From Pasta to Pigfoot (11 page)

As his sister looked baffled, he went on. ‘As far as Faye's concerned, she's been adopted by Britain and now she's curious about where she really comes from. It's only natural, if you ask me!'

‘Well, I'm sorry I did!' Caroline pouted.

Faye had been listening to their argument in fascination, her head swivelling from one to the other like a riveted tennis fan during a Wimbledon final.

‘Hello, you two!' She interrupted at this point, stamping her foot. ‘Can I remind you that I'm actually here?'

She turned to Dermot, who was drinking his coffee, his face now nearly as pink as his sister's.

‘How come you understand so well and Caro doesn't?' She looked at him in wonderment. She had always seen Dermot as her friend's cheeky younger brother and it was proving a bit of a revelation to find out that he had turned into such a sensitive young man.

He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed at the intensity with which both women were looking at him.

‘Let's just say I'm a musician and, as an artist, I'm more in tune with people's emotions than Ms TV producer here!' Ducking a pretend blow from his sister, he smiled
winningly at Faye and reverted to the Dermot she was used to.

‘Of course, you could always solve your problems by marrying me – the band's doing really well at the moment and I might actually be able to afford you. That is,' he added, ‘if you've finally dumped that Michael character.'

Faye's face clouded over at the mention of Michael and Caroline kicked Dermot in exasperation. Ignoring his howl of pain, she marched over to the rocking chair and hauled Faye out.

‘Come on,' she said with determination. ‘It's time to blow the cobwebs away. We're going shopping!'

It was almost four hours later when an exhausted Faye finally returned home, her arms aching from the heavy carrier bags that were the usual result of a shopping expedition with Caroline. Laying her new clothes out on her bed, she realised ruefully that her salary for the month had been totally blown.

So much for trying to clear the credit card bill this month
, she thought, running her fingers over a black silk dress that had cost her almost two weeks' salary. Piling on even more debt is all I need now and it's not as if I even have anywhere to wear this.

Her eyes filled with tears as the memory of Michael's face just before she had stalked out of the pigfoot restaurant the night before brought a fresh wave of pain. When she had stood up to leave, his jovial expression had swiftly changed to one of anger, but as she had stared down into his eyes, silently challenging him to make her stay, she had also seen an unmistakable hint of relief.
Her tears fell unchecked as she relived the humiliation of Jasmine placing a restraining hand on Michael's arm as he made a move to stand up, and the triumphant smirk that she made no effort to hide when he complied with her silent command.

A sharp knock on her bedroom door jolted her from her thoughts. Starting guiltily, she wiped her eyes and called out ‘Come in' while hastily gathering together the leather skirt and cropped denim jacket she had been about to try on.

Her father walked in, shaking his head at the chaotic state of her room.

‘Faye, how can you live like this?' He looked around the room in irritation. Without waiting for an answer, he went on. ‘Have you seen Lottie?'

Faye shook her head. ‘No, Dad. She's probably gone into town. She said something yesterday about doing her Christmas shopping early. I can call her mobile if you like?'

She bent down, as much to pick up some of the offending garments as to avoid his gaze. Her father could always tell when she had been crying and she was in no mood to discuss her cultural dilemma again today.

Her ploy failed when, instead of leaving, her father instead walked slowly over to her. Waiting for her to straighten up, he gently raised her head with his hand and scrutinised her face. ‘You've been crying,' he observed.

She sighed. ‘I'm okay, Dad. I'm just feeling a bit low, that's all.'

He looked at the clothes she was holding in her arms, the price tags still visible.

‘It looks like your bank balance is probably feeling the same,' he said with a smile. Hugging her gently, he drew her over to the bed and sat down beside her.

‘I've been so busy these last few weeks that you and I have not been able to chat properly for a while. Why don't we make up for lost time now?' he said.

His dark eyes were filled with concern and as Faye looked into them, she promptly burst into tears again. Clutching the lapel of his jacket, she sobbed until her head ached. Eventually, she calmed down and took the clean handkerchief he held out for her and wiped her eyes fiercely.

‘Sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to fall apart like that.' She looked at the crumpled hanky she had been about to hand to him.

‘I don't suppose you want this back, do you?' she asked with a weak grin.

Her father smiled and gently shook his head. ‘You can keep it.' He leant back slightly to take a better look at her. ‘I suppose it's that young man Michael that has upset you so much?'

Like most of the people in Faye's life who had come into contact with Michael, Dr Bonsu had received his share of lectures from the young journalist. Knowing that voicing his real opinions about Michael to Faye could be counterproductive, he had wisely held back and just prayed for the day when she would eventually see what everyone else had no trouble observing. But keeping his peace while Faye seemed reasonably happy was one thing; to stand by and see her so upset was quite another. Although by his upbringing he was not a demonstrative
man, Dr Bonsu loved his children fiercely and was ready to deal with anyone who threatened their happiness.

Instinctively trying to protect Michael from her father's wrath, Faye shook her head hastily. ‘No – well, yes, but it's not really all about Michael.'

Her father frowned in bewilderment. He wished for the umpteenth time that his beloved Annie were still alive to deal with these complex matters. While he could have written a book about the long-term effects of measles on a child's physiological development, he was completely at sea when it came to matters of the heart. He had only ever loved one woman and, luckily, she had felt the same about him. Since her death, he had experienced no more than a fleeting attraction for anyone else and he was totally baffled by the complex nature of romantic relationships in the West.

Hesitantly, Faye recounted the events of the last two weeks to her father. As she reached the point where Jasmine's status was revealed, her father clenched his fists, anger clearly visible on his face.

‘Faye, please tell me you don't plan to see this man again, because I can assure you that he is not welcome in this house!'

She shrugged helplessly. ‘I know, Dad. I'm furious at him myself but honestly, it's not just about what happened last night.'

‘What do you mean?' Her father was baffled. From what he'd heard, Michael's behaviour was more than enough to justify Faye's tears.

‘What really hurt was feeling like such an outsider,' she said. ‘It was like they were all in this world where they
understood
each other. Even his ex that he's supposed to hate so much was part of the inner circle because she understands the culture. I just felt like I didn't belong – like I'm this disconnected, posh Hampstead girl who doesn't know anything about her culture and they're all really
conscious
and in touch with their roots and…'

Her voice ground to a halt and for several moments, her father didn't say a word. When he finally spoke, he simply said, ‘Faye, I am so sorry.'

Taken aback by the depth of sorrow in his voice, Faye was quick to reassure him. ‘No, Dad, it's not your fault. I'm just being a bit pathetic, that's all.'

Dr Bonsu shook his head and took his daughter's hands between his own.

‘No, my dear, it is indeed my fault. I have been so busy taking care of other people, I stopped taking care of my own children.' He hushed her as she tried to interrupt him. ‘No, Faye, it's true. I may have given you and William all the material things you need, but I have clearly neglected your cultural needs. I should have done more to keep you both connected to Ghana over the years. I just assumed that you had no problem coping with being both Ghanaian and British and didn't feel any conflict about doing so, but I see now that I was wrong.' He restrained himself from adding that it was even more soul destroying that it had taken Michael, of all people, to make him see this.

Faye sighed, now feeling guilty for upsetting her father. ‘Dad, please don't blame yourself. Honestly, it's not an issue for me most of the time – I'm just feeling a bit raw after last night.'

When he still didn't look convinced, she dug deep and dredged up what she hoped was a smile of reassurance. ‘I just need to be a bit more like William and stop worrying about things I can't change.'

With a deep sigh, he stood up and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. He shook his head once more at the clothes decorating the carpet, and left the room. Taking the hint, Faye tossed the piles of clothing onto her bed and started the monumental task of tidying her room. She had almost finished when her brother and Lucinda barged in.

‘I see the practice of knocking on doors has gone out of fashion again,' she said sarcastically as the two of them hurled themselves on her bed. Oblivious to her tone, William grabbed a magazine that had been hiding under the crumpled bedclothes while Lucinda started trying on a denim jacket.

Faye's exasperation vanished as she recognised the magazine she had given up for lost.

‘Oh is that where it was! William, don't take it away with you – I haven't finished reading it yet and you know what you're like!'

Cramming a handful of hangers draped with clothes into her packed wardrobe, Faye turned to admire Lucinda who was preening in front of the full-length mirror.

‘That really suits you, Luce,' she said appreciatively. ‘No, that doesn't mean that you can wear it before I do. I just paid a fortune for that.'

Lucinda pouted and reluctantly took off the jacket. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she crossed her shapely legs and tossed back her blonde mane.

‘So, how did it go last night, then?' she asked. ‘And how's the delightful Michael?' she added with a teasing smile.

‘I think the delightful Michael is now my delightful ex-Michael,' Faye said with a grimace.

‘What
!' William dropped the magazine on the bed and punched his fist in the air with a triumphant ‘Yes!' Seeing the hurt expression on his sister's face, Lucinda punched his arm and hissed at him to shut up.

‘What's happened, Faye?' she asked in concern.

Faye ran her fingers through her dishevelled locks and groaned inwardly at the thought of going through the whole story again. But knowing William and Lucinda as she did, she knew that there was no way she was going to get away with anything less than a step by step account of the evening. She sat cross-legged on the carpet by her bed, took a deep breath and dutifully went through the saga of Pigfoot Etcetera for the third time that day.

As they listened, William's grin faded and, in an almost exact replay of his father's reaction, a look of intense fury crossed his face when Faye repeated Wesley's scornful remark about Jasmine. Although he looked ready to explode, he didn't interrupt, and listened until she finished speaking, his expression grim.

Lucinda was the first to speak. ‘Well, if I were you, Faye, I'd have thumped him before I left the restaurant. What a
complete
pig!' she exclaimed indignantly.

‘I know,' said Faye. ‘Come to think of it,' she added whimsically, ‘I should have asked for Pigfoot Michael when that waiter came round.'

William did not join in the girls' laughter. Slamming his
fist on the bed, he stood up and walked over to the bedroom window, intense anger clearly evident in his taut features. Lucinda and Faye exchanged glances as they recognised the prelude to a display of William's infamous temper.

‘Just as well Michael's nowhere near here right now,' Lucinda whispered to Faye, glancing with apprehension at the silent figure at the window. She knew that despite all the teasing he inflicted on her, William was extremely protective of his younger sister. Added to that was his guilt at having been the one who had, albeit unwittingly, brought Michael into Faye's life.

In an effort to defuse the situation, Lucinda moved to William's side and hugged him gently. ‘Calm down, darling,' she said softly.

William turned back and walked over to sit down on the carpet next to his anxious sister. He gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Sorry, sis. You must be feeling bloody awful.'

Her eyes moistened again at William's concern and she leant against him gratefully for a moment. Then pushing him away lightly, she jumped to her feet and cleared her throat.

‘Well, I'll survive, folks,' she said shakily, ‘but thanks for caring. And listen, Will,' she added hastily, ‘if Michael shows up here, I'm not in, okay? I really don't feel up to talking to him right now.'

William's response was swift. ‘If he dares to show his face here, it will be the last thing he does for a long time!'

Lucinda intervened quickly before he started to work himself up again. Seizing his hand, she dragged him up from the floor. ‘Come on, big guy. I think Faye probably
needs some time to herself. Besides,' she looked thoughtful as her eyes strayed to the discarded jacket, ‘I've just seen the loveliest denim jacket, so let's go shopping!' Blowing Faye a kiss, she walked out of the room, dragging her protesting fiancé behind her.

Grateful for the peace, Faye finished tidying up and looked around the room with satisfaction. The expanse of thick white carpet, now clear of clothes, brought an air of serenity to the large room. The white wooden wardrobes, crammed with enough clothes to stock a small boutique, took up the entire length of one wall while a large oil painting her father had brought her from Ghana several years ago took up most of the wall space above her bed. Faye sat on her newly made bed and looked up at the painting, examining it in painstaking detail for the first time in years.