WRECKED 9 8

''Darling," Mustapha said, "what did you really think of my family? Truthfully now." Her first visit to the Rufais had been a few months ago. Of course, she had come down with the inevitable meet-the-parents' jitters. The dinner did not go badly; neither was it a memorable one. It was as if no one was bothered about her.

Kuku made a face. They had been lovers for the last eight months and they spent every spare moment together. He was marvellous and she was beside herself with happiness. "Truthfully, I didn't notice your mother and brother much. I do know that they were boring. My interest was solely on you. And Anaya too. Now, that's an interesting creature." Mustapha roared with delighted laughter.

"But really, your mum is not bad. Do you think she likes me?" Kuku asked.

He grinned. "Of course she likes you. Everyone would, when they get to know you better."

The most passionate, adoring girl. She made him feel superhuman. She told him he was the most wonderful lover, and proved it anytime he touched her. She was the most sweet-natured person he had ever met. From their conversations, he had learned that life at home had not been easy. She was frightened of her father. He had met her father on the two occasions he had gone to pick her from the house, and found him grim and formidable. Her mother was nice, but seemed a little weird too. It made him very protective of her. He wished his family were more receptive to her.

"Kuku," Mustapha said, "I want to ask you something." Her heart did a jig with fright. What was he going to say? What sort of question, put like that without warning?

"Ask me what?" Oh, please, God. I do love him. If I have to lie, help me.

"Can't you guess?" He teased her sometimes. He was teasing her now. It was not serious.

She smiled and shook her head. "No. Ask me."

"Will you marry me?"

She gasped. "Oh, Mustapha! Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?"

"Of course, I mean it."

She got up and came to him.

Her eyes were full of tears.

"Oh, darling, my darling, you know I will."

She clung to him and a tear slipped down her cheek. "I'll make you the best wife in the world," she whispered. I promise.

****

"Mustapha–you can't be serious!"

Afsat came up to him and put both hands on his shoulders. He was much taller and she had to look up to him. "You're only twenty-seven. Kuku is twenty-ve. You are both far too young, don't you think? You should have told me before proposing to her. Why didn't you?"

"If I had, you'd have tried to stop me, mother," he said. "That's why I didn't tell you. I want to marry Kuku, and she already said yes. Being young does not have anything to do with it. People get married at our ages. It's not as if we hardly know each other."

Afsat stepped back. "My God! What a shock." After Jubril's wedding, she expected more from Mustapha. Oh, God! Another heathen.

"I'm sorry I've sprung it on you. She is the only girl I will ever want to marry. I don't want to lose her."

She saw how unhappy he looked, and her resolution weakened. She said quietly, "Mustapha, she isn't…you know…"

"You mean is she pregnant? No, she is not. If you're also asking if we slept together, I don't want to be rude, but it's none of your business."

"No," Afsat said. "You're right, it isn't."

"Don't you like her? Is there any other reason, apart from age, you are against it?"

"No other reason," Afsat answered. "Except wanting you to be happy. I have nothing against Kuku. She is a sweet girl and you know I have always tried to make her welcome here, at least on the two occasions she visited. It is just that marriage is a very serious commitment. You just started your career at the bank. You need to gain more experience in life. Maybe give it a year or two. You are not listening to a word I am saying. I can see that."

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"Mother, I am. I have always listened to you and I have always done what you wanted. Now I want you to do something for me. I want you to say yes, I want you to say you are happy about my proposal, and I want you to welcome Kuku into the family. Will you do that for me? Will you, please?"

For a moment, Afsat didn't answer. He was her son. From birth, he had given her nothing but joy. And, as he said, done what she wanted. She put her arms around him and they held each other. She drew in a deep breath. "Maybe I just find it difficult to lose you so soon. But if you want Kuku, and you think she'll make you happy, then all right."

"Thank you, mum," he said. "I'll tell Jubril when he comes home tonight. I love you, mother."

Afsat managed to smile at him. "I love you too."

****

Afsat wanted the wedding in six months time for two reasons. First, the rains would have stopped, and secondly, she wanted enough time to plan her son's wedding. But to her surprise, Kuku's parents favoured a much earlier date. Afsat gave in gracefully, but she was irritated.

Jubril had been indifferent to the point of boredom about Mustapha's wedding. When Afsat expressed her worry that his brother was rushing into marriage, he remarked that it was just as easy to make a mistake at thirty-five as at twenty-seven, and the reference was clearly to himself. Surprisingly, Anaya became Afsat's confidant, the recipient of her doubts, and Anaya did her best to calm them. "They are head over ears in love, ma, and that's what matters."

"Head over heels," Afsat corrected her irritably. "He's too young, Anaya, and she's very immature. Some girls of twenty are grown women, I know, but not Kuku. I wish I'd realized it was serious and put a stop to it in the beginning."

"I hope I'm part of the women you consider as 'grown'. You should know, anyway, that you can't run everyone's life for them. Mustapha is a man and he's got a right to make up his own mind."

"Oh, go away," Afsat snapped.

"But you like her," Anaya pointed out. "What would you have done if she'd been someone you didn't take to?"

"I don't know," Afsat said impatiently. "Of course. I like her. I'm just uneasy, that's all."

And jealous. Anaya said to herself. You've made an idol of him – not that I blame you – and it's hurting to lose him.

****

The night before Kuku's wedding, her mum came into her room. She sat on the bed and looked at her daughter. Kuku looked so pretty, she thought, sitting there with her black hair fanning against the pillow. So pretty, vulnerable and young.

"You're happy, aren't you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, mum. Very happy, Mustapha is wonderful."

She reached over and took her daughter's hand. "You've got every chance of happiness, Kukoyi. From tomorrow, it is up to you. You know what I'm trying to say, don't you?"

"Yes." Kuku looked at her. "I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you. But everything is alright now. Mustapha is the only man I want to be with. I promise you that."

Funke held out her hands and for a long moment, she embraced her child. Tomorrow Kuku would be someone else's responsibility. She and Gbenga could relax and enjoy life. They would move to Lagos and be involved in the state's politics. There was a limit to their capacity for anguish. They had done their best. Now, as she had said, it was up to Kuku. Funke was not a religious woman, but at that moment, she offered a silent plea to God, if He really existed. She released Kuku and got up. "Goodnight. Go to sleep, Kuku. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Kuku switched of the light and slid under the bedclothes. She could see her white dress shimmering in the dark. Tomorrow, she would be married. After this one night alone, she would have Mustapha to love forever. She would never need another man again.

****

The wedding made the front page of every national newspaper. The rain Afsat had predicted fell in torrents.

Chapter end