From Pasta to Pigfoot (15 page)

Amma grinned. ‘You know he would work eight days a week, if it was possible.'

From where she sat, and despite their age and gender difference, the resemblance between Amma and her father was striking. Although her colouring was exactly like her mother's, she had clearly inherited Uncle Fred's shorter and more rounded frame.

‘Fred!' Auntie Amelia exclaimed, her eyes back on Faye. ‘Can you believe how much she looks like Annie?'

Faye shifted uncomfortably under the open scrutiny. Her own memories of her mother had largely faded over time. When she was much younger, she had spent hours poring over the few photographs she had of her, but had never seen any particular resemblance between her own childish features and her mother's graceful adult beauty. It had been years since she had looked at the old photographs but now, hearing Auntie Amelia's words, she felt a renewed curiosity about the woman who had given her life.

Before she could ask any questions, the door opened and a middle-aged woman entered carrying a tray laid
out with several bottles. The drinks had clearly been well chilled and tiny droplets of water ran down the sides of the thick glass. The woman was plump and her pale blue polyester dress strained gently against her generous curves as she bent and placed the drinks on the glass-topped centre table.

‘Faye, this is Martha,' Auntie Amelia said, standing up and walking over to the table. ‘Martha is our housekeeper and has been a member of our family for many years.'

Martha smiled warmly at Faye, her smooth round cheeks impervious to any wrinkles. Her voice was pleasant and she spoke in strongly accented English. ‘Welcome home. I hope you will enjoy being with us.'

She left the room and returned with a tray of glasses, briskly opened the bottles and served the drinks. After setting the bottles and glasses carefully on the smaller side tables, she picked up the empty trays and left the room.

Uncle Fred raised his glass and waited for his wife and daughter to follow suit.

‘Here's to you, Faye, and to a wonderful visit back home.' His voice was solemn, but his twinkling eyes belied the serious tone.

Everyone dutifully took a sip of their drinks. Faye took a long gulp of the chilled Coke in her glass and then almost spluttered as the living room door opened again and one of the most handsome men she had ever seen walked in.

She stared wordlessly as the tall, muscular man greeted Uncle Fred and kissed Auntie Amelia on both cheeks before turning to her. Coughing to clear her suddenly constricted throat, she looked up into a pair of caramel-coloured
eyes that were identical to Auntie Amelia's. But, although he had the same high cheekbones and dark-copper colouring of his beautiful mother, Rocky Asante's muscular frame and closely-cropped hair removed any trace of femininity from his appearance. He was dressed in a dark suit with a silk tie of a swirling pale gold design on a black background. His white shirt, unfastened at the neck, still looked crisp and pristine, giving no hint of the heat and humidity outside.

Staring blankly at the hand he had extended towards her, she dimly realised that she was being introduced and forced herself to concentrate on what Auntie Amelia was saying. She stuck a hesitant hand out to shake his, the unexpected strength of his grip once again throwing her mind off track.

‘I'm Rocky,' he said coolly and with a brief smile. ‘It's a pleasure to meet you at last – my parents have been so excited since they heard you were coming,' he added.

Not as excited as I am now..
. Swallowing hard, Faye stared up into his eyes, struggling for something to say and unaware that her hand still remained in his. Oblivious to the suddenly knowing glance exchanged between the two elder Asantes, neither Rocky nor Faye moved for several moments. Then, releasing her hand abruptly, Rocky turned to his sister, who had been watching them with great interest.

‘Hi,' he said in greeting, gently swatting the top of her head. ‘What's up?'

Without waiting for an answer, he picked up Amma's glass and took a quick sip of her drink before she could
protest. He slipped off his jacket and sat next to her on the couch, one long leg casually crossed over the other knee, exposing dark socks and highly polished black shoes. Faye tried desperately not to stare but, despite her best intentions, her eyes kept straying back in his direction. Without the jacket, the breadth of his shoulders could be clearly seen and, as he further loosened his tie, the strong muscles in his upper arms pressed gently against the crisp cotton shirtsleeves.

Amma glared at her brother and picked up her drink hastily before he made any further inroads into it.

‘By the way, Clarissa's called me about ten times today,' she said with a wicked smile, ignoring his sudden frown. ‘She said she couldn't get through to your phone and to remind you that that her new commercial is going to be on TV tomorrow night, so don't miss it.'

Auntie Amelia leaned forward, her eyes widening with interest. ‘Oh really, how exciting! Rocky, what will she be advertising?'

Rocky shrugged and ran his hand over his head. With a look of complete innocence that almost had Faye melting into the floor, he smiled at his mother disarmingly.

‘Ma, you've got me there.' He shrugged helplessly. ‘It's probably some hair product or cosmetic or something – I honestly can't remember.'

His mother snorted, disgusted by his obvious lack of interest in the subject. Turning to Faye, who had been listening intently to the exchange, she quickly explained.

‘Clarissa is Rocky's girlfriend. She's a beautiful girl – she won the Miss Ghana beauty competition a few years
ago. She's quite well known and is now an actress. She does quite a bit of modelling too, doesn't she, Rocky?'

Amma butted in before he could speak. ‘I think you're a little behind the times there, Mama. She and Rocky broke up almost a month ago.'

‘Really?' Auntie Amelia stared at her son in surprise. ‘But Rocky, why…?'

Uncle Fred cleared his throat loudly, taking pity on his son, who was glaring angrily at his unrepentant sister, and suggested that Faye might want to freshen up before dinner.

Auntie Amelia rose gracefully to her feet and took Faye's hand. ‘Come, my dear, I'll show you to your room.' Turning to her daughter, she went on. ‘Amma, let Martha know we'll be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes.'

She led Faye out of the living room and up a broad flight of terrazzo stone steps. As she climbed the stairs, Faye admired the ebony-framed family photos hanging on the cream-coloured wall, most of which featured the Asante children. She smiled at one particular picture that showed a young Rocky leaning against a tree with Amma pulling on his arm. A huge portrait of a smiling chubby-faced Amma, aged around five, held pride of place at the top of the staircase.

When they reached the landing, Auntie Amelia gestured to her right. ‘Our room is over there; if you need anything during the night, just come and look for me.'

They turned left and walked past three doors. Explaining that they led to Amma and Rocky's rooms and their shared bathroom, Auntie Amelia led Faye to the end of the passageway and opened another door.

‘This is our guest room,' she said as Faye followed her into a large room with a huge bed in the centre covered by a thin white mosquito net draped over tall wooden posts at each corner of the bed. A cotton bedspread in a colourful tie-dye fabric and matching long curtains threw a cheerful glow against the white walls. The large windows, covered with mosquito netting, were fitted with slanted louvre panes, which had been left open wide enough to let through a cool breeze. There was an air conditioning unit in the far wall away from the bed, and two large built-in wardrobes and a matching dressing table and chair took up the right side of the room.

Auntie Amelia opened a door to the left of the bed and switched on the light. ‘This is your private bathroom.' Pushing back a translucent white shower curtain, she quickly demonstrated how the shower unit worked and led the way back into the main room where Faye's suitcase had been deposited near the bed, along with her jacket and handbag. Suddenly desperate for a long cool shower, Faye closed the door behind her departing hostess and stripped off her clothes.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a sleeveless white linen shift dress, Faye went back down, sneaking a quick look at the family photographs as she came down the stairs. She walked quickly into the living room and collided with Rocky who had clearly been on his way out.

‘Oh, sorry!' she exclaimed, stepping back in confusion. Instinctively, he reached out and held her arm to prevent her from falling. As he continued to hold on to her, she
looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height. At five feet and seven inches, she was fairly tall and yet she barely reached his shoulder. He gently released her arm and inclined his head slightly in apology.

‘I'm sorry, Faye,' he said, his tone formal. ‘It's my fault – I wasn't looking where I was going.'

Forcing herself to tear her eyes away from his perfect features, Faye moved towards the sofa and sat down, conscious of his gaze following her. He had turned back into the room and watched her as she settled herself into the cushions.

‘I was just on my way to get a cold drink from the kitchen,' he said. ‘Can I get you one while you're waiting? I'm sure my parents will be down soon, although I can bet you Amma will be late.' He grinned as he said it and, once again, his smile threw her into a state of confusion.

‘No, thank you,' she stammered shyly. Frustrated at feeling so tongue-tied, she frantically cast around for something to say. The silence lengthened as Rocky abandoned his mission and sat in the armchair across from her. He had changed out of his suit into a sports shirt and a pair of cotton trousers and he sat back looking relaxed.

I don't know what Clarissa looks like
, Faye thought as her eyes strayed in his direction once again,
but with that face and body
, he
should be a model
. A picture of him posing shirtless suddenly flashed through her mind.

Rocky looked up suddenly and their eyes locked. For a moment no one spoke.

‘So what do you do for a living?' Faye blurted out, flustered by the quizzical expression in his eyes.

‘I work for an investment bank here in Accra. It's actually the Ghanaian branch of a British bank,' Rocky replied easily. ‘I've been with them for a few years now.'

She nodded, trying – and failing – to look impressed. He laughed, clearly not offended. ‘Yes, I know. Banking is not exactly the sexiest job in the world, is it? Aren't we all supposed to be heartless, money-sucking leeches?'

She tried to pretend the thought hadn't crossed her mind and smiled at him instead.

‘Well, yes, if you were to believe all the horror stories about what banks have been up to. But I suppose it isn't fair to tar everyone with the same brush.'

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked curiously at her, causing her heart to flip over again.
Get a grip, Faye!

‘My father says you haven't been back to Ghana since you were five.' It was less a question than a statement and Faye nodded, feeling faint stirrings of anxiety at her cultural credentials being called into question again.

His full sculpted lips curved into a quizzical smile and she reluctantly forced her eyes away and tried to concentrate on his words. ‘It must feel very strange to be back here; I'm sure you can't remember very much about the country.'

‘To be honest, I never really thought very much about Ghana – I suppose because both my father and my brother are in England, there was never that urgency to find out more about the country.' She hesitated and then added quietly. ‘I think losing my mother was so hard for my father that he found it too painful to come back home
that often. Also, his parents died when he was young and without any grandparents demanding to see us, there was really no real pressure on him to keep bringing us home.'

Rocky nodded, his expression indicating that he understood. He was about to speak when his parents entered the room.

‘Oh good, you're both ready for dinner,' Auntie Amelia said briskly as she bustled forward towards Faye. She had changed into a long mustard coloured caftan with gold embroidery around the curved neckline. She took Faye's hand and helped her up. ‘Dinner's ready so let's go in and get started. Amma will just have to join us when she finally comes down.'

Uncle Fred and Rocky followed as Auntie Amelia led Faye across the hallway and into a dining room with high ceilings, dominated by a huge mirror with an ornate gold frame hanging on the far wall. A polished teak dining table had been set with white cotton place mats and gleaming white crockery and Faye was ushered to the chair next to Uncle Fred, who sat down at the head of the table.

Looking up, she found herself staring straight at Rocky who had taken his place directly opposite her.
Oh great
, she groaned inwardly.
How am I supposed to eat with him sitting right in front of me!

Amma's sudden arrival gave Faye a moment to compose herself and by the time the younger girl had slipped into the chair next to her, Faye was able to smile and compliment her on the brightly coloured traditional Ghanaian dress she was wearing.

‘Thanks,' Amma replied, and her voice sounded even
more breathless than usual after her rushed entry. ‘My friend Baaba made it – she's a fantastic designer.'

Lifting the heavy cut-glass water pitcher from the centre of the table, she filled Faye's glass with ice-cold water before filling her own and passing the jug to her mother.

‘Actually she sells a whole range of her clothes in Mama's shop – my mother has a boutique in town,' she rattled on, barely pausing for breath. ‘If you really like this dress, we could go over to the shop on Monday and you can get one for yourself.'