‘Yes.’ How could he explain it to her? He had suddenly discovered that she was young but mature. She was clean, sweet, desirable. Jagua was not young. She was beyond awakening his finer feelings, no matter what she might do. ‘She too ol’ for me, you understan’? I can’t marry her.’
She looked at him with interest, but still the distrust was visible in her eyes. He said to her, ‘Nancy, I want young gal like you who understan’ love, not money. If a person have somebody he love, I mean – really love – everythin’ mus’ come right in de worl’.’
She said, ‘Somebody like me?’
‘Sometime! Nancy I not tryin’ to deceive you or do you anythin’ bad. You young and I young. Is right for me to love you and plan for tomorrow. And—’
‘At firs’ I fear, Freddie. All de young men in Lagos dem talk sweet sweet – like you doin’ now, Freddie. But when dem get a gal on de bed, you never see dem again. And if dem give de gal belly, she mus’ carry de belly alone, and dem will run and lef’ her. Is very bad of de young men. So I use to fear.’
He smiled. ‘No! I not tryin’ to give you belly to carry, Nancy. Tha’s what I tryin’ to tell you.’ Could she sense the voice of truth in him, he wondered.
She sighed. ‘If Jagua know—’
‘Don’ worry ’bout Jagua. You got you own life, Nancy.’ He knew that in her own way Jagua loved him and he owed her a world of gratitude for her sweetness, the physical satisfaction she gave him; but was there not something else besides physical satisfaction? Nancy, he felt, could supply both the physical satisfaction and the ‘something else’ he needed. She was young and still not yet set in her ways. ‘Look, Nancy! Is only I can’t help myself. I don’ want to hurt Jagua. She fine and she have some money an’ she know how to dress smart and hook all de men in Lagos. Das why we call her Jag-wa. But she’s not for me. She too high up in de sky. You know, de woman take a fancy to me because she say I young and handsome. But she take money from de other men, and sleep wit’ dem. And she tryin’ to keep me for marriage when she get older, like I’m somethin’ from de museum. ‘I too young to sell my life like dat.’
‘Freddie, you very handsome.’ She tucked herself close to him and he kissed her. ‘Freddie!’
‘Nancy!’
‘Kiss me, Freddie! Why you so blin’ all de time?’
He kissed her and her mouth tasted young and her body was all afire with an electric fire he had never felt before, sending voltages of passion through his veins.
‘You very beautiful, Nancy; and sweet!’
‘No!’ she breathed, as his fingertips slid beneath her skirt and down her belly. ‘Not today, Freddie. Another day, I promise you, Freddie. Is too sudden.’
She disengaged herself and started walking quickly to the motor road, straightening her dress. He called out to her: ‘Nancy, come now!’ But she did not turn her head. He stood there waiting, and when he could not get her obedience, he left the woods and came and joined her.
They walked in silence, for this new discovery was too all-consuming; something deeper than a promise had been born this night. If it would last, this new feeling would weld them together. He could feel that; and he could feel too, that this meeting was going to be their special secret. Jagua would never know, and therein lay its savour.
They came to the roundabout that blazed with lights. Indian Almond trees threw shadows which concealed the lovers nestling on the benches. All roads from the city and into the city met at this point, a good hunting ground for the Tropicana girls who liked street work. Freddie saw some of them now, moving so that the beam thrown by approaching car lamps would pick them out. They walked self-consciously, wiggling their hips extravagantly like stunt women.
Near the bus stop Freddie paused and looked at Nancy’s youthful profile. ‘Don’ pay any attention to Jagua, Nancy. You hear me?’ He had never before felt the real difference between pure love such as was exalting him now, and the casual encounters with the Tropicana girls.
The bus, a long affair in red and cream, swung to the stop with the conductor hanging out in his khaki shirt and shorts and yelling, ‘Are you goin’?’
‘Goodnight, lovely one,’ said Freddie. ‘You will dream of me?’
‘Yes, Freddie. I don’ know how I kin sleep dis night.’
The bus was already swinging away, and he watched the lights, and the well-groomed head of the girl whose world must be nearer his.
As he stood waiting for his bus he remembered the carefree days. Mama Nancy would come up to Jagua in her room with Freddie lounging in a chair.
‘You got chance to do me hair, Jagua?’ she would ask. ‘Or you boy frien’ need you?’
Jagua would not look at Freddie’s face, but would say: ‘Siddown, Ma Nancy. Me house be you house. Sure, I goin’ to do your hair – in de latest style, too. I sure Freddie won’ mind.’
Nancy would sit through it all, the Junior Miss, miles removed from their adult world. In those days it never occurred to Freddie that here was a girl, full of feeling. She was simply Ma Nancy’s daughter. To him she was just a monument. He did not even associate a bed with her.
He would sit by, reading his correspondence course on law, or – more often – he would leave the women and go downstairs to his room. Mama Nancy and Nancy had never been to his room. They only met him in Jagua’s. Often they came to Jagua’s room and played discs and danced to her collection o
f jazz, High-life and rhumba music.
They had been good friends but now, with this new taste of Nancy on his lips, Freddie felt fortified to face Jagua’s possessive love for him.
5