"Why are you back so early?" Grandma asked me sternly as I marched into the house.
I had closed up work for the day because I was restless as curiosity was eating me raw.
"We have got a problem," I said coldly, my fingers clenching on the file in my hand.
She inclined her head in askance and sat up from her chair. I sat on the sofa opposite her in the study and leaned on my thighs.
"Mr. Spencer is withdrawing his shares," I announced, my senses attuned to her every move.
She remained unwavering. "What does he want?"
"A reinvestigation on father's death," I replied.
She flinched and rearranged her skirt. "Why does he want reopen old wounds? That case was closed three years ago."
I sat up straight and gave her a scathing glare. "You see that is the problem. You say the case is closed but the police report says it went cold."
I saw her shiver. It was a second reaction but it was there and I had noticed it. Her pupils dilated and she gulped.
"That is nonsense," she evaded.
I dropped a copy of the classified documents Mr. Spencer had given to me and the file landed with a thud on the table.
"This says otherwise."
I watched her gingerly pick the file and go through it. Her facial expressions wavering with each turn of a page. She closed the file forcefully and masked her expression.
"This is just a rumour. I will handle it," she declared.
I chuckled humourless. "Of course it is. I trust you would handle this, since handling such situations is what you do best. I do not want anything dragging our prestigious company to the mud."
I stood up, "I will go freshen up."
"I contacted the Zimbabweans. I informed them that you will be at the farm next week," she informed me calmly.
I frowned deeply. "What? Why would you do that?"
"I got intel that you said you would not do it if there was no other way. The Africans are unwavering on their requisite and we can't lose this deal because you choose to be whiny and incompetent," she exacted.
"I would not do it," I challenged her. "I would not let my status be brought to shambles."
"You will," she compelled, quietly.
I was bristled. Normally, Grandma would be loud and stern when she wanted me to do her wishes, especially when I was challenging her.
"What if I insist?" I pushed.
She smiled at me and stroke her wrinkled but freshly manicured fingers on a stack of framed photos on a stool by her sofa. I had not even noticed they were there in the first place. They were faced down, but I knew instantly what they were. My most prized possessions.
I had lost everything after Mum had left; my joy, sanity, family. But those frames, those frames kept me sane. They held a promise: that they would not leave no matter what. And even though I had given up the passion that brought about these frames three years ago, they still stood by me unflinchingly and loyally. Those frames were my paintings.
My porcelain skin drained of the colour it hardly held and I breathed out in fear. "You wouldn't."
But she did. First crashed the painting of the family I once had, the family I always wished to have. I used to hope, when I looked at that portrait, that I could regain the family I had lost. But now, that hope had been dashed. I was never getting it back.
I wanted to back down then. This was a clash of will but I wanted Grandma to understand that I was no longer a child.
"No?" She questioned, angling her head as her eyes danced in amusement.
She knew what I was trying to do but wanted to leash me under her apron tight. She was not ready to let go until she molded me into a perfect piece. I was ready to let her do it but not by forcing me to be at a farm.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the sound of glass shattering as another frame met the floor. My will snapped and conformed with that of Grandma's. I felt tears wet my cheeks. It felt so strange as it had been years since I last cried.
"I will do it," I whispered.
"What? Did you say something, child?" She taunted, cupping her ear with a palm.
I glared icily at her and grumbled provokingly, "I said I would fucking do it."
She let another frame go and grinned charmingly at me, "That is for cursing in my presence. Go and get yourself prepared. I would handle this slight problem."
I gave her a contemptuous glower and strutted out the study to my room. I quickly undressed, showered and lit a cigarette. The warmth eased my tension and I exhaled the smoke. The flimsy night gown I was clad in danced to the direction of the wind as it hit me in the balcony. I tapped on my phone and contacted a secret service agency.
"This is Ivory Stone," I said as soon as the call was answered.
A female voice asked, " Good evening. How may we be of help, ma'am?"
"I need a competent private investigator," I requested.
"We could get you that. We would send a list to your company's email," she informed me.
"No," I intercepted quickly. "I would send my personal email to you. Send it there."
Grandma could access the company's email and as much as she wanted to to believe she had it handled, I needed to make investigations of my own. I would not swallow everything I was told hook, line and sinker, especially as regards to my father's death.
"Okay ma'am. The list would be sent to you tomorrow," she assured.
"The very best," I reminded her. "The pay would not be a problem."
"Duly noted, ma'am. Have a nice day," she hung up.
I made another call to another secret service agency. I requested another competent detective. I needed precise and accurate information on this issue. A name was promised me tomorrow and I ended the call. Then I made one last call to the police, urging them to reopen the case on my father's death. Even though, I knew Grandma was not going to be happy with my decision. She always wanted to call the shots and I was not having it this time.
Minutes turned to hours and hours turned to days. It was soon time to leave for the farm. I had to cancel my trip to Spain because Grandma said she would handle all the company business till I got back. I had not gotten any encouraging news from Detective Zane and Michelle yet; the case posed to be a harder nut to crack than I thought it was. The police had closed the case this time because Grandma had requested them to do so, saying it was a false call on my side. And even when I persisted, I was informed they would not reopen the case until there was a solid evidence on ground. "Your ride is ready, ma'am." My chief maid informed me while I enjoyed a cigar on the balcony. I wore a red polkadotted suit with emerald jewelries and and a gold studded eyebrow piercing. My feet were visible in my transparent heeled shoes. I nodded without sparing her a glance, watching as the guards struggled with five of my suitcases. I had never spent time out the house alone; it was either with my p
IVORYAfter I had met Mr. Kevin Ernest, the farm manager, and was told the list of things I was to expect here, Zala led me to the hostel. My guards and Cassidy followed me with my suitcases as we went out the 'OFFICE' building and into the brick building on the right. Mr. Kevin insisted that I discard my guards and Cassidy once I was done using their services. Zala led me up a flight of stairs and knocked on a door. A short ebony girl, who was dangerously curvy, opened the door. Her brown eyes smiled at Zala and looked at me in askance. "Hey Zala. What's good?" She asked, her accent strange. Again. Why could I not identify these accents? It was getting on my nerves. Was this what I would go through all the time? Listening to different accents hit me from every direction?"Everything," Zala replied. "You have a new roommate. Mr. Kevin's orders. He says to be nice to her."The girl leaned in the doorway and accessed me, then took notice of the people behind me. Her eyebrows shot up
JIDEHer laughter rang in my ears. I was quite surprised but it felt so melodious coming from the stoic cold girl I had met and heard a lot about. Everyone watched her and it was like the time had stopped to capture this moment. She looked around when her laughter died down and her blue eyes caught mine. She gave me a brief glance and returned her gaze to Kofi. I had to admit Kofi had won my admiration. He was just working her softly and penetrating quite easily. I was not sure I had such patience. I heard Makena snort beside me. "She has got the nerves to laugh." The white light bulbs above reflecting off her bald ebony head. "Kofi does know his skills. Once he softens her, we will deal with her," Kadin, a Moroccan teenage boy hissed. I shook my head in dissent, "Kevin said to be nice.""Does not mean we should be," Wangui interjected, spooning into her mouth. "We can't just let her go after what she has done to our home," Tumpale, a Malawian girl, gruntled. "We were not able t
I frustratedly kept scrubbing my hair, trying to wash off the mud from it. I needed to get to a saloon to get this done exceptionally but when I asked one of those beasts in the farm, a bucket of mud bathed me from behind. I could not get their mocking laughs out my head as I hurried out of the farm to the hostel. The incessant ringtone of my iPhone made me wash the foam off my hair. It was not as clean as a professional would have done it, but it was preferable at the moment. "What is it?" I growled into the phone, without looking at the caller ID. "What do you think you are doing getting cozy with those barbarians?" Grandma's icy voice cut through the speaker. I winced a bit like I was actually cut but replied calmly, "I do not understand what you mean." "You are all over the internet, Ivory," she growled in a calm voice. I rolled my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "What are you saying Grandma? I am always all over the net. Why are you making it sound like news?" S
"That was a dangerous prank, man," I heard Jide's voice filter through my subconsciousness."It was a grass snake. It is harmless," I recognized the voice of the boy with the snake. "She would not know that, Adel," I heard Jide say again. "That is what made the prank all the more cool," Adel chuckled lightly. "Not cool, Adel. Not cool. Do you know what might happen if Kevin heard a word of this?" Jide asked lowly. "Why should we worry about her? If she does not survive this, then she will realize that this place is not for her," I heard Makena snap. "Makena," Jide called. I heard her bed squeak and she almost yelled, "Acha. You sound like a man whose wife is sick. You should not worry about this brat.""She is human and she may terribly break down from all these," Jide cajoled. "Well, we will see that for ourselves," Wangui dismissed. My eyelids fluttered open and my vision cleared as the ceiling came into view. I turned my head slightly to see a number of people clustered in
JIDEKevin had made an urgent assembly this morning. We stood in the courtyard, watching him pace in front of the assembly for over ten minutes. Ivory was some distance away from him, glaring at everyone. "I am highly disappointed in every one of you," he bellowed, digging his feet into the ground to keep him from pacing any further. "Fourteen years of being the manager here and I have never...NEVER... gotten any case of theft and bullying. What changed now?"He paused before continuing. "I know a lot of us here have some form of grievances towards Miss Stone," he gave me a pointed look. "But it does not give anyone the right to treat her less.""She needs to feel less now she is here," a Namibian girl quietly snickered and her friends joined in. "If you are in possession of Miss Stone's emerald trinkets..." there was a collection of gasps at the mention of 'emerald'. "...do well to return them or you all are going to face the consequences. And it would not be funny."I heard everyo
JIDEI waited for Ivory in the apple orchard, a very far distance behind the male hostel. It was quite chilly, even though I wore tons of warm clothing. I missed Nigeria. I had gotten so used to our warm climate that surviving here in the first few weeks of my arrival was hell. And though I had spent seven years in the United Kingdom, I had not fully adapted yet. I looked up into the darkness when I heard the crunching of gravel. It was lights out and no one was supposed to be out of bed. I shuddered a bit when I pictured Kevin walking up the path here and find me. There was punishment for not heeding to instructions. My mind raced for excuses to give. I heaved a sigh when I saw Ivory treading the path, a confused expression etched on her face. I was quite sure she had not been to this side of the farm yet. She looked quite good in her pink furry jacket, knee length blue shorts and knee length blue boots. Her long blond hair was tied back in a tight ponytail and her face was death
I felt light-headed as I, Jide and Makena rode back to the farm. We basked in the comfortable silence that enveloped us. Arriving at one forty seven am, I had changed into my pyjamas to rest my head for a few seconds when I heard the wake-up bell. I woke to the slight tap on my shoulder. "Wake up, sleepy head," I heard Makena's teasing voice. I blinked at her, surprised that she smiled at me. Or was that her doppelganger smiling at me?I followed her into the bathroom and soon we were on our way to morning duties. I had corn duties while Makena had rabbit duties. The corn farm was a vast field filled with tall green stalks. We were to harvest them as I was told. I ventured into the farm and everyone greeted me happily. I was awestruck. What must have happened?"Nrowee! I will lead you to your portion," a young man told me. I did not understand the first word but I walked behind him. "What did you say? The first word, I mean." I enquired. "Come-on. It is Makhuwa. A native langua