‘Ah! You’re cooking?’
‘Try not to sound so incredulous, Mum! But, no, I’m not cooking.’ Her mother gives an exaggerated sigh of relief, then they both chuckle. ‘There’s this chef who does private parties with, like, high-end interpretations of Salone food? You might have heard of her, Stacey Bankole-Smith, she’s half-Sierra Leonean, and—’
‘Enh heh, I know her mother. We were at school together. That one, she was always in our business …’ Anika waits for her mother to complete her reminiscences about the chef’s mother. ‘So you are paying for this girl to make this dinner?’ Nella asks finally. Anika is about to purse her lips when her mum continues. ‘I can see if I can help, eh?’
Anika knows, with some guilt and a lot of relief, that her mum means financially.The diary coming through again.Her plans for the party are going even more smoothly than she projected. ‘Thanks a lot, Mum. That would be great. I … I just want to celebrate how far I’ve come. It’s been a tough time, but I’m proud of myself, I guess.’
‘No guessing.’ Her mother’s voice grows softer. ‘I am proud of you, too.’ And yet hearing the sentiment echoed back at her gives Anika pause.
No. Focus on tomorrow and the next day and the next.
She won’t look back.
Chapter Forty-Three
Thursday 6th September
A week later, on the morning of theroutine, routine, routinescan, Anika’s stomach is growling. She wasn’t allowed to eat prior to the appointment, presumably so they can get a cereal-free view of her insides. The sound of a medical cart rumbles closer and then the door to the small treatment room opens quickly. There’s a big sticker on the box that the technician has brought in that looks like the symbol on a nuclear power plant in an old spy movie, indicating the radioactive content of the syringe it contains. Anika swallows.
‘Right, here we go, then …’ The chirpy Australian-accented technician quickly administers the liquid into Anika’s vein. ‘Grand,’ he says, pulling out the port and sticking a ball of cotton wool over the site on her arm. ‘OK, so you just chill here and then we’ll come get you in an hour or so for the scan. Button right there if you need anything, and uh … yeah.’ He peters out, with the informality of a man who’s completed the most challenging part of his routine. Anika nods, watching him wheel the medical trolley out of the small room.
Nobody else knows what she’s up to today – she’s taken a half-day at work, she very much avoided mentioning it to her mum, and since she only gave vague, general responses when Cam, Shameeka or Tina asked about her blood tests results a while back, Anika hasn’t wanted to worry them.There’s no point if it’s all routine, right?
Anika puts on her headphones, queues up a Joe Kay mix and lifts out a novel to occupy herself while she’s waiting for the injection to do its thing. But her thoughts are pulled in a million directions, away from the book’s pages. Shoving it back into her bag, she replaces it with the worn, familiar feel of the diary, opening it to look at the many lines of reassurances and precautions she’s written. She reads over what she’s projected for the last few days, acknowledging the need to make full-on amends with her friends, Anika has made sure to write in all their interactions as going well. It’s worked, for the most part. Anika thinks of the FaceTime she had with Tina a few days ago.
‘Well, as long as you’re good. It just didn’t seem like you, that’s all,’ Tina had said, phone propped up on her bathroom sink as she did her make-up.
Anika took advantage of walking up the stairs to her front door to move the camera away from her face, hiding her slightly irritated expression as she let herself into her flat. ‘I’m good, T. Honestly. Seeing Kwesi again was just a bit mad after all that time and then that stupid girl just got on my tits at the wrong moment. I saw red. What can I say? Happens, right?’
Tina glanced at her phone with a sceptically assessing look. ‘Look, I get it,’ she said, lining her lips with a maroon pencil and pausing in between strokes to speak. ‘It can be weird, having family that’s justout there.’ She gestured into the air. ‘I mean, Warren apparently just got married again. Where was our invite?’ she added, kissing her teeth as she referenced her older half-brother.
‘Exactly,’ Anika replied, and as Tina began to fill in her lips with lipstick, she seized the opportunity to head off any more questions. ‘Listen, I didn’t cause a problem with your bosses or anything, did I?’
‘No, babe, are you joking? We’ve seen way worse.’ Finished with her make-up, Tina raised the phone up higher to inspect herselfin the screen, heading out of the bathroom.
‘Well, I really am sorry.’
‘All good.’ Tina paused. ‘By the way, GDPR or whatever, but I have Kwesi’s number from the band booking if you want to, like, get in touch … ?’
Anika began to shake her head, but then realised that it could be the diary at work – an in-road to making things right with her brother.
‘Er, yeah … maybe that could be an idea.’
‘I’ll send it to you in a bit. I’ve got to head. But listen, if you’re good, I’m good, OK, Neeks?’
Anika nodded, blowing a kiss towards her camera. ‘I am.’
Now, as Anika waits for the scan she wonders if this might be as good a time as any to reach out to Kwesi. Along with the steers for today, she’s written:
At this point, my bridge-building is rivalling Tower, London, Waterloo – all those bad boys stretching over the Thames. Every chance I get to make sure things are all smooth with my people, I’m doing it with gusto …
The protection of the statement means she feels a bit less uneasy about swiping her screen until she finds the number Tina has sent her. Then Anika hesitates. Would a call be the better choice? No. A message is a good way to lead up to speaking – maybe face to face – to apologise to her brother. She begins typing, but deletes several false starts before going with:
Hi, Kwesi. It’s Anika. I’m so, so sorry about what happened. Was your friend OK? Things have been a bit tough lately, but I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I hope you can accept my apology. It was great to see you, and your music is unbelievable, by the way. Maybe we can talk sometime?
But then sending all of that feels like admitting to more than she intends to, and so Anika deletes the stuff about things being tough. As she hits send, she feels a jolt of nerves in her stomach – the kind she hasn’t felt since she started making changes for herself. She swallows some water from a nearby plastic cup, already picturing the food she’s going to treat herself to when she can finally eat.
The thought reminds her that she needs to go back to the chef to confirm the menu for her celebratory dinner. It’s hard to believe that it’s tomorrow. The time from idea to execution has impressed even Anika herself. She took advantage of a fortuitous cancellation in Stacey Bankole-Smith’s schedule, which is more proof that all she needs to do is write in the diary more intentionally and precisely. Anika is grateful that everyone, including her mum, Philip, and Wendy, are able to make the date. Cam is back tonight and Anika is aching to see him.Maybe he’ll have something to tell me now he’s had a chance to miss me, too …
