Lana and May are a very long way from home.
Their Nigerian parents have emigrated to England in search of a better life for their family. Nineteen fifties London is a great adventure to the girls but not always welcoming. There are signs in windows of lodging houses warning: ‘NO BLACKS, NO DOGS, NO IRISH’.
When tragedy strikes and the girls lose their father, their mother is unable to cope. When she fails to recover from the surprise birth of another child, all three girls are sent to an orphanage. Lana is determined to keep her sisters together but when baby Tina is cruelly taken from them, she must face the possibility of their family being torn apart – perhaps for ever…
A heartbreakingly lovely and original saga celebrating black history which will appeal to historical fiction readers new and old.
Lola Jaye has penned four novels and a self-help book. Her work has been translated into several languages, including Korean, German and Serbian.
She grew up in South London, and has also lived in Nigeria and America. She admits to watching too much TV, but firmly believes it enhances her writing. She even taught a class on it!
Keep up to date with Lola via: her website, www.lolajaye.com, or on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.
For Mum, Toods & Nanno
Lanre sat in between Mummy’s knees, short legs stretched out in front of her, head tilted by the force of strong fingers as they meticulously wove each strand of hair into a spiral shape around her head. Asking Mummy to read out Daddy’s letter for the umpteenth time had merely been a ploy to delay the inevitable.
‘Ow!’ she complained as, once again, a shock of pain passed unapologetically through her body. It was swift, almost forgettable, yet a mere prelude to the next one.
‘Ow, ow,’ her mother teased. ‘Why are you complaining like a baby? You are seven years. What would your father say of this?’
‘He would tell me I must be smiling always. Even when I am having my hair plaited.’
‘That is correct.’
A chicken ran past Lanre’s feet, and she wished she could chase it. She often did.
‘Don’t worry, I am almost finished. You will soon look like a beautiful girl for your daddy.’
Lanre smiled at that. She hoped to one day be as beautiful as Mummy with her pointed nose and her long hair that, when plaited, touched the tips of her elegant shoulders.
She wished Daddy would indeed see her new hairstyle, along with the pretty dress Aunty had purchased for her only yesterday; it was blue with flowers embroidered on the side. Mummy sometimes said that with Lanre’s extra-long eyelashes and pretty British dresses, she was the most beautifulest girl in their street and possibly the whole of Nigeria!
The pain lessened as Mummy worked her way through the final strands, the humidity wringing sweat from her forehead. As Mummy applied the Vaseline to her scalp, Lanre closed her eyelids and once again thought of Daddy; how his top lip curled whenever he laughed; the way his broad shoulders moved front to back when he walked towards her with his arms outstretched, like he did every time he saw her; how much she missed him. Lanre opened her eyes in time to see one of the neighbours pass by, clad in a green and black wrapper, which was folded and tucked under each armpit.
‘Don’t worry, the hair will soon finish,’ said Mama Bimpe with encouragement. ‘We all have to go through this to look lovely!’
‘Yes, Ma,’ replied Mummy dutifully.
Lanre did not like being interrupted when thinking of her daddy, but the front yard was open to all, graced with a multitude of vegetation that included plantains and one coconut tree, which some of the local children climbed for enjoyment. The house never felt empty, even though Daddy’s absence had left a noticeable void. Neighbours filled the house separately but daily, bringing food, like fufu wrapped up in a giant leaf or sometimes soup, which Mummy did not like because she preferred to cook her own. They would sit for hours talking about adult subjects that did not interest Lanre. She was seven and not supposed to listen in on adult conversations, but she always did. When Mama came to visit with Baba (every day), they would often refer to their oldest grandchild as ‘the more inquisitive of the two’. Or just a ‘nosy little girl’. But this was OK; Lanre liked having a title separate from her little sister Mayowa.
Minutes later, her hair finally completed, Lanre stood in front of Mummy.
‘I know you are missing your daddy,’ her mother said, flicking an imaginary something from Lanre’s cheek. ‘The letter said we will all be together soon. Trust your daddy. He is working hard to bring us all to England. He is attending college and he is working at a job.’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
Mummy’s beaming smile allowed Lanre the comfort she craved. Her mother never smiled much lately. Before Daddy left, he and Mummy were always smiling together, holding hands when they thought no one was looking, feeding one another blobs of pounded yam as Lanre and Mayowa giggled their embarrassment. Mummy and Daddy were not like other married people in the area. They did not shout at one another in the road like Mr and Mrs Adjobe, and there were never any rumours about Daddy impregnating this girl or that (Lanre still wasn’t quite sure what ‘impregnating’ actually meant, but it couldn’t be good). The Cole family were essentially like white families in England, according to Mama (who had never been to England but was a very wise grandmother), which was to say perfect. In England there was no hardship and no conflict. Everyone was happy and they laughed all the time.
‘Mummy, please read Daddy’s letter again!’
‘OK, but this is the last time today. Call your sister, come.’
‘Mayo-waaaa! Mayo-waaaa!’ she yelled. In seconds, her sister was walking towards them, dragging her feet across the sandy floor.
‘What is it?’ Mayowa’s eyebrows were knotted. Her younger sister was always annoyed at something.
‘Mummy is going to read Daddy’s letter from England again!’ said Lanre.
Five-year-old Mayowa, dressed today in a yellow dress with a white bow on the shoulder, sat beside her sister, yawning half-heartedly. Her hair was a little shorter and much harder in texture than Lanre’s. Mummy often called it ‘stubborn’ – which was also a great way to describe her little sister, especially when she’d refuse to play with Lanre whenever her best friend Titi was away in Ondo.
Lanre clutched her sister’s hand as Mummy once again read the precious letter, which had taken four weeks to arrive. At least this had been quicker than the previous delivery, which had eventually arrived minus the money Daddy had enclosed. Baba said postal theft was ‘an offshoot of poverty brought on by the teefing Europeans’, whatever that meant, whilst Mama blamed it on ‘greedy Nigerians’.
Mummy began the letter and, once again, Lanre’s thoughts drifted to the day Daddy revealed he was leaving for England. Her mummy and daddy had been sitting under the shade of the coconut tree on makeshift seats made from an upside-down table that someone with too much money and not enough sense (according to Mummy) had discarded. Lanre and Mayowa had been throwing an orange and yellow ball to one another, only to suddenly stop when Mummy had begun to cry. Lanre had been momentarily distracted until her sister had thrown the ball at her and it had bounced roughly off the side of Lanre’s face.
‘Why did you do that?’ Lanre had complained.
‘You’re supposed to be playing with me!’ Mayowa had replied. Mummy had quickly stopped crying and begun to laugh as Daddy had held her tight. This had been very confusing.
Mummy had explained later that she had been happy because their family had been given the chance of a lifetime, but she had also been so very sad that Daddy would have to leave. Lanre still didn’t quite understand.
‘When you girls and your mother join me,’ Daddy had continued, ‘we will have a good and happy life in England. He had placed Mayowa on his lap as Lanre had started to understand what this all meant: Daddy was leaving.
‘And you will speak very good English, like the white people there. Good Queen’s English,’ Mummy had added.
‘I don’t want the Queen’s English!’ Mayowa had protested, before burying her face into Daddy’s shirt.
‘I thought that is what I am speaking now,’ said Lanre.
‘It will sound better than this. Better than my own,’ said Mummy.
‘Ah, ha, Adanya, there is nothing wrong with the way they speak.’ Daddy had hugged Mayowa close.
‘I want the children to be better,’ Mummy had answered.
Daddy had shaken his head. ‘Anyway, do not worry, my angels. We will not be apart for more than six months. Once I have enough money, I will send for you all.’
That had been nine months ago.
‘Oya, Mayowa you are next!’ said Mummy, placing the precious letter to one side.
Her sister groaned with dissatisfaction as Lanre glanced into the tiny cracked mirror, pleased with the results. Her daddy always commented on how pretty she looked after Mummy had finished her hair.
She missed her daddy so much.
They’d spoken only once on the telephone, four months previously, and just a few days after Mr Adelepo’s rich grandchild had installed a telephone at his office almost six miles away. That occasion had been so full of joy, not least because it had been the first time Lanre had ever seen a telephone before.
Her little sister’s exaggerated whimpering was silenced by the sound of a disembodied voice. ‘Adanya! Adanya! Come quickly!’
Mummy let go of Mayowa’s head, much to the child’s relief.
‘Ma?’
Mama calling her daughter’s name was far from unusual, but Lanre detected urgency in her tone. They entered Mama’s house, just a few doors away, and sure enough an assortment of neighbours had already gathered, all smiling greetings in Mummy’s direction. The air was thick with heat and expectation. A slim gecko ran up the wall.
‘I have an announcement!’ said Baba, in that baritone voice. Strong lines of white dominated his beard and full hairline. His large belly protruded from his generously fitted buba. Lanre liked to poke it through the kaftan-like garment after he fell asleep on the chair. ‘Mr Adelepo’s granddaughter’s friend has a sister in London. She returned from there yesterday and delivered this message today. A message from London!’
Mummy grabbed Lanre’s hand. ‘What is it? Is it my Tayo? Is he OK?’
‘He is very well, of that I am sure.’ He pulled from his pocket, an oblong-shaped envelope and someone gasped. Lanre recognised Daddy’s handwriting immediately and so did Mummy, it would seem, because she too gasped rather loudly. Baba passed the precious envelope to Mummy, who was careful to open it slowly so as not to tear the precious written words inside.
‘Do you know what it is?’ asked Baba, rather knowingly.
The room was now a hub for more neighbours, friends, passers-by, in fact anyone who cared to join them. Even Lanre’s best friend Titi had arrived, a development that almost thrilled her more than the arrival of the letter.
At last Mummy spoke. ‘It is a ticket.’ Her hand moved towards her opened mouth.
Lanre wanted to ask if there was only one and, if so, why?
‘Ah no, there are three tickets!’ said Mummy doubling over with laughter and yet a tear rolled down her face.
Lanre felt her legs buckle as the crowd erupted into a loud mixture of cheers and congratulations; Yoruba and English; laughter and joy.
Daddy, as always, had kept his promise. After so many months apart, they were finally going to go to join him in England!
The luggage was packed. A number of family members would be benefiting from the various larger items they would have to leave behind. But, as Mummy said, they would buy many new things in London. Much more beautiful things.
‘I can’t wait to go!’ said Mayowa.
‘Shhh … Mummy is sad to be leaving. Don’t let her hear you!’
Mayowa threw Lanre a confused look. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I know what I mean.’ Lanre was older and knew grown-up things. She was aware Mummy would miss the only home she had known. She would miss her parents being a loud call away, and miss being surrounded by people she’d known her entire life. Lanre was sure of this because she felt exactly the same way. She too would miss walking to school with Titi in the matching khaki dresses that every girl in the school had to wear. She would miss watching Mama pound yams in the large mortar in the yard, especially after Mummy had told her no one in London owned such a thing – they would have to buy it already pounded and inside a bag, according to Daddy’s letter. Just last week, Lanre had overheard a conversation between Mummy and Mama:
‘My daughter, do not be sad. You will soon be with your husband. This is what you have wanted for so long.’
‘I know, Mummy. And when that day comes, I know I will miss you all so much.’
‘As will we. Especially your father. You have always been his special one. This is why we named you Adanya: her father’s daughter.’
‘Thank you, Mummy.’
‘You are destined for great things, my child. You were not born to stay here and amount to nothing. You will not sell tomatoes, pepe, or onion on the street. And never will your children. We did not name them after British queens for no reason!’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
‘I am sad to see you all go, but I do not want you to stay in this country. We are part of the British Empire, so it is right you will go and sample its fruits. Your father is thinking differently, though. He is always shouting about foreign rule this and that, and saying he can’t wait until the white people leave his country! Don’t mind him. I am happy you will soon be living in the United Kingdom and with all of the wonderful people!’
Grandmother exhaled with a huge smile. ‘This is what I want for you and your children. They will be big people one day, and so will you. England is the right decision. It is more than I could have asked for, so stop these tears and be thankful you have been chosen. OK?’
‘Yes, Ma.’ Mummy wiped her eyes, and Lanre wished she could embrace her. But if she did, they’d find out she’d been listening to a private adult conversation, and that was not allowed. She would hug her on the aeroplane instead. The big frightening aeroplane she was about to set foot on for the very first time in her life.
After what would be their last meal in Nigeria for now – a delicious plate of pounded yam with two meats instead of the usual one – Lanre excused herself from the dinner table early. She wanted to be alone in the room she shared with her sister one last time. But as her bare feet trod the hard floor, she heard the collective groan of her elders as the house quickly descended into darkness. The electricity, never reliable, would probably be off until morning. She slowly navigated the short route to her bedroom, careful not to veer away from the left to avoid cockroaches that might have been scuttling around. She hated those. Lying back on the single bed, she was delighted when light from a neighbouring house illuminated her room. The electricity had returned. Although she was used to the erratic electricity supply, it was fitting that her last night in Nigeria would not be cloaked in darkness. She’d heard from a teacher at school that London had electricity twenty-four hours a day! What would that feel like? She was about to find out. Her eyes rested on the peeling grey walls. The dull heat allowed the room to shrink before her eyes as sweat beaded her forehead. She couldn’t wait to be in London. Titi had already expressed her jealousy as she delighted in telling her once again of how cold it would be.
‘They say it is freezing all of the time!’ she’d enthused.
‘That’s OK; at least I will not be hot like you are here!’
Titi had not looked amused, but still followed her to the Adelepos’ empty yard and into a small outhouse where Titi opened a very large white container full of bags of food at a very cold temperature. She’d dared Lanre to place her hand inside.
‘Ah, that was easy!’ Lanre had told her, moments later.
Titi had merely folded her arms and knotted her eyebrows. ‘It was only twenty seconds!’
‘I will be OK with the English weather! It is going to be fine!’ Lanre had laughed, playfully nudging her best friend on the shoulder. Despite herself, Titi had not been able to stop smiling back.
The lady in the smart uniform smiled and informed Mummy they’d be landing in half an hour. Mayowa had sobbed for part of the journey, and the other passengers had failed to conceal their disapproval. One even went so far as expressing his distaste that Mummy had not given her ‘a good slap’. Mummy had respectfully informed him that it was not her way.
Halfway through the journey, her younger sister had fallen asleep on Mummy’s shoulder. Luckily, Lanre had the window seat and was able to marvel at how small Nigeria appeared as the aeroplane had taken off into the air. Unfortunately, she hadn’t learnt anything about what kept an aeroplane in the air, so this new fear only made her grip tightly onto her mother’s hand and wish her daddy was there.
‘Mummy, I am scared of the aeroplane,’ she whimpered.
‘It is OK. Just thirty minutes until we are with your father, in England.’
The word England still bought a swish to her tummy. Even though she already missed Titi, she knew that what awaited her would be worth the sacrifice. She’d heard everyone was nice to everyone in England. All of the few white people she’d seen in Nigeria had been nice to them, so it made sense they would also be nice to others in their country too! This logic carried her through the fear of the landing, which was officially announced by the captain in a clear and crisp British accent.
She turned to Mummy who had placed her hands together and was praying in Yoruba for a safe landing.
As almost everyone on board had looked like her, Lanre wasn’t prepared for the sea of white faces in the busy arrivals hall. Feeling small in her favourite orange dress, she tightened her grip on the worn suitcase she carried, a gift from a second cousin. The sheer multitude of people had surprised her, and frightened her a little too. Scores of bodies milled around, noisily lugging suitcases, greeting loved ones with loud tears and long embraces. For the first time in her life, Lanre and her family were in the minority, and she suddenly longed for the home they had left behind. The safety of the area she, Mummy and her grandparents had been born into. The coconut tree. The smell of fresh plantains frying in the yard. In contrast, her younger sister cheerfully skipped along the floor, holding onto Mummy’s hand.
They had landed an hour ago, and there was still no sign of Daddy.
What if he’d forgotten? What would they do? Lanre felt a tight knot in her stomach as she stared at the floor.
‘Adanya.’
She looked up, and there he was.
‘Tayo!’ screamed Mummy as she let go of her daughter’s hand and ran into her husband’s open arms.
Lanre was dancing inside as Daddy let go of Mummy and stooped down, pulling both his daughters into his arms. She instantly fell into the safety of his body, the cushion of his chest and the fresh-soap scent of him. Her daddy had not forgotten them. He had come! He had come!
‘Tayo, is this you?’ asked Mummy, smoothing her hand over his cheek. ‘Is it so?’
‘Of course, my love.’ He stood up and gazed into her eyes. Once again, the love Lanre’s parents still had for one another was clear. Nothing had been altered by distance or time. If anything, their love appeared to be stronger than ever. They embraced madly, squeezing one another so tight that Lanre feared there would be broken bones.
‘Daddy, we missed you!’ cried Mayowa, holding onto his leg. There did not seem to be enough of Daddy to satisfy each person. Lanre did not doubt they had all missed him in equal amounts. Daddy pulled Mayowa up and into his arms and with Lanre now holding onto his leg, the family of four headed outside and into the unknown, the dream of a new and beautiful life together.
Lanre slept for the entire car journey to their new home. It was her sister who nudged her awake as the car pulled up outside the building. She wished she’d worn something thicker than her thin-but-pretty orange dress.
A white man named Dave, who was Daddy’s boss, bid them farewell before driving away in that noisy car. Lanre, still unsure of where she was in such darkness, rubbed her eyes vigorously as the pull of sleep still threatened to claim her again. Daddy’s home was in a place called Padd-ing-ton, but it was one room in a larger house. It was bigger than her bedroom back home and sprinkled with a smiling brightness thanks to the crisp, white paint adorning the walls, and a clear light bulb.
Tiny spots rose on her arm, despite the presence of what Daddy referred to as a paraffin heater in the corner. Lanre could tell Mummy was resisting the urge to complain.
‘This is where we will be sleeping. I know it is not very big—’
‘Ah ah, Tayo, it is … fine! Our room back home is smaller than this.’
‘Yes, but this is all we have. This room is for us all.’
Mummy swallowed.
Inside the shared kitchen, Lanre rubbed her eyes but noticed dozens of silver-bottomed tins resting on the countertop. The cooker beside it was so tall, it was past her height!
‘This is where you place the bread,’ said Daddy pointing to an oblong contraption. ‘It will cook it. Much better than our one stove or the pot with fire and sticks beneath it!’ Daddy pulled Lanre towards him, smiling.
‘Ah ah, Tayo, we did not live badly in Nigeria,’ said Mummy.
‘We did not. But here, we will live better.’
‘Daddy, what is this?’ asked Lanre picking up one of the tins.
‘That, my dear, is a tin of tomato soup. It is very good. A bit like our own soup but without the pepe so it will not hurt your tongue!’
‘Why are there so many of them?’
‘If you look at them closely, they are misshapen.’ He pointed to a small dent in the tin she was holding.
‘It is still fine to eat, though?’ asked Mummy.
‘It is, but the factory where I work, they say they cannot sell them and we must take them home. So we have plenty!’
‘What a wasting of food!’ complained Mummy, shaking her head.
Daddy bent down to one of the cupboards, standing up a moment later with his hands wrapped around a long transparent container with a colourful collection of long-stemmed flowers inside. ‘These are for you.’
‘What is this?’ asked Mummy. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘This is what they do here. Give flowers to a lady,’ Daddy said, grinning. Mummy stared at the flowers, her eyes narrowed.
‘I could not find the purple ones. I know you like that colour.’
‘Thank you …’ said Mummy absently.
Daddy’s smile wavered. ‘What is it, my love?’
‘I appreciate the flowers, but I am very cold. The children are cold too.’
Lanre appreciated the admission. Daddy had said it was almost summer here; this did not feel like almost summer.
He moved over to his wife and rubbed her shoulders. ‘I will buy another heater and we shall wear more pullovers. And, of course, I will keep you warm in the night.’
Lanre recognised the look that passed between her parents. It was the one that usually came before they shut their bedroom door for at least an hour. Once, when she was little, Lanre decided to investigate what her parents did in that room, but with her ear to the door, all she heard was laughter and an occasional moan. She had been confused at why laughter would be in the same mix as the sound of pain.
Mummy had placed a dozing Mayowa onto the bed and the three of them sat on the floor on top of a blanket that Daddy told her was called ‘tartan’.
‘I am sorry, my love, that you will have to share the kitchen and toilet with strangers and that we do not have a sitting room,’ he said. ‘One day, I will get us a big house.’
‘Back home, we shared our house with our entire family and many of the neighbours. The people we are sharing with … are they also Nigerians?’
‘Yes, my love.’
‘Eh heh! So what is the difference?’
‘But we do not have anywhere to bathe. The toilet outside is very small.’
‘Where do you bathe?’
‘There is a place not far from here. We will go once a week.’
Mummy made a face. ‘What? But Tayo, we must bathe at least once a day.’
‘I will buy us a small bath for the room. For now, we will have to use the sink in the kitchen to wash ourselves. I’m sorry, Adanya.’
She took his hand. ‘No, it is fine. We are all together. This is what matters, my love.’
‘I knew I married the correct woman. Ajoke Buka would never have been like you!’
‘Ajoke, ke?’ said Mummy, before falling into his arms once more. Ajoke was a lady from Daddy’s hometown of Abeokuta who had told everyone that one day they would be married. Daddy’s family had really liked her too, and so had Daddy, until he saw Mummy in a blue dress speckled with yellow flowers as she walked past, a pail of water on her head. He claimed it was love at first sight and that he could no longer remember what Ajoke Buka looked like. They had laughed about Ajoke Buka ever since.
‘You wanted me because of my pointed nose. That was the real reason!’
‘No, no! It was your shapely hips in that dress!’
Mummy smiled. ‘Stop it, Tayo! The children can hear you!’
‘I defied my parents to marry you! What do I get for that?’ Although Daddy was still smiling, Mummy’s had dropped.
‘They have never forgiven me for that,’ she said.
‘They are far away in Nigeria and we are here. Forget about it all. Let us begin our lives together again.’
‘I love you, Tayo Cole,’ she said, her slim hands cupping his face.
‘I love you, Adanya Cole.’
That night, the family of four lay in one bed. Daddy held tightly onto Mummy as she slept off the fatigue of a long flight. Lanre felt happier than she had for a long time. Her entire family were all under one roof again, and in one bed, away from the effects of a British almost-summer; away from frightening aeroplanes and in the only place she ever needed to be.
Daddy spent the days at work in the factory whilst Mummy tidied up the shared kitchen, tiny toilet and the one room they called home. And then tidied it all over again. Daddy sometimes attended college in the evenings, and it was during such nights that the room felt so empty. Daddy’s presence brought life and excitement, which would lay dormant throughout the day as they waited for him to return.
The two other residents who shared their home left before sunlight and would not return until they were all in bed. The only evidence of their existence were the crumbs in the sink beside two unwashed cups.
A week into their new life, they were still yet to venture outside. Mayowa seemed content with The Cat in the Hat – an English book Daddy had kept for her. Every day, she sat in the corner of the room engrossed in another world, paying no attention to anything else. Lanre sometimes wished her sister would play with her more, talk to her about their new life … anything. But for now, Lanre was happy to help Mummy clean their ‘home’, even if it did seem to only take minutes.
‘We will have to go and buy some pepe. The food I brought from Nigeria will soon finish.’
‘This means we have to go outside, Mummy,’ said Lanre with a slight burst of excitement.
‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But you will maybe have to stay here and look after Mayowa.’
‘I don’t need you to look after me!’ she shouted, without looking up from her book.
‘Why can’t we go together?’ asked Lanre.
‘You are right. We shall go together. Come on, put on two pullovers and you will be warm enough. Let us go!’
Lanre hadn’t meant right now, but she was pleased they would finally be venturing out into the real England. Their new country. They were ready within five minutes. Lanre had already begun to sweat under the weight of two adult-sized sweaters wrapped around her body.
Mummy opened the large wooden door that had suddenly grown in size. ‘OK, then … we will go to … the shops. Your father has told me where they are.’
‘Are they far away, Mummy?’ asked Lanre.
‘No, they are very close.’ Mummy placed one foot out of the door, as the sound of a siren sped past the house. The first time they had heard such a noise, Mayowa had jumped into Daddy’s arms and immediately burst into tears. Now they were already used to the strange sounds of London, but had yet to see more than was outside their window.
‘Come on. We are going!’ Mummy said quickly, yet without conviction. She grabbed a hand of each of her daughters and they slowly stepped out into the street. In the area of London where they lived there were rows and rows of large brick houses that appeared to be stuck together. The pavement outside their house was full of small puddles, evidence of the drip-drip sounds of the night before. A small vehicle balancing crates of empty bottles went past in the road as a slew of people moved from one end of the street to the next. Where were they all going?
‘Soooo … let us go,’ said Mummy, her eyes searching the area around them, as they remained stationary. A weak wind blew a piece of paper onto Mummy’s shoe and Lanre bent to pick it up.
‘Keep Britain White,’ said Lanre. She had always been a good reader.
‘Leave it!’ Mummy snatched it from her hand. ‘Let us go back inside!’ she snapped.
‘Why, Mummy?’
‘Back into the house. Don’t ask me questions!’ Mummy ushered the two little girls back inside, and with a huge sigh she closed the door behind them.
Two days later and with the last of the butter scraped from the container, they finally left the flat again. Each of them was now draped in an overcoat with sleeves too long for their arms, thanks to Daddy’s miscalculations. They ventured into the unknown realms of the streets beyond theirs, passing neatly aligned houses and roads were so smooth-looking that Lanre wanted to get on her knees and run her hand over the surface. There were many, many trees, but not one contained coconuts or anything that looked familiar. Lanre looked out for anyone who looked like them, but did not see anyone. At least when they turned into a street market, she was slightly reminded of back home. Traders were shouting their wares but with words she had never heard before.
‘Get your ripe bananas, Cox’s apples! Get your ripe bananas, Cox’s apples!’
Fruit, fish, meat, the sound of singsong voices amongst the noise of a very busy London market. Mummy held onto Lanre’s hand tightly, preventing her from investigating any further. She was mumbling to herself in Yoruba that this was just too much.
Mummy liked to look at the ground as they walked, but Lanre was fascinated with the many people that walked by, especially the men with their hair piled high on top of their heads. How did they get their hair to be such a shape? One of these men stopped when they walked past, his lips pursed, eyes narrow. Lanre smiled her thanks but his expression remained the same. Perhaps it was because of the weather that white people did not smile that much. Even so, having been confined to the flat for over a week, the unfamiliar sights of the world outside their room were something Lanre wanted to remember forever. She would one day tell Titi about the wide squared floor they called a pavement; about looking up at each of the large imposing buildings with curious faces peeking through the windows; about the smooth roads with a number of fine automobiles driving past, and the flashing lights on tall stalks that appeared to tell the automobiles when it was safe to ‘go’, and the huge, red, two-storey automobiles she had heard about but had now seen – buses, they were called. A real-life London bus, that scared her little sister with its loud bubbling sounds and clouds of smoke when it rode past. London was everything she had imagined it to be and more.
By the end of that first trip, Lanre decided that London was indeed the best thing to ever happen to her – even with the cold.
‘I love it here, Mummy!’ she enthused as Mayowa gave a rare smile in agreement. ‘Do you, too?’
‘Sometimes,’ Mummy said, quietly.
‘I do not understand why it is we have to move,’ said Mummy. Mayowa sat in the tin bath that Daddy had finally purchased, beside the bed, as Mummy gently scrubbed a nub of black soap onto her back using the course and stringy Kankan sponge from Nigeria. Apparently, English sponges were far too soft and could never rid the skin of any real dirt.
‘The landlord says I must pay more rent because we are now four. Instead of paying what he is asking, I will find a flat for the same money. It makes sense. We will have a lot of space and I can have you all to myself in our own room.’ Daddy kissed her playfully on the cheek.
‘I don’t know, Tayo.’ Mummy shrugged her shoulder as Mayowa giggled over something only she found funny.
‘Just think, no more having to bath the children in the room … a real bathroom inside the house! You said you don’t like going to the swimming pool and bathing in their bath houses.’
‘No, I do not, but this is fine,’ she said.
‘I know you don’t mean that! You want a proper bathroom.’
‘It is very expensive, though. Will we be able to afford this? It cannot affect the money we send home, Tayo.’
‘My love, it is perfect. There is plenty of overtime available and my supervisor is leaving very soon.’
‘What has he leaving to do with you?’
‘He said he will recommend me for his job.’
‘As supervisor?’
‘Yesso!’ sang Daddy.
‘But why would they give you the big job?’
‘My boss, Dave, is a good man and he seems to like me. Look at what he has done for us already. Collected you all from the airport and I didn’t even have to ask him. He is a good man and likes me. I think he will accept me for the job. No, I am very confident of it.’
A lady walked by, her umbrella tilted so that her eyes remained fixed on Mummy and Daddy. Lanre and Mayowa stood with their parents in matching beige raincoats, under the temporary shelter of an awning outside a closed shop as the rain fell from the sky.
‘When did she say she would meet us?’ said Mummy, her voice on the edge of complaint.
‘I spoke to the lady on the phone and she will meet us here in five minutes’ time. The basement flat is in the next street. A very nice area. There are many shops to buy food. I know it is not a pleasant day, but it will all be worth it!’
Lanre stepped out of the shelter. She loved the feel of rain against her skin and couldn’t wait for this ‘snow’ she’d heard so much about to also make an appearance.
‘Move inside, your hair does not like the rain!’ ordered Mummy. Lanre stepped back under the awning. ‘You are right, Tayo. We should do this.’
He smiled warmly. ‘Hopefully, we will be in a new home by the time the girls start school.’
The rain finally stopped. If their new home was to be in this area, that would be OK. Although she did not see anything different from their current street: the straight roads; identical houses; some with smoke billowing from something called a chimney and no animals running around, except for dogs and cats who actually shared homes with people! But it was people she questioned the most and their reasoning for not acknowledging them in a way that didn’t include narrowing their eyes as if they had just tasted the hottest pepe on their tongue. Or moving their noses like they were smelling poo. Even when Mummy went to greet them, they would at times ignore her, or wave their hands dismissively. Lanre would never behave in such a way to another person. Perhaps she would to Mayowa if she was annoying her. No one else, though, and especially no one older than her.
Lanre had many questions resting on her tongue, but always stopped herself from asking them. Everything would be OK. Daddy always made everything OK.
The rain finally stopped and they stepped out of the awning.
An older white woman with silver hair was approaching. She was dressed in a very smart skirt and jacket with a golden sparkling object on the left lapel.
‘Hello, Madam. Are you Mrs Towers?’ asked Daddy with that refined accent Mummy referred to as very British and one Lanre and her sister were to mimic if they were to ever get anywhere in life. Sometimes when he was being playful, Daddy would return to the silent H’s and the familiar dialect she’d grown up with.
‘Yes, I am Mrs Towers.’ Her left eyebrow raised, and Lanre was massively impressed with this skill.
‘Wonderful!’ enthused Tayo, pulling out his hand. ‘I am the gentleman you spoke with today on the telephone. It is nice to meet you. How do you do?’
She looked towards his outstretched hand. ‘I believe you are mistaken.’
Daddy slowly pulled his hand away. ‘It is me, Mrs Towers.’
‘Mr Cole?’
‘Yes, Mr T Cole.’
‘If it’s about the flat …?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Then I’m afraid it’s gone.’
‘I thought you said it was still available, not one hour ago. My wife and I have walked in the rain with our children—’
‘I said it’s gone. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Her eyebrows wrinkled and her pointed nose could obviously smell the poo.
‘OK, Mrs Towers, that is fair. Do you possibly know of anywhere else to rent? My wife and I must find a place soon as our daughters must start school. I would be grateful—’
‘No. Not at all,’ she said quickly, backing away.
‘Mrs Towers!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, turning the corner.
‘She was horrible!’ said Mayowa.
‘Do not speak like that about your elders, OK?’ chastised Daddy. He rarely raised his voice to anyone, but Lanre suspected this was more to do with Mrs Towers.
‘Tayo, what will happen now?’ asked Mummy.
‘It is OK, my love. I promise you I will find us a place before we have to go. I will never disappoint you or my children.’
They ventured back down the London street, the adults once again locked in quiet conversation. It was then that Lanre noticed the sign.
‘Daddy, look!’ she said, pointing to a large notice taped to a busy shop window; ONE BEDROOM FLAT TO RENT.
‘Well spotted, my angel,’ said Tayo. ‘I will write down the phone number.’ He scanned the small sign.
The six words in smaller print were less easy to read, but not for Lanre. ‘NO DOGS. NO BLACKS. NO IRISH.’
‘Daddy, what does it mean?’ asked Mayowa.
‘Nothing, my sweet angel. Let us go.’ He stuffed the pen and paper back into his pocket.
‘Go where?’ asked Mayowa as Mummy grabbed her hand. Lanre followed behind, her mind awash with what the sign suggested.
And then it hit her. ‘Daddy, do they mean us?’
‘Come on, forget about it. What do you think of fish and chips? Let’s go get some!’
‘Yeess!’ enthused Mayowa. Lanre caught Mummy’s expression, who, like Lanre, was not so keen to let go of this moment.
That evening, Daddy and Mummy sat together on the bed as they ate this curious food called fish and chips, which had become their new Friday-night ritual. The sharp and unusual taste of the vinegar, which at first appeared off-putting, Lanre now found delicious and an essential part of the meal.
‘Adanya, it is OK, I know you are disappointed about the flat. But the property was let. We will find something,’ he said, pinching her nose. She smiled up at her husband with trust in her eyes, warm with a fresh belief in him.
But Lanre had questions. ‘Daddy, what did they mean by no black, no—’
‘Oh my darling, nothing bad! They were just saying that some places are not suitable for us because … because it is too cold for what we are used to. The heating system is not good, that is all.’
‘Really? Oh! Daddy, then I am glad we did not stay there. It can get very cold in England.’
‘Exactly, my angel. Now eat your food, bedtime soon. I will tell you a story before you sleep. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, please!’ Daddy’s stories were always funny and sometimes very long, but it was one of the things she’d missed most when they had been separated for so long. He told stories about growing up as an only son and the many adventures he had looking after his younger sisters. But Lanre was eight years old and too old to believe every story she heard – just like she could not believe the one Daddy had just told her about the ‘to let’ sign.
Mummy and Daddy celebrated with wine when he announced his new job as supervisor.
‘Adanya, I know I came here to study but the money they are giving me is wonderful. I am the first black man to be given this type of job there. They are very nice to me and I enjoy my work. Perhaps I will stop my studies for now and return to it in a few years.’
‘Of course, Tayo. I am happy with this decision,’ said Mummy, although her faded smile spoke differently.
Mummy’s smile did lift considerably though when Daddy returned home from work the next day with news that a colleague had introduced him to a landlord keen to fill a number of properties in a place called West London. Now that, Lanre could pronounce.
The day before the Cole family moved into a top-floor two-bedroom flat in Notting Hill, the sun had shined the brightest Lanre had ever seen in London and it was the best day of her life since moving to England.
‘It is decorated and furnished. A lovely place,’ announced Daddy as they floated from room to room. The landlord, a man with hair like salt and pepper and a stomach like that of a woman with child, had proceeded with a double take when the family first walked into his office. Lanre wondered if he too did not want blacks, Irish or dogs.
But his crooked smile was kind as he’d said, ‘I don’t give a hoot where you’re from, as long as you pay me on time.’
‘Of that, I can assure you of, Mr Andersen,’ Daddy had told him, as he sat down beside Mummy on one of the chairs facing the desk.
‘Rex. Just call me Rex.’
He placed a wad of papers onto the desk. Mayowa sat onto Mummy’s lap, The Cat in the Hat securely in her hand.
‘You don’t look like the type to start any trouble.’
‘Never, Mr Rex.’
‘I suppose you heard about those Teddy boys getting into a fight with those men a few months back? Caused a massive riot, it did.’
‘Yes, I did, sir. I keep myself to myself. My family and providing for them is my only concern.’
‘Good, that’s the way it should be. I don’t agree with violence, but that coloured boy going with that nice white lady was asking for trouble. We should all stick to our own, don’t you think? It’s unnatural, really. We weren’t made for all of that!’
‘Mr Rex, I do not concern myself with such things.’
‘Good man!’ he’d said.
Now, they were finally moving in to their new home. If they’d been back in Nigeria, the move would have been effortless. Family members as well as their many neighbours would have helped them pack up and move to their new home. Luckily, their items were not plentiful but with Flat B only accessible by a small number of steps, Daddy was sweating profusely as he and his boss Dave carried each item into the flat. Dave was a good man, according to Mummy, and did not behave like a boss and, unlike the people who stared at them in the street, his interaction was only that of warmth.
Once all the items were safely placed into number sixty-three Pettyford Road, Lanre already knew the effort had been worth it. This palace, this sanctuary, was their new home and, she suspected, would be for a very long time. No more sharing with strangers. There was a separate room with two beds for Lanre and Mayowa and a beautiful white bathroom with a bath and clean tiles. Their very own bathroom!
They now lived in a very impressive three-storey building nestled on the end of a busy street lined on either side by big, beautiful green trees in full bloom. She couldn’t wait to skip down that street. It was beautiful. Better than anything she’d ever seen before. She could not imagine the Queen of England living in a better street!
Within weeks the flat was transformed. The sitting room walls were decorated with green and white spiral wallpaper and a multicoloured glass fish sat on top of a cabinet beside what Daddy called a spider plant. It didn’t seem to have a purpose but Mayowa seemed to be obsessed with the glass fish, sometimes staring at it for minutes at a time. The glass cabinet was filled with glasses and plates and flowers that never died.
One evening, Daddy wheeled in a huge brown globe of the world, which he placed in the corner of the sitting room. Much to the delight of a squealing Lanre and Mayowa, the top half opened to reveal a huge hollow space, which Daddy said would be filled with drinks only adults were allowed to drink.
Mummy hummed a lot now, especially as she chopped pepe and cooked rice in their new kitchen or waited for the hot comb to heat. She had recently discovered a Jamaican food stall that sold plantains, yams and authentic Nigerian pepe (or Scotch bonnet as they were labelled). They now even owned a Hoover: a contraption that ate the dirt on the green and brown carpet and also scared Mayowa so much that she ran into the bathroom the first time Mummy had switched it on, refusing to return until the ‘horrible creature’ was gone.
Their home, their lives, were now bathed in a new calm in which Lanre felt safe. She looked forward to school and in the meantime was content to help Mummy around the house or listen to the wireless Daddy had surprised them with one day. A real-life working machine with a big dial for selecting the stations! Titi would be so jealous! Mummy enjoyed a show called The Archers. Whilst Lanre couldn’t be sure what it was about, she noticed that some of the people on the radio spoke in strange accents. Even stranger than Ginny’s. Aunty Ginny. Lanre was never allowed to call an elder by their first name, even though this strange white lady had insisted.
According to Mummy, Aunty Ginny, who lived in Flat A, was a widow with two boys of her own. She was always quick to offer advice even when Mummy had not asked for it. Like how to fold clothes and apply lipstick without staining one’s teeth.
She’d even taught Mummy to knit.
‘D’you think you’ll have more kids?’ Ginny had asked one day, sat nestling a mug of tea Lanre had been happy to make. Lanre had quickly realised the importance of ‘a cuppa tea’ in England.
‘If I do, I would love to have a boy. I think Tayo would like that too.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about all of that; he’s obsessed with your girls and who wouldn’t be? They’re adorable.’ She had smiled towards Mayowa, sitting on the floor with her back against the green armchair that had been delivered three days ago. Daddy had announced it was to be ‘Daddy’s chair’.
‘I wish I’d had a girl. Sick of being surrounded by boys. Even at work, all men. I suppose that’s what you get for working in a butcher’s shop!’
Mummy had smiled politely. Lanre had wondered if Mummy was able to follow Aunty Ginny’s fast-paced English. In Nigeria they’d been brought up speaking the Queen’s English and banned from talking to one another in Yoruba. Mummy said they would have more opportunities this way. But what Aunty Ginny spoke was far from the Queen’s English. Still she was kind to Mummy and to them.
‘You can have my boys if you like!’ Ginny had said. ‘Little tearaways!’
‘They are very big boys.’
‘Yes, they get the height from their dad. If they’re this big as teenagers, I dread to think what will happen when they get older.’ She had let out a long drawn-out sigh. ‘One of them was caught stealing the other day! As if I don’t already do enough to put food on the table. I’ll let you have them both for a good price!’
Mummy had pulled out a yarn and two knitting needles. ‘You joke too much, Ginny.’
With her short curled hair, and long and tight skirts that hugged her hips and behind, Ginny was the first white woman Lanre had ever really spoken to. She always smelled of a perfume called Chanel