As if to be sure her online message hadn’t been discarded as fluff, Vanessa was around on Sunday.
Richard was away at a meeting in Ikoyi.
Mma was with Stella in the kitchen making ofe-akwu. She’d convinced Madam earlier that morning that ofe-akwu was very good for pregnant women, better than red stew that could “turn one’s baby into an albino.”
Cynthia told her it might be difficult to find where to buy the palm nuts in Gbagada.
“Hia, I seeing one woman having akwu when we passing that small market yesterday na.”
Finally Cynthia agreed and asked Stella to escort her to the market.
Stella, on her face, was clearly unhappy with the decision, but she said nothing. Since her failed attempt to join the list of Richard’s aspiring baby mothers, she’d been keeping more to herself. There was a popular adage that said a witch does not tell well of the story of her own defeat.
Now inside the kitchen, Mma said to her, “No touching anything o. Just standing there and I telling you what to do.”
She stood aside watching, her empty eyes almost suggesting obedience.
Mma would not take any chances though. When she looked at her and found the straight look on her face quite unreadable, she quietly picked the sharp knife on the nearby surface and threw it into the drawer.
Cynthia was with her visitor in the sitting room. At first they talked and laughed loud about common things; a pair of ugly shoes that costs 250k, a male stalker on Twitter, a new employee who came to work with clog-looking sandals.
Then Vanessa sipped her wine and asked about the girl who was pregnant for Richard.
Their voices went low.