Dear Beneficiary (20 page)

He stumbled along, humming the tune of ‘Rescue Me' in a decidedly tuneless way. I was thankful he wasn't in the church choir as he's the type of person who would sing hymns very loudly without understanding the annoyance he could generate. I always seem to get one of them behind me on the few occasions I do attend, adding further to the discomfort of being there in the first place.

We made it to Chike's shack, which Gowon had decorated with a carpet of pink petals and a freshly washed bedcover. There was a bottle not unlike the one we'd seen them all drinking from the other night, and two earthenware glasses, placed on the desk. He managed to pour some of the drink for us both, swaying as he did so but amazingly not spilling a drop.

‘This is for you,' he said, his eyelids drooping to the point of shutting, handing me mine. ‘It is our special drink, for special occasions.'

‘What sort of special occasions?' I asked him, remembering that the men had been celebrating something. I wanted to know what had brought out such levity in them all.

‘Like now,' he said.

He smiled as I sniffed. It wasn't unlike cider so I took a swig, for courage as much as anything. He drained his glass, then unsteadily walked me across the room, having closed the door behind him. I noted it had a padlock swinging from a bolt but he did nothing to imprison me.

‘So, anything to report to me of interest? I asked him. ‘About the money?' He looked blank, then a flicker of awareness spread across his face.

‘Ah, the money,' he replied, grinning slightly inanely. ‘The bosses say it's on its way. Lots of it.'

I questioned what he meant by a lot of money. Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? If it was either of the latter two, then my family would be hard pushed to find that amount of cash, unless they'd won the lottery in my absence or had an extremely successful PPI or no-fee accident or injury claim.

Gowon took my drink from my hand, leaving it free for him to hold, which he did before falling back on the bed and pulling me on top of him. He kissed me with his full, pink lips in a sloppy and undemanding way, pulling at my clothing, murmuring that he loved me and wanted me. And then fell asleep.

I waited a few minutes to make sure I could make a getaway without him noticing. I saw Chike's shirt again and looked in the pocket with the bulge. I found lighter and what I hoped were car keys which I tucked into my knickers for safe keeping. We were certainly safe, judging by the state of Gowon who was out like a light, dribble running down the side of his mouth with every snore that came from the back of his throat. I went over and gave him a peck on the cheek before taking the key to our shack out of his pocket.

I scoured the drawers of Chike's desk and found over five thousand US dollars in a variety of bills, which also made their way to my underwear along with a selection of Nigerian nairas. I didn't know their value, but thought it would be useful to have local currency so I stuffed them in my bra. I shut the door and padlocked it securely, even though I was certain Gowon wouldn't be awake for some time. Just one helping of the herbal drink would send us off to sleep for at least eight hours. They'd had a bit more than that.

I went back to our shack and the sounds of Chiddy Bang were still emanating at full volume from the sound machine. I peered through a gap in the door and was thrilled to see Tracey tucking Chiddy up in our bed. He'd also gone into a state of coma, so much so that he was unaware she'd tied his feet together with her leggings and his hands together with his own belt – tightly.

‘Good girl,' I mouthed, motioning for her to leave. She looked a sorry sight in just her pants and T-shirt, but she didn't seem to care. If anything she looked totally elated, having completed her mission.

Tracey and I made our way out of our shack which I locked using Gowon's key. Although we probably had hours before they would wake up we were both keen to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. It was getting dark and the road looked treacherous enough.

Our bags were still in the first shack and so we packed up what we could into our hand luggage and got dressed. Tracey was delighted to find most of her cigarettes and her phone were still intact.

‘Funny thing is, I don't even fancy a fag now,' she said, sliding into a pair of cut-off jeans. ‘But I'll take them just in case,' she added, throwing them into her bag before picking up her phone to check it. The battery had gone dead.

I fished the cash and the car keys out from my underwear, much to Tracey's amusement.

‘You ready?' I said to Tracey as I picked up my bag. ‘Follow me.'

Tracey traipsed behind me obediently, tottering along in yet another pair of totally unsuitable shoes, which she had fished out of her luggage. I suspected all her footwear was of a similar type so said nothing. If she wanted to break her leg then so be it, as long as she didn't expect me to carry her anywhere if she did.

When we reached the car, a black Audi, I could hardly contain myself when the key immediately unlocked it. I have to say it was a daunting vehicle. What people might call a Chelsea Tractor, I think. Too big for most women to drive but they insist on doing so anyway, usually blocking every available parking space at the supermarket, or running over small children because they can't see over the bonnet. It was our only sensible means of getting out.

‘Can you drive?' I asked Tracey hopefully.

She shook her head.

‘No, I had lessons once but the instructor had just broken up with his girl so spent most of the time crying in cul-de-sacs. I took seven tests and failed 'em all.'

We'd no time to lose, so I hauled myself up into the seat, which wasn't easy – like climbing Mount Everest without the aid of Sherpas. Being small made it worse, and so I hopped repeatedly on one leg to get enough momentum to leap up.

It was difficult reaching the pedals, but after some adjustment to the seat I got into a driving position, which required sitting so near the steering wheel it dug into my knees. We had over two thirds of a tank of petrol, so I started the car and put it into gear – or thought I had. I'd never driven an automatic before, and it took some getting used to, so we lurched backwards, ramming into a selection of bicycles and a large metal container that appeared to hold some kind of sticky, foul-smelling liquid.

‘Blimey, Cynth. You sure you're OK to drive this thing?'

Not one to be beaten by a piece of machinery, I persevered and finally found a way of moving forward rather than backward, which was a relief for all concerned, not least Tracey who was gripping the sides of her seat so her knuckles had gone white.

‘Hurrah. Here we go,' I cheered to myself as we bounded over the bumpy lane.

I thought we were on our way to freedom but then shouts could be heard behind us. I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Chike and Fasina running through the camp behind us, dressed in black suits and carrying what I could only assume were pistols.

‘What was that noise?' said Tracey, as gunshots rattled off the back of the car.

My heart pounded and my legs turned to jelly. I tried to accelerate but couldn't get the automatic gearing to get into place quickly enough. The car stalled as it bumped over a pile of rubble.

‘Damn,' I said, as the men advanced on us quickly, Fasina running and Chike lumbering along about five metres behind him. I turned the ignition. Nothing happened. Tracey looked out the back window and saw the men, who were catching up with us.

‘Get the bloody car started,' she said. ‘They've got guns.'

As she turned back around she knocked the gear lever with her knee, pushing it back to neutral position. I turned the ignition again and the car jumped into life, bounding over the lane and on its way. The shouting continued, and beads of sweat formed on my eyebrows, one waiting tantalisingly to drop down onto my face.

‘Where are you going, you stupid women?' Fasina shouted as the gunshots continued. Every now and then a sharp metallic noise could be heard as their bullets bounced back from the, thankfully, tough exterior of the car.

There was a loud crack and splintering. The back window smashed and pieces of glass fell onto the back seat. We could hear Fasina shouting incomprehensibly at us, and Chike coughing. I looked back in the mirror and could see him bent over double, trying to catch his breath – while Fasina was just a few yards from us, pointing his gun straight at the back of our heads.

I pressed my right foot as hard as I could on the accelerator and we lurched forward at a faster speed. I found it hard to keep a straight line on the path as I drove blindly along in the hope we wouldn't meet any more obstacles that would prevent our swift escape.

‘He's going to shoot us, for Christ's sake. Get a move on!' screamed Tracey, clearly unaware I was doing everything in my power to do just that.

We heard the noise of a gun and waited for a bullet to hit the car, but nothing happened. The only other noise we heard was Fasina shouting at Chike to pass over his gun. Tracey had ducked down and was peering around her seat, reporting what she could see through the broken back window.

‘Chike has thrown his gun to Fasina,' she commentated. ‘Christ, he's coming after us again. Quick, get going – he can't half run!'

The car moved smoothly and we made our way swiftly along the lane. I didn't look back until Fasina's voice faded and I thought we were far enough away to feel safe. I saw him standing with his hands on his hips, looking defeated. Chike, meanwhile, was on his knees. He didn't seem used to physical activity, which was a blessing for us.

‘Thank heaven for that,' I said, as we drove off the lane and out onto the unmade roads of the village on stilts. I could see why the locals preferred to use boats.

‘I thought they were supposed to be somewhere else,' I added, thinking it was a good job Chike didn't find me in his shack with Gowon.

‘So much for not showing any signs of aggressive behaviour,' said Tracey. ‘I think shooting at us is pretty unfriendly.'

Tracey was shaking. I didn't feel too calm myself. The one bead of sweat developed into a torrent, and they made their way down my face to drip off my chin.

‘Well,' I said, ‘we've got away unhurt, so let's be thankful for small mercies.'

‘I can't say I'm sorry to see the back of that place,' said Tracey, after we'd both calmed down a bit. She was using the mirror in her sun visor to put on some make-up and inspect her hair. ‘I really need sorting out.'

I looked over and agreed. Maybe when we found somewhere to settle for a few days I could do just that. A few elocution lessons, some decent clothes and a proper haircut and she could pass for a proper person.

We drove along the road out of the village for about half an hour, when the realisation of what we'd done hit us. The morning sun had risen but the air was still damp. I shivered at the thought of our freedom. We'd been close to poverty and poor housing but as I drove the roads became wider, better made. There were houses with nice gardens and shiny cars. A feeling of liberation manifested as a rising sense of joy.

‘I can't believe we did it,' said Tracey. ‘We bloody did it. High five!' she added, throwing her hand high in the air to meet mine, which was strangely redundant having no need for gear changing. I made a mental note to look at automatic cars when I got back to England.

‘Well, where to, partner?' I said, wondering which direction would be the most appropriate, although anywhere was fine as long as we were heading away from where we'd been.

‘Anywhere that sells some decent food. I'm bloody starving,' said Tracey, just as the car hit a huge pothole and veered off the road, finally landing on its side in a ditch.

‘Shit,' I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tracey limped along the road, having lost one of her unsuitable shoes but clinging on to the fact that one shoe was better than none. I'd offered her a pair of my pumps but she flatly refused to borrow them, claiming they made her legs look dumpy.

‘That was a close shave, Cynth,' said Tracey, dragging along the bags we'd taken from the car. We couldn't manage all our luggage, so left a fair bit behind, knowing we had plenty of cash from Chike's haul to get new supplies if we needed them.

I was a bit stunned by the accident and glad we weren't hurt. My left foot had banged down on the brake thinking it to be the non-existent clutch and we went leaping along the road. I lost control, and the next thing I knew we were tumbling into the ditch. I'd been in many minor car accidents before but nothing involving the entire vehicle rolling at speed. To say I'd been scared would be an understatement, but I kept my composure, certainly in comparison to Tracey who was screaming obscenities until we came to rest, sideways on.

‘I thought we'd be well mashed after that little spin,' she added. ‘All I could see was the world going round and round. It was like being in a washing machine, only without the water.'

I ignored her. Had she been able to drive maybe she could've got us a bit further down the road. She's got longer legs for a start and might have been able to reach the pedals. Regardless, there was no point crying over spilled milk. Or spilled mascara, in Tracey's case.

‘We're OK and we're away from that place. Be thankful for small mercies,' I said.

I looked around and couldn't see any signposts or any indication of where we could be heading. All we could do was keep walking and hope for something to come along and guide us.

I'm not one normally prone to daydreams but I couldn't help fantasising that Darius would appear from nowhere and save us. Hardly a white knight, but the principle would be the same.

‘Where are we going now, then?' asked Tracey. ‘Do you reckon we'll meet anyone on this road?'

I thought for a bit. There hadn't been another car for the hour or so we'd been driving, and the further we went the windier and narrower it got. Surely it had to lead to somewhere?