The Girl with the Louding Voice(67)

He nod his head, look me up, down, down to up. “I have heard a few interesting things about you,” he say. His voice is polish, smooth, words flowing from his mouth like he is using oil to wrap his word before talking. He and Ms. Tia, they fit theirselfs. Honey voice and oil voice. Pity they have small troubles because of childrens.

“Yes, sah,” I say. “Good evening, sah. I will call Big Madam and Big Daddy to come downstairs. You want ice-cold drink? We are having cold Fanta and fresh juice and wine drink in the fridge. Which one do you want?”

He wave a hand. “Water for me, thank you.”

As I stand, the doctor is whispering to his wife: “You do know that there are other women, posh, well-spoken, on Wellington Road, that would gladly go to the market with you, right?”

And Ms. Tia, she laugh her bell-ringing laugh and say, “Babe, trust me, I know what I want. She’s perfect for the job.”





CHAPTER 38

Fact: Many Nigerians have superstitious beliefs about pregnancy. One such is the belief that attaching a safety pin to a pregnant woman’s clothing will ward off evil spirits.

Tia’s weekly column is coming along nicely,” the doctor is saying as I bring a tray of tumblers into the dining room. “The blog recently hit five thousand subscribers. Have you had a chance to read it?”

“Who has time to be reading about the environment when there is money to be made?” Big Madam say with a laugh.

She is sitting on the dining chair, beside Big Daddy, Ms. Tia, and the doctor. Big Madam’s face is full of all sorts of makeups, be like she melt a rainbow, wipe it on her face. Her teeth are bright white under the red and gold lipstick, her lips swollen by the corner of it. She and Big Daddy are smiling, looking like they didn’t just nearly kill theirselfs with beating.

“Put the glass cups there,” Big Madam say to me. “Right in the center of the dining table. Yes, right there.”

“But she still complains that she is bored,” the doctor say as I am bringing the cup from the tray and putting it on the table. “I have told her to mix with the likes of yourself, Madam Florence. With the other classy women on our street. But she’d rather stay home and complain.”

“What she needs is children.” Big Madam pick the cup, look it well, wipe it with her hand, set it down. “Mrs. Dada, when you are chasing children up and down in your house, you will not even think of complaining. Where will boredom sit in a house full of children? It cannot happen. Adunni, put one glass cup in front of Chief. What is delaying you people from having children? You have been married for over one year. I was pregnant the first time Chief touched me on the night of our wedding.” Big Madam laugh a shy laugh. “I hope you are not exploring life and traveling the world before you start birthing children-o? If you are not careful, your womb will just expire.” She laugh again, but nobody is joining her to laugh. “And when it eventually happens, you must hide yourself. When you start to show, remember to put a safety pin on your dress so that no one will uproot your baby from the womb with evil eyes.”

Ms. Tia sit stiff, like something starch up her whole body.

“When shall we expect to hear good news?” Big Madam keep talking like something curse her mouth. “When shall we come and eat rice and chicken?”

“We only just started—” Ms. Tia begin to say, but the doctor press a hand to cover his wife’s hand, say, “We will keep trying. It will happen in God’s time. I just want Tia to be happy. The last thing I want is for anyone to pressure her.” The doctor look at his wife with love eyes, then nod his head yes, as if in a question.

“That’s right,” Ms. Tia say, sounding like her voice is a sharp pin in her mouth. “Keep trying. No pressure.”

I cough, put the tumbler in front of Big Daddy, feel the heat from his look on my hand.

“I should tell Kofi to serve the food now?” I ask. “And the orange juice?”

“God’s time is the best for these things,” Big Daddy say. “Babies are a gift. A miracle.”

“Indeed,” the doctor say.

“Orange juice?” I ask again, but nobody is giving me answer so I stand back, press the tray to my chest. Ms. Tia’s head is down, like she can see her sad face on the glass table and is feeling sorry for herself. The doctor take her hand under the table and hold it.

“One thing that might help take her mind off the pressures of trying for a baby,” the doctor say, “is to go out more often. Tia loves to explore cultural stuff. She’s thinking of redecorating the house, and she’s asked if maybe your house help”—the doctor nod at me with a soft smile—“can go with her to the market one of these days. To help teach her to, uh, to haggle.”

“Which house girl?” Big Madam say. “Adunni? What does that one know? She is a stranger in Lagos-o. An illiterate thing, completely useless. She cannot follow anybody to any market. And why can’t Mrs. Dada haggle by herself? Is she not a Nigerian? What does she need Adunni for?”

“I can haggle.” Ms. Tia lift her head. “Or at least I try. But it’d be nice to have some help in the market. Adunni speaks Yoruba fluently. She is intelligent, and I am comfortable with her—more than I am with most people. I think we can discover things together.”

“‘Discover things together,’ ke?” Big Madam laugh, shake her head. “Is my house girl a search engine? No, no. Please. I don’t want Adunni to—”