London, 1951
‘Olusegun Adebayo.’
‘O-who?’
‘His name,’ I sighed with impatience, ‘is Olusegun. Has he been here?’
‘Ah, yes! I remember now. Tall African chap, right? Black as the ace of spades! Yeah, he was here...’
I held my breath, hoping that I would finally manage to unearth some real information as to where he’d gone. Henriette had finally convinced me to look for him, but I hadn’t told her that I had started my search. I was too proud to let anyone know that I wanted to see him again, just to know if he was alive and well. I’d hired a private detective to begin the search, and he’d come back to me with the address of this questionable hostel. I stood staring at my surroundings, still shocked to discover that Olu had been in London for all this time.
‘Why would a pretty girl like you be looking for him? He owe you money or something?’ The salty old man raised an eyebrow.
‘No. He worked for my father. My father has a word to send to him, and I wanted to find him to deliver it.’
‘That bloke thought the world of himself… he was here for about five months, doing odd jobs during the day, reading all night… quite cheeky, if you ask me…’
I tried not to smile, remembering Olu’s low tolerance for rudeness.
‘Do you know where he went?’
‘No, no… but I do know that he left in a hurry; left most of his things here…’
‘Do you still have them?’ I perked up.
‘Yes. You want to take them? Just a bunch of old books and papers, taking up space. I put them all back here…’
He led me through the dilapidated house to a small area in the back. The place was very dark, and I was wary of tripping over the worn carpet. The old man grumbled as we made our way down a narrow hall, telling me that the other tenants in his hostel had complained because he’d allowed Olu to stay.
‘I lost more than a few tenants by letting him stay… but he paid me more than what I’d asked… I don’t know where he got the money. And he always paid on time, which is more than I could say for some of the others…’
We stopped in front of a small room off the kitchen. The man opened the door and pulled a string that flooded the space with light. He pointed to a corner filled with waist-high stack of books and papers, leaning precariously over an old pail.
‘That’s all of it there… you’ll want to have your driver take it out for you.’
‘Thank you, sir…’
I’d finally found something! I couldn’t wait to get back to my flat, to pour over all of the notes, papers, and books that Olu had left. I just wanted to run my fingers over the scrawl of his small neat handwriting, to touch the pages that his fingers had turned in the dusty old books, to look at his drawings. The old man found a box for me, and had my driver carry it out to the taxi.
I spent nights looking through it all, the nights that I didn’t spend with Raymond. I’d never told him about Olu, but I think that he suspected something. He would often say that he could tell that I was thinking of someone else when we made love, or that he would catch me daydreaming more often than not.
I kept my find a secret from everyone, even Henriette. I hid the box on a shelf in my bedroom closet, behind a few hatboxes. When Anna had gone to bed, I’d rummage through the box, organizing everything. Olu had kept some of his notes from the digs he’d been on with my father, as well as quite a few drawings. When I flipped through the books, I found money tucked between the pages, along with a few sketches of a girl. I locked the money away in my jewelry box, and I stared at the sketches, wondering why they seemed so familiar to me.
At first, my jealousy got the best of me, and I spent hours trying to figure out who this girl was, but as I looked further, I noticed that she bore a striking resemblance to someone... me! I held my hand to my mouth, amazed at the extreme likeness, and rushed to the mirror, holding the sketches to the glass, looking back and forth from each drawing to my reflection. It seemed as though Olu was trying to remember my face. Each sketch was dated, and the more recent the date, the more faded the likeness seemed to be.
The last few drawings were dated from five months before, around the time that the old man had said that Olu disappeared. This made me even more curious. Why did he leave so quickly, again? Where did he go, was he still in London? I sat on my bed, aching to know these things, and at the same time, trying to find a way to keep searching for him.
My search for Olu had begun to distract me; Anna noticed that I was practicing less and wandering about the city streets more. She accused me of being quiet and secretive, and I worried that she would soon find out about my dalliances with Raymond. I guessed that she would scold me, or threaten to have me followed, but I never imagined that she would tell Mr. Stanley about it.
‘Liv, my dear, has something been troubling you?’ he asked me one day over tea.
‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘I was just wondering… Anna says that you’ve been unusually quiet and aloof.’
‘When am I not “quiet and aloof” with her?’
‘Well, I am just concerned about your well-being; I’m sure that she feels the same.’
‘I’ve just been thinking about Dad, that’s all…’
‘Ah… maybe we should arrange a visit for him.’
‘He won’t come to London. It’s too cold now. He wouldn’t come here until summer.’
‘You never know, with Leonard. I always like to say that that man is full of surprises.’
I worried that if my father did decide to make an impromptu visit, I wouldn’t be able to see Raymond before he left for New York.
I realized that I was depressed. Raymond would be leaving in a few days, and I knew that I would miss him terribly. He made me laugh, and he helped me to forget my sadness. On the days that I managed to get away from Anna long enough, we would share a piano, discussing technique, and trading performance tips with each other. And at night, we had incredible sex; I loved the way that Raymond touched me.
‘Hey there, Kiddo!’ he nudged me when I met him in our love nest for the last time. ‘Hey… what’s wrong?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I frowned, all teary-eyed. ‘I’ll miss you…’
‘I’m not gone, yet; don’t be sad, now.’
‘I can’t help it…’
