‘So what is it this year – Arsenal away kit, maybe?’
‘Dad!’
‘What? It was a simple question? . . .’
‘You don’t give us enough pocket money for that!’ I added.
‘Cheeky!’ Dad said, smiling. ‘Mum and I won’t be in later, so you need to come home and look after your sister as soon as you’ve finished at school.’
‘OK,’ I replied.
‘Makeeda, you can have anyone round except Nelson, as we won’t be in.’
‘Yeah, OK.’
Considering I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a week, that rule was easy to follow.
I rushed upstairs and hid all the presents and then caught the bus to school.
It was really weird walking through my school during the holidays. The caretaker let me in and told me to go to the history department. I walked along the empty corridors and kept expecting to hear the loudness of a bunch of girls screaming with laughter or rushing to their next class, but it never happened. It felt eerie.
The first thing Mrs Hipman did was tell me again how disappointed she was that I’d disobeyed her. I knew then that I’d failed the assignment. It wasn’t until she shoved my essay in front of me that I tuned into her. I stared at the grade and then looked up to see her grinning back at me.
‘Ohmigod, I got an A?’ I said, shocked.
‘Makeeda, I’m so proud of you!’
‘I got an A?’
‘Yes, Makeeda, and if you work hard towards your exams you could achieve an A* at GCSE.’
‘I got an A!’ I said, smiling. ‘No offence, but they’re like gold dust in your class, Miss!’
She laughed.
It was true. Bharti and I once calculated that Mrs Hipman gave out about eight grade As per academic year!
‘Yes, Makeeda. Like I always say, it only takes hard work and commitment and you’ve shown that. I didn’t want you to write this essay, because I believed that it would be too difficult to get the resources and that kind of patience normally comes with age. What you’ve written, however, is a thought-provoking essay that you’ve managed to relate to the use of traditions by modern-day Ghanaians. I don’t think you realise what you’ve achieved here, do you?’
‘Well . . .’
I actually liked Mrs Hipman even though she was strict. She was different to some of the other teachers; she really believed that everyone could achieve anything they wanted. Bharti and I used to say it was a shame she brought hard work into the equation, but no teacher was perfect.
‘Makeeda, this essay crosses into sociology. It was a fascinating read!’
‘Um, thanks, Miss,’ I said, interrupting her.
Thank God I wrote that last paragraph, about the legacy of tradition and identity that Yaa Asantewaa had instilled in modern-day Ghanaians through protecting the Golden Stool. I knew I had Nana-Amma to thank for that.
‘Did you enjoy writing it?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ I said. ‘It was difficult in places, but I was glad I was able to write it.’
‘Well, on this occasion I’m glad you completely ignored me, but don’t do it again.’
‘No promises, Miss!’ I said, giving her a grin.
‘Makeeda!’ she said, laughing. ‘Wish your family a Merry Christmas from me.’
‘I will. Thanks again!’ I said as I ran out of the school.
An A? I was still in shock. I decided to send a few text messages, to everyone but Bharti and Nelson.
Me:
I got an A!
Mel:
Well done, don’t suppose she told you what I got?
Me:
No.
Mel:
Bet u didn’t even ask!
Mel knew me well.
Me:
Wanna come round for a bit?
Mel:
Yeah, I can give you your present.
Me:
OK, I’ll be home in 30mins.
As I sat on the bus home, my mind kept drifting between Nelson and Bharti. I missed Bharti and felt angry at Nelson. He didn’t seem bothered by anything that had happened. Maybe I was right. Maybe he was just working his way up to dumping me.
Mel:
W R U?
Me:
R U @ my house? I’m just walking up the high road.
Mel:
Meet me at the bus stop ASAP.
Me:
Y? OK.
That was weird. Mel knew the way to my house. As I headed back to the bus stop, I saw an old woman sitting down next to a girl wrapped up in a purple coat and black boots; she couldn’t see me, as her hair covered the book she was reading. It was Bharti. I could tell by the way she shoved her face right into the spine of the book. Then, suddenly, she looked up and saw me. I froze on the spot.
‘Excuse me, love,’ the old woman said prodding me with her walking stick. ‘You’re blocking my view! I can’t see if the bus is coming if you stand there!’
‘Oh, sorry,’ I said.
I looked over at Bharti, who was laughing, but as we weren’t talking it was awkward. I mean, was she laughing at me in a spiteful way? Or laughing at me in a friendly way?
I moved to stand in front of her.
‘Have you seen Mel?’ I asked neutrally.
‘No, I’m waiting for her too,’ she replied. She picked up her book and began reading again.
Great! She obviously still hates me, I thought.
Bharti’s phone beeped, then so did mine.
Mel:
I’M NOT COMING SO SORT IT OUT!
‘Ohmigod, I’m going to kill her!’ Bharti and I screamed simultaneously.
The old woman narrowed her eyes and gave us a wary look. With one hand she clutched her bag to her chest, whilst the other took a firm grip on her walking stick.
Bharti and I exchanged looks, then laughed. I sat down beside her away from the old woman.
‘I love your coat,’ I said.
‘Thanks, it’s a present from Tejas.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, he reckons I should dress more like a lady. Hitesh’s girlfriend helped him pick it out.’
‘Oh right,’ I said. ‘You know you look really different.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Definitely. You’ve got a different vibe to you now.’
‘Well . . . I’m eating properly and I’ve been getting more toned since I started doing those street dance classes at the gym.’
‘Wow! That’s really good,’ I said, impressed.
‘It’s better than all those rubbish diets I was doing and I feel different too,’ said Bharti.
‘Good,’ I said, smiling.
‘Yeah, and I’m over Hitesh. His girlfriend is really nice but, from what she told me, he’s a bit of a nightmare.’
‘How?’
‘He forgets important stuff like birthdays.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
If there was one thing that bugged Bharti, it was people who forgot birthdays. For her there was never a decent excuse.
‘Exactly,’ she said.
An awkward silence blanketed us. I didn’t want Bharti to stop speaking to me; it felt like old times with her talking about Hitesh, and it made me realise how much I’d missed her. I kept thinking of things to say, when the old lady used her walking stick to move another commuter out of her way.
‘Ohmigod, she’s at it again!’ I whispered.
‘I know! Haven’t you noticed that all three buses have been but she hasn’t boarded one?’ said Bharti.
‘Yeah, but neither have we.’
‘Good point.’
‘Do you want to come to my place?’ I asked.
I watched as her face flickered with some kind of unpleasant memory. I was really scared she’d say no – after all, we still hadn’t sorted things out.
‘Yeah, OK.’
We walked in silence for a bit, dodging the passers by with huge shopping bags bursting with Christmas stuff.
‘Makeeda?’ Bharti said. ‘How
did it go with your essay?’
‘I got an A,’ I muttered.
‘Really? That’s brilliant!’ Bharti said, genuinely pleased for me.
‘Thanks.’
I thought it would be as good a time as any to say sorry. I knew that I hadn’t had much luck with apologies in the past, but I hoped it wouldn’t be such a problem now.
‘Bharti?’
‘Makeeda, I’m really sorry!’ she blurted out suddenly.
‘Oh!’ I said, shocked.
‘Listen, I know that I’ve been really mean to you, especially when you apologised and . . .’
‘Um . . . hold up!’ I said but she ignored me.
‘I just want to say that, when I said that you were obsessed with Nelson, I didn’t mean it. I was overreacting.’
‘OK, and I didn’t mean to call you jealous. Especially as I was absolutely no help with Hitesh.’
‘Mates?’
‘Yeah,’ I replied, hugging her.
‘At last!’ Mel said.
She was standing at my front door in a bright blue puffa jacket, pale blue scarf and dark red cord trousers. And she was jumping up and down.
‘What’s with the jumping?’ I asked.
‘Joke, right? I’m cold, Makeeda! I’ve been standing here for nearly an hour!’ Mel said.
Bharti and I exchanged surprised looks. We knew she couldn’t have been there for more than twenty minutes tops.
‘Delphy’s in,’ I said, unlocking the door.
‘Whaaat?’ Mel screamed in my ear. ‘I knocked!’
‘Oh yeah, she’s not allowed to answer the door unless someone else is in,’ I explained.
We walked in to find Delphina piling more decorations on to the Christmas tree. It looked like it was going to topple over with the additional weight, but I didn’t say anything to her. She was doing it to annoy Mum and Dad.
‘Hey, did you hear about the kid at Delphy’s school who was outselling the tuck shop?’ Mel asked, as I handed around biscuits and drinks.
‘Yeah, my little cousin said it looks like the money they made will go to charity, probably Oxfam,’ Bharti added.
Ohmigod, people know? I’d better warn Mum.
‘Didn’t you know about it?’ Mel asked.
‘Um . . . well, yeah, I heard about it,’ I replied.
‘You know, when I heard, I thought it was something Delphy would do. Mad, huh?’ Bharti said, laughing.
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Mel, joining in.
I gave a hollow laugh and took a sip of my drink.
Luckily Mum and Aunt Grace walked in with bags of food, so they both dropped the subject. When Mum asked us to fry some plantain, I expected Bharti and Mel to come up with an excuse, but they didn’t. We were relegated to the kitchen, while Mum and Aunt Grace caught up on the latest Ghanaian film.
As I carefully finished pouring the oil into the frying pan, Mel had almost finished slicing the plantains. Bharti had finished her peeling duties and was busy wrapping the skins in a newspaper for recycling.
‘Can I put them in?’ Mel asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, giving her some room. I watched as pieces of plantain fell into the hot oil and immediately began sizzling.
‘I’m not turning them over though,’ Mel said, standing back.
‘Chicken!’ I replied.
‘This is a new top,’ she said, looking down at a sweater I’d seen more than ten times this month alone.
‘Yeah, whatever!’ I said, checking the plantain.
‘You know, my star sign said I was going to have a major disagreement twice,’ said Bharti.
‘Yeah?’ I said.
‘Uh huh. It said something about this huge disagreement paving the way for a new and better existence. Weird thing is yours said something similar. We were fated to argue, Makeeda.’
Mel and I exchanged looks.
‘Was it written in the stars then?’ Mel asked, sniggering.
‘Yeah. I reckon it was,’ Bharti said seriously, making Mel and I burst into laughter.
‘What? It’s true!’ Bharti said.
‘Hey, Laura told me what happened with Nelson,’ Mel said suddenly.
It completely killed my vibe. I tried to ignore her and started flipping the plantain over gently.
‘What happened?’ Bharti asked.
Mel told her everything Laura had said about the café, and surprisingly it didn’t have the usual overtones of ‘I hate Makeeda’ all over it. I heard Bharti gasp in shock, and knew they were waiting for me to speak.
‘Makeeda?’ Bharti said.
‘Hold on, I’m taking the plantain out,’ I said, carefully spooning the slices into a sieve.
I really didn’t want to talk about Nelson. I’d spent nearly a week not thinking about him, or at least attempting it. I had to face facts. He wasn’t interested in me any more and was going to make it official any day now. When I told Mel and Bharti, they had puzzled looks on their faces. Mel said, if I was right, she would have heard about it from one of his friends. She meant Jordan. The only problem with that was that I knew that Stephen and Hakeem were closer to Nelson than Jordan. Bharti then asked if we’d had an argument, or if Nelson had any reason to be upset with me, but I told her no, as I hadn’t told him about being forbidden to see him or that my parents never knew about him. That was when Mel pulled her uh-oh face.
‘You didn’t!’ I said.
‘You said you’d tell him,’ she said defensively.
‘What’s going on?’ Bharti asked.
Before we could explain, Mum walked in and swiped the plate of plantain.
‘I hope you girls aren’t sitting here eating it all,’ Mum said.
‘We haven’t even sampled our handiwork yet, Auntie,’ Mel said, attempting to grab a slice, but Mum ducked out of the way.
‘A likely story, Melanie,’ Mum replied.
I saw Mel wince at her full name being used.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot, Makeeda, we’re going to your Auntie Anita’s place on the twenty-sixth for dinner,’ Mum informed me, reaching for some forks and side plates.
Another family gathering – whoopee do dah!
‘So?’ Bharti asked, as soon as Mum was out of earshot.
‘Mel told Nelson I was forbidden to see him.’
‘Ohmigod!’ Bharti said.
‘It wasn’t like that!’ Mel protested. ‘I just said how great it was that Makeeda’s parents changed their mind. How could I know that he didn’t know? The boy even smiled at me!’
‘Weird,’ Bharti said.
‘I’m so glad Laura told me what happened,’ Mel said.
‘Hold on, why didn’t he just ask you what was going on?’ Bharti said to me.
‘Exactly. Instead he just humiliated me twice!’ I said angrily.
I saw Mel and Bharti exchange worried glances. I didn’t want their sympathy I just wanted to throttle Nelson for being so horrible to me. Even if he knew about me keeping him a secret, it didn’t excuse his behaviour.
I started piling more plantain into the frying pan. My mobile rang and Bharti answered it. I heard the surprise in her voice.
‘Makeeda, you’re not going to believe it.’
I looked at her like she was crazy. Then I saw the name on my phone. Nelson.
‘Calm down,’ said Mel, taking the spoon from my hand.
‘OK,’ I said to Mel. ‘Yeah?’ I said into my phone.
I decided to walk into the corner. I stared out on to the garden and saw Delphy’s football in the distance covered in silver-tipped grass leaves. Our garden never seemed to fully thaw in winter.
‘Makeeda? Makeeda?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I . . . I . . . wanted to apologise for standing you up,’ he said. His voice didn’t seem as confident as it usually was.
‘Why are you telling me this now? It happened ages ago and I’ve seen you since. Remember?’ I said angrily.
I saw Bharti and Mel exchange looks of shock at my outburst.
; ‘Makeeda, I’m calling to . . .’
‘Listen, if you’re calling to dump me because I’m obviously never going to be “your best kiss ever”, then fine. Take the easy route and do it over the phone, because if I see you . . .’
‘Hold on a minute!’ Nelson interrupted. ‘I never said I was going to dump you! That’s not why I’m calling.’
‘It’s not?’ I said, shocked.
‘No. I’m calling because I want to sort this out! Another thing: don’t play the victim. You never told me that your parents didn’t know I was your boyfriend, or the real reason you were grounded, Mel did!’ he said angrily.
‘Yeah, but that didn’t give you the right to treat me the way you did!’
‘No, but how do you think I felt, Makeeda? I went to your house and met your mum. The woman must have been in shock when I turned up!’
I laughed. It was weird, but I could imagine the look on Mum’s face.
‘It’s not funny!’ Nelson said, but he couldn’t help himself either and started laughing too. ‘Listen, Makeeda, can’t we sort this out?’ he said softly.
‘Yeah, OK.’ I said.
‘Can we meet up today?’
‘No. I won’t be free till the twenty-seventh.’
‘The twenty-seventh? OK. How about two o’clock, Brent Cross Shopping Centre?
‘Fine,’ I said, and he hung up.
‘Well?’ Mel said.
‘He apologised and we’re meeting up on the twenty-seventh.’
‘What?’ Bharti said astonished.
‘Oh, sorry, I forgot about going shopping,’ I confessed. Bharti and I usually met up on the twenty-seventh to go sales shopping with our Christmas money.
‘I’ll go with you,’ Mel volunteered.
‘No thanks. If I wanted to spend hours looking at sports gear, I’d sit in the local gym,’ Bharti said to Mel.
‘Ouch!’ Mel said, shocked.
I laughed. Mel had a habit of being mesmerised by the latest gadgets and products in a sports shop, even when we were looking for decent heels (or flats in my case). She once spent the money her mum gave her for a dress on a special tracksuit that had fabric that used your sweat to help cool your body down. Bharti and I couldn’t see the point in it but then Mel was the one who woke up at six a.m. to go running and did Taekwondo twice a week.
Growing Yams in London Page 14
