He moved quickly and seized her garment from the rear. He heard it wrench. All the pent-up madness snapped in his brain and he slapped her face till his hands hurt.
‘Let me go!’ she cried.
In her panic she was clawing and biting noisily, and as she wrenched herself free, Sango saw with alarm how she held her sides in pain. Her knees buckled . . . she collapsed and fell. Incredible! He had not hurt her, surely! A thousand fears raced through his brain. He was in real panic. Suppose she died in this room?
When First Trumpet returned, Aina was still in a coma, and there was much water on the floor of the room. All the savagery had now died out of Sango and he wondered how she had provoked him into such brutality.
‘What have you done?’ First Trumpet moaned in dismay. ‘Now we’re both in the soup.’
‘My nerves! I must have lost my head.’
‘I know a private doctor,’ said First Trumpet. ‘I’m going to fetch some help.’
Sango heard him later in the street, hailing a taxi.
He could not decide whether to be pleased or sorry, for Aina was having a miscarriage. That she was in great pain he knew and did not like to contemplate the degree of her suffering. At the same time he did not completely forget the unsatisfied desire to avenge the injustice he had suffered at her hands. He was glad she might live, glad she had not involved him in a sensational accident.
He prayed that Aina would live. If she did, he vowed once and for all to end this evil relationship with the temptress who always awakened the meanest traits in him. Ultimately everything would depend on Aina’s not passing away during this misfortune, because everything could easily be traced back to that quarrel. The lawyers (who had not been present) would describe in detail how Sango – ‘all six feet of him, and he’s not a weakling either’ – had brutally assaulted this girl of delicate and feeble build . . . No! A disheartening picture which he did not like to pursue. On the other hand, if she lived, her mother might want to claim damages. She was that kind of shrewd woman who pressed her rights to the very end.
At visiting time he called at the shady little hospital accompanied by Beatrice the Second. They waited for a moment in the sitting-room overlooking a congested drain.
‘You’ve come to see Aina,’ said a nurse, opening the door. ‘Come in – but only for a few minutes. The patient must not be disturbed. Please do not wake her. I believe she’s asleep. Follow me.’
She closed the door behind them. There was only one chair in the room. Beatrice sat on it. The air was close and antiseptic. There was so much white linen around that Aina looked like a saint. She was very pale.
‘Look,’ said Beatrice. ‘She’s stirring. We promised —’
Aina’s eyes flickered open. ‘Sango, my love. Are you here? Hold my hand.’
Beatrice looked awkwardly at them both. ‘Go on, Sango. Hold her hand.’
‘What have you brought me?’ Aina said, seizing Sango’s extended hand.
‘Fruits,’ said Beatrice. She raised the basket for Aina to see.
‘Sango, who is this girl? Your new
wife? The one you went to marry in the Eastern Greens?’
‘We’re not married – yet!’
‘You can marry now. What are you waiting for? You see, Amusa, we girls love you so much. I don’t know why. You do not treat us so well, but we love you. I wanted you to marry me. And this girl, it is in her eyes.’
Sango found the room particularly hot at that moment. He did not know where to turn his gaze. ‘You’re weak, Aina. Don’t worry yourself too much —’
Aina began to sob. ‘The women go for you, and you only hurt them as you hurt me . . .’ She was sobbing loudly now.
The nurse came in. ‘You must leave now.’ She was angry. ‘Didn’t you promise not to wake her? Next time —’
On the street, Beatrice held Sango’s hand. ‘You know something: what this girl said is true. The girls go for you. I am very worried myself. Recently, I have been feeling very lonely when you’re not with me. I can’t concentrate. I do things I have never done before – like telling lies to my father so that they don’t know I’ve come to see you . . .’
Sango was beside himself with joy. There was hope for him, then! He did not want to dwell on it because he did not see how Beatrice could ever be his – with all that family matchmaking her father had talked about.
‘Have courage, Amusa. All will be well for you – and for me!’
‘Good night, dear B.’
He stood on the street corner until she climbed the steps of her father’s house.