Dear Beneficiary (29 page)

As if on some kind of hormonal timer, Tracey started to cry, a habit I was beginning to find somewhat nauseating.

‘This is so emotional,' she blubbered. ‘And now I've gone really hot and sweaty,' she added, waving her hand in front of her face as its colour increased from a pale pink to an extreme red.

Lady Osolase swiftly took Tracey by the arm and moved her towards the door, gesturing to us all to follow.

‘Come. Da car is waiting. It has air conditioning.'

Throughout the drive Tracey was mopping her face and armpits with a cloth handed to her by Noelle. She was sweating profusely, and cried at every available prompt, particularly one suggesting she might have hit the menopause.

‘I ain't that bleedin' old,' she said and I kept quiet about her being exactly the average age for such hormonal depletion. I know, as I was the same age when my eggs said goodbye to fertility and started causing havoc with the essence of everything I'd trusted to be my true self. It started with a sense of agoraphobia and general anti-social behaviour, then escalated to bouts of paranoia, extreme aggression and a constant desire to exterminate anyone who was in my way for any reason. I can see why women don't often get jobs as airline pilots. Flying a plane full of moaning passengers on a bad day could have very serious implications.

When we got to the church, Tracey had cooled off physically and emotionally. A last-minute burst of oestrogen must have saved the day, which was a blessing considering there were about two hundred people waiting outside to join in the ceremony. The women, who'd gathered together in one big group, were dressed in bright colours and wore hats with oversized flowers, while the men, skulking in more dispersed bunches depending on whether they were smoking or not, were in sharp but lightweight suits that oozed sophistication and expense. Gospel music was blaring through the church doors, and the atmosphere was buzzing.

‘Who are all these people?' said Tracey, who was like a rabbit in the headlights at the sight of the crowd. Her thoughts, directed earlier at me, were that there would only be a dozen or so people in attendance. Something she'd worried about, as it didn't fit with the persistent childhood dream of her wedding day.

‘I've waited a long time to get married and I'm gonna do it properly,' she'd told Noelle and me as she demanded an off-the-shoulder number in white, with maybe a few bits of colour here and there. Noelle had got on with making the best job she could with the tools she'd been given and Tracey was happy enough being the centre of attention while this progressed. She gave her commands on what she wanted to wear and issued instructions where she could on food, drinks and music, but had little input on who she wanted to attend other than me – and Baz, of course.

‘They are your guests, ma dear,' said Lady Osolase as she swept her arm across the vista of faces. ‘And some of dem will soon be ya family.'

Tracey had told me the prospect of marriage to such a family was very exciting, adding she was ‘totally loved up', which apparently means you have very strong romantic feelings for a partner who feels the same. That didn't seem to apply to Tracey's intended, who appeared to be the complete opposite. I'm not sure if ‘loved down' is an expression, but if that is what he was, she hadn't noticed. Whatever I thought of the arrangement, every dog has its day, and hers was her wedding, however shambolic the circumstances.

I looked more closely at some of the people. They wore expensive clothes and spoke with confidence, as if they had always been told they were important. They had an air of entitlement and status, which was all rather splendid in the circumstances. I was looking forward to meeting some of them.

Cameras flashed around us as Tracey got out of the car. A big cheer went up and three photographers crowded round her, taking picture after picture. I noticed how one of the photographers seemed to be focusing most of his attention on me and I hoped he didn't think I was a relation of the bride. Thankfully he left earlier than the others, which I thought was a bit strange, but maybe he wasn't there so much for the wedding but because it was an event hosted by Lady Osolase.

Lady Osolase asked them to move away to allow the bride to get through. As we approached the church doors a nervous-looking Baz was waiting, wearing a white suit and a pale green shirt with a dark green tie. He looked handsome, but scared as hell.

‘Say hello to ya bride, son,' she barked at him.

‘Hello,' he said dutifully.

Tracey threw her arms round him and kissed him full on the lips. He didn't respond, but stepped backwards to regain his balance. Cameras continued to click around us as we and the guests made our way into the church and into pews assigned with various names, including some that were prefaced with titles such as ‘Rt Hon.' or ‘Minister', suggesting they were from very high places indeed.

The ceremony was over in less than five minutes, and Lady Osolase didn't leave her son's side until he'd signed the register. He and Tracey were officially married, and in front of enough witnesses to ensure he could never deny it.

Caterers must have worked overnight on the massive banquet that had been ordered for the wedding breakfast – held in a marquee at the back of the Osolase home. All of Tracey's requests had been honoured, and she was delighted, particularly with the chicken nuggets and mini cheese burgers she didn't expect to be available.

Lady Osolase was remarkably happy to oblige with all requests, even those for a karaoke machine and tequila shots as welcome drinks. There were various other minor details such as a visiting Elvis impersonator, those nasty mint crisps that everyone had at dinner parties before Hotel Chocolat was invented – and the possibility of a comedian, if one could be found in Nigeria. Certainly a direct woman, Lady Osolase was generous in her dealings with Tracey, explaining to us both that she was disgusted by her son's behaviour and would insist he put things right. She added he'd be a good husband, which was something I doubted, given his actions to date and the fact he'd have to tolerate Tracey as a wife. I supposed that children would be out of the question, which was undoubtedly a blessing.

After everyone had eaten, Lady Osolase stood up and gave what might have passed as a best man's speech in any other circumstances. There didn't seem to be any other contenders for the role. If there had have been, I suspect she'd have found something else for them to do, a long way away.

‘My son is very lucky to haf met such a nice British girl,' she said, to a silent audience who neither assented nor disagreed. ‘Tracey is welcome to our family, and we wish dem a long life together,' she added, without any sign of having crossed her fingers. As she sat down, she added: ‘Now ma son would like to speak.'

Baz looked horrified and turned to his mother, his eyes pleading for clemency. There was none.

‘Um. Thank you all for being here,' he mumbled. He was about to sit down but his mother coughed loudly and pointed to his pocket, nodding her head in its direction while she did. ‘Er. I've a present for my wife.' The last word nearly choked him, and I was sure I could see tears in his eyes that didn't appear to be from joy.

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket which he opened up and showed to be a cheque. It was for five thousand pounds. He shoved it in Tracey's direction without looking at her.

‘For you,' he added, and quickly sat in his seat, taking a large swig from the drink placed in front of him.

Tracey was speechless, I was pleased to note. Otherwise I suspect she would've stood up and said something entirely incriminating. She shoved the cheque inside the small clutch bag she'd been carrying and smiled weakly around the room, looking at the guests, who were still cheering at her husband's extravagant ‘gift'. She looked over at Baz but he was clutching his head in his hands, or at least he was until his mother knocked his arms off the table, bringing him to a near collision between head and plate.

Before anyone had a chance to think about what had just happened, the music started and various guests were up on the dance floor moving in a way only black people can. I remembered dancing with Darius to ‘Mrs Robinson' and fantasised about him making a sudden appearance, so he could declare undying love and waltz me around the floor, winning every spectator's admiration. As I watched the crowd sway easily to the music, I wished I possessed that sense of self and oneness with the beat.

I was sitting and watching the spectacle before me when Lady Osolase came over. She sipped her drink and I noticed a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.

‘Well, I haf a surprise for you, dear Cynthia. Some of my people haf been doing some investigating.'

‘Oh, that's nice. What have they found?' I asked, hoping against hope it was something I wanted to hear.

Someone was talking behind me, greeting a number of people on their way through the crowd. I thought it might be one of Lady Osolase's colleagues from the outreach programmes. She'd been asking repeatedly if I was interesting in helping them.

I'd prepared myself to put on a fixed smile and offer my best polite, diplomatic conversation when I saw a vision I hadn't expected to see again. It was Darius, accompanied by a beautiful young woman I hoped he had nothing to do with.

‘Hello, Cynthia. How lovely to see you,' he said, kissing me gently on the cheek.

Time stood still and I couldn't speak. I hadn't been prepared for meeting him this suddenly and he seemed distant, like a stranger. He looked at me with his beautiful, kind eyes with no sense of guilt or shame. Did he not know he'd torn out my pounding heart and crushed it?

‘This is Chinaza,' he said, introducing me to the young woman accompanying him.

‘Very pleased to meet you,' I said automatically, even though I wanted to axe her into tiny pieces.

‘I've been reading about your adventures in the press and heard from Lady Osolase that you were here. It sounds like you have had quite a time,' Darius said, gleaming through his pink-tinged lips and showing the tips of his icy white teeth.

My insides turned with nerves, and I hoped he couldn't hear the gurgling. My left foot started to quiver, so I shuffled slightly in the hope he wouldn't guess my state of anxiety.

I was glad I was dressed well and hoped he'd remember our liaisons with fondness. I wished I was in something a little sexier than my sensible courts. Perhaps I should've asked Tracey for a pair of her ‘shag me' shoes.

‘Well, it's been interesting,' I said, hiding untethered emotions as deep in my soul as I could. ‘Not everyone can say they've been kidnapped and survived,' I said as I smiled at Darius, wondering if this woman might be the object of his attentions.

‘We were very pleased to hear from the university you'd arrived there safe and sound,' he said, as he moved forward and touched my arm. A thrill ran through my blood as if I'd touched an electric fence.

‘We're also delighted to tell you we've managed to capture your kidnappers,' Darius added, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. ‘Chinaza is on the investigating team with me at Forensix Inc. She led the project to find and arrest them. They will appear in court in a few days.'

‘Actually, that isn't quite true, Mrs Hartworth,' drawled Chinaza in my direction, giving me what I could only describe as a sickly smile. Even her teeth were perfect. ‘We believe the main instigator of the scam is still at large. The others are too scared to give his name, although we understand he is known to many as ‘just John'.'

I couldn't stop looking at this woman, who was at least a foot taller than me yet probably ten pounds lighter. I imagined her breasts being upright and full, untouched by the teeth of mewling infants. She turned away to talk to a guest who was passing by and Darius continued to explain what had happened, but I felt like someone had blown dry ice into my brain to prevent it from functioning.

I still clung on to the hope this young female was not the recipient of Darius's affections. My stomach lifted, and I could have happily tap-danced my way round the house and garden dressed in nothing but a tutu had I been assured of that.

A number of people came up to us, mainly to talk to Darius and Chinaza. They both seemed well known, which didn't surprise me.

Then a stab of pain nearly knocked me off my feet. I looked over to see Chinaza pick a piece of fluff from Darius's shirt. Until that point I was prepared to think, hope, that they were just colleagues.

That's far too intimate to be just a work relationship
, I thought, as I ran to the ladies to have a good cry. As salty droplets of sadness cascaded down my cheeks it occurred to me that many lovers meet at work. How could I think they were anything but?

When I returned, Lady Osolase's secretary, Idowu, came over and asked if I was OK. ‘I understand you've had some bad experience of people in our country. For this I must apologise,' she said in a very clipped and precise manner. ‘I always feel very sad these people represent our beautiful nation so badly.'

I looked around and couldn't see Darius, or that witch of a woman, anywhere. I wanted to ask where he'd gone, but wasn't sure I wanted the answer. I was glad my red-rimmed eyes could be blamed on a kind of post-traumatic stress disorder and not the consequences of a broken heart.

Idowu was dressed in crisp, coloured clothes that hadn't bent to the movement of her body and remained crease-free and fresh. Her hands were beautifully manicured, especially when compared to my short and unvarnished nails. In her presence I felt very badly maintained.

‘It isn't your fault,' I said, thanking her for her concern. She went on to ask how I dealt with being in captivity and how we'd managed to escape.

Before long I was telling her about Darius. I was propelled towards such a conversation, like all those newly immersed in unrequited love. Not all the details, of course, but just the fact he was a friend I'd been looking for. I was economical with the truth, having decided there were some things best left unsaid. We talked about the problems the country had with some of the people who are using technology to fight their way out of poverty. She added that Darius was one of the leaders in his field, and very well respected. He'd apparently left a short while ago, with Chinaza.