‘We’ll try. I have a little plan. This is all the money I’ve been saving for that new room: just ten pounds. I’ll give some to the night watch. That’ll put him on our side. After all, how much does he earn in one month?’
He disappeared. Bayo stood looking at Suad’s window. It was in darkness. She couldn’t have fallen asleep. She must be as troubled as he was. Just two nights more in the city, then she would embark on that forced journey back home – to what? A dull life, at best. Her love, her life was here in the land where her brother had been all but naturalized. But would she be ready to elope with him now? The reckless thought frightened him.
Sango came back. ‘She’s sitting in the lounge. Bayo, she’s a beauty! She’s worth any sacrifice! But that fool Zamil is there too. And a strange woman – perhaps the Sybil you told me about. Some children too. No one seems to go to bed in this house. Wonder what we can do. This is a little harder than I expected.’
They crept into the yard. The steward was drying his hands on a napkin. He took Bayo aside and for a long time they argued and sighed – in whispers. Then the steward took a trayful of glasses into the large house. ‘Zamil is drunk. We may be lucky. I’ll try for you, if it can be possible.’
They waited. Soon he was back. ‘I have made signs to Suad. Is best for you to wait her in the cotton bush, behind the window. No one will see you there.’
Bayo went there and waited. Amusa went back to the night watch. Time crawled. He tried to imagine how the girl would be feeling now. Then he heard a rustle, delicate and light. A white figure in a pink dressing-gown flitted by. He saw the eagerness with which the two lovers embraced each other. Sango looked away with a sigh of pleasure. This alone, this abandon was enough reward for their effort.
Suad lifted her face to be kissed. She was breathing with some pain as if the tears choked her throat. ‘The licence? You have got it?’
‘They said you must come. And two witnesses.’
‘What we can do? I fly in two days. My brother, he has made all the arrangements. This night, tomorrow night, that’s all! Oh! I don’t want to leave you, my Bayo! My African love!’ She took his face between her hands with all the tenderness of a mother fondling a baby.
‘Do you love me, Bayo?’
‘I cannot sleep because of you.’
‘I love you too much. Bayo, kiss me!’
Bayo took her in his arms and kissed her with all the hunger of repressed love. Her lips were warm in their mad response.
‘Bayo!’ she whispered.
They were silent, treasuring the precious moments of their love. She it was who said, ‘Bayo, maybe we can run away! Yes, we can, my love!’
‘Can you come – now? No, Suad! Do not come. It will be too much suffering for you. And —’
‘I have some money. We can run away and never return. Never, never! Then Zamil will suffer.’
‘Enough talk! You are afraid, no?’
‘I’m not afraid.’ He could not bear to see her dejection. ‘Suad, I’ll die for you! In the whole world there’s no girl like you, Suad,’ he said impulsively. ‘Go and get your clothes.’ He was very muddled about it all, but there was no way out now, only forward. ‘Go get your things.’
At that moment the steward appeared. ‘Missus. I don’ know what’s wrong with Master. He’s searching everywhere for you.’
‘You haven’t seen us, steward. Understand?’
‘Suad!’ came the harsh call. ‘Suad!’ It was Zamil.
Suad nestled quickly in Bayo’s arms, wringing from their brief meeting all the joys of persecuted young love. His fingers sought her soft hair. Her frenzied lips searched fervently, not merely for his lips, but for his soul, probing for signs of assurance . . . searching for the slightest hint of fear or lack of constancy. ‘Good-bye, Bayo, kiss me, my love, and let me die.’
‘No, Suad. We go together. Without you, I die. Pack your things, let’s escape.’
‘Bayo, it is impossible. Embrace me, sweetheart, before I die.’
‘Hands off!’ Zamil had emerged from the bushes, dishevelled wild. In his fist a dark object rested.
‘Muhamad, don’t be silly. Put that gun away.’
A shudder ran through Bayo. ‘Keep still, Suad.’ His body vibrated with a new surge of joy and courage. ‘Your brother is a coward, and will do nothing. He’s strong only with a gun. Here, let me have the gun.’
‘Where are you going? Bayo, be careful. He’s drunk —’
Zamil stood his ground, but Bayo leapt. Two cracks split the air.