Aminatta Forna - The Memory of Love

Adrian raises his fist and knocks on the door of Elias Cole’s room. He cannot decide if he is in the mood for this or not. As he steps over the threshold the scent of woodsmoke disappears, to be replaced by another smell: clinical, like powdered aspirin. There is a new sound, too, a whirring. The oxygen concentrator.

‘So it came at last,’ he says.

Elias Cole removes the mask from his face. ‘I take it as a sign of how bad things must be. People like to leave it to the end before they salve their consciences.’

How true, thinks Adrian. He sits down, crosses his legs and laces his fingers, copybook pose of the clinical psychologist. ‘What did you want to talk about today? Was there anything in particular?’

The last time they had been talking about Mamakay, but Adrian would rather speak of anything now than her. To his relief Elias Cole shakes his head slowly.

‘I’ve told you what there is to tell. Now all I want is to die in peace.’

For the first time Adrian feels a faint, cold gust of hostility towards Elias Cole. He says, ‘Something that interests me.’

‘Yes?’

‘Why did Johnson agree to release you? After your arrest?’

Adrian sees Elias Cole shift slightly, and turn to look at him. His surprise is small but evident. ‘The Dean knew Johnson. He had some way to him. That was how he was able to come and see me when I was in custody. But for him I would probably still be there to this day.’ He laughs softly, abruptly.

Adrian doesn’t laugh. He continues, ‘The Dean asked you to cooperate …’

The old man interrupts. ‘I told Johnson what I knew, which anyway was nothing of consequence.’

‘But you said you’d already told him everything. You held nothing back.’

‘I had tried. Johnson was a stubborn man. He wouldn’t believe me until the Dean’s intervention.’

Adrian continues, gently insistent. He has never spoken to Elias Cole this way, has taken him at his word. ‘When we spoke about those events, or rather when you told me what had happened, you used a very specific word. You used the word “arrangement”. The Dean said all you needed to do was come to an arrangement with Johnson.’

‘Yes.’

‘Repeating what you had already told Johnson doesn’t quite fit the description, somehow. Surely he would have wanted something more. As you say he was a proud man. Some sign of victory would have been important.’

Elias Cole is silent. He purses his lips, turns his head away from Adrian. He lifts the plastic mask, places it over his mouth and nose and inhales. Finally he speaks. ‘The Dean asked me to give Johnson my notebooks. I used to write down much of what happened. That’s something I told you. They were not diaries as such, more notes to myself, aides memoires. There were times, dates, places, people’s names. I kept a note of Julius’s movements and Saffia’s. It was something I did. There was a note of the first time I had seen him, addressing the students — although, of course, on that occasion I was sent along by the Dean. Also of the first dinner I attended at their house. The conversation when Julius proposed a toast to the first black man on the moon. The same phrase that appeared in the newspaper editorial. I think I even made a note of the music that was played. It was all there. Johnson pounced on it, of course.’

‘And that was the reason they released you?’

‘Yes. It was the reason they released me. And the reason they held Julius, too. They thought they had something to go on. But for those notebooks he would not have been kept there for those extra days.’

‘You told me you were angry with Julius — for the position you found yourself in.’

‘It was a very distressing experience. You’ve never been in such a situation: what would you know?’

Adrian is silent, his fingers on his lips, regarding Elias Cole.

Elias Cole averts his gaze, looks to the blank wall. He says with bitterness, ‘Julius acted as though he was my friend. All the times he would stop by my office, take me for a drive. We went gambling together. They borrowed my office, my typewriter. And he never trusted me enough to tell me.’

‘He betrayed you?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But you were betraying him.’

So fast it comes straight off the back of Adrian’s words, the old man snaps, ‘Julius’s betrayal of me was far greater.’

Mamakay stands up and moves several paces across the verandah. Barefoot, soundless. She picks up the clarinet, places her fingers across the keys. Moonlight reflects upon the polished surface of the silver. She is wearing a sarong twisted and tied around her neck. She replaces the clarinet and comes back to where Adrian is sitting. Her face is drawn and thoughtful, she pulls gently at her lower lip contemplating all that he has told her. A moment later she stands up again. Adrian waits.

He has taken the risk of repeating the afternoon’s conversation with Elias Cole, the admission which he sees as a small breakthrough. Whether he cares to admit it to himself or not, he wants to stir her. He wants to find a way under her skin. He wants to make her think about him and nobody else, to show her what he can do. He wants to matter.

She disappears downstairs and comes back with two beers, hands him one.

‘That man, Johnson.’ She is silent, resting the bottle against her forehead, her eyes closed. For a minute she remains that way, then she looks up, directly into Adrian’s eyes, wags a finger twice in the air. ‘My mother.’ She stands up and walks to the railing, turns around to face him. ‘How can I describe my mother to you? She was an extremely composed woman to the point it seemed she was holding something back. It upset me when I was older, after I found out about Vanessa, she had never once confronted him.

‘One day, when I was quite young, we were in town. It was a Saturday. My mother would go to the supermarket, the dressmaker, the covered market for vegetables and meat. She’d take me along to help carry things and keep her company. This one time we had just come out of the supermarket in town — down where all the money changers are nowadays, that was where the supermarket used to be. We were leaving when a man came in. He spoke to my mother, said hello to her, he even used her name. And she cut him dead. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother be so rude. I was astonished. I felt sorry for him. We walked straight past him. I turned back and saw him standing there, his wire basket in his hand. Thin as a bird, in his black suit.’

She sits down and picks up a leaf of paper lying on the small table, begins to fold it, an occasional habit of hers. Adrian has seen it before. He watches her now. She is folding and refolding the paper, fashioning something which she pulls apart before it is completed.

‘Eight or nine years later, just after my mother died, the same man came to our house. My father asked me to bring a bottle of whisky to the study. You know how I knew he was somebody important? Because I carried through the Red Label and my father made a big show of sending me back to fetch the Black Label. It was him, I’m sure. This man’s name was Johnson. He was there a few days before the trouble on the campus, and he was there again a few days afterwards.’ She continues slowly, ‘Johnson must have been a part of it. I told my father who was going to the party. My father told Johnson. My father used me to betray my friends.’

Adrian is looking at the piece of paper, half folded, discarded. What is it meant to be? A house? A bird? Where did she learn to do origami? It could only be from Kai. ‘You can’t be sure.’ He is distracted. It’s the wrong thing to say.

Mamakay turns to face him fully. Her voice is harsh. ‘Do you know what it took to survive in a place like this, where everyone was watched all the time, when you never had any idea who your friends were? Waiting to see who would be next.’