It had begun when he responded to the message from Zawadi, which he had largely forgotten in his haste to be back in Chelsea after his two hours with Sophie on the previous afternoon. When she answered and said brusquely, “I text you asking you to ring me, you ring me straightaway. We clear?”
“Sorry. I got caught up—”
“Well, don’t get caught up.”
“Sorry.”
“I got a place for both of you. Just happened this morning. It’s not why I’m ringing you, but we’ll get to that. There’s a family in Lewisham happy to have you and Simisola. Bit crowded, this place, but you’d be safe. And you’d be in a normal situation.”
Tani knew that what she meant by “normal” was changing their placement to one in the home of a Black family. He considered this. These people in this house . . . ? He knew they meant well. He also knew they were committed to protecting both Simisola and him. They were do-gooders, the lot of them—especially Deborah—but at least they were putting themselves . . . well, out there. More than that, Simi was enjoying herself: a dog, a cat, a garden to run round in, Bunny Ears if a Super Soft van happened to be in the area. Things could be a bloody sight worse.
He said, “We’re good. Prob’ly best thing is for us to stay where we are. This lot here? They’re decent enough.”
“What’s that mean? ‘Decent enough’？ They’re not treating you right?”
“I mean they’re okay. They’re nice, for white people.”
“If that changes even one degree, I want to know. You ring me.” When he said that he would do, she went on. “I’ve got the urgent order,” she told him. “The protection order.”
He was definitely not expecting this bit of news, all things considered. He said, “Did Mum—”
“Didn’t need her. We filled it out here at Orchid House and took it to the authorities.”
“But I thought her part of the application was the important bit.”
“Still is. They’ll want her story soon ’s we can get it. For now, I used the photos of your face after your dad beat on you. That did the job of illustrating the sort of bloke he is.”
“Are you . . . You’re not takin’ it to him, are you? The protection order? That’s bats, innit.”
She wasn’t, she told him. “Like I said before, th’ order goes to the coppers now, the station nearest where you live. Someone there will take it soon ’s it’s in hand. It’ll be delivered to your dad personally and he’ll be told to hand over the passports.”
“Passports were never there. But I found ’em.” He related the story to her.
Her reaction was to tell him that—Sophie or not—she still needed those passports. Only once they were in the hands of the police and thus inaccessible to Abeo would Simisola be safe.
So he’d rung Sophie and she’d come to Chelsea as soon as she was able. She took the passports out of her shoulder bag and was handing them over to Tani when Deborah St. James joined them in the entry.
Simi cried, “Look who’s here, Deborah! Sophie’s here! Your dad’s making tea!”
“I see her,” Deborah said to the little girl. She saw the passports. She said to Tani with a nod at the passports, “You’ll want to ring Zawadi now they’re here, yes? The police will want them?”
That was the case indeed, but Tani wasn’t sure he wanted to hand them over. Now they were in his possession, he knew that he could keep them safe, which meant he could keep Simisola safe. He didn’t fully trust anyone else to do that.
They were rejoined by Cotter, who also spied the passports. He said, “Tea in the kitchen or in the garden?”
“I want Sophie to see the garden!” Simi cried. “Is Alaska in the garden? Is Peach?”
“Can’t say about that cat,” Cotter told her, “but you know Peach by now, eh? Once she smells a teacake, she’ll be underfoot quick as quick can be. You want to show Sophie the way?”
Simi grabbed her hand. Tani wanted to do the same, but Cotter spoke to him next, saying, “D’you want me to have those?” with reference to the passports. “I got places in this house no one’s ever looking. Tear it down brick by brick, and they still wouldn’t find ’em. I promise to hand them over soon ’s you ask for them.”
This seemed like the best idea, Tani thought. Until he or Zawadi could get the passports to the police, Joseph Cotter’s hiding them sounded to him like the safest way to go. None of them would know where they were. Which meant, naturally, that none of them would or could tell anyone else.