The Other Side of Truth Read Free

London who is prepared to take you as her children.”
    Sade and Femi stared, not understanding.
    “Her name is Mrs. Bankole. She has a British passport with a girl and boy on it—just the right ages for you both—but they aren’t traveling with her. She has agreed to say you are her children—and also to take you to your Uncle Dele.”
    Uncle Tunde was expecting them to go along with a lie! Both children turned anxiously to Papa.
    “But she’s not our mother!” Femi’s face was contorted.
    Their father closed his eyes. When they opened, they wavered unsteadily, as if hurt by the light.
    “Of course I want us to travel together,” he began. “But these people your uncle met know much more than I doabout this”—he hesitated, looking from Femi to Sade—” this business of getting out of the country. And the main thing—the most important thing—is that we all end up safely together in London. We can’t afford to miss this chance to get you out safely.”
    “We don’t have much choice—and we certainly don’t have much time.” Uncle Tunde no longer hid his agitation. “I was told it is usually very hard to get the right passport for a child—and here we have the chance to get the two of you out together! You must realize that we are only doing this because those people who killed your dear mama will stop at nothing!”
    Sade bit her lip. She and Femi were already swinging as loosely as Uncle Tunde’s glasses.
    “So when do we have to go?”
    Uncle Tunde and Papa glanced at each other to see who would answer.
    “Tonight,” their father said very quietly.

CHAPTER 3
A SMALL BAG AND A RUCKSACK EACH
    A SMALL BAG AND A RUCKSACK EACH. And less than an hour to pack. Only Mama Buki was told. Uncle Tunde took her outside, to the back of the house, away from the women in the kitchen. His strong whisper, however, carried through the open window of Sade’s bedroom. Sade tiptoed a little nearer to the net curtain.
    “If they know Folarin’s children are in London, they will keep special watch at the airport. Until he is well away, let everyone think the children are in the country with relatives.”
    Sade knew who her uncle meant by “they”—people who hated her father because he wrote the truth.
    A sudden slamming of the bedroom door behind her startled Sade and also brought the conversation outside to an abrupt stop. Femi, his back to the door, stood poised like a boxer set to fight but who cannot find his opponent. His eyes were full of misery.
    “What should we take?” asked Sade.
    When Femi did not reply, she opened her cupboard and stared at its contents.
    Mama Buki entered the bedroom. Silently she wrappedher arms around Sade. Femi edged away, but Mama Buki reached out and pulled him in. Slowly Sade felt him soften a little as their aunt pressed them close and murmured a short prayer for God to keep them safe. Her body was warm and sticky with the heat of the day. If only they could fall asleep and wake up to find everything had been a bad dream! But there was no way of blotting out the sounds of weeping, prayers and shocked voices that continued to thread through the house, even underneath the closed door.
    When Mama Buki released the children, she worked quickly.
    “It will be cold in London. Your Uncle Dele will have to get you some warm clothes right away,” she said.
    Neither Sade nor Femi said anything.
    “Is this light sweater all you have, Sade?”
    Sade nodded.
    “Fit it in your rucksack. You’ll need it on the plane. We shall have to find a sweatshirt for Femi.”
    Mama Buki now spoke as if they were making a quite ordinary journey. Sade tried to think what special things she should take with her. It was impossible to grasp that she would not be seeing her home again for what might be a long—a very long—time. Whatever she took had to be small. What would happen to her desk? After her last school report, Papa had asked a carpenter to make it for her specially. The wood even came