They fell into step, as both of them lived on the same side of the city. On Molomo Street Sango suggested a late cup of coffee and First Trumpet thought it a good idea. The whole of Twenty Molomo was unaccountably gloomy. It almost reminded Sango of the dingy courtyard in which Aina’s mother lived.
‘Careful, First Trumpet. We’re early sleepers here.’
He led the way. In the corridor, Sam crawled out of his bed, got the keys from his master and helped him open the door. He had that rare quality of continuing to behave like a wide-awake person even though he was fast asleep on his feet.
‘There’s no light, sah.’
Sango tried the switch himself, in vain. He went out and surveyed the adjacent houses on Molomo Street. Lights were burning gaily in them. It couldn’t be a breakdown, then.
‘Lajide has started his meanness.’
‘It is annoying,’ said First Trumpet. ‘And we’ve been out all night. To get home now, hungry and in the dark: what kind of economy is that?’
Sango found a brush and with the pole end began to bang on the ceiling above him.
‘Light please!’ The idea of Lajide, comfortable and happy with eight women around him rankled in his brain. ‘Put on the light, I’ve paid my rent!’
‘He must be out,’ said First Trumpet, after a moment’s silence.
‘Somebody must be in. Lajide, please put on the light; I beg you, put on the light!’ The sound of his own voice, ignored, angered him the more.
Sango peered into the darkness and saw a man standing there. ‘You have no light too?’
‘Yes, I’ve just come back from the Club. I’ve been out all evening so no one can accuse me of having wasted current!’
‘I have no light, too. I’m the engine-driver living at the other end. I’ve never seen you, I’m always away on line, but I knew when you moved in.’
Sango could now see the dim outline of the man’s heavy overalls and the cap which showed a peak when he turned his face sideways,
‘How do you do?’ Sango said, shaking his hand. ‘An odd meeting, eh?’
First Trumpet said: ‘The electricity undertakings have increased their fees by thirty-three per cent. Perhaps that’s why you have no light.’
‘And the landlords have increased their rent by three hundred per cent, so it balances – with plenty to spare.’
Just then it started to rain. At first one could neglect the drizzle, and then it intensified, pouring with all the vengeance of a tropical tornado.
The woman Rose, who lived next door, produced a hurricane lantern. There was nothing for it but to accept her kind offer and light himself into his room. It was the first time Sango had ever spoken to the prostitute. Now everyone in Molomo Street was awake. At the far end of the passage, the engine-driver was cursing in a venomous stream. Rose came into Sango’s room, giggling. She was enjoying the situation immensely. Sango thanked her for her lantern and as soon as she left he and First Trumpet were again plunged into darkness.
‘It is not many hours to breakfast,’ Sango said. ‘You’ll have to sleep here, First Trumpet. I want to talk about Beatrice, to pass the time. If you go home now, you will have to wake your landlord who may have locked the gate against thieves —’
‘I’ll stay here,’ said First Trumpet. ‘But I must be away first thing in the morning. I’ve got to go to work.’
‘Take the bed, then. I’ll make myself comfortable on the sofa. And please don’t argue with me. I’m dead tired and disappointed with life as a whole.’
‘Good night, Sango.’
‘Good night, Trumpet.’
•
Sango awoke. The door was open and the sunlight was streaming in. First Trumpet was gone. On the floor at Sango’s feet was a note addressed to him in a feminine hand. Sango picked it up.
He read the copy-book script, no doubt written by a girl – Lajide’s lady clerk:
With respect to your attitude last night, it is, and always ever will be, an outstanding rule, that lights should be switched off by 6 every morning, and on the dullest days 6.30 a.m. I am still having 22 points of light and when all the lights are operating I have more dues to pay.
Had I not the utmost patience, you are sure you provoked me to the last yesterday. I have been waiting to receive from you a notice to quit.