Becoming Abigail

Then XIII

Peter was sitting in her father’s favorite chair. An old leather thirties armchair that was comfortable and smelled of the dreams of everyone who had sat in it. She wasn’t sure why, but Abigail felt a surge of anger at this when she walked in from school. Her father smiled at her from the sofa and she felt Peter’s eyes on her body when she passed by in the short skirt of her uniform. She went upstairs and changed into a pair of sweats. Coming back downstairs, she re-entered the sitting room. A quick glance revealed the men had already helped themselves to beer.

“Are you hungry, Dad?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Peter.

“Abigail, where are your manners? Offer our guest food first,” her father replied.

“It’s okay,” Peter said smiling. “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it. But thank you for your offer, I am kind of hungry.”

Shooting him a look, she went into the kitchen and soon the sound of pots banging carried through to them. In no time at all, she had made a big plate of eba and a steaming bowl of egusi soup.

“Lunch is ready,” she called as she set the kitchen table. Bringing their drinks in with them, the two men sat down and looked surprised when she joined them. They had expected her to eat later, or simply take her food to her room, while they discussed important things.

“You’re joining us?” her father asked. But it wasn’t a question. More a reprimand.

“Yes,” she replied.

“That’s just fine, because I am here to talk about you,” Peter said. “Mary has asked that I bring Abigail back on this trip to come and live with us in London. She can finish school there.”

“But my father needs me,” she said. “Besides, won’t it get crowded with the other relatives you’ve taken to live with you already?”

Mary needed her, Peter explained. All the other kids he had taken back had fallen in with bad crowds and run away. Abigail’s father wanted her to go back with Peter.

“Your life will be better,” he said, voice quiet. “London will give you a higher standard of education and living.”

She felt his sacrifice knowing that he was fighting his heart the urge to beg her to stay. But there was also the faintest shadow in his eyes, one that revealed rather than occluded. She shivered and crossed herself, arms and legs locked.