“We don’t look busy to you, gorgeous?” Bliss added.
“It’s important,” he said. “But I c’n wait.”
“Hmmm. Well, tha’s what you’re going to have to do, innit,” Tiombe said.
“Or you c’n come back in an hour,” Bliss added.
“Your choice,” Tiombe said. “Is this about your hair, cos we don’t gen’rally work on blokes.”
“It’s about my sister,” Tani said.
“An’ who’s your sister?”
“Simisola Bankole. Simi.”
“Simi Bankole?” Bliss raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “We know Simi. I buy turban caps off her. Got two head wraps ’s well. She’s your sister?”
He nodded. “It’s important.”
“She’s all right, innit?” Tiombe said.
“Not exactly,” was his reply.
Tiombe and Bliss exchanged another glance. Tiombe put her hand on her client’s shoulder and said, “You mind, Missus Okino?” And when Mrs. Okino indicated that she didn’t mind, Tiombe nodded towards the door and she and Tani went outside.
There, she lit a cigarette, offering him one, which he refused. She smoked the way they did in films, a fag between her fingers and her lungs dispelling the residual smoke through her mouth as she spoke. She said, “How’s Simisola not exactly all right?”
He said, “I got to find a place for her to stay.”
“Why?” Tiombe’s eyes narrowed. She was mixed race, Tani realised, and it looked to him like one of her parents was from China.
He looked round. He didn’t want his parents to have police troubles, so he didn’t know how far he could trust Tiombe. On the other hand, he also wanted to protect Simi. He had to come up with something that did both.
He settled on, “My dad’s setting something up for Simi in Nigeria. She doesn’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“Because of what it is.”
“Which is what?”
“A bride price. I mean he’s promising her to some bloke who’s willing to pay a lot of money to have her.”
Tiombe’s eyes widened. “You mean your dad’s going to marry her off? How old’s Simisola?”
“Eight.” Tani didn’t add that Simi would not marry straightaway. He could see that Tiombe was stirred by the idea of an eight-year-old girl being promised to anyone, no matter how much money changed hands. And this was a more powerful point. He said, “See, he paid a big bride price for a girl in Nigeria that I’m meant to marry. I think he wants to recoup the money, and he figures getting a bride price for Simi’s the best way to do it.”
Tiombe took a long, hard hit of her cigarette. She shook her head. “Tha’s disgusting, that is,” she said. “What c’n I do?”
He looked round. At this point it was crucial that there be no eavesdroppers to their conversation. “You c’n hide her,” he said quietly. “It would be for only a few days till I find something more permanent.”
“Care’s more permanent,” Tiombe said.
“Care’s going to rattle her. I don’ want that.”
Tiombe looked past him. Her forehead became lined. “In’t there someone can talk to your dad? This ’s madness, innit. Where’s your mum in all this?”
He shook his head. “She won’t go against him. He makes the decisions for the family. Full stop.”
“Hmph. Your dad’s Abeo Bankole, right? He’s got the little African market and the butcher’s shop along the way?”
“How’d you know that?” Tani asked her.
“He flirts with the ladies, he does. An’ Bankole’s not an everyday name.”
Tani couldn’t imagine his father flirting with anyone. Most of the time he seemed either angry or impatient, but nothing else.
“Asked me ’n’ Bliss for a pub drink twice, he did. Maybe three times,” Tiombe said. “We went once. He’s a friendly bloke, your dad. Only I don’t like friendly when a bloke’s married, and Bliss neither. I ’xplained it to him, and he was, like, okay with how we felt. Seen him since, we have, but he’s always shown respect. So if you want me to, I c’n go to him and—”
“No! It’s dead important he doesn’t know we’ve talked, you and me. He’ll work out what I’m trying to do. He’ll make it impossible for Simi to get away. Like I said, it’s only for a few days. Will you?”