No Longer at Ease (The African Trilogy 2)

“I’m sorry I came at such an awkward time,” said Clara as they drove back to Ikoyi from Tinubu Square.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What do you mean awkward time?”

“You thought I was on duty.” She laughed. “I’m sorry about that. Who is she, anyway? I must say she is very good-looking. And I went and poured sand into your garri. I’m sorry, my dear.”

Obi told her not to behave like a silly little girl. “I won’t say another word to you if you don’t shut up,” he said.

“You needn’t say anything if you don’t want to. Shall we call and say hello to Sam?”

The Minister was not in when they got to his house. It appeared there was a Cabinet meeting.

“Wetin Master and Madam go drink?” asked his steward.

“Make you no worry, Samson. Just tell Minister say we call.”

“You go return again?” asked Samson.

“Not today.”

“You say you no go drink small sometin?”

“No, thank you. We go drink when we come again. Bye-bye.”

When they got back to Obi’s flat he said: “I had a very interesting experience today.” And he told her of Mr. Mark’s visit to his office and gave her a detailed account of all that transpired between Miss Mark and himself before her arrival.

When he finished, Clara said nothing for a little while.

“Are you satisfied?” asked Obi.

“I think you were too severe on the man,” she said.

“You think I should have encouraged him to talk about bribing me?”

“After all, offering money is not as bad as offering one’s body. And yet you gave her a drink and a lift back to town.” She laughed. “Na so this world be.”

Obi wondered.

CHAPTER TEN

For one brief moment a year ago Mr. Green had taken an interest in Obi’s personal affairs—if one could call it taking an interest. Obi had just taken delivery of his new car.

“You will do well to remember,” said Mr. Green, “that at this time every year you will be called upon to cough up forty pounds for your insurance.” It was like the voice of Joel the son of Pethuel. “It is, of course, none of my business really. But in a country where even the educated have not reached the level of thinking about tomorrow, one has a clear duty.” He made the word “educated” taste like vomit. Obi thanked him for his advice.

And now at last the day of the Lord had come. He spread the insurance renewal letter before him on the table. Forty-two pounds! He had just a little over thirteen pounds in the bank. He folded the letter and put it into one of his drawers where he had his personal bits and pieces like postage stamps, receipts, and quarterly statements from the bank. A letter in a semiliterate hand caught his eye. He brought it out and read again.

Dear Sir,

It is absolutely deplorable to me hence I have to beg you respectfully to render me with help. At one side of it looks shameful of my asking you for this help, but if only I am sincere to myself, having the truth that I am wanting because of the need, I wish you pardon me. My request from you is 30/—(thirty shillings), assuring you of every truth to do the refund prompt, on the payday, 26 November 1957.

I wish the best of your consideration.

Yours obedient servant,

Charles Ibe.

Obi had forgotten all about it. No wonder Charles flitted in and out of his office nowadays without stopping to exchange greetings in Ibo. Charles was one of the messengers in the department. Obi had asked him what the great need was, and he said his wife had just given birth to their fifth child. Obi, who happened to be carrying about four pounds in his pocket, had lent him thirty shillings straightaway and forgotten all about it—until now. He sent for Charles and asked him in Ibo (so that Miss Tomlinson would not understand) why he had not fulfilled his promise. Charles scratched his head and renewed his promise, this time for the end of December.

“I shall find it difficult to trust you in future,” Obi said in English.