Dear Beneficiary (27 page)

In her absence a younger woman came into the meeting room and led us to a shower room within Lady Osolase's office suite. She also gave us soap, shampoo and conditioner and clean towels, telling us she'd return in half an hour.

It was a delight to get properly clean again, and even Tracey looked vaguely human after so many days of using washing-up liquid as shampoo in the camp. The towels were a delight, smelling of fresh roses and having enough thickness to absorb the water left on our skin. We were like schoolgirls, dancing around in front of the mirror and spraying ourselves with the perfume left for us on the shelf. I suspect I was suffering from some kind of demob dementia, but didn't care what people might think if they saw me. I even agreed to allow Tracey to apply a small amount of make-up to cheer up my otherwise pale skin. I wiped most of it off while she wasn't looking, but was glad of the bit of lipstick that remained. After all, I was hoping that our new friend was eventually going to help me find Darius.

Within the hour we were back in the meeting room enjoying some interesting sandwiches – filled with what I could only describe as chickpea and mustard paste – and cakes.

Once I thought we could trust our hostess I told her of our kidnap, how we got away and how I needed to contact my family.

‘Dat is why I recognise yous,' she said. ‘Der has bin much press coverage about da English 'ostages. Yous must haf bin through hell and high waters. Yous is a fine example of womanhood, and I honour you for dat.'

She immediately organised for messages to be sent to the embassy, and their advice in response was that we should make no direct contact with family until we were told the coast was clear. One of the staff came in soon after Lady Osolase had issued her instructions and told us my daughter had been contacted and the family were over the moon to hear I was safe. They'd been trying to call my mobile phone and hadn't got through, leaving many messages that went unanswered – although the truth is I wouldn't have known how to use it anyway. We were told to be careful, as it was likely the kidnappers would be angry at losing us as bargaining tools, and might not be prepared to give us up too easily.

‘They don't want ya family put in any danger by da kidnappers. If dem are frustrated they may take it out on dem,' she added. ‘Please wait to be advised and be assured we will mek sure da rest of your family know you are safe and well.'

Having got my priorities sorted out, and gaining trust in Lady Osolase, I mentioned my connection with Darius, remembering to call him Osezua and mentioning where he worked. Rather than laugh, as John had, she said if she didn't know him, she would know someone who did.

‘Forensix Inc. is a very big company. Dem haf 'undreds of people working for dem in many countries as well as in Nigeria. I know many people from my work and will hope to find who yous looking for,' she said.

Lady Osolase went on to tell us that Darius's company had sponsored many outreach programmes which helped young women across Africa gain education and health advice.

‘Maybe dis is something yous would be interested in?' she added, before the phone on a desk in the corner rang loudly. ‘Please, excuse me.'

She glided over to the phone and could be heard telling the person on the other end to show someone in. For a brief moment I hoped it would be Darius, but accepted it was unlikely anyone would have traced him that quickly. I wondered what the outreach programmes involved and whether he'd been directly involved. He'd often talked about the need for education in his country, and maybe I should have listened to him more. It might be a way of keeping in touch. I wanted to dig deeper, but Lady Osolase seemed distracted so I decided to drop the subject for a while.

There was a knock on the door and a young Nigerian man walked sheepishly into the room.

‘You wanted to see me,' he said.

Tracey screamed.

‘Where were you, you bastard? You were supposed to meet me at Lagos airport! Now we've been kidnapped and everything.'

I made the assumption this was ‘Baz'.

His mother got up from her chair and moved slowly over to him. She lifted her right hand and I thought she was going to shake hands with her son, which seemed a little formal. But she didn't. She took a wide swing and whacked him round the face so hard the sound of the slap could be heard resonating around the room.

‘Yous stupid boy. What haf you done to dis poor woman? You take her money and make promises yous don't keep.'

Baz looked over at Tracey with some horror. I suppose he never guessed she'd end up in Nigeria, much less in his mother's office.

‘Well, you will pay for your sins dis time,' Lady Osolase said. ‘Yous will be married to Tracey next week and yous will pay her back da five tousand pounds yous stole from her. How dare yous dishonour our family name.'

Tracey went into a delirium of emotion, jumping around like a hyperactive child on a diet of Coca-Cola and E-numbers. So much so, she couldn't hear Baz's protestations or his mother saying if he didn't do as he was told he'd be disinherited and sent to live in a leper colony.

‘Right,' said Lady Osolase as she pressed Baz into the remaining available chair. ‘Let's start mekking da arrangements.'

Baz's head hung low as his mother again informed her audience the wedding would be booked for the following week, and in the meantime he'd be confined to his mother's quarters, with an armed guard to prevent him making any escape.

There seemed to be no question of me going home before the formalities were over. She arranged for Tracey and me to have the use of a small bungalow in the grounds of her home while the arrangements were made. Despite being a formidable woman, she was certainly kind and fair when she thought someone had been wronged. I admired her stamina and determination, and her ability to insist her son did exactly what she required. Perhaps I should have been the same with Jonjo and Paddy? Perhaps they would have had better career prospects.

Tracey didn't seem to mind Baz's house arrest, claiming it would be bad luck to see her man before her big day. His look suggested he thought it would be bad luck to see Tracey ever again.

‘Hold ya chin up, boy,' said Lady Osolase. ‘Yous getting married, and yous will be proud. This is wat yous aksed for!' She glowered as she spoke, although the sentiment was lost on Tracey, who was babbling on about dresses, shoes, bridesmaids, guests and what could she do about her tooth.

‘I've got to look perfect. I've been dreaming of it since I got “Engaged Barbie” and planned everything to the last detail.'

She slumped down a little in her chair as she asked if she'd be able to invite any of her friends and family from England. Although Tracey was informed that she could have whatever she required, I had a sneaking suspicion that those who hadn't acknowledged her disappearance were unlikely to attend a wedding in the middle of a Nigerian suburb.

We said our goodbyes and thanks to Lady Osolase, who asked one of her staff to show us to the bungalow so we could settle in and unpack. It was only a short drive away from the university, which backed on to the big house and its gardens.

‘She ain't got far to go to work,' said Tracey, as she eyed up the pathway that led from the big house into the back of the campus. ‘Lucky cow.'

I didn't think luck came into it, more a force to be reckoned with. I liked Lady O, though. She didn't take any prisoners – unlike her compatriots who we'd had the misfortune to meet. I looked across the grounds which stretched for what seemed to be miles into the distance and noticed bright lights aimed in our direction.

‘I wonder what that is,' I said to Tracey, trying to blink away the blindness that the strong beam had caused.

‘Just one of the staff, I expect,' she answered, not interested in anything but making her way into our new accommodation.

The bungalow had an open-plan lounge area with sparse but tasteful furnishings: a couple of low settees made from leather and dark wood, a table and a selection of floor rugs. The kitchen was tucked away around a corner, opposite a corridor leading to a bathroom with a shower, and two double bedrooms. I chose my room and threw myself onto the bed, delighted to experience the bouncy mattress and clean sheets. I thought of my bed at home and the unexpected delights it had brought.
How I've taken so much for granted
, I thought as I drifted off into a deep sleep that lasted until I heard a shriek from Tracey.

Imagining horror tantamount to severed heads, murderous thieves or the resurrection of Michael Winner, I was relieved to note her dismay was at the smallest of spiders in the shower room.

‘Get it out, get it out,' she was screaming, oblivious to the fact that she was completely naked and hopping from one foot to the other as if on hot coals.

I looked around the bathroom and picked up the glass sitting by the side of the sink and placed it over the offending creature. It moved, and Tracey screamed some more. I noted it had the shape of a violin on its back, where its legs met. Only then did it occur to me it could be poisonous.

‘Get me some paper or cardboard,' I said, as I stepped back from the spider, which had decided to wiggle about in its unexpected conservatory setting.

Tracey was only too pleased to oblige and returned with the back of a flour packet from the kitchen. I slid it under the glass and thankfully the rather mobile beast sat happily on top of the McDougalls logo while I took it out to release in the gardens. When I returned, Tracey was sat naked on one of the settees, drinking brandy she'd found in one of the kitchen cupboards.

‘Bloody hate spiders,' she said, and then wobbled her way to the bathroom where I heard the shower going full blast and the sounds of Tracey's attempts at singing.

I had a sudden feeling of freedom, which lasted until Tracey returned in a dressing gown, to start what amounted to a monologue about what she wanted to happen at her wedding. The plans for marriage, even to someone who clearly had no feelings for her, became her sole topic of interest – and one that nearly drove me to her murder. I even thought about getting the spider back as an experiment.

It was a shame, because I had begun to like her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The plans for the wedding were coming along nicely and things seemed to have settled down. The embassy had made further contact and also passed on messages from my family, who it seemed were content to know I was safe and sound. Tom had been helping the authorities in the UK by going through my computer and was apparently thrilled to be part of an international crime investigation. No one had asked if I was coming home, which was something of a relief as I wasn't sure I was ready to face my family just yet.

As for Tracey's wedding, she spent every waking hour talking of nothing else. I had no choice but to listen, as she had awarded me what she thought was the great privilege of being her matron of honour, which it turned out involved doing absolutely nothing.

It was a role I wouldn't have volunteered for at the best of times, but it gave me an opportunity to find out more about Lady Osolase. There was no doubt she was a very well-known and influential woman. Just the sort I'd like as a friend, as I was sure she could be trusted with her promises to help me find Darius, and among other things I could just see myself taking her to bridge club so she could sort out Mavis!

It was difficult to know what to do with Tracey, so I asked Lady Osolase what a matron of honour might do for the bride when in Nigeria.

‘Well, now, dat is not the question, Cynthia. What we need to tink is what we can do for Tracey,' she said as she winked at me, explaining that under ‘normal circumstances' there could be three types of wedding.

‘Da families would meet and talk and price decided for the bride. I don't tink dat going to 'appen'!' She roared with laughter. ‘Best we keep it simple.'

Seeing my desire to have some kind of a role to play, she suggested visiting Lekki market at Victoria Island, adding it was where all the British visitors went to buy bags and shoes and ‘to escalate the extinction of da African elephant', thanks to the various goods made from ivory.

Lady Osolase offered to lend me her car, and so I made plans to take Tracey the next day, hoping it would take her mind off the wedding itself, if only for a few hours.

The news of a market where shoes might be bought was well received. So much so I think her shrieks nearly burst one of my ear drums.

‘You are a bloody star, Cynth,' said Tracey, as she pulled on a pair of boots over some dubiously thin-looking pink leggings. I wasn't sure whether to tell her the heart-shaped patterns on her G-string looked like nasty bruises where they showed through and was relieved when she pulled on a long green top which covered everything up.

Lady Osolase had only just bought her brand new Mini convertible and I was a little nervous about driving it, particularly as Tracey insisted on having the roof down. The dust and flies didn't seem to bother her as much as they did me, but then she was wearing sunglasses as big as saucepan lids. I also wondered about our safety, bearing in mind the warnings we'd been given about going out and about unsupervised.

‘You just be careful and call me if you need me,' said Lady Osolase, making sure Tracey had taken a note of her number for such a purpose. ‘Lekki is a tourist area so I am sure you will be fine if you stick to the main roads and don't get side-tracked.'

‘An adventure!' shouted Tracey, standing up in the seat with her head through the roof as I drove out onto the side road and headed towards what the Nigerians call a motorway but what I would call a very wide path. It was difficult not to bump along, and after one particularly nasty pothole, and a real bruise to show through the pink leggings where Tracey had fallen against the gear stick, she decided to sit down.

After a few miles we saw the sign to the market and headed off down an even bumpier track. I couldn't see any further signs and started to panic a little until at last we saw a couple of traffic officials standing in the road.