‘Now I know things are desperate – I’m even getting advice about Rocky from Baaba, of all people!’ Faye exclaimed in despair. ‘Who’s next – Clarissa?’
‘God forbid!’ Amma shuddered. ‘Let’s go back in. It’s too hot out here.’
The next hour passed swiftly, but with no word from Rocky, and it was with a heavy heart that Faye trudged upstairs to change into her travel clothes. She packed her shorts and shirt into a small carrier bag and tucked it into the corner of her leather rucksack. Blowing a kiss to the silent room, she walked out slowly, closing the door behind her.
Auntie Amelia was finishing a call as Faye came down the stairs and she looked up in apology.
‘Oh, Faye. That was Rocky’s secretary on the phone. He’s in a meeting but asked her to call to wish you a safe journey home.’
She took in the sadness of Faye’s expression and put an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders, hugging her gently. ‘I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but I really hope you can put it right.’
Faye flushed with embarrassment. ‘What do you mean?’
‘My dear, I may be old but I’m not senile,’ Auntie Amelia said dryly. ‘I have seen more of my son over the last three weeks than I have for the past three months. And for Rocky to take a day off work for anybody is unheard of!’
‘It’s all my fault.’ Faye looked miserable. ‘He’s been so kind to me and I messed everything up.’
‘I sincerely doubt that – there are always two sides to every story. I think you two need to talk and sort things out.’
Uncle Fred came bounding down the stairs before she could say any more. Exclaiming at the time, he shooed them all out. Faye rushed into the kitchen where Martha was cooking, and gave her a warm hug before speeding back out to the car. Togo smiled broadly at her as she climbed into the car, saluting her in farewell as they drove out of the gate for the final time.
Heading to the airport for the second time that day, Faye looked out of the window, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city that had come to feel like home. Dusk was falling and the evening traffic was heavy as they inched along the dual carriageway leading to the airport.
A number of cars had slowed down in front of the departure lounge to discharge passengers and they had to wait for a few minutes before they could get out of the car safely. Uncle Fred dropped them off, then drove off to park before joining them in the forecourt of the departure area. The impression of heat and noise was compounded by groups of people around the departure area saying noisy farewells to friends and family and shouting out greetings to other people they recognised.
‘As you’ve already checked in, you can go straight through to the departure lounge,’ Uncle Fred said, after a quick look at his watch. ‘You should probably go through now before the rush starts,’ he warned.
Faye looked around the busy forecourt one more time, hoping against hope to see the familiar close-cropped head before she went into the airport. Swallowing the overwhelming sense of disappointment that flooded over her, she turned to the three people beside her and hugged them hard. Auntie Amelia held her for a long moment before releasing her.
Her eyes were moist as she kissed Faye gently on both cheeks. ‘Have a safe journey, my darling girl, and give our love to your father and William. Tell them we look forward to seeing them here soon.’
Amma hugged Faye one last time, whispering in her ear as she did so.
‘Don’t worry, it will work out; you’ll see.’ Stepping back, she smiled tearfully at her friend. ‘Don’t forget to email me when you get back.’
Faye nodded, sniffing back her tears, and slung her leather duffle bag over her shoulder. She walked towards the departure lounge and after taking a few steps, turned to blow a final kiss in their direction. Turning back, she moved purposefully towards the lounge and was quickly swallowed up in the noisy crowd.
She passed swiftly through the various checkpoints, reaching the final boarding area without incident and sat quietly, lost in thought, until the flight was called.
Even as she walked up the metal staircase to enter the plane, she cast her eyes around, still praying that she would see the man with whom she had fallen so hopelessly in love.
I guess it’s only in movies and books that the hero appears at the last minute to claim his lover, she thought sadly as she reached the top of the stairs. A gentle nudge from the passenger behind her brought her back to earth and she walked inside the aircraft.
The plane was only half full and she slid into the window seat she had been allocated, hoping that the seat next to her would remain empty for the duration of the flight. She vaguely heard the pilot’s announcement over the whine of the engines and watched with unseeing eyes while the safety video was played.
It was only when the lights in the plane were dimmed and the plane started to buck gently before moving purposefully towards the runway, that she finally faced that fact that Rocky would not change his mind. Amma’s words from long ago suddenly came flooding back: ‘If you know my brother, you know he’s as stubborn as a mule and never goes back on what he’s said.’
As the plane rose into the sky, Faye fingered the bracelet on her wrist, her eyes filling with tears in the darkness. ‘Goodbye, Rocky,’ she whispered.
Part Three
DESSERT?
They can conquer, who believe they can
John Dryden
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 bo
ots 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 ful
l, 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.’
From Pasta to Pigfoot Page 39
