Monifa had liked him at once, Benjamin Nkata. She liked the way he interacted with his wife and his son. She liked how they laughed together. She especially liked that he’d asked his wife if she’d had time to see to his dinner. When Alice said she had done and it was jerk chicken with rice and pineapple slices （“tinned, I’m ’fraid”）， Monifa liked that he’d declared jerk chicken was his favourite dish and that into his wife’s laughter, his son had explained with, “Tha’s what he says ev’ry night, no matter what she cooks.”
Benjamin’s reply had been, “But each time, she goes one better than the last time, so soon ’s I taste what she’s cooked, it’s my new fav’rite.”
“You keep talking,” had been Alice’s response to this, and then to her son, “You takin’ notes, Jewel? ’F anyone knows how to beguile a woman, it’s your dad.”
Monifa eased into the family bathroom, did her business, then looked at herself in the mirror above the basin. Her black eye was only partially open, her eyelid and the space above it were swollen, and her split lip bore an ugly scab. She did the best she could with soap and water, joining the Nkatas in the kitchen when she was finished.
Alice said, “Here she is, then.”
“How’d you sleep, Missus Bankole?” Benjamin asked. “That paracetamol help at all?”
“A bit.” Monifa told the lie easily in answer to his kindness. “Thank you for being so good to me. I must thank your son as well.”
“He went off to work, he did,” Alice said. “We’ve got our orders to take good care of you.”
Benjamin added, “Told us to tell you not to worry ’s well. If you can, he said. I ’spect that’s an impossibility, but you do your best because the one thing I know ’bout Win is he won’t let a thing happen to those kids of yours.”
Monifa nodded when she heard this, but she wasn’t relieved of either anxiety or fear. Tani would return to the flat, if she knew him. And, also knowing Abeo as she did, her husband would return as well because he’d have no intention of leaving the flat till he put his hands on Simi.
“I expect you’d like your clothes, eh?” Alice was saying. “They’re just over there on the piano bench. I gave them a wash last night and a good ironing this morning.”
Monifa was at a loss for what to say. She’d never come across people like this, the sort who would treat a stranger foisted upon them as an honoured guest. “I find I have no way to thank you.”
“Tha’s not going to be a problem, innit,” Benjamin said. “Cos Alice here tells me you’re quite a cook.”
Alice said before Monifa could reply, “We’d be that happy if you’d do us an African meal, Monifa. And that’ll be thanks enough, that will. So if you make up a list of what you need, Benjamin here will fetch the food b’fore he has to be at work. I got someone handling the caff today b’cause I want to watch you cook and I’m taking notes.”
Monifa knew that Alice Nkata was under orders from her son to keep watch over her, making sure she remained in Brixton. She meant well, as did her son and her husband. But the truth was that Monifa had no idea how any of them expected to keep her in Brixton if she managed to learn where her children were. Nonetheless, she decided to let them try.
WESTMINSTER
CENTRAL LONDON
What Lynley didn’t want to hear on the other end of the phone was Daidre’s recorded voice once again: “Awfully sorry. I can’t take your call at the moment. Please leave a message.” This he had done the previous night, assuming there was some kind of emergency with one of the larger animals at the zoo. But now this morning and despite the early hour . . . ? He was worried enough to consider making the drive to Belsize Park. However, after giving the idea a few minutes’ thought as he cleared the bathroom mirror of steam and did his morning shave, he decided against it. If she’d indeed had a very late night at the zoo and as a result was having a lie-in with her phone muted, she wouldn’t be pleased to find him on her doorstep.
Still and all . . . There was something not right in Daidre’s life at the moment. She’d hinted a bit and he’d read it on her face and in the set of her shoulders. She would tell him when she was ready, he reckoned. Of course, though, that begged the question: When would she ever be ready? He knew the answer—not anytime soon—but that wasn’t close to a happy thought.