The Other Side of Truth by Beverley Naidoo Read Free Book Online

accent he was Nigerian. Was this Mr. Bankole?
    “The problem was in Customs! It’s not my fault!” Mrs. Bankole retorted. “We were stopped.”
    “We?”
    Mrs. Bankole hesitated.
    “Let me get these children something to drink first,” she said. “Then I’ll explain.”
    The man stared at them, scowling.
    “Children? Whose children?”
    “I said that I will explain in a minute.”
    “What have you got yourself into? Are you mad?”
    Mrs. Bankole grabbed Sade’s hand and thrust some coins into it. She pointed to the counter inside the cafe.
    “Get something. I’ll come soon.”
    Without giving them time to reply, she pushed them through the door and hurried back outside. Femi pulled a face and made his way to the counter.
    “Coke, please, and one of those,” he said to a pink-cheeked woman with a white cap. He pointed to a square of chocolate cake.
    “The same please,” added Sade.
    As soon as the words were out, she realized she should first check that the five coins in her hand would be enough. But before she could say anything, the white-capped woman had turned her back and was already pressing a lever on a machine and briskly pouring their drinks.
    “Four twenty,” she said, sweeping two plates of chocolate cake on to the counter. Hiding her nervousness, Sade offered all five coins and watched the pink fingers dance across the buttons on the till. Without looking at the children, the woman slapped four small silver coins back on to the counter.
    They carried their drinks and plates to a table. When Mama or Papa had taken them to eat out at home, the waiters often talked and joked with them.
    “Machine Lady!” Sade whispered to Femi but he was too busy burrowing into his cake to reply.
    Outside the cafe, Mrs. Bankole and Mr. Bad Temper had moved a little farther away from the cafe door and were standing in front of a flower stall. If this was Mr. Bankole, he didn’t look at all happy at seeing his wife again. Sade couldn’t hear what they were saying but from their expressions and hands, it appeared they were still arguing. At times, Mrs. Bankoleglanced uneasily across at the cafe.
    “Sade?” Femi had finished his cake and most of his drink when he paused to look up at his sister. “Why do you think Uncle Dele didn’t come to the airport?” His voice was small.
    The criss-cross wire around Sade’s stomach tightened. Perhaps the panicky flutterings showed on her face because Femi quickly changed the subject.
    “Let me see their money,” he said, stretching out his hand.
    Sade passed him a small silver coin. She examined one herself, running her forefinger around the edges. It was almost round but had little corners.
    “She’s their queen,” said Femi.
    On the other side was a rose with a crown.
    “It says ‘twenty pence,’” said Sade. “So we’ve got eighty. I’m sure she’ll want them back.”
    But when Sade looked up in the direction of the flower stall, the place where Mrs. Bankole had been standing with Mr. Bad Temper was empty.

CHAPTER 9
WHERE IS UNCLE DELE?
    GRABBING THEIR RUCKSACKS and the brown holdall, they bolted out of the cafe. They stood for a few seconds outside the door, scanning the crowds. Mrs. Bankole was nowhere to be seen. They ran to the flower stall, stopped and turned in every direction. No sign at all.
    “What shall we do, Sade?” Femi’s eyes looked as bewildered as Grandma’s young goats when he chased them.
    “Let’s wait a little in the cafe. Perhaps she has just gone somewhere for a few minutes.” Sade spoke without believing her own words.
    Machine Lady was clearing away their table when they returned. There was still a little Coke in each of their glasses.
    “I thought you had left,” she said bluntly.
    Sade shook her head and Machine Lady shoved the glasses back onto the table.
    The children sipped their drinks slowly, not wanting to reach the final drops. Both sat facing the window, their eyes constantly darting back to the clock as if, by