When the detective sergeant used the brass door-knocker, no one answered. He frowned at this and Monifa felt her heart begin to pound in her temples. She didn’t entertain the thought of Abeo discovering their children here—they might as well have been on the moon—but the fact that they appeared to be elsewhere made her palms sweaty and her upper lip damp.
After another application of door knocker to door did nothing, nor did ringing the bell, the detective sergeant told her to follow him, which she did. Round the corner and just along the street perpendicular to the one that the front door faced, they found a gate. Beyond this a dog was barking and a child was crying out happily, “You mustn’t give her a treat ’nless she brings it back, Sophie.”
Simisola. Monifa grabbed the gate’s handle and shoved upon it. It opened and there they were: Simisola, Tani, and a shapely Black girl with a display of flesh only made possible by her immodest clothing: blue jeans cut off near the top of her thighs and a cotton shirt without sleeves, possessing a neckline that displayed the pronounced curve of her breasts.
A long-haired sausage dog was running back and forth from the girl, Sophie, to Simisola. Watching this from deck chairs were Tani and a white lady with masses of flaming hair.
She was the one who espied Monifa and the detective sergeant, and it was instantly clear that DS Nkata was known to her. She got to her feet and said, “Winston! Hullo.”
“Brought a visitor,” he said.
The two girls looked over their shoulders, whereupon Simisola dropped the ball she was holding and ran to Monifa, shouting, “Mummy! Mummy!”
Monifa held out her arms. The sweet weight of her daughter’s body pressed into hers. She extended her hand to Tani, and he came to her. He was still bruised from the beating his father had given him. She put her hand on his cheek and his handsome face blurred in her vision.
“I’m Deborah St. James,” the white lady said. She added with a smile, “Something tells me you’re Mrs. Bankole.”
Monifa could only nod as she absorbed what she felt, having her two children with her again.
The sole person who said nothing was the immodest girl. And she—this girl—looked at Tani. She was expecting something and Tani was not loath to give it apparently because he said to Monifa, “Mum, this is Sophie, my girlfriend. She’s been helping us. Me and Simi.”
The kind of help the girl was giving Tani was all too simple for Monifa to work out. She glanced at her son but made no mention of what Sophie’s clothing suggested about the probable consequences of Tani’s continuing to have anything to do with her. There would be time for that later.
For her part, Sophie came to join their little group. Monifa wanted to push her away, but she knew the wisdom of saying only, “I give you thanks.”
“I’m that happy to help,” Sophie said, and she added, “I’m glad to help all of you.”
“Sophie’s special,” Simisola said. “She took pictures of Tani after what happened so we could get a . . .” She screwed up her face in confusion and said, “Tani, what’d we get?”
“An urgent protection order, Squeak,” Tani told her. He then said to Monifa, “So your name doesn’t have to be on it, Mum. If anyone takes a fall from this, it’ll be me and I’ll make sure he knows it.”
Monifa didn’t want this. Tani had been through too much already. Simi had been through too much as well. She—Monifa—was meant to take the steps necessary to send her children somehow into a future that was bright with promise.
“Where’re you staying, Mummy?” Simi asked her. “Have you come to stay here?”
“I am with Sergeant Nkata’s family,” Monifa answered.
“Can’t you be with us? Deborah’s ever so nice. Oh, and this is Peach, Mummy. Tani’s been teaching her how to fetch. And I think Alaska’s in that tree. Least, that’s where he was. Alaska’s a cat. Can you stay, Mummy?”
Deborah St. James said, “You’re very welcome to stay, Mrs. Bankole.”
“Oh please, Mummy. Please.” Simi clasped her hands together beneath her chin.
The detective sergeant interposed. “Not jus’ now, Simisola. She’s teaching my own mum how to do Nigerian food, she is. We need to keep her for a bit.”
“But that’ll take forever,” Simisola said in protest.
“My mum learns real fast,” he said affably.
“And in the meantime . . .” Deborah said. “I’ve something to give your mum, Simi. D’you want to fetch it? D’you remember where it is?”