Страница 16 из 113
Susan's friends laughed at this, although he wondered if it was from pity at his fumbling attempt at humor more than from amusement. But nobody had ever said, "How fu
"How do you do," Susan said to Kainene, and then turned around to speak to another guest.
"Hello," Richard said. Kainene was silent for too long, with her cigarette between her lips as she looked at him levelly, and so he ran his hand through his hair and mumbled, "I'm no relation of Sir Winston's, I'm afraid, or I might have turned out a little cleverer."
She exhaled before she said, "How fu
Susan came back and tugged at him but he didn't want to leave and when he opened his mouth, he wasn't sure what he was going to say. "It turns out Kainene and I have a mutual friend in London. Did I tell you about Wilfred at the Spectator?"
"Oh," Susan said, smiling. "How lovely. I'll let you two catch up then. Be back in a bit."
She exchanged kisses with an elderly couple before moving to a group at the other end of the room.
"You just lied to your wife," Kainene said.
"She's not my wife." He was surprised at how giddy he felt to be left standing with her. She raised her glass to her lips and sipped. She inhaled and exhaled. Silver ashes swirled down to the floor. Everything seemed to be in slow motion: The hotel ballroom enlarged and deflated and the air was sucked in and out of a space that seemed to be, for a moment, occupied only by himself and Kainene.
"Would you move away, please?" she asked.
He was startled. "What?"
"There is a photographer behind you who is keen to take a photo of me, and particularly of my necklace."
He moved aside and watched as she stared at the camera. She did not pose but she looked comfortable; she was used to having her photograph taken at parties.
"The necklace will be featured in tomorrow's Lagos Life. I suppose that would be my way of contributing to our newly independent country. I am giving fellow Nigerians something to covet, an incentive to work hard," she said, coming back to stand beside him.
"It's a lovely necklace," he said, although it looked gaudy. He wanted to reach out and touch it, though, to lift it off her neck and then let it settle back against the hollow of her throat. Her collarbones jutted out sharply.
"Of course it's not lovely. My father has obscene taste in jewelry," she said. "But it's his money. I see my sister and my parents looking for me, by the way. I should go."
"Your sister is here?" Richard asked, quickly, before she could turn and leave.
"Yes. We're twins," she said and paused, as if that were a momentous disclosure. "Kainene and Ola
Richard watched the smile that pulled her mouth up at one end, a sardonic smile that he imagined hid something else, perhaps dissatisfaction. He didn't know what to say. He felt as if time was slipping away from him.
"Who is older?" he asked.
"Who is older? What a question." She arched her eyebrows. "I'm told I came out first."
Richard cradled his wineglass and wondered if tightening his grasp any further would crush it.
"There she is, my sister," Kainene said. "Shall I introduce you? Everybody wants to meet her."
Richard didn't turn to look. "I'd rather talk to you," he said. "If you don't mind, that is." He ran his hand through his hair. She was watching him; he felt adolescent with her gaze on him.
"You're shy," she said.
"I've been called worse."
She smiled, in the way that meant she had found that fu
"Have you ever been to the market in Balogun?" she asked. "They display slabs of meat on tables, and you are supposed to grope and feel and then decide which you want. My sister and I are meat. We are here so that suitable bachelors will make the kill."
"Oh," he said. It seemed a strangely intimate thing to tell him, although it was said in the same dry, sarcastic tone that seemed natural to her. He wanted to tell her something about himself, too, wanted to exchange small kernels of intimacies with her.
"Here comes the wife you denied," Kainene murmured.
Susan came back and pushed a glass into his hand. "Here, darling," she said, and then turned to Kainene. "How lovely to meet you."
"How lovely to meet you," Kainene said and half-raised her glass toward Susan.
Susan steered him away. "She's Chief Ozobia's daughter, is she? Whatever happened to her? Quite extraordinary; her mother is stu
Richard was usually amused by Susan's mini-biographies, but now the whispering irritated him. He did not want the champagne; her nails were digging into his arm. She led him to a group of expatriates and stopped to chat, laughing loudly, a little drunk. He searched the room for Kainene. At first, he could not find the red dress and then he saw her standing near her father; Chief Ozobia looked expansive, with the arching hand gestures he made as he spoke, the intricately embroidered agbada whose folds and folds of blue cloth made him even wider than he was. Mrs. Ozobia was half his size and wore a wrapper and headgear made out of the same blue fabric. Richard was momentarily startled by how perfectly almond-shaped her eyes were, wide-set in a dark face that was intimidating to look at. He would never have guessed that she was Kainene's mother, nor would he have guessed that Kainene and Ola