EIGHTEEN
My little son,
This will be a difficult letter. I have to tell you some awfulness now because, as I’ve told you many times, there should be no secrets between a mother and her son. But this will be hard for you to read, so I pray this finds you with a family who love you well.
Elijah, sometimes things shift in the universe and everything moves backwards or turns inside out. God likes to remind us, now and then, of his wrath. In the Book of Kings, your own namesake, Elijah, controlled fire from the sky and flew up to Heaven in a whirlwind. If you, my little son, can control fire and fly, well, imagine then what God himself can do. And if God can do such things for the greater good then the devil can surely match him.
Akpan was gone for a long time. He was studying Estate Management at the University of East London and working evenings in a security job to fund our family, but he always came home on time, always. I watched the clock at dinner time, the pan of stew bubbling away in a large pot, you on my back as I moved around in the flat, tidying things and folding clothes. I could sense that you were awake, even though I couldn’t see your face, but you were happy, breathing softly and quiet, curled high up against me like a small question mark. Night fell and the clock ticked. You began to cry, not because you were upset or hungry, but you sensed the change in me – the worry. We were still tied by that cord between us, visible or not.
‘Where can he be?’ I said. ‘Where is your baba?’
I turned off the stew and turned off the light and we stood in darkness for a few seconds. Something awful was biting my insides. Panic filled me up and I began to cry, and then we heard it. The siren. I wrapped the blanket around us and we ran out of the flat, pressing the lift button again and again and listening to more sirens. Different sirens. The sound of screaming and shouting. By the time the lift took us down to the ground and we had run out of the building, there was a crowd gathered, two ambulances, a police car. I remember it so clearly: a woman in a blue anorak, the shape of her eyes, a man next to her talking loudly on his mobile telephone and others too, forming a circle around something. You cried and shook; I felt your little heart drumming quick-quick. The moon was covered by half a cloud and there were no stars at all, not a single one. I walked slowly towards the crowd. The ambulance drivers were rushing around with giant forest-green backpacks and luminous yellow jackets, brighter than the half-moon. I couldn’t see anything yet as the thick crowd were gathering close together, shouting, and the air sped through my ears, your cry. Then the moon went out. By the light of those jackets I could see a black shoe. Your baba’s shoe.
Elijah, your baba was rushing home to us when that car hit him. He died in the street outside our flat. He died instantly with his head facing up towards our window, imagining you and me, me and you, us three together. Akpan loved me like no man has ever loved a woman. He loved you like no father has ever loved a son.
After it happened, everything changed. I fell into such a hole of depression that I thought I’d never get up. But I had to. There was a funeral to organise. My pain was too big for me to speak it to Akpan’s people, to my family, and so I had a funeral with no singing, and only a handful of people, and I didn’t shed a single tear. The Bishop put his arms around my shoulders and told me Akpan was a good man, and all good men go to Heaven. He told me Heaven was a better place. But I didn’t want Akpan in Heaven. I wanted him there with me and with you, our future lying before us. I stood in front of your baba, my insides made of ice. That was how I knew something had broken inside me. And I didn’t tell anyone in Nigeria that he was dead. I knew I was protecting them. I wanted them to continue believing that he was happy and successful living in London with a family. I wanted to believe that myself. I had a plan, though. I would allow a month for my sadness to eat me and then, as soon as I had money and strength for the journey, we would take a plane home for good. But that plan never happened.
The month came and went and I stopped eating, stopped washing or combing out my hair. I could hear you cry a lot, but I couldn’t do anything to help you. You didn’t feed properly and I had to start you on bottles, but the effort of making a bottle was sometimes so hard. Such a simple thing, making a bottle. You cried and cried and I did nothing but feel dizzy and disconnected from my body. Some days I simply wanted to die and see Akpan’s face once more, hear his voice tell me he loved me. But every day the sun managed to rise. Somehow. The only thing that stopped me was you in my arms. I did what I could, Elijah, and it was probably not good enough, but I did what I could. You looked at me with such sad eyes. I prayed and prayed. But every day I became more lost, deep in a dark place and I didn’t know my way back.
I was so alone, Elijah, that I almost jumped when I recognised someone. It was on the walk home from getting some nappies that he walked past. ‘Hello,’ I said, without even realising I’d spoken.
He turned, raised one eyebrow.
‘You weren’t in church.’
As he turned, I noticed the man was wearing jeans halfway down his legs. I looked at his face. Was it the man from church? I did know a man from church who was friendly and had known Akpan well. Where was his waistcoat? My head was confused, back and forth, round and round. Everything had been so clear while I was praying but now, in the street, on the side of the busy road with traffic rushing and rain and grey, I felt unsure who I was, Elijah, suddenly unsure of anything, which is a terrifying thing when you are as certain a woman as me. Where was I? Who was he?
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Church?’
It must be him. He had the same jacket. The same smile. ‘Where were you?’ I said. ‘Was it you? I mean—I’m sorry. I don’t know … Akpan, I mean …’
I felt lost. Missing. My legs felt heavy. I moved forwards and tripped over one of my own feet, as though it belonged to another person. Was it him? Akpan’s friend? Did he know that he’d died? I’d been so sure. But there was no lined waistcoat wrapped around him. He wore a T-shirt that had writing on the front, but I couldn’t read it as everything had become blurred. He had folded his T-shirt sleeves up and I could see a drawing on his skin.
He smiled. ‘I was late,’ he said, ‘for church. I’m always late for church!’ He laughed. He looked behind me. ‘That church,’ he said. ‘Always late, me.’ Then he drew his breath inwards so sharply it made a sound like a rattlesnake. ‘Listen, sister, you look cold. You want me to take you home?’
I was cold. My body shivered and shook. I looked past the man, at the group behind him who were clustered like tadpoles. I heard laughing and spitting noises. A whistle. One of them was shouting. Where was I? Was I home at the estate already? I looked at the buildings beside me, but they looked different. How would I get home? Was I lost? The grey sky and the concrete of the buildings were exactly the same colour, as though things were dripping into each other or the world was closing over on itself. A few birds flew past and landed by our feet, pecking around the dry and empty ground. I did not know who I was any more. Then I saw it: the red car that followed me everywhere, even into my dreams. It was moving slowly along the road next to us, and the windows were so dark I couldn’t see inside. But, even so, my heart hammered through me. You were upstairs in the flat alone in your cot. I’d only popped out for a minute, but that car was watching me. Had I been gone too long? I grabbed the man’s arm.
The man took my arm in his other hand. ‘You’re safe,’ he said. ‘You’re safe. Let me take you home.’ And his voice was soft and he was from church.
And I let him walk me towards the steps and past the tadpoles and they laughed and we got to the flat and he came in, and I looked at him again and it did not look like him, the man from the third row who was friends with Akpan. I noticed his stranger’s eyes there, right in the flat, and he was talking softly, dropping me down on the bed and his teeth were sharp and I was saying nothing – not even ‘No’ – and he was talking and talking and then he was pushing into me and saying, ‘It’s me, from church; you’re safe; you’re safe,�
�� but then his voice was changing and his breath was changing and I knew he wasn’t from church. And you were there, Elijah, in the cot next to the bed, looking at me with eyes sadder than the moon, and you didn’t cry but you didn’t look away, not once.
Elijah, I can’t write any more. Not even in English.
NINETEEN
Another few months sped by and school was going really well. Elijah began looking forward to school and playing with Jasmin and going for long walks with Granddad. It felt to Elijah that he’d been living with Nikki and Obi forever. He still saw Chioma, and Ricardo came once every month. Christmas came and went, filled with presents and food and Nikki and Obi singing Christmas carols off key. Jasmin and Chanel and Granddad had come over for Christmas dinner, and they had beef and turkey, and crackers with terrible jokes. Everyone had planned his present and it was Elijah’s best gift ever: a special children’s camera that took photographs and films. Elijah took photographs of the garden, the trees, the sky, a bird. Then Jasmin borrowed the camera and filmed Granddad, who’d fallen asleep after lunch, and they recorded his snoring too, and played it back to him when he woke up. ‘That is not me,’ he said, laughing. ‘You’ve added sound effects.’
On 18 January, it was finally time for Nikki and Obi to have the special adoption day for Elijah. It was a day, Ricardo had said, which would mean they all belonged to each other forever. Elijah had let himself love Nikki and Obi a tiny bit and nothing bad had happened to them and so every day he let himself love them a tiny bit more. He loved the way Nikki brushed her hair one hundred times before bed because she said that was what her own grandmother used to do. And he loved the way that Obi had a globe with all the countries of the world on it, and he would let Elijah spin it around with his eyes shut and point his finger until it landed on a mystery country. No matter what country it landed on, Obi had met someone from there. But Elijah still thought of Mama when he woke up in the morning.
The court was a big, cold building made from brick, which had notices everywhere on the walls. Elijah read the notices. Elijah’s reading was getting quite good because he was learning at school and Nikki let him read stories every night. They were on Treasure Island and, even though it was really hard, Nikki helped him read a few pages every night. The words in the court were much easier than the words in Treasure Island but much less interesting because there was nothing about pirates:
No Mobile Phones
No Eating
Silence Please
Elijah was wearing a suit and tie and shoes that had slid around in the ice and snow outside. It was the most grownup outfit he’d ever worn and his shoes tapped on the floor. Nikki told Elijah that all the family could be there for his special day. Jasmin wore a purple dress and her hair was held away from her face with a small red clip. She had lost another tooth, so the only teeth she had were two big ones at the front and she kept putting her lip underneath them to make herself look like a rabbit. Elijah laughed, and Aunty Chanel – in leather trousers and a bright red shirt with a golden belt around her middle – tutted.
Nikki and Obi held hands all day, and they looked so happy and smart – Nikki in a light-blue dress that matched her eyes and Obi in a smart suit like Elijah’s. Granddad wore a patterned tunic and trousers in matching colours, green and blue, and a tiny hat. His tunic had golden thread woven across the chest in swirly shapes.
‘What a special day!’ said Ricardo, when he came in with a man who wore a big white wig.
‘Hello,’ the man said. ‘You must be Elijah. Do you want to come into my special courtroom? Today is a special day!’
They followed the judge into his room, which was very big and had rows and rows of wooden chairs and benches and a higher-up bench with a chair facing them. Jasmin and Elijah took turns sitting on different chairs while the judge spoke to Nikki and Obi.
‘Elijah, can we have a chat as well?’ he asked. ‘I have a very special form to fill in and this form means you will be adopted by Nikki and Obi as your mum and dad. I’ve read all about you and I think that the very best thing would be for them to adopt you and be your parents forever. How do you feel about that?’
Elijah sat down in a chair with a high back. ‘I’m happy,’ he said. ‘But I want to see my mama too.’
‘Well, I’m happy about that too. And your mum and dad tell me that you write to your birth mummy, Deborah, and that they will support you if you want to have contact with her in the future.’
Elijah looked at Nikki and Obi. They would let him see Mama. He knew that. But Mama was never well enough to go and see. He was sure she’d get better, though, because the wizard was gone.
The judge stamped a piece of paper and then signed it with an expensive-looking silver pen. He held it up for Elijah to see. ‘Your adoption certificate,’ he said. ‘It’s official. You are officially adopted.’
Everyone clapped loudly and Nikki hugged Elijah. She breathed out very deeply. Granddad whooped and lifted Elijah high into the air. ‘My grandson!’ he shouted. Then everyone followed Nikki and hugged Elijah.
Afterwards, they went to Pizza Express. They had a long table and Nikki and Aunty Chanel drank a lot of red wine. Everyone laughed and was happy. The wizard was nowhere and Elijah knew that Mama would be pleased. She would get better and then they would see each other again.
TWENTY
Before Elijah came, Nikki had dreamt often of the same place: a closed room where she could somehow hear the sound of the sea and a far-away baby crying. But, now, Elijah was there in her dreams, laughing, and the baby was there too – Rosy-Ify, in her arms – the three of them laughing. The room was warm and lit by firelight. Obi was not there in person but she could hear the drumming of his heart.
Nikki wanted to stay in the room and, as the dream lifted away, she pushed her feet into the carpet. Rosy-Ify was around her and inside her still, her breasts ached and bubbles popped in her belly. The heaviness of her breasts became sharper and Nikki was forced awake, the dream leaving a memory of something sweet, already the details fading, until all she remembered was Obi’s giant heart and the sharpness of her breasts. Sharpness of my breasts.
Nikki pushed her hand underneath her pyjama top and pressed them and sleep flew fast away. She sat up suddenly. Her breasts. It couldn’t be, can’t be. Impossible; completely impossible. But when was her period? She counted backwards: eight weeks. Eight weeks! She thought of everything she knew, tried to stay calm. They couldn’t have children. They had tried and tried and every time lost them and, after the last horrific time, the doctors had said there was very little chance of Nikki ever getting pregnant again. They’d had to do surgery; there was so much blood, so much scraping away at her insides. So many doctors told her. Almost. Impossible. The room spun around and she lay down again. It was impossible for her to get pregnant. She said aloud, ‘Impossible. Almost impossible.’ Almost! She remembered conversations, second opinions, painful words: too much damage, scar tissue, trauma.
She remembered taking the pill religiously, until they ran out and she didn’t have time to go and get her repeat prescription. With Elijah, her head had been all over the place; she’d been forgetting to take her vitamins, her pill, aspirin for her condition.
Almost impossible. Suddenly she felt so guilty. She had told Ricardo she was still taking her contraceptive. She had barely given it a second thought – just forgot to take it one morning, rushed back for the packet then realised she hadn’t picked up her prescription. It hadn’t seemed to matter because Nikki could not get pregnant. Oh God; she hadn’t even told Obi. It couldn’t be. But her breasts and the soreness of them her body remembered from long ago. Before Elijah. Elijah! Ricardo had said again and again how important it was for Elijah to be their only child. That, if they did want to try again, to wait for as long as possible – till Elijah was much older.
But Elijah had been home for just over six months and Nikki was pregnant. He would feel like he was being replaced. Ricardo had told them that Elijah’s trauma me
ant that he needed stability and no major changes. That his attachment depended on it. She could hear Ricardo’s voice: Elijah might not be able to cope, or you might not be able to cope with his behaviours, and the last thing any of us want is to see him going back into care. They could lose their son.
When Nikki got out of bed later that morning she couldn’t shake the taste out of her mouth. Every time she moved, her breasts felt heavy and sore. She went downstairs as normal, and kissed Elijah and Obi, and chatted with them about how lovely the adoption day had been. For the first time in years, she wanted her mum. She pictured her sitting with her dad in front of the television, feet up on a footstool. She’d promised to take Elijah to Wales to visit them during the Easter holidays. She imagined her mum’s voice, her using the same tea bag between her and Dad, and telling Nikki that that was what marriage was in the end: the sharing of a tea bag between two old cups.
‘We’ll get the photos framed,’ said Obi, his voice full of pride. ‘There were so many lovely photos; we’ll have to choose a selection. And I’m sure Daddy will want one.’
Nikki closed her eyes briefly. Daddy. What would he think? How would he react? No, it was silly. There was no way she could be pregnant.
‘We’re going swimming this morning,’ said Obi. ‘We already decided before you came down. There’s a wave machine at the local pool on Saturdays and Jasmin said she’d come too. Do you fancy it?’
Nikki frowned. ‘In the snow? Anyway, I thought you said you had to go to work.’
Obi’s face tensed. ‘No need. I’ve filed the appeal. All I can do now is wait.’ He relaxed. ‘So I’m going to have fun while I wait – snow or not! You coming?’
‘No, I think I’ll stay here and relax. Get some peace and quiet for once.’
‘Suit yourself. Go and get your swimming shorts, little man,’ he told Elijah.
Where Women are Kings Page 15
