Chapter 8

She smiled at the obvious humour, and responded, “I was either going to be John’s concubine, or his wife. I would be happy with either, as long as I am with him. He is my hero.” She lowered her voice shyly, “But he decided I was his fiancée, so I am VERY happy. I will marry him and give him all the children he wants, and I will find his second wife for him, Edward.”

Edward’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Young lady, you are talking about things well above your age level. How old are you, Joy?”

“I am fifteen, Edward. My passport says so.”

“Your passport says so. I see. John? The truth?”

“I was told fourteen, but this is a girl who was sold into slavery by her parents in exchange for a debt being wiped out; raped and otherwise abused by a terrible man (who is now dead), and she has undergone an abortion. She is a LOT older inside that young body, my brother, than her calendar age implies. She was rejected by her parents when I was sent to return her from her abuser. Her folks left her in my care instead.

Later, she prevented me from insulting her parents by offering her back again. I had not realised the stigma that still attaches to that deed: too long away from that society. So I was stuck with her. She happily informed me that she would be a good concubine, because I was a nice man – a nice man, mark you, Edward! – and she has stuck to me like a leech. I gave in to destiny, and decided that if I was stuck with the little minx for life, I might as well marry her and make it legal. Is that so, my woman?”

“Whatever you say, Master, I am happy with.”

John rolled his eyes, “No more of the “Master” talk, young lady. It is not good manners in England.”

Joy was suddenly horrified. “Oh, I did not mean to cause offence, M ... my husband.”

Edward defused the situation with a laugh. “I have my vehicle in the car park. Shall we go?”

They were soon inside his shiny big car, and Edward went up several notches in Joy’s socio-economic scale. “John, is Edward rich? This car... ?”

“Compared to me, Joy, I suppose he IS rich. He works for a bank in London, shifting money around, and gets paid LOTS of money at it.”

Edward snorted. “Lots of, is a misunderstanding. I work hard for the pittance I receive, I assure you!”

Joy asked, “Pardon, John. What is “a pittance”?”

John laughed, “An excuse word, trying to pretend he does not get paid much. Money means little to him. His social circle is much more important to him.”

“Oh, does he speak with the tribal elders, then?” She wanted to know.

“After a fashion. In this country, they are the people with lots of money to spend.”

“Like the President?”

“Yes. He used to have a lot of money, but it all vanished, making him less important, in his own eyes. Him getting himself killed was a stroke of bad luck for him.”

Edward was looking at the pair of them in puzzlement. “You knew the late President Mazimba? The one whose state funeral was today?”

Joy looked at John for guidance, afraid to speak. He said to his younger brother. “Yes. I worked for him for a short while. It was interesting.”

“But I thought you worked for the Foreign Office, John?”

“Yes. You could say, I was seconded to the President’s staff for a while.”

“Nothing to do with your previous job?”

“No, nothing officially, though as you know, there are always matters of overlap with Foreign Office activity.”

“I see. I shall ask no more questions, then. Welcome home, big brother!” He had a thought. “I intended to take you to my home for a wash and brush up, but if the pair of you want to go straight to your own apartment... ?”

“By all means, your place, Edward. I want to kiss your lovely wife again.”

Edward gave his brother a playful punch on his upper arm, before putting both hands back on the wheel. “You scoundrel! Always with an eye for a good-looking woman! Well, you have your own one, now, so look after her well. This is tiger country, man.”

“I was aware of that, bro. I hope that your Nandi will bring her up to speed on the dangers here.”

“I doubt that Nandi sees much in that line. She is tall enough to be imposing in most situations. She is stunning in a cocktail dress!”

Joy tugged John’s sleeve. When he looked at her, she asked, “John, what is a cocktail dress?”

“A very long dress intended for a woman attending rich people’s parties. Eventually, we shall buy you one, but only when you are older and even more beautiful.”

Joy preened with the compliment, and said nothing more.

The car journey took over an hour, despite the total distance being only a few miles. The traffic kept bunching up and stopping. Joy took the opportunity to look out at the profusion of buildings, and was amazed at the number of canals and rivers they passed over, and how many roads this country was covered with.

At last they turned off the main road into a suburban estate, and Edward drew up in front of a brick-built house with a neatly-kept green front garden with rose beds. Edward led them to the door, which he opened with a small key, then called “Nandi, my sweet! Visitors.”

A tall, beautiful woman appeared from the kitchen, an apron tied over a spectacular summer dress. “John! My favourite brother-in-law! Welcome.”

John went forward and wrapped his arms round the lovely woman, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She stepped back, surprised. “My, that was very reserved, John. Is this the reason?” She looked beyond him at the young girl looking lost in her front vestibule. “Come in my dear. What is your name, and what is your relationship to this hunk of a man?”

Joy drew herself up as tall as she could and said firmly. “My name is Joy Kofi, John’s second cousin, and now his fiancée. I am pleased to meet you, Nandi. Are you a Zulu?”

“How observant of you, young lady. Indeed, my ancestry is Zulu, though our family has been in England for generations, so I am English. I am more of a native than my husband or John, who arrived as children. Do you intend to settle here with John, or will you take him back home?”

Joy was prepared for this, having given much thought to her future. “John and me have still to decide, Nandi. If this country is too cold for me, we might return to my parents’ area. I know they would like to see their married daughter occasionally; but I will do as my husband decides, as he will do what is best for us.”

“Having grown up here, Joy, I cannot say it feels particularly cold. Scotland, though, can be much colder at times. Your high regard for your husband-to-be is admirable. However, as you grow together, he and you must learn to do things together, including sharing in family decisions. Edward and I make important decisions together. It helps that we both work in the City, though my job is part-time, as I have a son to look after. He is at school just now.”

“How nice. How many children have you given Edward? I intend to give John lots of children, God willing.”

“Just one, Joy. We may decide to have more, now that our circumstances are adequate to afford children.”

“You stopped having children until you could afford them? That is an odd thing to do. Back home, children are an important asset for the future, unless you have girls. Dowries can cost a lot for a family that is not rich, like my family. John gave my parents a large gift when we left, like a dowry in reverse. That was wonderful of him, wasn’t it?”

“Certainly a wonderful gesture, Joy. It shows how nice a man he is, except for these kisses he likes to sneak from his sister-in-law at every opportunity. You will make sure he doesn’t go around kissing other ladies, will you?”

“Oh, no, Nandi. I will do as you ask. I will make sure that the only other lady he gets to kiss after our marriage, is you! Until I select his second wife, of course. Do you have any younger sisters?”

“You are not just a pretty girl, Joy. You are wise, too.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Nandi said now, “Did you get taught how to curtsey, Joy?”

“What is curtsey, Nandi?”

“It is a small gesture made by women; the equivalent of a bow by men. Like this,” She demonstrated. Joy gawped. “I have never seen that in my country.”

Nandi explained, “It is one of these English fads for politeness, that has been going out of fashion for a long while, but it still impresses at times. It is supposed to show respect to persons higher up the social ladder, usually when meeting them for the first time. It is handy to have this as part of your social armoury.”

“I can see I have a lot to learn from you, Nandi. I am lucky that my man has you for a sister-in-law.”

As they spoke, John’s phone went off, and he answered. “Yes?” pause. “Will do.” He closed down his phone. “Sorry, folks, I have an appointment with destiny: my boss.”

Edward frowned, “At this time?”

“The boss does not work office hours, Ed. May I borrow your car?”

“Sure, just bring it back in the condition you got it.”

“Business card? I will need it.”

“Oh. Yes, Just a moment.” Edward disappeared to another room, returning a couple of minutes later with a plastic identity card, which he handed to John. Edward always stored it when John was “away on business,” keeping it safe until it was needed.

John drove to the place of his appointment in central London, and parked in the official car park. He walked in the front door, and offered his ‘business card’ - his ID card - to the two security men on duty. It was scanned into a machine, and approved, so he was told to follow the security man detailed to this task. He was taken through imposing long corridors within the huge building to a nondescript door, and the door was opened for him by the security man.