Aminatta Forna - The Memory of Love

Kai watched the pump lever move up and down, the pink liquid slide from side to side within the glass tank as the level dropped, rising in Old Faithful’s tank. To Kai the colour of petrol was a faint surprise, always. He stretched, felt the skin tight across his back from the swim. Driving with the car windows down, he’d retained the feeling of freshness from that first dive into the water. Somehow he had never expected to find their old haunt unchanged. Surely that was the true force of nature. When so much else lay in ruins, the waterfall, the rocks, the river: these things remained.

One station in town with petrol. Cars, motorbikes, people holding containers, all waited in a line — still, Kai’s mood was good. He counted out the notes and gave them to the attendant. Afterwards he held his hands out in front of him and spread his fingers. No trembling. Good. He looked around for Abass and Adrian. The driver of the car next in line sounded his horn and gave a lazy wave. And so Kai slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine and pulled out of the petrol station. He parked up, still looking around. Ah, there was Abass. The boy stood, fingering cassettes with all the awe and yearning of an archaeologist handling an ancient pot he knows he must return to the earth. Of Adrian there was no sign. Kai got out of the car and went over to the stall, where the stallholder, in his white djellaba and skullcap, perched upon his stool like a stork, one leg crossed over the other.

‘Hey, little man.’ But Abass, deafened by the music, didn’t hear him. Kai put the palms of his hands on the child’s head, Abass tried to swivel round, Kai applied pressure, pinning him to the spot. Abass giggled and squirmed.

The stallholder joined in, laughing oilily. ‘Yes, sir. Your son has been safe with me.’

Kai nodded at him briefly and waited for Abass to correct the stallholder, to tell him Kai was his uncle. Children were particular like that. But Abass said nothing. Kai looked down at Abass, at his bowed head. The pattern of the hairs, near perfect concentric circles ending in a single hair in the centre of the crown. The curled rim of his ears. The unblemished skin. He wondered if Abass remembered anything about his father. He had never asked. And earlier that day, seeing the bodies by the side of the road, Abass had displayed only a child’s morbid curiosity.

‘Look!’ Abass held the cassette box up for Kai’s inspection.

‘Is this the one you want?’

Abass nodded vigorously.

The vendor watched sideways on.

‘How much?’ Kai asked the vendor.

‘Five thousand,’ the man replied.

Kai dug in his pocket for the notes.

‘What of this one?’ The vendor held up a second cassette. Kai felt Abass’s eyes upon him.

‘No thanks. Just the one,’ said Kai, then to Abass, ‘Where’s Adrian?’

‘He’s coming back soon. He said I should wait.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Abass, shrugging as he inspected his purchase. ‘Not very long, I don’t think.’ Then with more emphasis, ‘Like a minute , maybe.’

‘Twenty minutes now,’ said the vendor as he took the money.

Kai looked at the man properly this time. ‘Did he say where he was going?’

‘No,’ said Abass chirpily. ‘He didn’t say anything, except I was to stay here.’

The vendor didn’t reply directly but pointed with his chin as he pushed the notes into his money belt. ‘This road here. This is the one he took.’

‘Thank you. Come on.’ He reached out for Abass. ‘Let’s go find Adrian.’ He released Abass’s hand and watched the kid run ahead, his arms whirling, kicking up dust.

No sign of Adrian down the road the stallholder had indicated. The street was empty, the market extended no further than the square. Dusk was deepening. Houses were shuttered up, the occupants mostly out back, gathered around the cooking fires. Abass made a game of it, rushing to peer down every side road and calling out Adrian’s name. When he heard Abass’s cry, Kai began to run. By the time he reached the corner his heart was racing. He turned into the street.

In the half-light, Abass was standing staring ahead in the middle of the road, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Beyond him a man lay on the ground.

It took ten minutes to reach the car. Kai placed one of Adrian’s arms around his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet after he’d checked to see if anything was broken, running expert fingers across Adrian’s ribs. Abass ran ahead to open the door of the car so Adrian could lie on the back seat, but Adrian demurred, climbed gingerly into the front. Kai sent Abass to the boot to fetch water. The boy stood and watched, frowning and intent, while Adrian sipped from the bottle and then handed it back. Kai said little, but concentrated on finding his way back on to the main road. In the white light of the passing vehicles, Adrian’s skin was bluish, covered in a sheen of sweat.

‘Is Uncle Adrian going to be all right?’ asked Abass. The boy sat pressed against the upholstery, clutching the water bottle in his lap.

Adrian turned his head stiffly. ‘Yes. Don’t worry about me, Abass. I’m going to be fine.’ And then, ‘I was hit by somebody on a bicycle. I don’t suppose he saw me in the dark.’

‘A bicycle?’ repeated Abass wonderingly.

‘Yes.’

Kai said nothing and they left it there, by silent mutual assent. An hour and a half later they dropped Abass at home. The boy pushed the water bottle into Adrian’s hands, along with his new cassette. Adrian kept the water but handed the cassette back. ‘We’ll listen to it together another time. How about that?’

Abass nodded.

‘Tell your mum I’ll be back later,’ said Kai. ‘I need to take Adrian home.’

Kai listened to Adrian’s account of what happened. Of seeing Agnes, following her to the house, the son-in-law, the daughter, Agnes’s reluctance. Then had come the attack, by the son-in-law, Adrian had no doubt. The man had been with him one minute, gone the next. Kai drove in silence throughout.

‘You went to her home?’ he asked, when Adrian had finished.

‘Yes,’ replied Adrian. ‘I shouldn’t have. I mean, not strictly speaking. But these are unusual circumstances. She needs help.’

‘I’m just saying you have to take some care, you don’t understand this country. There are a lot of bad, bad people out there. You could have got yourself really hurt.’

In the apartment Adrian disappeared into the bathroom. Kai went to the kitchen, where he filled the kettle and put it on to boil. Though he wasn’t hungry he began rummaging through the cupboards, purely out of habit. A life lived without fast food and snacks had made him an opportunistic eater. As a child he ate whatever was put in front of him, meat was a treat, he and his sister fought surreptitiously with their forks over the best pieces. Then later, training as a doctor and eating on the run. Years of half-eaten meals, finished cold often hours later. He never suffered indigestion. He decided against tea, lifted the kettle from the stove and helped himself to a beer from the fridge instead.

Adrian appeared.

‘How do you feel?’ asked Kai.

‘I’ll live.’

‘Do you want me to take a look?’

Adrian shook his head. ‘Actually what I really want now is a whisky.’

‘Let me have a look at you.’ He stood in front of Adrian, surveyed his face, reached for his wrist and checked his pulse, pressed on the ends of Adrian’s fingers. Then he located one of the two tumblers Adrian possessed and poured a sizeable measure of whisky into it. He handed it to Adrian. ‘I could run a couple of X-rays. Just to be sure.’