Free That Night in Lagos by Vered Ehsani Page B

yours is to take a stroll about the park.”
    “Or better yet, attend a party,” Lilly pipped up with a giggle. “And dance with a handsome officer.”
    Mrs. Steward beamed approvingly at her daughter and then frowned. “Lilly dear, you know that will provide little consolation to Bee, unlikely as it is that anyone would dance with her. The best she can hope for is for our companionship during these trying days as she recovers from her debilitating illness.”
    “Perhaps a stroll would be a fine idea,” I interjected.
    With Mrs. Steward’s encouragement, I departed immediately, despite my fear that Koki would be lurking outside, preparing to make good on her promise.
    But she didn’t. Days bled into weeks which melted into months which flowed into seasons, and still the Mantis hadn’t appeared. I began to trust that perhaps, just perhaps, it was possible for me to return to my life without fear of reprisals from a giant insect. Yet every excursion was accompanied by a slight tremor within my system, a foreboding of what could happen around the next corner.
    Thus my life continued, the hours hobbled together by family excursions, Society missions and an underlying trepidation. And thus it may have continued if not for an invitation by Lady Williams.
    “Lady Williams invited us to her salon,” Mrs. Steward gushed one fine morning. “Imagine that, Lilly! And even you, Bee, have been summoned. What marvelous grace the Lady demonstrates toward us.”
    “I distinctly remember you referring to Lady Williams as a nosy, annoying, social parasite,” I mused.
    Mrs. Steward clucked at me. “Nonsense,” she retorted. “Lady Williams is nothing but magnanimous, for there is sure to be a delightful array of young men at her soiree that we can keep in mind for future consideration.” And she beamed at Lilly who was beside herself with the possibilities latent in that statement.
    “And what matters it to us if that be true?” I questioned with an innocent gaze, but my aunt knew me too well.
    “Beatrice, you do take such delight in vexing me,” she huffed. “Come or don’t, it’s all the same to me.”
    Reluctant as I was to attend anything apart from Koki’s funeral, I couldn’t deny my young cousin’s entreaties that I join them. And so one evening we set out for the Williams’ winter residence. I trailed behind my aunt and cousin as we ascended the stairs to the entrance of Lady Williams’ abode. Even there, with the bustle of well-groomed humanity all about me, I continued to glance about, searching for a triangular head amongst the crowd.
    “Beatrice, do stop your dawdling,” Mrs. Steward chastised me.
    I continued to linger at the entrance, as much to distance myself from Mrs. Steward’s incessant chattering as to more adequately scan the room. Not surprisingly, there were no dark faces amongst the swirling and gaily attired guests. I breathed deeply, my nose tingling at the mix of perfumes, food and sweat, which was a great improvement over blood and gore.
    “Lady Williams,” Mrs. Steward shrilled in exaggerated delight.
    I remained in the background, loathe to involve myself in the inane conversation I was sure would follow. I was not disappointed, for Lady Williams immediately introduced a uniformed man to the Steward women — a Lieutenant Colonel of the Cavalry — while almost simultaneously launching into gossip regarding one of her own guests. I could see Mrs. Steward eyeing the uniform and I closed my eyes, although I couldn’t block my ears quite as effectively.
    “Poor Mrs. Cricket,” the Lady enthused and she clucked her tongue with false sympathy. “The woman has a degenerative muscular disease. Nothing contagious, mind you. But nothing she can recover from. Indeed, I heard that she married the doctor for that reason, hoping he would find a cure. Alas, to no avail.”
    Lilly tugged at my sleeve, forcing me to step to Mrs. Steward’s side. My aunt glanced with annoyance at me and