Orphan Sisters, page 3
‘When did she say she would meet us?’ said Mummy, her voice on the edge of complaint.
‘I spoke to the lady on the phone and she will meet us here in five minutes’ time. The basement flat is in the next street. A very nice area. There are many shops to buy food. I know it is not a pleasant day, but it will all be worth it!’
Lanre stepped out of the shelter. She loved the feel of rain against her skin and couldn’t wait for this ‘snow’ she’d heard so much about to also make an appearance.
‘Move inside, your hair does not like the rain!’ ordered Mummy. Lanre stepped back under the awning. ‘You are right, Tayo. We should do this.’
He smiled warmly. ‘Hopefully, we will be in a new home by the time the girls start school.’
The rain finally stopped. If their new home was to be in this area, that would be OK. Although she did not see anything different from their current street: the straight roads; identical houses; some with smoke billowing from something called a chimney and no animals running around, except for dogs and cats who actually shared homes with people! But it was people she questioned the most and their reasoning for not acknowledging them in a way that didn’t include narrowing their eyes as if they had just tasted the hottest pepe on their tongue. Or moving their noses like they were smelling poo. Even when Mummy went to greet them, they would at times ignore her, or wave their hands dismissively. Lanre would never behave in such a way to another person. Perhaps she would to Mayowa if she was annoying her. No one else, though, and especially no one older than her.
Lanre had many questions resting on her tongue, but always stopped herself from asking them. Everything would be OK. Daddy always made everything OK.
The rain finally stopped and they stepped out of the awning.
An older white woman with silver hair was approaching. She was dressed in a very smart skirt and jacket with a golden sparkling object on the left lapel.
‘Hello, Madam. Are you Mrs Towers?’ asked Daddy with that refined accent Mummy referred to as very British and one Lanre and her sister were to mimic if they were to ever get anywhere in life. Sometimes when he was being playful, Daddy would return to the silent H’s and the familiar dialect she’d grown up with.
‘Yes, I am Mrs Towers.’ Her left eyebrow raised, and Lanre was massively impressed with this skill.
‘Wonderful!’ enthused Tayo, pulling out his hand. ‘I am the gentleman you spoke with today on the telephone. It is nice to meet you. How do you do?’
She looked towards his outstretched hand. ‘I believe you are mistaken.’
Daddy slowly pulled his hand away. ‘It is me, Mrs Towers.’
‘Mr Cole?’
‘Yes, Mr T Cole.’
‘If it’s about the flat …?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Then I’m afraid it’s gone.’
‘I thought you said it was still available, not one hour ago. My wife and I have walked in the rain with our children—’
‘I said it’s gone. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Her eyebrows wrinkled and her pointed nose could obviously smell the poo.
‘OK, Mrs Towers, that is fair. Do you possibly know of anywhere else to rent? My wife and I must find a place soon as our daughters must start school. I would be grateful—’
‘No. Not at all,’ she said quickly, backing away.
‘Mrs Towers!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, turning the corner.
‘She was horrible!’ said Mayowa.
‘Do not speak like that about your elders, OK?’ chastised Daddy. He rarely raised his voice to anyone, but Lanre suspected this was more to do with Mrs Towers.
‘Tayo, what will happen now?’ asked Mummy.
‘It is OK, my love. I promise you I will find us a place before we have to go. I will never disappoint you or my children.’
They ventured back down the London street, the adults once again locked in quiet conversation. It was then that Lanre noticed the sign.
‘Daddy, look!’ she said, pointing to a large notice taped to a busy shop window; ONE BEDROOM FLAT TO RENT.
‘Well spotted, my angel,’ said Tayo. ‘I will write down the phone number.’ He scanned the small sign.
The six words in smaller print were less easy to read, but not for Lanre. ‘NO DOGS. NO BLACKS. NO IRISH.’
‘Daddy, what does it mean?’ asked Mayowa.
‘Nothing, my sweet angel. Let us go.’ He stuffed the pen and paper back into his pocket.
‘Go where?’ asked Mayowa as Mummy grabbed her hand. Lanre followed behind, her mind awash with what the sign suggested.
And then it hit her. ‘Daddy, do they mean us?’
‘Come on, forget about it. What do you think of fish and chips? Let’s go get some!’
‘Yeess!’ enthused Mayowa. Lanre caught Mummy’s expression, who, like Lanre, was not so keen to let go of this moment.
That evening, Daddy and Mummy sat together on the bed as they ate this curious food called fish and chips, which had become their new Friday-night ritual. The sharp and unusual taste of the vinegar, which at first appeared off-putting, Lanre now found delicious and an essential part of the meal.
‘Adanya, it is OK, I know you are disappointed about the flat. But the property was let. We will find something,’ he said, pinching her nose. She smiled up at her husband with trust in her eyes, warm with a fresh belief in him.
But Lanre had questions. ‘Daddy, what did they mean by no black, no—’
‘Oh my darling, nothing bad! They were just saying that some places are not suitable for us because … because it is too cold for what we are used to. The heating system is not good, that is all.’
‘Really? Oh! Daddy, then I am glad we did not stay there. It can get very cold in England.’
‘Exactly, my angel. Now eat your food, bedtime soon. I will tell you a story before you sleep. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, please!’ Daddy’s stories were always funny and sometimes very long, but it was one of the things she’d missed most when they had been separated for so long. He told stories about growing up as an only son and the many adventures he had looking after his younger sisters. But Lanre was eight years old and too old to believe every story she heard – just like she could not believe the one Daddy had just told her about the ‘to let’ sign.
Mummy and Daddy celebrated with wine when he announced his new job as supervisor.
‘Adanya, I know I came here to study but the money they are giving me is wonderful. I am the first black man to be given this type of job there. They are very nice to me and I enjoy my work. Perhaps I will stop my studies for now and return to it in a few years.’
‘Of course, Tayo. I am happy with this decision,’ said Mummy, although her faded smile spoke differently.
Mummy’s smile did lift considerably though when Daddy returned home from work the next day with news that a colleague had introduced him to a landlord keen to fill a number of properties in a place called West London. Now that, Lanre could pronounce.
The day before the Cole family moved into a top-floor two-bedroom flat in Notting Hill, the sun had shined the brightest Lanre had ever seen in London and it was the best day of her life since moving to England.
‘It is decorated and furnished. A lovely place,’ announced Daddy as they floated from room to room. The landlord, a man with hair like salt and pepper and a stomach like that of a woman with child, had proceeded with a double take when the family first walked into his office. Lanre wondered if he too did not want blacks, Irish or dogs.
But his crooked smile was kind as he’d said, ‘I don’t give a hoot where you’re from, as long as you pay me on time.’
‘Of that, I can assure you of, Mr Andersen,’ Daddy had told him, as he sat down beside Mummy on one of the chairs facing the desk.
‘Rex. Just call me Rex.’
He placed a wad of papers onto the desk. Mayowa sat onto Mummy’s lap, The Cat in the Hat securely in her hand.
‘You don’t look like the type to start any trouble.’
‘Never, Mr Rex.’
‘I suppose you heard about those Teddy boys getting into a fight with those men a few months back? Caused a massive riot, it did.’
‘Yes, I did, sir. I keep myself to myself. My family and providing for them is my only concern.’
‘Good, that’s the way it should be. I don’t agree with violence, but that coloured boy going with that nice white lady was asking for trouble. We should all stick to our own, don’t you think? It’s unnatural, really. We weren’t made for all of that!’
‘Mr Rex, I do not concern myself with such things.’
‘Good man!’ he’d said.
Now, they were finally moving in to their new home. If they’d been back in Nigeria, the move would have been effortless. Family members as well as their many neighbours would have helped them pack up and move to their new home. Luckily, their items were not plentiful but with Flat B only accessible by a small number of steps, Daddy was sweating profusely as he and his boss Dave carried each item into the flat. Dave was a good man, according to Mummy, and did not behave like a boss and, unlike the people who stared at them in the street, his interaction was only that of warmth.
Once all the items were safely placed into number sixty-three Pettyford Road, Lanre already knew the effort had been worth it. This palace, this sanctuary, was their new home and, she suspected, would be for a very long time. No more sharing with strangers. There was a separate room with two beds for Lanre and Mayowa and a beautiful white bathroom with a bath and clean tiles. Their very own bathroom!
They now lived in a very impressive three-storey building nestled on the end of a busy street lined on either side by big, beautiful green trees in full bloom. She couldn’t wait to skip down that street. It was beautiful. Better than anything she’d ever seen before. She could not imagine the Queen of England living in a better street!
Within weeks the flat was transformed. The sitting room walls were decorated with green and white spiral wallpaper and a multicoloured glass fish sat on top of a cabinet beside what Daddy called a spider plant. It didn’t seem to have a purpose but Mayowa seemed to be obsessed with the glass fish, sometimes staring at it for minutes at a time. The glass cabinet was filled with glasses and plates and flowers that never died.
One evening, Daddy wheeled in a huge brown globe of the world, which he placed in the corner of the sitting room. Much to the delight of a squealing Lanre and Mayowa, the top half opened to reveal a huge hollow space, which Daddy said would be filled with drinks only adults were allowed to drink.
Mummy hummed a lot now, especially as she chopped pepe and cooked rice in their new kitchen or waited for the hot comb to heat. She had recently discovered a Jamaican food stall that sold plantains, yams and authentic Nigerian pepe (or Scotch bonnet as they were labelled). They now even owned a Hoover: a contraption that ate the dirt on the green and brown carpet and also scared Mayowa so much that she ran into the bathroom the first time Mummy had switched it on, refusing to return until the ‘horrible creature’ was gone.
Their home, their lives, were now bathed in a new calm in which Lanre felt safe. She looked forward to school and in the meantime was content to help Mummy around the house or listen to the wireless Daddy had surprised them with one day. A real-life working machine with a big dial for selecting the stations! Titi would be so jealous! Mummy enjoyed a show called The Archers. Whilst Lanre couldn’t be sure what it was about, she noticed that some of the people on the radio spoke in strange accents. Even stranger than Ginny’s. Aunty Ginny. Lanre was never allowed to call an elder by their first name, even though this strange white lady had insisted.
According to Mummy, Aunty Ginny, who lived in Flat A, was a widow with two boys of her own. She was always quick to offer advice even when Mummy had not asked for it. Like how to fold clothes and apply lipstick without staining one’s teeth.
She’d even taught Mummy to knit.
‘D’you think you’ll have more kids?’ Ginny had asked one day, sat nestling a mug of tea Lanre had been happy to make. Lanre had quickly realised the importance of ‘a cuppa tea’ in England.
‘If I do, I would love to have a boy. I think Tayo would like that too.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about all of that; he’s obsessed with your girls and who wouldn’t be? They’re adorable.’ She had smiled towards Mayowa, sitting on the floor with her back against the green armchair that had been delivered three days ago. Daddy had announced it was to be ‘Daddy’s chair’.
‘I wish I’d had a girl. Sick of being surrounded by boys. Even at work, all men. I suppose that’s what you get for working in a butcher’s shop!’
Mummy had smiled politely. Lanre had wondered if Mummy was able to follow Aunty Ginny’s fast-paced English. In Nigeria they’d been brought up speaking the Queen’s English and banned from talking to one another in Yoruba. Mummy said they would have more opportunities this way. But what Aunty Ginny spoke was far from the Queen’s English. Still she was kind to Mummy and to them.
‘You can have my boys if you like!’ Ginny had said. ‘Little tearaways!’
‘They are very big boys.’
‘Yes, they get the height from their dad. If they’re this big as teenagers, I dread to think what will happen when they get older.’ She had let out a long drawn-out sigh. ‘One of them was caught stealing the other day! As if I don’t already do enough to put food on the table. I’ll let you have them both for a good price!’
Mummy had pulled out a yarn and two knitting needles. ‘You joke too much, Ginny.’
With her short curled hair, and long and tight skirts that hugged her hips and behind, Ginny was the first white woman Lanre had ever really spoken to. She always smelled of a perfume called Chanel No 5 and even drank beer! Yet, unlike some other white people, she did not stare at them for too long or ask to touch her hair. Ginny would look her square in the eye as they spoke and could reduce Mayowa into a fit of giggles within minutes: something not many could achieve! Aunty Ginny quickly became a fixture in their new home when Daddy was at work. She would sit down with Mummy and drink tea … or sip the contents of a bottle taken from the huge globe of the world.
The week before the start of school, Daddy kept saying how proud he felt of his ‘two angels’. He insisted on photographing Lanre with their new Bantam Colorsnap camera. According to Daddy, this was the latest model and he was forever pointing it towards them. A smile, a new dance, freshly plaited hair – the camera would appear at the most startling of times to capture a moment in time they’d one day cherish as part of their memories.
‘We have so many pictures, Tayo! Mummy’s wall back home must be full with them!’ said Mummy as she lay in Daddy’s arms on his special green chair.
‘Adanya, I can never take too many pictures of all my girls. Do you remember in Nigeria, we had none of this? I have seen just one photograph of myself as a boy. Just one!’
‘Yes, you are right.’
‘I want the best for my girls. I want them to enjoy the things we did not. They will go to university here. And now their British passports are on the way, they will finally have everything!’
‘They will be very special children.’
‘Adanya, they are already special. As are you.’
The morning of her first day at school, Lanre was buzzed with excitement at the prospect of starting a new term. She didn’t even have to wear a school uniform, with Mummy allowing her to pick out a dress. So she chose a yellow one decorated with white flowers.
Daddy looked very nice in his long jacket and brown hat tipped to the side. Mummy wore a pink dress with white lapels, a small jacket and white silky gloves. Lanre noticed she was shivering underneath these thin layers and was confused as to why she hadn’t worn a topcoat.
The family of four walked proudly down a West London street they had never seen before. A street full of shops that sold buttons or records. Even now, Lanre had yet to get used to shops that sold things like records. She was sure such establishments had existed in Nigeria, but not in the street she’d grown up in. There, shops were strictly for food, clothing and car parts!
Now, people would sometimes look at them, but she didn’t notice it as much as when they had first arrived in England. Or maybe she’d just gotten used to it. Once a lady did start to cross the road as soon as the family approached, and when Lanre turned around, she noticed this same woman cross the road again and was right back where she started. It was clear to Lanre that some people were just plain stupid.
They stopped by a newsstand. A picture of a beautiful lady with ‘Lana Turner’ written in bold letters was on the front page of a newspaper. As Daddy spoke kindly with the man, Lanre remained transfixed on the image. Lana Turner was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen … even more beautiful than Mummy, something Lanre had never thought possible. Long, blonde curls tumbled down her back, her nose perfect in the middle of a smooth, white face. It was unfortunate that Daddy didn’t buy that particular newspaper.
‘Mummy, that is just like my name!’ she said excitedly. Mummy didn’t hear her as they crossed the road and headed towards their new school.
Ten minutes later, Mummy and Daddy sat in an office in front of a huge desk as Lanre stood, leaning on Mummy’s shoulder and Mayowa sat on Daddy’s lap. Daddy opened his newspaper.
‘Tayo, he will be back soon and you are reading the paper!’
The door opened. ‘Sorry about that, Mr Cole, Mrs Cole,’ said the bespectacled headmaster. Lanre was curious about the circle of skin on his head, surrounded by wisps of brown hair. He cleared his throat and sat behind the desk.
‘I had a little emergency to deal with.’
‘That is OK, Mr Marcomb,’ said Daddy.
‘Now where were we? Yes, I think everything is in order regarding the paperwork. Just one other thing.’ He slowly pulled his glasses from his face. ‘Their names. They are a little … how can I say this … unusual.’
‘They are fine Yoruba names. Mayowa means “to bring joy” and Lanre’s full name is Olanrewaju and this means—’
