‘And now he wants William: to get rid of me, and take William. Well, that’s asking a bit much, isn’t it? Just tell him to forget about it, will you? And that I’ll send him some snaps from time to time if he’ll give me his address …’
‘Quite apart from what he’s asked us to tell you,’ said Theodora, ‘could I help out financially at all? I’d be very glad to.’
Muriel reflected. ‘No, it’s all right, thanks. I’ve got me job and all the allowances, and they look after William at the crèche … Later on, when he grows up a bit, you could do something for him, if you felt like it.’
‘Perhaps you’d let me be his godparent, Muriel.’
‘And me,’ I said, vexed that I hadn’t thought of this.
‘Oh, I don’t believe in that … But if you like to help William, as I say, or send him something for his birthday …’
We both wrote the date down carefully. Muriel saw us to the door.
‘You can’t hate them, can you,’ she said, ‘whatever they do to you. Me, I loved Johnny, I really did, like I never will anybody else, I don’t suppose. And he was sweet to me in his way, and I had good times with him. But I never meant much to him, that was the trouble. I don’t believe they understand love like we do, but that’s their nature …’
4
Back home aboard the Lugard
It was when Laddy Boy returned from sea that he tell me of this tugboat, called the Lugard, to be sailed empty from London Docks to Lagos, and that a deck-hand crew of five was needed to take her there. And when Laddy Boy did me the great favour to give me a forged seaman’s book he buy, and tell me answers I must give to any questions, I made such a good impression on the captain by my strength and willingness (he was high, anyway – an Irishman) that he sign me on, and even though I cannot yet believe it, I am to go back home from England.
So on our sailing day, I met with my English friend Montgomery and my sister Peach at a dockside Chinese restaurant where they come to say goodbye to me. ‘That is like the life,’ I said to Montgomery. ‘My sister Peach, who never wishes to leave Africa, is now in London till she becomes a nurse, and I who wished to live in this big city, go back home to all my family to take her place.’
‘Soon I come home also,’ said my sister, ‘with my nurse’s belt and badges. I shall not waste my time with foolishness like my brother.’
A sister’s remark! ‘Through Peach you will have news of me, Montgomery,’ I said, ‘and of all my activities at home.’
‘Won’t you be writing to me?’ asked my English friend.
‘Of course, of course – and soon you will come to Africa as well and visit Mum and Dad and Christmas and our family, and live with us in our home like I do when here with you.’
‘Perhaps I’ll go there when Peach has qualified,’ said Montgomery. ‘Perhaps we’ll go out together.’
‘Oh yes, oh yes,’ I said (but Peach has her close instructions, and this also is her wish, that she shall not see Montgomery so often, and always, if so, in the company of the nurses’ hostel).
I looked at my watch – a parting friendship present from Montgomery – and said that my time had come to go. We went in the streets, in sunshine, and I spoke first to my sister in our language, and then to Montgomery, my Jumble friend.
‘Goodbye, Johnny,’ he said. ‘I can’t think what to say, and how to thank you …’
‘Thank me? Man, it is you who gave me so many good things that I needed.’
‘Nothing it wasn’t a joy to … Shall we see you down to the dock gates?’
‘No, no, please. We find a taxi for you take my sister back to hospital, and then I go on alone.’
I opened the taxi door, and gave my surprise gift to Montgomery: it is the mission school medal I wear on my neck on its chain since boyhood. ‘For you,’ I tell him. ‘You keep it with you, please.’ Then I tell the driver where he should go, and I waved to them as the taxi carried this two away.