Alice said to her, “I’m just ’bout ready to head to the caff, Monifa. You okay to go? I decided to try my hand at egg rice first, and I’d be pleased if you watch me and make corrections.”
So they set off together. They did a good amount of crisscrossing through the streets, which made Monifa consider whether DS Nkata had advised his mum to take a route guaranteed to confuse her, and on this route they passed Brixton Police Station. This gave her pause and tightened her fight-or-flee muscles, but they went on, and they ended up in Brixton Road. There Alice N’s Café was tucked between Launderama and Habeesha Restaurant and Bar. Like most businesses along the road, the front bore a steel roll-up security door that covered both the café’s large window and its entrance. It was painted bright blue, and across it the café’s name was scrolled in bright red letters. Cartoonish diners sat at tables piled with food. Morning Coffee, Lunch, and All-Day Snacks were lettered in cartoon balloons while Eat In or Take Away had been fashioned into the shapes of crockery and cutlery by someone with talent and imagination.
Monifa wondered it had not been tagged. But she saw that the artist had signed his work—Annan Kwame—so perhaps he was a resident nearby and due respect was given to his art.
Alice unlocked the metal door and raised it. Then she unlocked the café itself and motioned for Monifa to go inside. There was an open/closed sign posted on the door’s glass, and Alice did not change it from the closed position. She said to Monifa, “Tabby will be along straightaway and I’ll want her watching when we get to the cooking. Let’s have coffee meantime.”
It didn’t take long to make their coffees, which Alice carried to one of the café’s tables along with a tin jug of cold milk and a basket of various sweeteners. Both of them sat and Monifa said to her, “You have had this café for many years?”
Alice nodded. “When Stoney—our Harold—went inside, I needed a distraction to take my mind off where I went wrong raising him. Benj said I had to do something other than fret as there was nothing more we could do for Stoney, him and me. So I thought about it and since my only talent—other than tatting, and I do like tatting, don’t I—was cooking Caribbean, that’s what I decided. I did it for Brixton Market at first, just three hours this was, from ten till one. I still have a stall there—Tabby’s mum works it—but Benj thought a regular caff would be better as I get older. To keep me out of the weather in winter and the like. So here I am.”
Monifa considered what she’d said and asked, “Cooking?”
“What’s that?”
“Cooking is your only talent?”
Alice smiled. “Like I said, I do my tatting and I s’pose there’s other talents inside me but this is the only one I practise regular. When you’ve hungry men to cook for, what else is there to do, eh? Plus we always could use the money if I actually made any. Which I did not, not in the beginning when I was starting out. I overordered, I cooked too much, I served up too much. It took awhile.”
Monifa said, “For me, it’s the same. Cook, wash, clean, iron, and do the shop.”
Alice nodded and took a sip of her coffee, grimaced, then said, “Good Lord, that’s strong. You drink that, Monifa, you’ll be awake for a week. Let me make another.”
“Oh no. Please. This is, I am sure, very fine.” Although Alice looked doubtful, Monifa added some milk and sugar, and she brought the cup to her lips. It was too strong, but she would never say. “So you have made your talent . . . the work of your life?”
“Life’s work?” Alice ran her hand over the table, seemed to find it not up to her standards, and went behind the café’s counter. She brought back a spray bottle and a rag and vigorously used them both. “I think it’s only my life’s work if I’m still learning, you know? That’s why I brought you here. I expect you can teach me a lot. You ever thought about teaching Nigerian cookery?”
Monifa cocked her head and studied Alice to see if she was joking. She said, “Me? Teaching?”
“Why not, eh? You’re going to teach me today, aren’t you?”
“That is different.”
“It isn’t. You could teach in the evenings easy. Right here in the caff if you want. I expect you could get quite a group together. ’Specially as more and more people with the funds to pay move to this area. You’re going to need something.”