her mother.

  ‘Good morning Mama, morning Faye.’ Amma sounded tired and listless as she reached across for the plate of sliced oranges.

  ‘Good morning, Amma.’ Her mother looked at her with amusement. ‘Did you sleep at all last night? You don’t look to me like you’ve woken up yet.’

  Amma shook her head and chewed slowly on a segment of the juicy fruit. Her braids were tied back with a red scarf, which matched the red shirt she wore over her jeans. ‘I was up until midnight on the phone with Edwin,’ she said in between bites of orange. ‘He had a lot on his mind that he wanted my opinion about.’

  Faye almost choked at the exaggerated ‘I-told-you-so’ look Auntie Amelia cast in her direction.

  ‘Really, dear? Has he found a job yet?’ Disregarding the mutinous expression that appeared on Amma’s face, her mother stared back at her, her expression unwavering.

  ‘No, Mama,’ Amma muttered sulkily. ‘You know, it’s not his fault that he can’t find a decent job that takes into account all the studying he’s done. He’s very clever – and he got a really good degree!’

  She poured herself a cup of tea, frowning ferociously at the pot as if she held it personally responsible for Edwin’s unemployment.

  Her mother maintained a tactful silence. Her diet temporarily forgotten, Amma stirred two spoons of sugar into her cup before continuing moodily. ‘He won’t even hear of us getting engaged until he’s got a job. And now he’s talking again about going to America! I thought that after the last time they refused him a visa, he’d finally given up, but he’s obsessed with the place. Mama, what am I supposed to do if he goes away?’ She looked at her mother, her brown eyes piteous and shadowed from lack of sleep.

  ‘Well, as I keep saying, it wouldn’t hurt you to get a job either, my dear,’ her mother retorted. ‘After all, you also have a good degree and now that you’ve finished your National Service, you should be applying to companies and starting your own career instead of worrying about Edwin.’

  Her warm smile took the sting out of her words. ‘Anyway, never mind that now. Faye is here and at least this means that you are free to take her round and entertain her while she’s with us.’

  Amma nodded and turned to Faye. ‘Has Rocky left for work?’

  Gazing back steadily at the younger girl whose face had lit up with a mischievous grin as she asked the question, Fay nodded. ‘Yes, he left about twenty minutes ago,’ she said as casually as possible. Changing the subject before Amma could persist, she went on. ‘So, tell me. As my chief tour guide, what do you have planned for us today?’

  ‘Well, I have to collect an outfit from my dressmaker later today. That is, if she’s actually finished making it – she’s not the most reliable person in the world. She’s always doing something or other at church. She’s a big time chrife – sorry, Faye, that means a devout Christian – and she’s so involved with her church that it’s really hard to get her to finish making clothes on time. I have to tell her I need something about two weeks earlier than I really do, otherwise she just takes so long and—’

  Auntie Amelia interrupted hastily, anxious to get her request in before Amma launched into full flow. ‘Well, if you don’t mind, can you take the two new ceramic flowerpots outside over to the shop for me when you’re ready? I’ve asked Baaba to reorganise the place a bit – it’s all starting to look very cluttered and uninspiring, so I’m hoping the pots will brighten it up a bit.’

  After both girls refused the offer of toast and eggs, Auntie Amelia rose quickly to her feet and excused herself to see to things in the kitchen. Amma finished her tea quickly and Faye followed her outside to find the flowerpots.

  Although it was not yet eight o’clock, the sun was shining brightly, casting a clean, cheerful glow on the green lawn behind the house. A profusion of well-tended colourful flowers spilled gracefully out of their beds and added to the early morning brightness. The flowerpots were on the covered veranda next to a wicker sofa and armchairs covered with plump blue and white floral cushions. The veranda was cool and shaded and, for a moment, Faye was sorely tempted to collapse into one of the basket chairs.

  After shouting for Togo to come and help, Amma sighed and tested the weight of one of the pots.

  ‘Togo always conveniently goes deaf when you need him to do something,’ she grumbled as she tried to lift it. ‘You’ll have to help me with these, Faye.’ Puffing a little, she managed to lift one of the large hand-painted pots. Faye stooped and picked up the second one, grimacing at the combination of its weight and her sore calves. The two of them staggered around the side of the house and, after much pushing and pulling, managed to get both pots safely into Amma’s car.

  Faye ran up the stairs to her room to collect her bag and went back down to join Amma at the car, stopping for a few seconds to pop her head around the kitchen door and say goodbye to Martha and Auntie Amelia.

  Driving out of Labone towards the shop, they had to contend with considerably more traffic than on the day before. After a lengthy period of sitting in a slow moving procession of cars, Amma parked in front of a small parade of shops. Her mother’s was the first in the line of stores, with the words Unique Clothing and Gifts painted in a dashing font on the black awning above the door. In the large gla
ss window, a few headless pink mannequins stood locked in a pose designed to display their brightly coloured outfits. Faye slid out of the air-conditioned comfort of the car and helped Amma carry the pots into the shop. Baaba was standing at the cash desk drinking a cup of tea and flicking through a newspaper as they walked in. She wore a tight knee-length skirt in a batik fabric, that somehow managed to encompass her huge hips, and a matching fitted top that hugged her straining bosom. She greeted them coolly and watched them hump the heavy pots inside.

  ‘And what, may I ask, are those things for?’ She raised a pencilled eyebrow as she watched them collapse into a couple of chairs after their exertions.

  ‘Mama says the shop needs to be reorganised,’ Amma replied, trying to catch her breath and forgoing any effort at tact in the process. ‘She says it looks really boring and cluttered.’

  The shop consisted of a large room with a low ceiling. The cash register was on a counter near the door, making entry into the shop somewhat awkward. An archway at the back of the store led to a small anteroom. From the main room, a closed door concealed a small corridor leading to a tiny kitchenette and bathroom. Looking around the room at the indifferent display of traditional outfits and jewellery, gift packs, cosmetics and toiletries, Faye secretly agreed with Auntie Amelia’s comment, although she had enough sense to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Baaba shrugged and looked round the store without interest, clearly uninspired by the challenge. Her eyes, heavily outlined with a dark pencil, came to rest on Faye and narrowed as she took in her expressive features.

  ‘Well, Faye, you’ve just come from London,’ she murmured throatily. ‘Why don’t you show us natives how things are done in the big fashion shops over there?’ Her eyes flashed with malice as she noted Faye’s discomfiture.

  ‘Ah, Baaba, leave her alone!’ Amma glared at her friend with indignation. ‘You’re supposed to be a designer, for goodness’ sake. Can’t you put some style into this place?’

  Baaba shrugged again and swallowed the rest of her tea. She walked across to the front of the shop and the sway of her broad hips caused her skirt to swish against her shapely legs. With her back to the shop entrance, she looked around the room with a critical eye for a few moments and then raised her hands helplessly.

  ‘Look, Amma, I know how to design and sew clothes, but I’ve never claimed to be any good at decorating. I haven’t got the first idea what to do with those pots, or anything else.’

  Faye stood up and walked around the large room thoughtfully, taking in the wall space, shelving and the merchandise on display. ‘Well,’ she said, hesitant at putting herself forward. ‘If you like, I’d be happy to try and help – I love decorating rooms.’

  Amma and Baaba sighed in unison. ‘Good’, they chorused and promptly sat down, looking at her expectantly like children at a birthday party ready to be entertained by the magician.

  Faye giggled at their combined expressions of relief and anticipation. She looked around the room slowly before speaking. Her voice was suddenly brisk as she started listing the things she would need, ticking each item off with her fingers as she spoke. Baaba, clearly grateful for the help, for once made no comment as she quickly seized a piece of paper and wrote down everything Faye said. Once or twice she raised her head and looked at Faye incredulously, but thought better of interrupting her and continued to scribble hurriedly.

  When Faye had finished, Amma and Baaba went into a huddle to scrutinise the list and then stood up and announced that they would be back shortly. As they left, Faye flipped around the Open sign before any customers could walk in, and locked the shop door.

  Turning back into the room, she sighed with pleasure at the task ahead of her and began to stack all the merchandise into one corner. Folding the garments that had been displayed on the mannequins, she was impressed by the beautiful fabrics and the fine workmanship of the clothes. From the similarity they bore to Amma’s dress, she guessed that they were Baaba’s designs.

  Wondering why Baaba didn’t wear some of her own range instead of the tight-fitting numbers she seemed to like so much, Faye put the clothes to one side and gathered up the hand strung bead necklaces and matching bracelets from the window display. She put them carefully into a large empty box she had retrieved from the kitchenette, where she had also found a dustpan and brush and some cleaning materials. She had just finished clearing the shop when Amma and Baaba returned, perspiring from the heat outside and with their arms piled full.

  ‘Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, Faye,’ Baaba said doubtfully, looking at the items she had just deposited on the floor. ‘Amma, just make sure your mother knows that this was not my idea.’

  Amma waved her away impatiently. ‘Oh, let’s give her a chance – whatever she suggests can’t be worse than what you and I could do!’

  Baaba shrugged and handed Faye a long shirt that had clearly seen better days. ‘I couldn’t find any overalls, so I hope this will do,’ she said. Faye nodded, taking the shirt and slipping her arms into the sleeves. She went into the small kitchen where she had laid out sheets of old newspapers on the floor in readiness. She dragged the pink mannequins into the kitchen and swiftly repainted them jet-black using the gloss paint she had requested. She stood them outside the back door of the shop to let them dry and went back inside to find Amma and Baaba sitting comfortably chatting.

  ‘Okay, you two need to make yourselves useful,’ she ordered, and proceeded to bark instructions at them for the next few hours. By midday the blazing sun had successfully dried the paint on the mannequins left outside, and Faye had completed all the paintwork inside the shop. She hoisted the mannequins, now a glossy black, back inside the kitchen and dressed them in the clothes she had removed earlier. She picked out some of the bead necklaces from the box and draped a few around the necks of the headless dolls.

  She walked back into the shop and dissolved into helpless giggles at the baleful looks directed at her from Amma and Baaba who had collapsed into chairs, exhausted from the orders they had been scurrying around to obey all morning.

  ‘Okay, girls, one last thing,’ Faye said when she could stop laughing. ‘Just help me put these mannequins back in the window and then I think we’re done.’

  With loud groans and exaggerated sighs, Amma and Baaba reluctantly stood up to help her lift the figures into the window display and they all trooped outside to see the full effect.

  ‘Wow, Faye – it looks fantastic!’ Her tiredness forgotten, Amma clapped her hands with excitement as she took in the new window display.

  Faye had draped gold netting around the sides of the large window while tiny swirls of gold paint had been sprayed at intervals along the top and bottom of the glass pane. More of the netting, draped on the floor, created the effect of a diaphanous golden carpet. One of the new flowerpots sat in the centre of the window display filled with long stemmed silk flowers, some of which had been sprayed gold to highlight the gold flecks in the terracotta pot. The now-jet-black mannequins provided a strong contrast to the brilliant colours of Baaba’s designs, which were further enhanced by the contrasting tones of the bead jewellery. The overall effect was eye-catching and dramatic and as they stood outside, a few people walking past stopped to admire the display.

  ‘Now our only problem is that people will think the shop is too posh and won’t come in to buy our things,’ Baaba said moodily after staring at the stunning new display in silence for a few minutes. Secretly pleased at how the display had made her designs stand out, she was still reluctant to praise Faye whom she now saw as a threat to any potential chance with Rocky.

  ‘Don’t be so ungrateful, Baaba,’ Amma glared at her. ‘Why can’t you just admit it looks beautiful? Mama will love it!’

  An hour later, the transformation inside the shop was also complete. Earlier, having instructed the girls to drag the cash register to the back of the shop where it occupied less space, Faye had them assist her as she sprayed little golden swirls around the cream
walls from the front door all the way around the main room of the shop. To accent the plain white walls, she had carefully painted a thin glossy black line where the wall and the ceiling met and along the top of the skirting board. One side of the room was now dedicated to clothing and shoes, while on the other side she had arranged the toiletries and gift packs on shelves lined with the remnants of the gold netting she had used in the window.

  The most dramatic change was the small anteroom, where they had painted the walls a pale gold before turning the room into a display area for the shop’s entire jewellery collection. The small jewellery stands had been given a coat of the black gloss paint and now formed a dramatic backdrop for an eye catching display of bangles, chains, bead necklaces and earrings. Against the wall behind the display, the second ceramic flowerpot, also filled with gold and coloured flowers, formed a backdrop that toned beautifully against the newly painted walls.

  Amma gasped in disbelief as she walked slowly around the shop, and even Baaba couldn’t help but exclaim at the finished product.

  ‘Well, I must say I would never have thought of doing anything like this,’ she confessed. ‘I was thinking about just tidying up and rearranging the stock.’

  Amma hugged Faye in gratitude. ‘Mama will not believe this,’ she enthused. ‘Why aren’t you a designer? I can’t believe you are a secretary when you have such talent!’

  Faye squirmed with embarrassment and pleasure. Although she was regularly called on by her friends to help with decorating ideas, this was the first time she had been given a completely free hand to use her imagination.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you like it,’ she grinned. ‘Let’s hope Auntie Amelia does too or we’re all back here tomorrow changing it back!’

  Amma glanced at her watch and did a double take.

  ‘Oh shoot!’ She squealed in shock. ‘Look at the time! Faye, let’s go and get something to eat and go to my dressmakers before she leaves home for her bible study class or whatever it is she’s doing today.’