Up close, Abeo smelled of sex and sweat. The odour was so strong that Tani stepped away. At this Abeo smiled slyly. He began to retrace his route of the previous night.
Tani said to his father’s retreating back, “If you’re going to fuck some nasty bit on the side, a shower wouldn’t hurt when you finish with her.”
Abeo made no reply. His gait looked youthful, as if he was proud he’d been found out.
“Can’t be bothered to wash?” Tani demanded. “But wait. Right. You want that stench because how else will every person within twenty feet of you know you had it off last night? And tha’s the important bit, innit, Pa? People have to know Abeo Bankole’s getting some.”
At that, Abeo paused, but he didn’t turn completely. He just moved his head so that Tani could hear him when he said, “You will speak to your father like this?”
Tani approached him. “Who is she? How long has this been going on?”
“The answers to those questions are not your affair,” Abeo said. “When I think something is your concern, I will tell you.” He resumed his walk, slapping the manila envelope against his thigh. He began to whistle tunelessly.
Tani followed close behind him. “Third floor,” he said. “I can get in. Is that what you want? Your son showing up at the minge pie’s door? And who is she? Haven’t you made Mum miserable enough without finding some greasy bag to spread them open for you?”
A street sweeper approached, clearing the pavements and the gutters. He glanced between them and gave them a sharp nod. Abeo nodded back. Tani did nothing.
They continued on their way. Traffic was building. Buses were grinding along the streets. The air sucked up exhaust fumes greedily, and the sun promised yet another day of blazing heat.
Tani saw his father unfasten the clasp on the manila envelope. He drew from it a piece of heavy paper. He handed it to Tani. On it, a very young hand had drawn and labeled a group of stick figures and had given them each spiralling hair. Two of the figures were large. Two were small. Above the group of them was printed My Famly. Beneath the two smaller figures a more skilled hand had printed Elton and Davrina. Beneath the two larger figures that same hand had identified Mummy and Daddy. There was nothing else of note save the stomach of Mummy, which bulged. An arrow pointed to it and along that arrow’s shaft was printed Baby.
Tani said, “You’re fucking some bloke’s wife? And she’s up the spout? What’s wrong with you?”
Abeo said nothing. He merely handed the envelope to Tani. At first Tani thought he was meant to return the crude drawing there, but then Abeo said, “Turn it over,” and Tani saw that For My Daddy From Elton was printed on the front.
Tani looked from those words to his father and back to those words. He said, “What the hell? Who are these people?”
Abeo said, “My children and their mother. Elton is six. Davrina is four. There will be a third in December. A man is meant to have a family. Children and grandchildren. Your mother is ruined. Lark is not.”
“Lark?” Tani asked. “She’s called Lark?” Then he twigged. “Christ! She’s English. All your talk about Nigeria and shit and you’re fucking some English woman.”
“She is Black English,” Abeo said. “She gives me children. There will be more. Children are a man’s proof of who he is.”
“That’s your story, is it? Mum had two but that wasn’t enough, so you went out and . . . what . . . advertised?” When his father said nothing, Tani went on. “You did. You advertised. Internet, I expect. And it wasn’t about having kids, that advert. What does she think about us, then? And where does she think you are when you’re not with her?”
“She knows where I am. And with who. She is happy with the arrangement and it suits me as well.”
Tani felt lightheaded. He wanted to sit, to think things through, but he had to keep walking because he wanted to pull from his father every detail he could use against him.
“What if someone gives Mum the word about . . . whatsername . . . Lark . . . and she walks away from . . . from this, from you, from this whole rotten life? What if Mum divorces you?”
“She will not do that,” Abeo said. “She has no reason. Should she and Lark ever meet, she will thank Lark for her . . .” Abeo seemed to search for the word. He chose, “For her services. And Lark has done them well.”
His father was bluffing. Tani could see it in the way Abeo’s eyes shifted as he spoke, his glances going from Tani to the pavement, from Tani to the vehicles that passed them in the street.