ELEVEN: Beg for your sister’s freedom

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Standing on two stacked blocks, Feggy drove a nail into the board on the wall fence advertising her scone baking business. What had started as a gesture of kindness on her mother-in-law’s part, sharing scones with fellow patients in the hospital, had grown into something real.

Since both Joseph and Sandra had been transfered to a goverment school and their classes at started mid day, it was easier for her to rise up early, bake the scones and go sell them at the hospital around the wards. Twenty trays a day were more than enough. she was however hoping she might increase the trays to fifty.

The sound of the small gate opening caught her attention. She turned and found Joseph standing there, phone in hand.

‘Joseph, everything okay? Is Bertha awake already?’

‘Dad is on the phone. He says he wants to speak to you.’

Almost a month had gone by since Gershom’s last visit and since Feggy had learned about Yolanda’s pregnancy. The news had not really surprised her. She had known it would eventually come to this. What puzzled her was why Yolanda had not played that card sooner.

The day after Gershom’s visit to the hospital was supposed to have been the second hearing for the assault case filed against Theo. But neither Gershom nor Yolanda had shown up. Their lawyer had requested a reschedule, citing Yolanda’s condition.

Feggy had wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Instead she had let out a long, resigned sigh. There was no doubt in her mind it was a calculated move to announce the pregnancy in the most public and humiliating way possible.

‘He says he cannot get through to your phone,’ Joseph said, looking down at his screen. ‘Look, he is calling again.’

Since the day she found out about the pregnancy, she had blacklisted Gershom’s number.

Maybe it was not the wisest decision. Maybe it was childish. But it was something she knew she had to do if she was ever going to erase him from the centre of her life. Not that it was truly possible,  they shared a past and three children.

But to accept that it was really over, she had to teach her heart not to love him anymore. Not to wait for him. Not to expect anything from him. She had to learn to be completely indifferent, even if that indifference cost her pieces of herself every single day.

She considered telling Joseph to ask his father to call later, then thought against it. She would not drag her son into the middle of this.

‘Mom?’

She stepped down from the blocks, placed the hammer on top of them, and held out her hand. ‘Give me the phone. Go back inside and keep your sisters company.’

Only after the boy had gone inside did she press answer.

Gershom’s voice came through loud and immediately impatient.

‘Feggy, what nonsense is this? Why are you not picking up my calls? What kind of impudence is this?’

‘Why, Gershom? Do I have a reason to rush to the phone every time you call? We are strangers to each other now, remember? That was your choice. If you want respect, earn it. Now why are you calling?’

For a moment he went silent. He had expected a tantrum. He had braced for screaming, for accusations, for tears. He had not expected this; her voice calm and almost bored.

‘If you have nothing to say, I will hang up. And please, I would be grateful if you stopped calling me on the children’s phones. You made your choice. Let us not confuse them any more than they already are.’

‘Wait.’ He snapped back. ‘We need to talk. I will send you an address. Meet me there.’

‘You and I have nothing to talk abou…’

‘Even if it concerns your sister’s freedom?’

A pause.

‘Fine. Send the address. I will let you know when I can come.’ She hung up before he could say another word.

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The next day, after finishing her business at the hospital, she went home, breastfed Bertha, bathed, dressed carefully, and made her way to the address he had sent on Joseph’s phone.

At twelve sharp, she stood outside the gates of the address and read the oval wooden plaque on the wall.

The Chombas Residence.

Feggy chuckled quietly. They were certainly in a rush to play house.

An elderly woman in a maid’s uniform came to the gate.

‘Ms. Feggy Mwaba?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come with me. The madam is waiting for you.’

The madam, Feggy noted to herself, and said nothing. She followed the woman up the driveway.

‘Feggy, welcome to our humble home.’

Yolanda’s voice was cheerful and precisely calibrated. She was seated on the lounge sofas of the enclosed porch in a stylish camouflage romper that showed off her toned thighs. A champagne flute sat in her hand. The smile on her face did not reach her eyes.

She was disappointed. She had wanted to see a broken, shabby Feggy. She had staged this meeting here deliberately, to show off what she had while Feggy went without. She had expected envy, intimidation, maybe even tears at the gate.

Instead, Feggy walked up the driveway in an old but elegant chitenge dress, unhurried, composed, and glowing.

The wealth of the property did not seem to touch her at all. She stood there as though she had walked into nothing more remarkable than a neighbour’s yard.

Yolanda’s hand tightened around the flute. A little more pressure and it would have cracked.

She must be faking it, Yolanda told herself. She is surely dying inside. Nobody could be at peace with all of this.

The thought settled her. She relaxed, let her smile widen, and reached for the bottle of G.H. Mumm to pour herself another glass.

‘Yolanda Nyoni.’ Feggy looked around with mild interest. ‘It seems you and my husband have upgraded from cheap motels. By the way, congratulations on the pregnancy. If that child is all you have to keep Gershom beside you, I would take it easy on the alcohol.’

Yolanda’s smile tightened. She set the flute and bottle back on the table and called for Jane to bring light snacks and juice, then gestured for Feggy to sit.

‘Where is Gershom? What is this about? Why ask me to come if he was not going to be here?’

‘I asked him to bring you here. I understand you and your sister are very close and that you would do anything to make this court case disappear.’

‘Say what you came to say so we can be done with this.’

‘As you wish. I want you to beg me for your sister’s freedom.’

‘Ati?’

‘You heard me. Get on your knees and beg me. Who knows, I might be lenient. I might drop the charges and withdraw the case entirely.’

Feggy stared at her. Then she chuckled slowly and shook her head.

‘You do understand that your sister is looking at three to five years. I hope you appreciate the gravity of what is in front of you.’

‘You want me to get on my knees and beg you.’

The confusion on Feggy’s face delighted Yolanda. She already had her phone in her hand. She would record everything. With a little editing, she could make it look like Feggy was begging her to take Gershom back. She could already picture the comments.

‘I would not hold my breath if I were you,’ Feggy said.

The smile faltered.

Yolanda had not accounted for this. She had expected tears, desperation, theatre. Not this. Faced with a woman who looked at her with something close to pity and not a trace of fear, she did not know how to proceed.

‘I see the love you claim for your sister is just talk. I wonder how she will feel hearing that you had the chance to free her but let your pride get in the way.’

‘My sister would rather serve her time than watch me humiliate myself in front of you. I know her.’

Yolanda scoffed. ‘Anyway. I was only testing your resolve.’ She reached beside her, picked up an envelope, and waved it. ‘Here is my real offer. The divorce papers, in exchange for your sister’s freedom.’

‘That I will gladly sign. But I want it in writing and in front of witnesses.’

She said it without hesitation. Without blinking.

Behind the door, Gershom stood very still.

He had wanted out. He had made that clear enough times to count. And yet, hearing her agree this readily, without a fight, without even a pause, did something unpleasant to him that he could not name and would not admit to.

‘Why don’t you trust me?’

‘I would be a fool to trust a snake,’ Feggy replied, taking the envelope from her.

She skimmed through it, shaking her head slowly at every line.

Then she left.

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Gershom walked out and joined Yolanda on the sofa.

‘Congratulations. Looks like you will be a free man soon.’

He ignored her and reached for the flute and what remained of the champagne, though he would have preferred something considerably stronger.

Yolanda examined her nails for a while before looking up at him. She already knew he had heard everything. The rigid set of his face told her the rest.

It made her blood boil.

He was in a foul mood because his soon-to-be ex-wife had agreed to leave him without putting up a fight.

‘That ex-wife of yours is something else,’ she said. ‘She can play the saint for everyone else but I have already read her. A woman does not glow like that unless there is a man in her life.’

Gershom stood up and walked back inside without a word.

Yolanda’s nails pressed slowly into her palm.

She did not like this. She did not like it at all.

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‘Is he mad?’ JR exploded as he went through the divorce papers. He slammed the envelope onto the plastic garden table and looked up at her. ‘You did not agree to this?’

‘I told him I would get back to him,’ Feggy replied, continuing to water her vegetables.

‘There is nothing to get back to him about,’ Henry said. ‘You cannot accept this. He cannot cheat you out of your alimony and the children’s support. Kutumpa uko.’

‘He is unbelievable. Someone needs to knock some sense into him,’ JR said, still fuming. ‘I should go and break every bone in his body.’

‘Mulamu, please. It is exactly that kind of talk that got us into this mess with Theo in the first place.’

‘But mulamu, we cannot let him take what rightfully belongs to you and the children.’

In order for Yolanda to drop the charges against Theo, Feggy had to accept the revised divorce terms which included forfeiting her alimony and all child support.

‘Irreconcilable differences?’ Henry said, shaking his head. ‘He should have listed adultery as the reason. He wants to act as if he bears no responsibility for any of this.’ He looked at her directly. ‘Mulamu, you cannot accept this.’

‘I am going to.’

‘No. You are making a serious mistake. You are entitled to half of everything. He has responsibilities towards these children. He cannot simply walk away.’

‘I know all of that.’ She set down the watering can and looked at them both. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes held something steady and clear. ‘I want a clean break. I will take care of the children on my own. I refuse to spend my life forcing a grown man to be responsible. I do not want the alimony. I do not want the child support. I will make a plan.’

JR shook his head. ‘No. He cannot do this. You stood by him when he had nothing. You sacrificed years of your life for that company to be where it is today.’

Before she could reply, Kangwa appeared in the doorway.

‘Mulamu. You all need to come inside.’

Something in her voice made them all look up. Kangwa was not easily rattled. It took a great deal to unsettle the only daughter of the Chomba family.

The two brothers went ahead. Feggy closed the tap and followed.

Inside, a young couple and three other men were standing in the sitting room.

‘Mr. Sakala?’

‘You know them?’ Joseph asked.

‘They did business with Gershom some time back. What brings you here, Mr. Sakala?’

‘Mrs. Chomba. Is your husband around?’

‘Gershom is my younger brother,’ Joseph said, watching them carefully. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘There is. We had an agreement with him. He assured us this property would be vacated at the earliest opportunity. Two weeks have already passed and I have heard nothing.’

Feggy looked from Mr. Sakala to his wife, confused. ‘I am sorry, I do not understand. Vacate the house?’

‘We are the rightful owners of this property now,’ the man’s wife replied. ‘I am afraid you are currently encroaching.’

‘Eh!’ Feggy pressed a hand to her head. ‘Bashi Henry, what is she saying to me?’

‘What nonsense is this?’ Joseph demanded.

Mr. Sakala reached into his briefcase and produced an envelope. Joseph Senior took it and read through the documents in silence.

When he finished, he looked at Feggy.

‘No. Mulamu, tell me he did not,’ she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes.

‘I am sorry, mulamu. It is all here. The bill of sale. The change of name on the title deeds. The land transfer tax. All of it.’

Feggy took the documents from him. With every line she read, she felt her knees weaken beneath her. She had accepted that he was willing to abandon his children for his mistress and her child. But to sell the roof over their heads. To put his own family out on the street. That was a depth she had not believed him capable of, even now.

She looked up at the siblings around her. Her eyes begged them wordlessly to tell her this was not real.

Their faces, each one reflecting the same horror she felt, told her it was.

Mr. Sakala informed them they had twenty-four hours to vacate the premises. The day after, contractors would move in. He intended to expand the house, remodel it, and build a number of flats in the back.

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© Ponda

VOCAB

Kanshi fishi apepa uwaiche ulya — what is that young man smoking / what is he on

Kutumpa uko — that is stupidity / that is madness

Mulamu — brother-in-law or sister-in-law; used warmly among in-laws

Ati — what / excuse me (expression of disbelief