‘We’re going to enjoy ourselves.’ Bayo lounged in the divan. ‘By the way, Amusa, I’ve got a job with the Medical Department; an uncle’s influence did it for me. The pay is not bad either.’
‘Congrats, then! I hope you keep it.’
‘Things will soon be all right with me.’
‘Yes,’ Dupeh added cryptically. ‘If you don’t keep running after girls. You have let them turn your head!’
‘Now, now!’
Sango said: ‘I’m now going to play a record made in 1906, and I would like you to compare the original dixie-land style with the modern version.’
He put on a record which began with a noise that made Dupeh’s face twist.
‘Sango,’ Bayo said. ‘Do you still play at the All Language Club? What’s happened to your band?’
‘It’s there when I can find the time.’
‘When next are you playing?’
‘Well, I have an engagement —’
‘Turn it off, please,’ Dupeh said.
‘Why, don’t you like it?’
‘Play something modern. I’m crazy about modern jazz.’
‘I’ll find you something. Yes, I have an engagement at the All Language Club; crime reporting for the Sensation is not enough. But when I return at night, I’m sometimes so tired that—’
Sam came in with four bottles of beer and a packet of cigarettes. ‘Ah use the change to buy biscuit, sah.’
He produced a small parcel loosely tied with green paper. As he fidgeted, five biscuits fell to the floor. They were cabin biscuits.
The girl began to laugh. Bayo joined. Sango could not repress a smile. It was all very embarrassing to Sam. He did not see the joke.
‘You expect my visitors to gnaw cabin biscuits?’
Bayo wiped the tears in his merry eyes.
‘What’s wrong with that, Sango? You eat cabin biscuits, don’t you?’
‘For myself, yes. For my visitors, no!’
‘I’m no stranger,’ Bayo said. He glanced at Dupeh.
‘I’ll eat them,’ she said. ‘I like them with beer.’
‘Shame on you, Sango,’ Bayo laughed. ‘Your boy Sam is very clever and understands our needs.’
Sam was pleased. ‘T’ank you, sir and madam. God bless.’ He went out.
‘A very good boy,’ Dupeh said. ‘I like him.’
‘I’m lost without him,’ Sango confessed.
‘He’s sweet and honest,’ said Dupeh. ‘I can see that.’
The beer put them at ease. Dupeh and Bayo began with slow lilting dances, clinging together like drowning people. Sango saw that he had become one too many and went back to his typewriter. There were three words at the top of the paper. ‘Sports and Crime’. He thought it over, and began to write.