The Cell by Victoria Steven – SEASON ONE , EPISODE 1

Can you cure sickle cell anaemia? Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. But here’s the thing: whether you succeed at bringing it to its knees or, one day, suddenly, you keel over and permanently die is out of your hands, I think. Anyway, this is the story of love, of betrayal, of a wife and her husband and her house girl. And of sickle cell, which pitilessly sliced through them.
*****
In the thirty-sixth week of Rebi’s pregnancy, she vanished from the house. Her mistress woke up to an empty three bedroom flat that was stuffed tight with thick, unnerving quietness. No Rebi moving the furniture around with protruding belly like an upside down bell; no Rebi grunting while her mistress ignored her exasperating sounds; no Rebi at all.

When it finally dawned on Kome, Rebi’s mistress, that Rebi might have skipped town, she had been alarmed to find that her front door had been left ajar, she had also rushed out to the balcony of her second floor apartment and lunged at the railing to peep around the corners of the veranda. No Rebi. She couldn’t shout because they lived in an exclusive estate where everyone kept to themselves. Then she phoned her husband.
“How far gone was she?” he asked, coolly, in a way he thought was calming, but in a way she thought was desperately annoying.
“Eight months.”
“Wow. Are you sure she actually ran away?”
“Of course. She never steps out of the flat. Stepped.”
“Yeah.”
“All she did was clean the house, wash plates –and our clothes.”
“Yeah, that.”
“What did you say?” she raised her voice a bit.
“Don’t panic. Let’s—”
“Does it look like I’m in a panic?”
“I’m saying let’s call Mama Biliki. She should know how to find Rebi. Don’t worry, sweetheart, everything is fine,” he said, managing to squeeze in a tiny chuckle, like what was happening right now was a little joke that was flying over the head of his impatient lady.
However, as it happened, Mama Biliki had not heard from Biliki either. When Kome called her, she was terribly alarmed – so much so that she instantaneously cried, “Blood of Jesus!”
Later, by the time Josh got back from his office at seven o’clock, Mama Biliki was waiting in the house with Kome. Mama Biliki was sweating buckets, in spite of the airconditioner. Her wrapper was divorced from her body as she spread herself on the carpet, absolutely ignoring her favourite Africa Magic channel. That was how Josh knew that he might have landed in some major trouble.
“No word from Rebi?” he asked as he stepped into his parlour, dropping his briefcase on the floor. His forehead was ridged with a dense frown.
Mama Biliki unleashed a litany. “Ahhhhh!! What am I going to do, Mr Joshua! This girl, na only am the mama born o! Jesus! What am I going to do!”
Kome looked on with a tight pout, angry at this huge mess.
“Take it easy,” Josh said. “We will find her.”
“Where!” shouted Mama Biliki. “Where! Where! Where! And I talk am o. Say make una no dey make the girl work too much o.” At that time, Josh glanced at his wife who shot him a defiant glare, duly poisoned with malice.
“Are you sure she didn’t go Badagry?”
“Ehn? Bada-wetin? If she go village, im papa go kill am. Im no send am come carry belle for Lagos!”
“We have to wait till tomorrow then. If she doesn’t call us or come back home, we’ll have to report to the police.”
“Wetin police go do? Me, I no fit enter police wahala o. And I no get money to dash police o. Abeg o!”
“Calm down, Mama Biliki. I’ll handle it.”
Finally, at 10pm, all weepy and still ignoring Africa Magic, Mama Bilki departed Josh’s house at Ojodu, for her own house in Orile Iganmu. The couple, one of them optimistic as usual, made himself a cup of cocoa, drank it quietly while watching the TV, and went to bed. The other half, angry about something, as usual, didn’t have supper, but went to bed all the same.
****
The following morning, Josh roused himself from bed at his regular 4:30, patted his wife gently on the bum, lovingly. She didn’t move. He took a bath and wore his traditional suit, grabbed his office bag and car key, and headed for the door.
At the door, a white slip of paper was lying unattended. He took a closer look and it seemed someone had slipped it in through the slit under the door. He picked it up.
“IF YOU WANT REBI BACK
N750,500.00
TOMORROW
WE WILL CALL YOU.”
To be continued>>>