Dear Beneficiary (19 page)

‘Why do people travel by boat when there are cars available?' I asked Gowon, thinking back to our canoe trip when we arrived.

‘Petrol is hard to get and very expensive, so cars are only used to go out of the town. The people of this village prefer the boats. They get us where we need to be and only big cars can manage the bad roads here.'

Gowon said he was preparing the shack for our promised tryst. It was the penthouse version of our minus-star accommodation with its large bed, furniture, TV, music system and a fridge. There was a dark green shirt hanging on the back of the wardrobe door and I recognised it as the one Chike was wearing the day we were brought in, so suspected it might be his quarters. My thoughts were confirmed when I saw a collection of needlepoint magazines and a pile of wool.

‘This is a lovely room, Gowon. Are you sure we will be alone?' I quizzed as I looked around the room for anything that could help our escape. There was a bulge in the pocket of the shirt and I hoped it contained something of use.

‘I will bring you here tomorrow. We will be alone,' he said.

‘What about the others, your bosses?'

‘They won't be here again until we have news,' he told me, with a look that suggested there was more to be said.

‘What kind of news, Gowon? Please tell me what we need to do.'

He shifted on his feet, moving his weight from one leg to the other, looking at the ground.

‘I'm not supposed to say.'

‘But we are friends, aren't we? I think we are special friends?' I said.

When he looked up his eyes were watery. He reminded me of a cocker spaniel we'd had with cataracts.

‘If I tell you, please don't say anything. Your family has said they've transferred money. The boss man waits for it to come through.'

How they'd found so much information was beyond my understanding until Gowon told me the bosses had gone through my diary. I'd written all my important telephone numbers and email addresses down in the back. There was also a letter I'd written to college about Tom, a personal reference about his IT ability and how he had helped me get online.

‘And have you had any communication from anyone about us?'

I'd rather hoped they had and that my family had secured my release without question.

‘No. The bosses have given them five days to get the money but we've been told it will arrive sooner.'

‘And then what?'

‘I don't know,' Gowon said apologetically. ‘I have never done this before.'

Well, that puts us both in the same boat
, I thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was some hours later when Gowon opened the door and gestured to me, suggesting I follow him. Tracey looked up but pretended not to have noticed what was going on.

‘Come with me,' he said. ‘I have what you asked for.'

I was led back into the main shack. Behind where the camera had been there was a small electric oven, wired up to a generator – the same one powering the light (remove s)s in our shack.

‘Look what I've got.'

The table in the middle of the room held a bunch of bananas, two boxes of eggs, a bottle of cooking oil, a cloth bag containing sugar and a jar of molasses. Gowon was looking pleased with himself.

‘But there's no flour,' I said, noticing the absence of a key ingredient.

He looked crestfallen.

‘I thought I had everything. I'm sorry,' Gowon said, lowering his eyes.

‘It isn't a problem. If you can get some flour for me then perhaps I can make the cake then,' I said, wondering if he was going to cry. His mouth had dropped at both corners and his chest sank. ‘Bring everything to our shack. I can make the bread there and give it to you to put in the oven for later.'

Gowon took me back to our quarters, where Tracey was pulling at her eyelashes one by one.

‘Bloody falsies have all fallen out, apart from three on each side. I bet I look like Ermintrude,' she said.

I hadn't the faintest idea who Ermintrude was – probably some lower-class porn star from one of those
Celebrity Jungle Brother
programmes. I nodded in pretence of caring and went over to inspect the bowl, which contained a good amount of herbal drink. We'd each gone without our sedation, but it should be worth it.

‘Gowon has gone to get flour, then he'll bring the ingredients for the banana bread over here. After that we will just have to hope we can figure out how we are going to make our escape.'

‘Total faith in yer, Cynth. If you can't get us outta here, I don't know who could.'

I wish she wouldn't call me that. Tom has a habit of calling me Nanny Cynth, and it sounds so common. Like one of those women who go to the Gala Bingo down Pit Shaw Lane on a Wednesday afternoon. I could visualise ‘Cynth and Doris' taking time out from their daily routine of domestic abuse and habitual smoking to stick holes in a piece of paper according to the random selection of numbers. Cynthia isn't a great name at full length, but it's decidedly downmarket when shortened.

‘Good. Well, when he comes back you know what you have to do. We need to make sure both of them are occupied.'

I thought of the arrangement I'd made with Gowon to explore our relationship further in Chike's room, and so was confident Chike and Fasina wouldn't be around. The idea appealed to me to some extent, but not as much as the thought of escaping this somewhat challenging imprisonment. I needed to get out and also to get some intellectual stimulation. Tracey's conversation, combined with the banality of
OK!
magazine's celebrity interviews had mixed into a toxic broth that had started to dull my senses.

Later that afternoon Gowon tumbled through our door clutching a large bag of flour and all the other ingredients I told him I would need for cooking, as well as some utensils. I asked him to go and get a tin for baking the bread and, while he was gone, put a good measure of flour and sugar into the bowl containing our saved herbal drinks. I made sure the liquid was totally absorbed, even though this meant compromising my judgement as a cook.

‘Peel those bananas, Tracey,' I instructed as I stirred the molasses and eggs into a mixture that was beginning to look like a science experiment rather than a cake. I made sure to put in plenty of sugar to hide the taste of the distinctive herb.

Tracey had finished mashing the fruit when Gowon returned with a rusty-looking tin he said Chike had used for making the cake we'd eaten previously. It wasn't ideal, but it would do the trick.

‘It looks good,' he said, eyeing up the mixture, and I was grateful for his obvious lack of culinary expertise.

‘I hope you'll enjoy it,' I said to Gowon, giving him my best flirtatious look in the hope it would ensure total commitment to eating what I was preparing for him.

Tracey was keeping to her part of the deal, and remembered what came next without any prompting from me.

‘Let's have a party!' she said. ‘One everyone can join in,' she added, giving Gowon a flash of a grin that made him look a bit awkward. I think she was trying to be alluring, but had exposed her spiky gap and he started to fidget with his shirt sleeve.

‘Tell Chiddy to bring his music and we can eat and dance,' I offered, by way of distraction. We didn't want him getting too nervous to join in.

We knew there was no reason for them not to take up the offer as they had been left in charge for the night. Gowon had said so when planning our night of physical exploration in Chike's shack.

‘Here,' I said, mashing the bread mix into the tatty old tin with the back of an oversized fork. ‘Put this in the oven for an hour on a low heat. When it's ready, we can start our party.'

Gowon gleamed with anticipation. Being in charge for the night, coupled with expectations of carnal pleasure had gone to his head, or more likely his pants, which was a good thing because his distraction made my job so much easier.

‘I will tell Chiddy and be back later,' he said, as he left us in pursuit of a hot oven. ‘We will have fun!'

Once the door had been padlocked, Tracey started to cry.

‘What in heaven's name is the matter now?' I asked her, trying very hard not to lose my patience. We'd been getting on so well and had been emotionally and physically enlivened by the prospect of at least trying to get out of the camp.

‘What if we can't do it? What if it all goes horribly wrong and we make them cross? They might torture us,' she sobbed.

I went over and gave her a hug. I actually wanted to slap her in the face but didn't think that would produce the desired effect. What is the matter with these wishy-washy women? No wonder she's never found a husband.

‘We'll be fine. Just wait and see,' I said, wishing I was as confident as I thought I sounded.

Tracey had calmed down by the time the men came back, complete with the banana bread that had gone a decidedly green colour. Thankfully no one seemed to notice and it was placed ceremoniously on the chair in the middle of the room. Gowon produced a pocket knife from his combat trousers and cut the cake into sixteen squares.

‘You have some,' he said to us, picking up the tin and then, finding it was still hot, nearly dropping it before placing it back on the chair.

Tracey was about to take a piece so I stamped on her foot, pretending I'd lost my balance.

‘Don't forget about your diabetes,' I said to her in clipped tones, raising my eyebrows to alert her to the fact she must not touch the cake under any circumstances.

Thankfully she twigged.

‘Oh, yeah. Keep forgetting about that.'

‘We want you to enjoy it all. It's our way of saying thank you for looking after us so well,' I said to the men. They looked proud of themselves, as if they'd been keen for us to enjoy our stay and were pleased to be recognised for the effort they'd put into their hospitality.

They both took their first pieces and devoured them quickly. The sugar and molasses mix seemed to be a welcome taste for the men as they congratulated me on my cooking and relaxed into the idea of sitting around with their prisoners, eating hot cake.

I made some small talk about Nigeria generally, picking bits of information I'd gleaned from my evenings with Darius, while Tracey sat cross-legged on the floor staring directly across at both men, looking rather too intently for signs of impending weakness.

Chiddy stood up purposefully. He had certainly developed a different personality since our discovery of his love of rap.

‘I go and get da music,' he said, and as he went to walk out of the shack he looked a little unsteady. My hopes started to rise and I looked over at Tracey and winked. She was already looking more confident about our plan.

Gowon leaned over for another piece of bread.

‘Will you not have some?' he asked us. ‘It is very good.'

‘No, thank you,' I replied. ‘I'm a little tired of bananas and Tracey can't eat anything sweet because of her problem with sugar.'

Gowon looked concerned, not realising that had she actually been a diabetic the chances are she would've been dead, kept in captivity with nothing but eggs and bananas to eat twice a day.

Chiddy charged through the door with a large music system. So big it defied the description of ‘portable'. He pulled a socket on a wire through from outside and plugged in the CD player. Within a few minutes a tune called ‘Rescue Me' was pounding through the walls of the shack, which I thought entirely appropriate under the circumstances.

The music was soporific through repetition, and for a moment I thought both the men were going to go to sleep as they were lying down with their hands behind their heads, tapping their feet but moving very little else.

Then Gowon sat up, looking quizzical.

‘What was in that bread? I feel strange,' he said, looking over at Chiddy who was nodding his head backwards and forwards too fast to be anything to do with the music.

The heavy bass was giving me a headache and had a rhythm slightly out of sync with my heartbeat, which was disconcerting to say the least. But I knew I had to concentrate, so eradicated all thoughts of disorientation and focused on the task ahead.

‘It's probably the sugar,' I said to Gowon, who seemed happy enough with the answer. We needed a distraction.

‘Dance,' I hissed to Tracey.

‘Wha'?' she said, unable to hear me over the thudding sounds of Nigerian rap.

I waved my arms about and twisted around in what I thought approximated to a kind of dance movement. I probably looked like I'd been electrocuted, but she stood up and started to move to the beat with ease. Her years of clubbing had at last come in useful, and she stamped around, waving her arms above her head in full theatrical style. Chiddy was fascinated, but then he'd also been fascinated by a spider walking over his foot a few minutes previously.

The men sat up, leaning their weight on their hands, and watched Tracey for a while before Chiddy got up and joined her. It seemed Gowon had forgotten about feeling strange and was entranced by what was going on. Chiddy could barely stand, let alone dance, which I noted with some satisfaction. It was time to act.

‘So, when will we be alone?' I asked Gowon. He looked puzzled. Partly because his brain wasn't functioning but also because he couldn't hear, so I repeated the question loudly.

Tracey heard me and looked over, smiling. She knew what was planned next and gave me a thumbs-up. Under normal circumstances I would've chided her lack of subtlety, but as both Chiddy and Gowon had lost control of most of their faculties, thanks to an overdose of herbs meant to keep their captives compliant, it was unlikely they'd have made anything of her gesture. Even if they had they wouldn't be able to do much about it.

Gowon, spurred on by Chiddy's attempts at dancing, struggled to get to his feet and lurched over in my direction, holding his hand out to pull me up. It didn't work, as he could barely hold himself in one position, and so I put my arm round his waist and led him to the door, turning back to give Tracey a wink which, thankfully, she acknowledged. It was our good fortune that Chiddy had forgotten to lock the door in all his excitement.