I SHALL FIND YOU (4 page)

Machines buzzed constantly. The smell of oil and metal heralded another day at the factory. When he met Rose she was alone. They both stopped.

His voice was low. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Enjoying the work?”

“It’s the usual. See you around.”

“See you.”

He walked away. Later as he got a coffee she arrived with her dad.

“Good coffee,” Frank jeered. “Do you have good coffee like this back in the old country? We got it all here. Free housing, medical aid, even jobs for everyone. No wonder you people can’t stay away.”

Rose spoke, “Let’s go, Dad. I just remembered the cookies I brought.”

They left him sipping his coffee, grateful she had pulled her dad off. As he worked on a machine she stopped beside him, looking professional in a white dust-coat, holding a pencil and notebook, and acted like she was checking something on the machine.

“Pretending to be busy?”

“Yes. Like you.”

“I’m busy.”

“Would like to talk to you but not here.”

“Where then? The machine graveyard?”

“No. Can I pass by your place this evening.”

He stared at her. “My place?”

“Yes. Got something to do in Stones. Need to ask you something, thought I’d pay you a visit if you’re home by five.”

“Ok.”

“What’s your address? Just tell me.”

He told her. She repeated it.

He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Five then. Be home.”

“Sure.”

She moved to another machine.

What did she want to ask him?

He strolled back to the workshop a puzzled look on his face, and was working on an electric motor when he saw James and Rose at the vending machines having coffee. When they parted James strolled towards him.

“I told Rose of the scars on your back.”

“You shouldn’t have. Does her dad know too?”

James didn’t deny telling Frank. Said he had mentioned Godfree’s scars, but nothing about Moto living in Stones and coming to the house. He couldn’t let both father and daughter know that torturer was in the country. They were already mad enough about too many refugees around. James only said he had seen the scars that proved Godfree had been tortured.

“They need to start seeing you different.”

“I don’t think scars matter to Frank.”

“Rose seemed concerned. Hope she’ll treat you better now. Not all English people are racists. You’re not a second-class citizen. I’m your pal.”

“I know. Does she have a boyfriend yet?”

James replied. She had dumped her ex who had an engineering doctorate too. When she caught him with her friend she ended the affair. James was giving her time to recover. Godfree sensed there was more to it. That he wanted Rose, but carried a complex. Maybe it had to do with his lack of a degree where she had several.

“I asked her last week if she was ready for another boyfriend. She told me she isn’t yet, can’t trust men any longer. Just needs time to heal. Were you thinking of giving her a go yourself?”

“You joking?” Godfree cocked his eyebrows. “Who said I’m interested? What about you?”

“You saying she isn’t attractive enough?”

“Do you see me and her together? We’re as compatible as oil and water. What’s stopping you?”

“She’s no different from the rest. Reminds me of a python waiting to snare an unsuspecting animal. Her type’s unfaithful. I can give you the names of more than seven guys that’s tried her. Those fitters Alec and Ross are among the poor losers. It’s sickening how men drool over her. I know a woman who looked just like her but was cruel and evil.”

“Rose sleeps around?”

“No, she just likes rejecting men. Did you know she was offered a chance while at university to be photographed topless by a famous magazine?”

“She does modelling?”

“No. She refused. No way she would take off her clothes for money and have her family see that. And she could have made a killing too. It’s amazing the money these topless bimbos make by displaying their bodies. Crazy world just how showing dirty old men your pictures can you get rich.”

“She sounds decent. But despite that you still don’t trust her. Why? You believe only pretty girls are cheats?”

“Can’t ever trust blondes.”

“Why stereotype them? What have they done? One must have hurt you in the past.”

“I knew this boy with a prostitute of a mother. He was my classmate. It hurt him bad. See why it’s hard to trust that pretty type? They use their looks and bodies. That husband failed to stand up to her. He should have pulled her by the hair and smacked her. But what did that pathetic wimp do? Worked long hours to support a loose girl and give her space to sleep with other men in the house. It’s strange how Rose looks just like that woman. They could even be sisters.”

“I understand now why you don’t like her. Her fault’s resembling that woman in your story. Or is there more to your dislike? Are you challenged by her education, confidence and the money she earns?”

“I simply don’t trust her. Hope you never chase her too like these men who act as flies around a heap of compost. Under that veneer of decency, she’ll hurt a man, start sleeping around. Men better stay away from her. She’s dangerous.”

He guessed what Rose wanted to ask him. Realized James might come to the house tonight. That way he would meet Rose. He wondered if he was trying to scare Godfree away from her by telling him she was not to be trusted. He told James he planned to visit a classmate and would not be home this evening just in case he thought of dropping by for a game of chess. 

“No problem, mate. We’ll have our game another time. Besides I’m busy this evening. Got something really important I must do. Going to pay someone I know a visit.”

“Huh, a girlfriend at last.”

He winked. “Maybe it’s a girl or a man. I’ll leave you guessing.”

“A man? You’re a secret homosexual?”

“Nowadays you can’t tell, huh?”

“Think it’s a girl.”

“Sshh. She’s married.”

“You’re seeing someone’s wife?”

James laughed. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

He left earlier than Godfree and sped off in his car leaving him wondering whether he was going to see a girl. As he recalled they had not spoken about girlfriends much. When James inquired he had told him about his ex-girlfriend. In turn the Englishman had said his one-time girlfriend had died when she was young. After that he had just lost interest in girls. Maybe one day he would meet someone else. 

In under half an hour Godfree was home and caught a bath.

He checked the time again. With ten minutes to go before five, he had just settled on the sofa to watch news when the doorbell buzzed.

It was Rose. She was still in her work clothes.

“Come in.”

Her curious glance swept the room.  At the novels, electrical engineering textbooks in the book shelf, guitar and the sofas. Moved close to the framed graduation certificate on the wall.

“Mm. You graduated with a first.”

“Yes. Have a seat.”

She stepped towards the bookshelf, pulled out a textbook, flipped through the pages, put it back and took out another. Stopped by the wall and looked at his graduation certificate again before sitting on the double couch. Her eyes were direct.

“James said you were tortured.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, and that you have scars on your back.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

“You almost died, were in hospital for months. That’s why you left.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I lied to him.”

“Thought of what you said at the machine graveyard. That some refugees are running away from persecution.”

“So you came to find out if it’s true? Maybe see the scars, huh?”

“James said he saw them, and they were horrible. I don’t think he was lying.”

“So why did you come here?”

“What really happened? Why were you tortured?”

“Did your dad send you here?”

She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t know I’m here. Just want to know first- hand what occurred.”

He watched her for a few seconds, then decided to tell her. Went back to the past, when he joined the main opposition political party with Aaron. The rally, and attack by Moto and his thugs. Waking up in a smelly dungeon of torture tied to a table. Moto administered the beating, had electric current, knives, whips and hot irons for his tools. Godfree believed he died as he recalled seeing himself in another body. A younger one, which hovered above the table where his old form was tied. Moto also checked his heart and concluded he was dead. He saw Moto drag his old body from the room, dump it onto a truck, drive to the forest, and throw him in the bush. Even the scene where David the surgeon and his girlfriend stopped by the side of the road and found him. Then a voice told it was not time for him to die. He was pushed back into his carcass. What followed was hospital, months of rehabilitation and constant nightmares. When he recovered he ran to England for a new life.

Turning he faced the wall, lifted his T-shirt and bared his back, glanced over his shoulder.

Her face paled. “That man was a beast! The pain must have been unbearable.”

She stood and touched his back. Traced the scars.

He dropped the T-shirt. “He was just doing his job to scare and silence the opposition. Mind a drink or tea?”

“Tea will be fine, thanks.”

She followed him to the kitchen, watched him make tea. He handed her a cup, perched on a stool. She did the same.

“You sure keep your house clean.”

“Thanks.”

“I met Moto again days ago.”

“You met that murderer?”

“He lives in Stones now.”

“WHAT?”

He explained their talk and how he had snapped, beat him and chased him. He wanted to burn that man’s bottom by putting him on a red hot stove. Moto had done that to his victims. When Godfrey searched for a knife Moto escaped. That’s when James arrived.

“Goodness! He tortured you and murdered your friend. I wouldn’t blame you for burning him. Even helped hold him down while you burnt him. Why didn’t you? He was right in your hands.”

“He asked for forgiveness. Plus, he has a pregnant wife.”

“And here I was calling you an asylum cheat. How cruel could I have been?”

“You didn’t know.”

“That’s the problem with ignorance. I only saw an extra refugee on our shores.”

He said that man had changed, became a whistle-blower, joined the opposition party and escaped to England. It did not bring the dead back. Godfree checked out his story by calling one of the opposition party members he knew. They collaborated Moto’s story as the truth. He was indeed a member of the opposition party now. If he ever set foot back home, he would be killed.

“He’s a torturer and murderer. So now he can hide here and enjoy asylum? It’s good I don’t know him or I’d tell him to his face what he is, and how I’m angry for what he did to you.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Visiting the boot-fare in the morning.”

“Where’s that?”

“Lions Grounds next to Watling Avenue.”

“I know the place, have been there. Had been thinking about buying some stuff too.”

“We’ll meet there then. But we need to be early. That’s how to pick good bargains. Seven’s a good time. So you’ll come?”

“I’ll be there Rose. You own a dress or skirt?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Why not wear one tomorrow?”

“I’m just not used to them. Why should I wear one?”

“I’m curious, never seen you in one.”

“Do I look ugly in slacks?”

He shook his head. “I never said that.”

“Remove that fur from your cheeks, and trim that moustache if you want me to leave slacks at home.”

“So I look horrible with this beard?”

“You’d be better without it.” She touched his cheeks and moustache. “Leave these, but make them neater and shorter. You know any good barbers, or should I take you to one?”

“We have barbers in the High Street. I’ll get this sorted out today. They close at six.”

“You still got time. Where’s your bathroom?”

He showed her. When she appeared he offered her a cooked maize cob which she accepted.

“Want to see the rest of the house, especially my cellar? Just in case there are girls chained there.”

“I never said that.”

“I’d like to take you on a tour all the same. Let’s start upstairs.”

He led her up the stairs, showed her his bedroom, guestroom and then finally the cellar. She looked at the tens of books, commented he kept the house neat even his cellar. Cellars were usually the dustiest of places.

“Can I borrow some books?”

“Sure.”

She picked two stories by African authors and a suspense thriller by an American author.

“The High Street is only a hundred yards from here. Let’s go get that beard sorted out before they close.”

“I’ll get that done.”

“We’re going together. Got to make sure you shave.”

“Bully.”

She elbowed him playfully in the ribs, then grabbed her bag. They walked down the street. In two minutes they hit the High Street and the barbers. He pushed the door, waited for her to enter. She muttered thanks, smiled back at the men.

“I brought this wild-looking man for a shave.”

“Over here, mate,” one barber said. “Please sit. What would you like done?”

Rose explained what she wanted, sat and waited.

After minutes the barber looked at her. “Want to inspect your boyfriend, lady? See if that’s how you like it.”

Boyfriend?

Rose stepped close. Nodded and smiled. “He looks better now. I was right. You look different now, Godfree.”

“Thanks.” He stood. “How much do I owe you?”

“Seven quid.”

As he was taking out his purse Rose beat him to it, whipped out a tenner and paid. Outside he held out the cash.

“No, Free. It’s ok. You get the burgers and drinks at the boot-fare tomorrow. That new look’s fine.”

“Mind a take-away?”

“Unless you want one as well.”

“I do. What’s your favourite?”

She mentioned Nandos chicken. They walked to the restaurant down the street. At the door he waited for her to enter first. They picked a menu. She pointed out her family loved Nandos chicken too. He ordered, flushed out his card before she did, and paid. They waited for their order.

“You didn’t need to buy for my family too.”

“Why not?”

She reached for her bag. “I'll pay you back for that.”

He touched her hand. “It’s my treat. They won’t know it’s me. Hey, stop looking like I’ve tricked you.”

She made a face before smiling, pulled out her phone and called.

“Dad, I’m fine, didn’t get lost. Tell mom I’m bringing some Nandos for the whole family so don’t bother to cook supper. Should be home soon. Love you too.”

Their number was called. The food was ready. He had it packed in two packages, carried it as they left.

“Rose, someone from work might see us together and tell your dad. He won’t be happy.”

“Then we’ll say we met in town. Are you saying you’re no longer coming to the boot-fare tomorrow so I forget about changing into a skirt?”

“No. I’ll come just to see you in a skirt for once.”

They reached his house. She got into her car, started the engine and rolled down the window.

“See you tomorrow, and thanks again for the food.”

“You’re welcome. Get home safe.”

He waved, watched her car disappear before entering the house a smile on his face.