Lottie had decided to take advantage of an almost empty house and announced that she would be going up to Scotland to spend a long weekend with her disabled sister. Closing the front door behind her, Faye headed up to Lottie’s room where she found her packing a small suitcase in preparation for her departure the next morning.
She gave Lottie an exuberant hug and sat cross-legged on the bed watching the older woman as she sorted out her clothes and carefully packed the gifts she had bought for her family in Glasgow.
‘So what’s put that expression on your face, then?’ Lottie looked with amusement at Faye who was grinning irrepressibly.
‘I was asked out today by someone on my course. We’re going for a drink tomorrow night.’ She tried to sound casual but the excitement that had been building up in her since agreeing to go out with Brian seeped into her voice.
Lottie paused in the middle of folding the white towelling dressing gown she was about to pack. Her curiosity piqued by this new development, she sat down next to Faye on the bed. ‘So, what’s he like then?’
‘You mean, apart from the sexy, low-cut beard, great body and fantastic sense of humour?’ Faye giggled. ‘Pretty nice, I’d say.’
‘Okay, but leaving all that aside, are you really sure you’re ready to get involved with someone?’
She watched as Faye’s face clouded over for a moment before a determined smile broke through. Troubled by the sadness she had seen in Faye’s eyes after her return from Ghana, Lottie had eventually prised the details of what had happened with Rocky out of her. Now, she tried to quash the unsettling thought that Faye was trying just a little too hard.
Oblivious to Lottie’s scrutiny, Faye described Brian in minute detail, including his easy acceptance of her dual cultural upbringing. ‘He’s so different from Michael,’ Faye babbled on enthusiastically. ‘I don’t feel in the least bit pressured or judged when I’m with him. Actually, he’s just like me, except his parents are from Barbados.’
Lottie considered Faye’s statement for a moment before asking quietly, ‘You don’t still worry about your cultural identity, do you? I thought the trip to Ghana had changed all that.’
Faye shook her head with vehemence. ‘Oh no, I’m way past worrying about that now. You know, Lottie, Michael made me feel as if I could only be culturally acceptable if I spoke a certain way or ate a particular type of food. It took me a while to sort things out for myself, but I know now that eating all the pasta in the world doesn’t make you white, any more than eating all the pigfoot in the market can make you black.’
She paused for a moment, her forehead furrowed in thought. ‘Besides which, from what I learned in Ghana, African culture is also going through change, and some of the people I came across were just as “Western” as me, if not more so. It really doesn’t matter what I choose to eat or wear, or who I’m friends with; my culture is part of me, no matter what.’
Lottie’s face mirrored her surprise at Faye’s confident outburst. ‘To be honest, Faye, I have to say that I’m stunned. I knew going to Ghana had changed something in you, but —’ She shook her head and shrugged, suddenly at a loss for words.
Faye laughed, warmed by the look of new-found respect in Lottie’s eyes. ‘Well I couldn’t expect you to keep rescuing me all my life now, could I? I mean, think about it, Dad even paid for my trip to Ghana! You were right, Lottie; it was well past time for me to grow up.’
She stood up to leave the room and let Lottie finish off her packing. ‘You know, applying for college and getting the loan to pay for it is the first thing I can really say I’ve done for myself and by myself,’ she said frankly. ’And I guess I’ve learned that if I want to be happy, I have to rescue myself.’
She felt a little less sure of herself the following evening when it was time to leave the house to meet Brian. Dressed in a black shift dress which she had teamed with a cherry-red cardigan, high-heeled ankle boots and a long double-stranded seed pearl necklace, she applied the barest minimum of make-up and drove down to Camden Town, finding a parking spot in a side street.
She walked the short distance to the wine bar, pushed open the door and peered through the small crowd of people in search of Brian. He was sitting at a table near the door and stood up as she walked over and gave him a hug. He looked even more attractive in the candlelit setting of the quiet bistro and she noted that the sexy beard had been freshly trimmed. He wore dark trousers and a thin grey turtleneck jumper that showed off his athletic physique.
She ordered a glass of white wine and they were soon chatting easily. She soon discovered that he had also seen the Senegalese film and they discussed the storyline, arguing noisily about their varying interpretations of the filmmaker’s message. Brian was a keen traveller and had her in stitches with stories about some of the places he had visited.
The time flew by, and two hours and another glass of wine later, Faye looked at her watch regretfully and made her excuses, explaining that she needed to be up early the next morning to continue working on her project. Brian looked disappointed at the early end to the evening, but he shrugged good naturedly and called for the bill without protest. When the waiter came over, he pulled out his wallet and paid quickly, then led the way outside and walked with her back to her car.
‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ Faye asked when they reached her Fiesta. He shook his head with a smile. ‘No, thanks. I’m all the way in South London. I’ll just jump on the tube – it’s much quicker than driving anyway.’
Faye nodded and reached up to kiss his cheek. Just as she did so, he turned his face swiftly, capturing her lips with his. For a long moment Faye remained motionless, feeling the sensation of his firm lips moving against her mouth and the strength of his arm drawing her against him. When at last he raised his head and looked at her questioningly, she looked back at him with regret, and shook her head slowly.
‘I’m sorry, Brian,’ she said softly, unable to pretend a passion she didn’t feel. ‘But thank you so much for asking me out tonight. I had a great evening. See you in class next week?’
He nodded, his wry smile showing that no harm had been done. He kissed her on the cheek, the soft touch of his beard lightly grazing her face, and stood back while she opened her car door and got in. She wound down the window and smiled up at him as she started the engine.
‘Drive safely, Faye.’ He stood back as she slowly reversed out of the parking space, and watched her drive away.
Faye woke up early the next morning and after a quick shower, padded downstairs to make coffee before getting back to work on her project. Although she still had a couple of weeks before it was due, she was determined to keep ahead of the gruelling schedule of coursework. After a few hours, she took a break and went downstairs for a quick snack, and then forced herself to go back to her room to continue with her task.
It was late in the afternoon when the insistent chimes of the front doorbell broke her concentration. For a few moments she didn’t move, and then remembered that she was alone in the house and no one else was going to answer the door.
Tutting in irritation, she raced downstairs, not bothering to check through the peephole before opening the door. She stood speechless with shock as she looked up to see Rocky standing on the doorstep.
For what seemed like hours, neither of them spoke.
‘Hello Faye,’ Rocky said finally, his long-lashed, caramel-coloured eyes fixed on hers.
‘Hello Rocky,’ she echoed faintly, still unable to believe her eyes. She realised that she was blocking the doorway and moved back hastily to let him in.
He shrugged off the heavy jacket he’d been wearing and hung it on the coat rack near the door, then turned back to Faye who was still standing and staring stupidly at him.
‘What are you doing here?’ She blurted the words out, too surprised to care if she sounded unwelcoming.
Rocky looked at her steadily for a few moments and then pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. ‘I came to bring you t
his,’ he said, taking out a small piece of paper, which he unfolded and then handed over to her.
Faye looked with surprise at the picture Uncle Fred had taken of her on the day of Frieda Ansah’s engagement ceremony. Dressed in her borrowed boubou, she was laughing, her face radiating happiness. Her head was thrown back, exposing her long slim neck, while her almond-shaped eyes gazed straight into the camera, their expression sultry and inviting.
‘Where did you get this?’ she asked in bemusement. ‘Uncle Fred took this picture ages ago.’
Rocky sighed and ran his hands through his cropped wavy hair in the gesture that was at once so familiar and so painful.
‘Faye, can I sit down, please?’ he asked suddenly. She looked at him closely. He looked thinner than she remembered and tiny lines around his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.
She ushered him into the living room. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
He waved away her concern, patted the seat next to him in invitation and turned to look at her as she reluctantly sat down.
‘Faye,’ he started – and stopped – almost immediately, shaking his head in frustration. ‘Look, there’s so much I want to tell you but first, and most importantly, I want to say I’m sorry.’
She stared at him, but before she could say a word, he reached across and gently placed a forefinger against her lips.
‘No, please, let me finish,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for being such a stubborn fool and for not giving you the chance to tell me what really happened. I’m sorry for putting my own fears ahead of everything else and, most of all, I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you by being such a total idiot.’
Faye surreptitiously pinched her arm to check she wasn’t dreaming and welcomed the pain that confirmed that this was no illusion.
Rocky reached for the picture she was still holding and tapped it slowly with his finger. ‘You know, Faye, for a long time I thought that if I worked hard enough and long enough, I’d be able to get you out of my head. For a while I even thought it was working, until the day I was downloading the pictures in my camera and saw this one.’
Casting her mind back, Faye remembered how Uncle Fred had borrowed Rocky’s camera to take the pictures. Silently blessing the older man for his foresight, she tried to take in what Rocky was saying.
‘The picture brought it all back and I realised that I was kidding myself if I thought that I was over you,’ he said softly. ‘Faye, I’m sorry. Really, truly, sorry. Can you forgive me?’
He looked deeply into her eyes and held his hand out to her. Trembling with emotion, her eyes filled with tears and she reached for his hand briefly before releasing it and flinging herself into his strong arms. He held on to her tightly and continued to murmur apologies under his breath.
Breathing in his familiar scent, she kept her head pressed against his strong chest until she felt his fingers gently lifting up her chin. Looking down into her eyes, Rocky leaned forward and kissed her, tenderly at first, and then with barely suppressed passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth hot against his searching lips, feeling a heady sensation flooding through her as she pressed herself up hard against him, clearly feeling the evidence of his passion.
With a groan, she dragged herself from the couch, pulling him up with her. He looked at her, his breathing ragged, and she nodded in unmistakable invitation before turning and leading him up the stairs to her room.
The long shadows of evening had crept across the bedroom as they lay quietly in Faye’s large bed. Resting her head on his chest, Faye caressed his muscled shoulders, marvelling at the strength they had just displayed. Kissing his chest softly, she asked the question that she needed the answer to, now more than ever.
‘Rocky, please tell me what happened with Celine,’ she asked quietly. His hand had been stroking her hair and it suddenly stilled. He dropped a kiss on her head and sighed deeply before speaking.
‘We met when I was in the States,’ he said softly. ‘She was on the MBA programme with me and we were in the same project group. She was very bright and incredibly attractive, and we soon started talking about more than our coursework.’ His laugh was quiet and mirthless, and the sound rumbled in his chest against Faye’s ear.
‘After a few months, she’d more or less moved in with me and things started getting pretty serious, at least they did for me – I even mentioned her to my family. Anyway, a few hours after we finished our final exams, I came back to our apartment to drop off some books.’ He paused briefly before continuing, his voice devoid of any emotion. ‘She was in bed with one of our classmates – a rich American guy whose father owned a steel mill somewhere in Pittsburgh.’
Her arms tightened around him in sympathy and he sounded almost pensive as he continued. ‘The funny thing was she didn’t turn a hair. He was terrified and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. She just looked at me and shrugged. I can still hear her now, “Rocky, honey, you’ve got to understand. I’m smart and I’m a high achiever and I’ve got to be with another high achiever – that’s the only way to get on in this world.”’
Faye sat up abruptly, appalled at what she had just heard. ‘But how could she say that, Rocky!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’d just finished an MBA, for God’s sake. Of course you were going places!’
He shrugged, gently pulling her head back down against his chest. ‘In her book, having someone with an MBA and access to millions of dollars was a much better bet than having some foreigner with an MBA and no job.’ He laughed properly for the first time since his arrival.
‘Anyway, I guess that’s what made me so determined not to let another woman get to me. Until I met you, that is,’ he added, kissing her hair.
‘Er, hello! What about Clarissa, then?’ Faye asked pointedly. He laughed again and pulled her closer still.
‘Believe me, Clarissa was a non-starter,’ he chuckled. ‘She was good fun and easy to be with, but there was no way it was going any further and I didn’t want to lead her on. In fact, she did me a favour by playing up to Stuart. She knew Celine had left me paranoid about infidelity and Clarissa’s attempts to flirt with Stuart gave me all the excuse I needed to end the relationship.’
He sat up slightly, peering at her in the semi-darkness. ‘I’m just sorry that my paranoia also made me jump to the wrong conclusion about you and Sonny,’ he said soberly. ‘I should have known better.’
He moved to kiss her and she pulled away from him, pretending to sit up.
‘I really think I should get up now. As your hostess, I don’t want to abuse the situation,’ she said with a teasing smile.
‘Abuse me all you want,’ he murmured, pulling her back to him and nibbling gently on the soft lobe of her ear. After several minutes, she sat up again.
‘Rocky, you’re definitely thinner than before,’ she said in earnest. ‘You looked really tired when you got here. You must be hungry – let me make you something to eat.’
‘Okay, what do have in mind?’
She thought back to what she remembered of meals in Rocky’s house. ‘I could make jollof rice, if you like? Or I could cook some spinach stew with pigfoot – I’ve watched Martha make it and I’m sure I can get the ingredients together in no time.’
Rocky pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. Shaking his head, he smiled gently and said before kissing her again, ‘I hate pigfoot. What about some pasta?’
Acknowledgements
While it is said that everyone has a book in them, it takes more than just the author to bring it out.
A huge thank you to the Jacaranda Books family for being the most positive and supportive publishers any writer could ask for. Jazzmine, thanks for loving the story from the start – you’ll never know how happy your email made me! Rukhsana, thanks for believing in the characters so much, you wanted to punch them. Valerie, you have my deepest and most sincere gratitude for being such an insightful, brilliant, tough and encouraging Editor. You ca
n bet that ‘Show, don’t tell!’ will be engraved on my tombstone.
Thank you so much, Kate Forrester, for the brilliant cover design and your sensitive interpretation of the key points of the storyline.
My thanks to Melissa Mensah Abanulo for reading the manuscript and for loving it enough for me to risk letting it see the light of day.
My special thanks to Marcelle Akita for her inspired matchmaking – I will be eternally grateful.
I would also like to express my heartfelt gratitude and appreciation to everyone who took the time to review this book and offered their feedback.
To all my wingwomen and indefatigable cheerleaders, you know who you are and thank you for being there whenever. Chux, thanks for being the best friend anybody could have – we’ve come a long way since my first published book review in The Voice!
Finally, thanks to each and every one of you in my big, lovely, loving, scattered and supportive family. To my beautiful daughters, Seena and Khaya, you haven’t quite yet mastered the art of not interrupting when I’m ‘in the zone’, but I love you anyway. Nana, thanks for giving me the motivation to go home, for a great day in Cape Coast and for the time to learn enough to tell Faye’s story.
And finally, finally, my love and thanks to the beautiful country of Ghana, land of my birth and my spiritual home for ever. I hope I’ve done you justice and if I haven’t, any inaccuracies are mine alone.
About the Author
Frances Mensah Williams was born in Ghana and grew up in the UK. After graduating from the University of Reading, she pursued a career in Human Resources Management, Training and Consultancy, which spanned the UK and Africa. She is now the Chief Executive of Interims for Development Ltd. and the Managing Editor of ReConnectAfrica.com, a careers and business website and online publication for African professionals in the Diaspora.
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