Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Crossroads

The hand was clamped down over her mouth so tightly and suddenly, not even the start of a cry got out. Her torso manacled in a vicegrip, she lashed backwards, bronco-like – hit shin bone- but not hard enough. Gasping she tried to bite the fingers, all the time twisting her neck side-to-side: a mongoose killing a cobra, except she was a toothless prey. This… couldn’t be – not – is – happening- to her! Travelbug Teacher Raped and Murdered. Her end – a quick fix of horror headline! She heard serpentine whisperings in her ear - the familiar cadence of African Italian.
‘Scusi scusi non sono cattivo. solo soldi per favore’
Only money! Never did those words bring such relief! She’d thought the best she could hope was to be brutally assaulted and left for dead on a building site. She went limp and felt a hand slip her bag strap off her shoulder. Instinctively, she jerked free and tore away the fingers clamped over her mouth. For some reason she felt sure this man would understand if she could just speak to him.
‘I’m a friend’ she hissed, jerking from his clutches and in one movement pivoting round to face him, knowing in some part of her it was the most naive thing she'd ever done.
This woman it like she know Ransome not bad man and he not want to do what he just come doing. First she go all tense and wriggling-like grumpy cat what don’t wanna be pick up. Then when he ask money she go all relax and he think okay I take what money is get me some train away from here make direkshun back Londonway. And he already thinking his apology, signorina, Ransum he wish he can get soldi some other way but he try selling pirate Deeveedee and some reason be they send da men wid guns make sure he don’t sell none – So Ransum start to think this city got itch to pick on him much worse than the otha brothas which just slouch round the streets nobody botherin’em. But before he get so far with apology she snickled out – Ransum muscles must be getting’ weak – and she saying to him she his friend whiles holdin’ her hand right out, not screamin’ and hollerin’ nor peggin’ off like you’d ‘spect. Oh now when he see this, Ransum, he really got big shame comin’ on. He thinking he don’t deserve to breath same air as this woman. She so brave and he a lanky coward…
He didn’t seem to quite believe she’d escaped. They stood a few yards apart, both with shoulders dropped, panting. They looked into the whites of each others’ eyes. After a few seconds the African lowered his gaze. He staggered backwards a few paces and sank down against the railing, his breath escaping in heavy gasps. She stood over him, took out her mobile and pressed a button to light up the screen. What was the number for Italian emergency services? She started to imagine the consequences if he was arrested. She would have to give evidence – but it wouldn’t be as simple as that – she would be swallowed up in the maze of Italian justice. What actual crime had been committed anyway? She was ok, she could just walk away, keep going down Corso Garibaldi, get the beers and meet Maggie – tell her the story and bathe in the glory of her fightback. The figure slumped against the railings wasn’t threatening anything any more. She could see now his clothes were filthy, horizontal streaks of mud across his light-coloured shirt.
‘What’s your name? The words were out, in English because it was hard for her to equate black skin with the Italian language, even though he’d spoken it to her.
Hey this go crazier an’ crazier she askin’ Ransome his name now, like he come for job interview at Hackney Sandwich place. Yeah, it even be English she saying, and he thinking only British here was tourist but she sure don’t seem like no tourist. All this thinkin’got Ransom shame chased li’l away and he look up again to find her face close by above, quite stern-lookin’ and bit distract. She’s holdin’ a phone… oh missy, please don’t call the police.
‘My name is Ransome,’ – first English lesson, ‘I’m from Nigeria.’ Because they always want to know that bit, where you from.
Then I think I’m hallucinatin’ sound, like dem prisoners what they torture with absolute silence, ‘come with me’, I’m hearing, n’ I say’ Excuse me but no she says it again, ‘if you come with me I’ll help you’. Well what can Ransome do when the whole resta de EeYou seems to have it in for him. He says ‘thank you’ and walks by the lady’s side, already wonderin’ what sort o’ do-goodin’ set-up she know ‘bout, reckn’ing he’ll be in with some nuns pretty soon.
She switched the light on in the tiny lock-up. There was barely room for them both to stand. She pointed.
'You can sleep in there tonight. In the morning I’ll come at eight, ok. You understand?'
'You English aren’t you?'
'No.'
'Where you from?'
'Scotland.'
'Ah ha – Scottish – William Wallace eh.'
'Listen, I’m going to close the outside door. But I won’t lock it, ok. And I promise I’ll see you in the morning.'
'Why you doing this?'
'I don’t know. Maybe I like men who try to assault me.'
'You a little bit crazy, I think.'
'Probably. What about you. Are you crazy?'
'No.'
'I thought you were going to kill me back there.'
'That back there was not real Ransome.'
'I believe you. So are you crazy? Is one of the Ransomes crazy?'
'You’re a smart woman. It's a crazy world innit? Not us which is crazy.'
'You’re no fool yourself. So will you be here in the morning?'
'Yeah, sure.'
'You’ll be safe I promise.'
'Thank you.'
'Goodnight.'
So civilized. He settles in the back seat of the little car, lays his head down and lets the exhaustion swallow him. He dreams of civilizations: Port Harcourt London Napoli all muddled together, shanties and palaces, airports and harbours, and amidst the confusion one clear sequence - walking out between some marble pillars to find himself alone on a beach with a sparkling sea before him. He turns round and sees the sand all clogged with sunbathers, and he is suddenly heavy with a load of shades and earrings pinned to a sandwich board hanging round his neck. Got to sell, but no one wants to buy. Then they come back to him, the strange words: You've got something we want…