LITMIR.BIZ

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you’re ready, ma’am.”

      The First Officer hovered at the entrance to the cabin but Scarlet barely afforded him a glance and instead continued to stare out of the window, noticing that from within a single-storied building men in suits were hurriedly emerging, scurrying out like ants towards the stationary plane. Scarlet watched the flurry of activity in the otherwise still landscape. Amongst the group of men stood a small woman, her assistant, Riley. Scarlet allowed herself a smile as she watched her and the men slowly advance towards the plane.

      It was rare for Scarlet to travel alone without her trusted assistant by her side. But, in this matter, Scarlet had known that she could trust only one person to go ahead and smooth the waters for her. Scarlet let her thoughts drift through what had brought her to South Africa. The news had broken just as she had been flying out of LAX; Scarlet Wilde was adopting a baby from Africa. Scarlet shook off the tension and melancholy that had settled over her during the flight. She shook off the memory of that last argument with Jared, her husband of 73 days.

      “You can’t take care of a pair of shoes, let alone a child,” he’d screamed and she had lunged for him then, tearing at him. The vintage claw ring on her finger ripped into his face, immediately drawing blood. At the sight of his blood she had gasped and stopped, shocked, but the damage was done. It was not the worst fight that they’d ever had but she’d crossed a line and within the hour Jared had filed for divorce. Scarlet took another deep breath and shook away the memories. She centred herself back in the airplane cabin and thought of what lay ahead. She was beginning a new chapter in her life and she would show them all. Scarlet Wilde was ready to prove everybody wrong. She deserved to be a mother; she would be a good mother. Scarlet rose quickly to her feet. She grabbed the cashmere wrap that had warmed her through the flight, picked up her tote bag and strode towards the exit.

      “Thank you,” she said with only a momentary glance at the pilot and before he could respond, she was gone.

      Scarlet emerged into the close heat of the mid-afternoon sun and even for a girl raised in the humidity of South Carolina, she blanched. She pulled her sunglasses off her head and onto her face as Riley moved towards her, engulfing her in a momentary hug.

      “We all set?” Scarlet asked anxiously.

      “All set,” Riley replied with a smile. “We’re going to three orphanages today.” Riley gave an apologetic nod towards the men in suits. “I couldn’t stop them coming, official welcome brigade from the government.” Scarlet nodded and turned to shake the hands that were offered to her, accepting the greetings and congratulations. As they moved towards the terminal building a car pulled up. As Scarlet stepped into the car, Riley was already instructing the driver about their destination. Moments later, a partition went up, allowing them privacy and Riley turned to face Scarlet as the car pulled out of the airstrip.

      “Are you ready for this?” Riley asked. After only a split second’s hesitation Scarlet nodded. She was ready to be a mother.

      The Matron was running.

      As she dashed as quickly as her thick bowed legs could carry her, a buzz took up and spread through the Tumaini orphanage. Matron never ran. Nobody ever ran at Tumaini House. Not the three hundred or so children cramped in the inadequate, dated facilities and not the staff, not unless they wanted to be rewarded with one of Matron’s hot slaps. Running was reserved for outside during football games or for escaping great danger. Nobody ran indoors and yet here she was, Matron, lumbering down the long corridors, past the cracked walls, the boarded-up windows, the constant stench of urine, her breath laboured and panting noisily out of her. The children stared at her in amazement and then looked away for fear of inviting her anger but they knew at once that something momentous must be afoot.

      Matron burst into Mr Peters’s office without knocking, another first. Mr Peters leapt up, a look of irritation giving way to one of concern as he took in the panting form of Matron, her heavy breasts heaving up and down in seismic shifts beneath her patterned, brightly coloured kaftan. Mr Peters watched as she fought to gulp down air.

      “What is it?” Peters asked. He watched as Matron sucked in air and prayed she wouldn’t keel over dead in front of him before she could give up her news.

      “She’s…coming…here.” Matron finally pushed the words out.

      “Who?” Peters asked none the wiser. Matron shook her head.

      “The actress, the famous one, from Hollywood. She’s here, in South Africa to adopt a baby. Scarlet Wilde…” Peters’s eyes widened as he grasped Matron’s words. He had only a vague idea of who Scarlet Wilde was, his interest running more to African dramas and Bollywood musicals rather than Hollywood blockbusters, but he knew as well as Matron what an adoption from an American star would mean. In a neighbouring town some American pop star had adopted a boy and they had seen the flood of money that had poured into that orphanage. Peters had watched the head of that orphanage swap his modest Peugeot for a Mercedes. White people adoptions meant money and famous white people adoptions; well, the sky was the limit.

      Matron had slumped into one of the chairs, her breath almost completely back. “She has already been to Tiberi and Kaluu,” she said, referring to the neighbouring orphanages. “But she hasn’t seen what she wants there.” Peters nodded slowly.

      “Then we must make sure she finds what she wants here,” he finally said. In his mind’s eye he was already sifting through the babies they had in the dorms upstairs – the beautiful ones, the ones that didn’t cry, the ones with nicely kept hair and the right shade of black for white people – not too dark. They were short of boys, but white people Peters had learned were different, often they actually preferred girls. And slowly, a smile crept across Peters’s face. He had it.

      In a room filled with twenty-five cots, most over-filled with three or four babies, Peters and Matron zeroed in on one. They stared down at the sleeping forms of nine-month-old Grace and Lola.

      “That one,” Peters said, his finger pointing directly at Lola. Almost as though she knew that her fate rested on this man’s decision, Lola’s eyes opened. Thick lashes fluttered open to reveal wide, hazel eyes. Lola rarely cried and now she stared quietly at Peters and Matron as they stood whispering above the cot.

      “What about the other one?” Matron asked in hushed tones and their gazes shifted to the still sleeping Grace. Lola’s chubby arm reached across to her twin, as though she might ward off the attentions of Peters and Matron. Peters shook his head as he stared at Grace. She was thin and in sleep, she gave a pitiful, hacking cough. That they were twins, mirror images of each other, was still clear to see, but slowly in their six months at the orphanage Grace had started to wilt where Lola had grown chubby, robust and healthy. There was little money for medical care at the orphanage and so nothing had been done to help Grace. She would get better on her own or she wouldn’t. That was all there was to it. Peters shook his head again and he turned back to Lola and smiled.

      “No,” he said. “Just this one.” Lola was a beautiful child, there was no denying that and, with thoughts of the BMW that would be his should the adoption go through, he plucked Lola from the cot and turned and started to walk out of the baby room.

      “But sir…” Matron began, her eyes darting to the still-sleeping Grace. “We can’t separate them, can we?”

      Peters stared hard at Matron. The silence between them lengthened and in that instant Matron knew that to defy Peters would be an act of folly; he could make life very hard for her, she knew. And so she nodded and fell into step next to Peters as he carried Lola out of the room.

      From the moment their eyes met, it was a done deal. Freshly washed and clothed and now housed in the other baby room that was used only when VIPs visited the Tumaini orphanage, Lola’s natural beauty was unmistakeable. Where other babies had smiled or wailed, Lola simply stared, her wide hazel eyes almost assessing. Slowly, Scarlet reached for the girl and Lola came to her willingly, without fuss. As she’d cooed at the girl, finally Scarlet had won a smile and she knew then that this was the baby for her. The paperwork was already in process and by nightfall that day Lola Biko, born in a shantytown, would be sleeping in a cot

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