Aunty Florence’s house was a nice place. It was a very quiet and peaceful neighbourhood. There were no crowded houses like the many I’d seen on our way to the place. It was a fenced building painted in sparkling white paint. The gate was as high as the fence. It was a big black gate that on its own must’ve cost quite a fortune to procure. Aunty opened the gate with a key she brought from inside her purse. We stepped inside the compound and I was surprised we didn’t see anyone, neither did anyone come out of their apartment to greet their neighbour who had travelled for a few days. Everyone stayed in their apartments. We could hear their television sets on.
“Aunty, where is everybody? Nobody even came out to greet us welcome,” I asked her.
She smiled as she led me upstairs to their apartment. “My dear, this is Lagos where everybody minds their own business,” she said to me.
When she opened the door to her apartment and we stepped inside, it was like stepping into a mini paradise. It was beautiful. Tastefully furnished. It was like one of those foreign houses I used to see on television back in the village.
“Welcome to my house, Rosemary, hope you like it,” Aunty said to me, a proud smile on her face, knowing a young village girl like me would definitely be awed by the sheer aesthetic of their home.
“It’s beautiful, Aunty,” I’d responded, looking around the magnificent apartment. The set of chairs, curtains, the rug on the floor and electronics, everything had a touch of class.
“Well, its now your home now, at least pending till when you return to the village,” she said to me, and it did appear like it came from her heart. She meant every word of it.
“Let me take you to your room first, then you can drop your things and take a look around the house and familiarize yourself with it.
My room was quite big, spacious and lovely. It was the size of our living room back in the village. And the bed was big enough for two teenage girls my age. I even had my own bathroom. I was excited. I couldn’t believe I was going to be in that room all alone by myself and could do whatever I wished with it.
“Thank you so much, Aunty, I love this place. I love everything about it,” I thanked her.
“You’re welcome anytime, my dear. Now, make yourself at home. Take off your clothes, freshen up and come join me in the kitchen so we can prepare dinner. My husband will soon return from the office,” Aunty said a little smile on her face when she mentioned her husband. And truly, about an hour after, her husband, the man who was to have a major impact in my life, arrived…..
He drove into the compound in a nice looking car. It wasn’t one of those types I saw regularly in the village. When the man stepped out of the car, from where I stood by the window watching, I could see he was a tall, good looking man. Neatly dressed in his white shirt with a blued dotted tie and deep blue pair of trousers. Aunty took his briefcase from him as they hugged each other and then she said to him. He paused like one trying to make sense of what he just told, then, he smiled and nodded as they both walked inside the house. I had a feeling she was telling him she had come home with me as she told him she would.
I was standing in the middle of the living room, waiting for him when he entered the house. He looked even finer and friendlier at close up.
“You’re welcome, sir,” I greeted him with a slight bow. The man looked me up from head to toe, a big smile on his face. There was a way his eyes probed into my body that, for a moment, made me uncomfortable.
“No, darling, you are welcome to our home!” he responded, laughing. Aunty was laughing as well. He stretched out his hand for a handshake. Nervously, I took his hand in mine. Back in the village, girls were not used to shaking the hands of men far older than you.
“Thank you very much, sir, for allowing me to come over,” I told him shyly, looking away from his probing eyes. I noticed that all through the brief moment we were exchanging pleasantries, his eyes were often roving around my chest region and this got me quite nervy. Aunty couldn’t have noticed any of these because she was standing behind him and facing me.
“Again, you’re welcome anytime, darling. You are part of the family so it’s no big deal, alright?” He turned to his wife. “Flo, you didn’t tell me she is such a beautiful girl,” he said to her.
“Of course, I did, have you forgotten?” Aunty returned.
“Okay, yeah, maybe you did, but you certainly didn’t say she was this pretty,” and he laughed again. “Anyway, please, make yourself comfortable, like I said, this is your home, okay?”
I thanked him and he went inside the room with his wife. He called her Flo, short for Florence, I guessed. Hmm..he really seemed like a nice and friendly man. I had been hoping her husband would not turn out to be somebody that will not like the idea of having a relation of his wife come live with them but only had to grudgingly agree probably because of pressure from his wife. But I could see he was nothing like that. That gave me a huge sense of relief.
I was starting to feel really comfortable living with Aunty and her husband. His name was Fred. That’s what Aunty called him. They fed me with good food. We all actually ate the same food. Whatever Aunty cooked, we all ate. Sometimes she would tell me if I didn’t like the type of food she cooked, I was free to go into the kitchen and prepare something else for myself. And I had very little chores to do. They were really nice to me. The only thing that got me uncomfortable a few times was the way Uncle Fred looked at my boobs or my backside whenever Aunty Florence wasn’t paying attention to him. Apart from that little problem, everything was fine.
Three weeks after my arrival, I decided I needed to have a serious heart to heart talk with Aunty Florence. I needed to shed the euphoria of sleeping and waking up in their fine-looking home, eating good food and facing the issue that brought me to Lagos.
“Yes, dear, what is it you want to discuss with me?” Aunty asked, a puzzled look on her face. “Or are you not comfortable living with us?”
“No, no, not at all, ma,” I promptly responded. “Far from it. As a matter of fact, I am truly grateful for everything, Aunty. The love you and your husband have shown me is unbelievable, I am so thankful, Aunty.”
She smiled. “It’s alright, you’re welcome, I’m glad you like it here. So, what then is on your mind?”
I cleared my throat. “Aunty, it’s been three weeks now that I arrived here. I believe I have spent enough time taking in the excitement of living here in this magnificent house with you and your husband. It is about time I started addressing the real problem that brought me to Lagos.” I paused for a moment, cleared my throat slightly and picked my words carefully. “Aunty, the pregnancy in my womb is growing by the day. Already I could feel changes in my body. And I remember you told me back in the village that you could be of help when we get to Lagos. Very soon everyone around the house will begin to notice I am pregnant. I want to get rid of this pregnancy, Aunty, how will you help me?”
There was a long spell of silence. Aunty didn’t say anything. She was staring at me. At some point, I was wondering if she heard what I said or her mind had drifted away from our discussion. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
“I am sorry, Rosie, darling,” she’d said quietly, “there is no way I can help you, you have no other choice but to have that baby in your womb!”
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