“We need your opinion, Tani.”
He turned to the house. Deborah was at the top of the steps that led down to the basement kitchen. “Simi and I are looking at some pictures. How on earth did you get Peach to fetch that ball for you?”
He looked at the dog. Peach was trotting his way. “I threw it,” he said. “All dogs fetch when you throw something.”
“I see you’ve never known a dachshund,” was Deborah’s reply. “Or perhaps better said: You’ve never known this dachshund. Generally, she’ll run after the ball once, drop down to the lawn, and begin to ravage it. I mean the ball, not the lawn. I suppose we could have taught her, using the reward method. You know: bring the ball and get a treat. But none of us have the patience for that, and she’s far too wily to act as if she’s learned something, because that might prevent her earning more treats. So she’s mostly window dressing in our lives, I’m afraid. Will you join us?”
She took him to the dining room, Peach on their heels, obviously in expectation of something edible, which she did not get. A laptop was set up on the mahogany table, Simi kneeling on a chair in front of it. She greeted him with, “Deborah’s taken ever so many pictures, Tani. You must see. They’re from yesterday and we’re to choose which one we like the best. They’re ginormously nice. Come here, come here.”
He placed himself behind her chair and Simi began going through the photos. They were good, he thought. In his case, Deborah had used the light streaming into the flat from outside to create shadows hiding how beat up his face was. She’d also managed to isolate a moment when his hard shell had produced the first of its cracks, softening his expression to reveal something vulnerable. That picture made him distinctly uncomfortable.
Deborah handed him a small piece of paper. He saw that two other similar pieces had been folded into quarters and lay on the table. She told him that it was now his turn to choose three photos: one of himself, one of Simi, and one of himself and Simi together. “Simi and I have made our own choices,” she said with a gesture at the folded papers. “Now it’s your turn. We’ll compare each other’s choices at the end.”
“This’s a game?” he said.
“No, no. It’s a way to narrow down choices without influencing each other.”
“What’re you doing with them, then?”
“The photos we end up with? I’m going to give them to your mother when I meet her. Whoops. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It might influence your choice. Sorry. Try to forget I said it. Although that’s stupid, isn’t it? How are you supposed to forget what I said thirty seconds ago? Never mind. Do your best.”
She was nervous. He could tell. He made her nervous. Typical. White lady, Black teenage boy. She probably had the family silver locked up somewhere just in case.
He drew a chair over to sit next to his sister, but he didn’t begin going through the pictures at once. Instead, he thought he could actually use her nervousness, so he gave her a look and said, “Did you mean it, about Sophie?”
She looked confused for a moment. But then she said, “About her coming here to see you?” And when he nodded, “Of course. She’s very welcome.”
“I think Sophie’s ever so nice,” Simisola said. “She’s got two brothers and a sister, Deborah. She’s a secret, though, i’n’t she, Tani? I mean, Tani was meant to go to Nigeria and marry a girl there which is what he got told by Papa only Papa di’n’t know he has a girlfriend already. Only now, we think he does know because someone in the market told him.”
Deborah turned her attention to Tani, saying, “I didn’t know you were meant to go to Nigeria. Do you want to?”
“Not bloody likely,” Tani said.
“What do you want? I mean, what do you prefer?”
“You mean what do I want compared to marrying some virgin in Nigeria that I never seen?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Sixth form college for a catering certificate and then uni to read business.”
“That makes more sense to me than getting married just now. How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“He can’t force you to marry anyone, your dad, can he?”
“He can,” Tani told her. “Through Simi. He set it up that way.” He took up the piece of paper and jotted the numbers of the three pictures he most liked. When he folded it and put it in the centre of the table, he said, “I want to give Sophie a bell if tha’s okay.”