Beatrice was smiling. A large raffia hat shielded her head and shoulders from the sun and through her dark goggles Sango could not see her eyes. Yet it seemed to him then that something had gone out of Beatrice the First. This could not be the same girl who had set his blood aflame in those nights when his band had pride of place at the All Language Club.
‘Sango, this is Kofi. He’s a transport owner who travels between here and Accra.’
Kofi extended his hand. ‘I’ve heard so much about you. I feel I actually know you.’
Beatrice linked her hands with Kofi, and Sango thought: So now it’s Kofi. Happiness at last. You will now forget Zamil and Lajide.
She was pale and very thin and when she coughed Sango could not bear the sound.
‘Beatrice has been ill and is only just recovering.’
‘I’m all right,’ said Beatrice brightly. ‘Sango, I went to look for you at the All Language Club.’
‘You know I don’t play there any longer. Not since the manager sold it to Lajide.’
‘I was hoping to call at the offices of the West African Sensation.’
‘You wouldn’t find me there, either. Lost my job. Fired. Just this morning. It’s a fine day, isn’t it? A fine day to lose one’s job.’
‘I’m sorry, Sango.’
‘Beatrice is a very good girl,’ Kofi said. ‘She’s been with me for a little while, and we’ve been happy. Not so, Beatrice?’
‘Yes, and you’ve furnished our flat wonderfully. Kofi, don’t forget, you will drop me near Lajide’s house . . . I want to see him alone. Perhaps Sango is coming our way – or is he too busy?’
‘I’ll come,’ said Sango.
They drove through the streets till they came to the turning where Beatrice would get down. Kofi got out to help her down.
‘D’you want me to come with you?’
‘No, Kofi. I shan’t be long.’
She kissed him on the cheek and as she walked down the street, Sango sighed. She could still be the heart-snatching Beatrice he used to know.
‘She’s a funny girl,’ said Kofi tenderly. ‘I have never understood her and never shall.’ He stood still until Beatrice turned the corner.
Kofi climbed back into the lorry. ‘D’you mind coming to my place? We live on the outskirts of the city. You’ll like it. We can have a drink, and talk about you, and —’
‘Beatrice!’ Amusa laughed. He liked Kofi and in a way was sorry for him. That dog-like attachment to Beatrice!
‘I’ll tell you something: a moment ago, you said you lost your job. I think you need a holiday. Why not come to the Gold Coast? It will be a real change for you.’
‘The Gold Coast? But I don’t know anyone there.’
Kofi laughed and turned on the engine. The lorry responded with a throaty rhythm. ‘You know me. Look! We will talk about it a little more.’ The lorry was moving through the streets. ‘My lorries run to the Gold Coast every week. Whenever you want to go, let me know. Here is my card. We are going to my house now, and you will know where we live.’
The idea was appealing. Sango thought the Gold Coast would be a good place for a honeymoon. He took the card and slipped it into his pocket.
•
Lajide, draped loosely in a floral cloth – his own version of a pyjama suit – walked into the sitting-room to find Beatrice already seated. A full row of his seven wives occupied the divan on the other side of the room. He waved an impatient hand at them.
‘What are you all doing here? Get out and let me speak to my visitor!’
He drew a chair and said: ‘Welcome, Beatrice.’
She fanned her face with the straw hat. ‘I have come to see you about Sango. I’ve just seen him and he told me he would like to play for the All Language Club —’