‘I don’t want to hear anything about Sango. I thought there was something else . . .’
Beatrice hesitated. ‘There was something else . . .’
Lajide looked up. ‘What?’
She opened her handbag, took out a bundle of papers. For three days she had been carrying these papers. ‘Do you know Messrs Tade and Burkle?’
‘Timber dealers? Yes, I know them.’
‘They’re planning to put you to court.’ He looked surprised, and she added: ‘They say you altered the marks on some timber they sold to an American firm—’
‘Ah! But I bought the timber from them . . .’
‘You have altered the marks and put your own marks.’ She waved the papers. ‘These are the real receipts of the actual buyers.’
&nbs
p; Lajide smiled. ‘You got those from Tade and Burkle. Never mind. Let them put me to court. I have my own receipts too. Two hundred tons of timber at twenty-five pounds a ton. Is that all, Beatrice? Thank you. You have done well. I was annoyed with you at first for leaving me because of that transport lorry-driver. Yes, I know all about that. I have seen you in his lorry. But now, I see that it’s me you love. Beatrice, won’t you come back to me? I’ll treat you well this time. That timber man is not better than I am.’
Beatrice smiled. ‘Money is not everything. A man can have money and still not be a gentleman.’
‘I am a gentleman! More gentleman than Sango or the lorry-driver.’
‘You’re mistaken. No gentleman calls himself by the name. Let people see your deeds and judge.’
‘Beatrice, you drive me to hell! I don’t know what I see in you. With my position, and all my wives! What you’re doing to me, is it good, Beatrice?’
She rose. ‘I must be going home now.’
‘Back to that man?’
‘I just heard about Tade and Burkle and I thought to come and warn you. I don’t want you to go to jail.’
He moved near and held her hand. He must have caught a whiff of her perfume, for he tried to press his attentions on her.
‘Not here, Lajide! Take your hands off! Now look what you’ve done to my clothes!’
She went to the long mirror and straightened her dress. ‘I’m going, Lajide. Good-bye!’
One thing she knew. Lajide would never be able to find those receipts. The fact was that Tade and Burkle had made a silly mistake. They had sold the mahogany logs to Lajide at a ridiculous price, only to discover that an American dealer was paying much better money for them. To protect themselves they had to recover Lajide’s receipt, and to Beatrice had been assigned the task. Beatrice had been able to obtain the receipt from Lajide’s clerk, but for days she could not get herself to take them to Messrs Tade and Burkle because she still felt a sense of loyalty to the financier. She decided to give him one last chance. If he would compromise on the Amusa Sango situation, she would not betray him.
On her way down the steps she paused at Sango’s old room, then with firmer steps she walked into the street.
•
Beatrice was waiting for her taxi under the almond tree when the seven women made straight for her. She saw them coming but could not run for it. They beat her with fists, tore her clothes, scratched her skin till the paint and powder ran with blood and sweat. All the concentrated venom and fury, all the hatred which her open intrusion into their household had awakened – she had it all back in that devastating free-for-all.
‘Come and see Lajide’s mistress!’ The cry was taken up all along Molomo Street, and in some ways it reminded them of the cries of ‘Thief! Thief!’ that had greeted Aina when she emerged from Amusa Sango’s room.
Beatrice screamed for help, but no help came. She fell to her knees and no one raised her. Kekere arrived, carrying a bowl. She dipped her hands into the contents and viciously rubbed them over Beatrice’s eyes. Cayenne pepper! While the other wives held Beatrice down, Kekere rubbed the pepper into her nostrils, mouth, and – on an impulse – into her most private parts. Then and only then did they leave her to writhe and wriggle in shame and humiliation, disgraced, deprived of every vestige of attractiveness that had led their lord and master astray from them. She had received the treatment normally due to ‘the other woman’.
When Lajide heard news of the beating-up he was angry, then miserable. He could not openly declare his support for Beatrice. In some ways he felt she had got her due. But he still loved her. Over and over again, he exclaimed: ‘Women!’ with such an accent that those who knew all the facts felt sorry for him. He went into his bedroom, away from it all.
Somewhere in the compound of Twenty Molomo Street, his wives were chanting and wiggling their hips in triumph.
14
The invitation from Beatrice the Second was at least two weeks old. It had missed its way all round the world and finally found Sango.