In Dependence

CHAPTER 3

All that Tayo knew about Mr and Mrs Barker, prior to their first meeting, was that Mr Barker and Headmaster Faircliff had been at Oxford together in the 1940s and that Mr Barker was a history don at St. John's. Tayo presumed, on this basis, that the two men would be similar—that Mr Barker, like Faircliff, would be highly intelligent, pompous and patronising.

Tayo was surprised, therefore, to discover that the man was not at all as he expected, and even more surprised to hear Mr Barker freely joke about his old friend as a colonial 'type' and a remnant of a dying era.

Mr Barker was nothing like Faircliff; he was softly-spoken and married to a much younger (and very attractive) Italian woman who preferred to be called Isabella rather than Mrs Barker.

The couple had no children of their own, but seemed to have adopted a number of foreign students at Oxford. Isabella cooked wonderful meals in a way that reminded Tayo of his own mother, while Mr Barker talked politics like his father. Mr Barker had visited Nigeria on several occasions, which was what made Tayo feel so at home from the beginning.

Today, the Barkers were having a drinks party for foreign students at their house on St. Giles. Isabella welcomed Tayo with the usual hug and kiss before whisking him through the kitchen and into the garden where everyone else was gathered.

Tayo felt disappointed that they had to mingle outside rather than inside where it was warmer, but it seemed to Tayo that this was the British way. People spent all day talking about the weather, complaining about how cold, damp and miserable it was, until the sun poked its head around the clouds, and then everyone cheered up and started talking about lovely weather. But 'lovely' to Tayo could only be warm weather, not this cold, pale orange sun sitting high up there in the sky.

He was thinking of an excuse to return indoors when he spotted his friend Bolaji standing next to a striking-looking woman. He had only ever heard of one Nigerian woman at Oxford so he guessed it must be her—the famously beautiful third year, Christine.

They were talking literature when Tayo joined Bolaji's small circle of friends who stood by the back door, which was at least warmer than standing under the apple trees where everyone else had congregated.

Bolaji was in the process of arguing that Shakespeare was the greatest author of all time while others argued for Tolstoy and Homer. As Tayo listened, it became obvious that the group knew much more about literature than he did. Even Bolaji was able to roll out an impressive number of literary theorists in support of his position.

"What does Christine think?" Tayo asked, curious to hear her thoughts for he knew that she read Modern Languages.

"Poets are the greatest writers," she answered.

"And why?" he asked, knowing that the safest way to avoid being questioned himself was to do the asking.

He noticed, as Christine talked, that she appeared quite serious: never smiling, despite the fact that the conversation had taken a jocular tone. Tayo had heard men say that Christine was arrogant on account of her beauty. Others thought it was the result of her having lived in England for such a long time. It was rumoured that both her parents had been to school in England and she had been sent to boarding school as a child.

Whatever the reason for Christine's apparent seriousness, Tayo was determined to make a good impression on this beautiful woman. She spoke eloquently, like an actress, poised and confident so that Tayo quickly lost track of what everyone else was saying until he heard someone say his name.

"What do you think, Tayo?"

"Me?" he replied, stalling for time. "I think, if I had to choose, it would always be Shakespeare —the sonnets," he said, with the sinking feeling that someone would now ask him to say more, to explain or, God forbid, name a favorite sonnet. To avoid further questions, he mentioned in passing that one of his old teachers had been a poet.

"Christopher Okigbo was your teacher!" Christine exclaimed.

Later that evening Bolaji marvelled at Tayo's good luck.

"Did you see how she lit up when you spoke of Okigbo? She even smiled!"

Tayo laughed, pretending not to have noticed, but of course he had; everybody had noticed.

Tayo did not see Christine again until they bumped into each other the following Monday as she was dashing out of the Covered Market. He invited her to have coffee with him at the Cadena the next day, and to his surprise, she accepted. It was all he could do to stop himself from grinning while saying goodbye.

The following day he was struck by how made up Christine looked. She was the sort of woman who would always look attractive, but it seemed to Tayo that she had put extra effort into styling her hair and adding rouge to her cheeks. He didn't care for the rouge, finding it artificial, but the fact that she had gone out of her way to look good for him was all that mattered.

Perhaps she really did like him, he thought, while she talked again about Okigbo and some of the other new Nigerian authors. He asked her why she was so interested in these writers. Wouldn't it be more interesting to talk about other writers that she must know from around the world? No, she replied, insisting that her knowledge of Nigeria and Nigerian writers was not good enough. It seemed to matter a great deal to her what other Nigerians thought of her. If only she knew how in awe of her they all were! Tayo was beginning to think that she was sharing things with him that she might not have shared with others, when she changed the subject and asked him how many girlfriends he had.

"So far I've counted five," she said, referring to the number of women who had passed by their table to say hello to him.

Tayo tried to laugh it off, but Christine wasn't laughing. It took some days to convince her that he wasn't the playboy she took him to be.

Each time they ran into each other she would find a way of commenting on his female friends, but because she was still talking to him, Tayo grew bold again and asked if she would like to come to his rooms for coffee.

On Friday night she came, and this time, when she made yet another dig about his so-called girlfriends, Tayo decided to play along. Rather than be defensive, he told her all about his teenage fantasies of Indian women and how he used to go to the Lebanese theatre in Ibadan (the capital of a state in Nigeria) to watch Indian films.

Unable to understand Hindi, what else was he supposed to do but look at the ladies? Christine laughed a lot this time, which gave him the courage to turn serious and tell her how beautiful she was.

He still half-expected to be pushed away or for her to say something about how silly and young he was, but she didn't, so he grew bolder and took her hand. And then, because she didn't resist, he drew her close for a kiss.

For the rest of the term, they spent as much time as they could together. Often, they took walks by the river and now it wasn't only him telling her about her family.

There were moments when Tayo felt guilty about Modupe, but he reasoned with himself that he and Modupe had been too young to make promises to each other. Three years was a long time to be apart at their age and now, when he re-read Modupe's letters, they struck him as childish.

Modupe was just a girl. With Christine he had gained confidence, so much so that he no longer felt the need to talk about long-term commitments as he had done with Modupe. He was, after all, only nineteen, and now that he had won the chase with Christine, he still hoped to meet other women and further expand his horizons.