Free Where Women are Kings by Christie Watson Page B

worry.’
    ‘I’ll try. I don’t want you to worry about my worrying!’
    We laughed, and how I loved him. I loved him so. I read my notebooks to Akpan while he slept, sending the words of Nigeria and God into his dreams. I recited psalms and Egyptian love poetry. Elijah, you were inside me by then, but Akpan did not know. It was a secret between you and me and God. I could feel a soft warmth running through me,God whispering to my body. I spoke to you all the time, sang songs from my own childhood. I felt like an old woman and a young girl all at once; everything looked so clear, even the grey colour of England seemed beautiful. Akpan and I made love all the time. Elijah, your very first foundations were strong, and I hope those early months of strength will help. When the wind blows hard, as it surely will, I pray you will only shake a little.

EIGHT
    It was a gloomy day. Not cold, but with a wind that whipped up around Nikki’s face, blowing her hair in all directions. The kind of day she loved most: a Wales-weather day, as she always told Obi. Good for growing. She looked upwards. It might rain but she didn’t mind being outside, even then. This was the best bit. Assessing the dogs for rehoming; watching and analysing and sometimes treating their behaviours; the way she gained their trust; how they went from being scared, ears down, flinching, to jumping and running towards her excitedly. It was remarkable how quickly they improved with the right sort of care and attention.
    Nikki had fallen into charity work, starting in the office in the fundraising department, full of glamorous colleagues with perfect hair. Everyone was friendly but she’d found herself taking lunch breaks with the animals instead of her colleagues. A few courses and a lot of experience later, and Nikki was a valued member of the rehoming team. She still attended all the fundraising events, which was how she had met Obi, but her heart was outside with the dogs. She smiled as she remembered the night she and Obi had met. It was at the Dorchester Hotel, every bit as opulent and luxurious as she’d imagined, and Nikki had for once taken the entire afternoon to get ready. She’d worn a long, backless, jade-greensilk dress and the highest heels imaginable, and tamed her hair into submission before arriving a fashionable ten minutes late. Nikki had always been able to talk to anyone and was more than happy circulating, a glass of champagne in her hand, cool and composed when she thought of the dogs and how much money she’d be able to raise. And then she’d seen him. A tall, strong, handsome man with the smoothest skin and widest smile, dressed in a petrol-blue suit. He’d smiled at her and suddenly she’d felt nervous. Nikki threw back her head and took a mouthful of champagne, and somehow it had ended up going down the wrong way, and she was spluttering and coughing and making noises that sounded barely human and there he was, the handsomest man in the room, patting her on the back of her backless dress, his skin on hers.
    The Staffy at her feet barked and yapped and spun around in circles, chasing his tail. She focused and was back in the training yard, the grey day wrapped around her. Instead of a silk dress, she looked down at her muddy boots, the thick dog weaving between them. Nikki laughed. ‘All right, little one,’ she said. ‘What an excited boy you are!’ And he ran at her and jumped up knocking her off balance until he could get a good lick of her face.
    ‘Nikki! Phone call!’
    She pushed him away and wiped the slobber from her cheeks. Still laughing, she went into the office to answer the phone. Sometimes Chanel phoned her with some drama or other, but the voice wasn’t Chanel’s.
    ‘Nikki? It’s Ricardo. I’m so sorry to bother you at work, but I knew you’d want me to. I wonder if you’re home this evening?’
    Nikki’s heart began thumping so hard it hurt. Why wouldhe phone? Was there a problem with their