“Excuse me, madam,” he called out.
Mother and I stood still. I stifled the laughter at the manner his bulging tummy swung like the pendulum clock at each stride.
“Please pardon my intrusion, madam,” he smiled as he got nearer.
“Please, sir, go straight to the point. “I’m in a hurry,” My mother’s patience waned.
“Ajironke!” he smiled at my mother.
My mother’s eyes bulged out as though the man had unlocked her secret code.
“Ah! Lekoso, is that you?” Her clasped arms pressed against her chest.
I marvelled at the drama. Just a while ago, mother joined the other passengers in making jest of the man, and now, the story was different. People who live in glass houses don’t throw stones. I recalled my headmaster’s favourite quote.
I observed an unusual glow in my mother’s eyes as the conversation progressed.
“Lekoso, you have changed so much. There was no way I could have recognised you.”
“Several people have told me that too,” he smiled. “On the contrary, you haven’t changed one bit; still as beautiful as ever, ever fresh, sweet…”
“Lekoso, how is your wife and children?” mother switched the subject.
He felt slightly embarrassed but maintained a composed mien.
“They are fine.” He shot a glance at me. ‘Your son, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“Good morning sir,” I curtsied.
“How are you my dear?”
“I’m fine sir.”
Mother pulled me closer and bade him farewell without giving him a second look.
“Bye and looking forward to seeing you again.” He bit his upper lip.
“There would never be a next time,” my mother muttered under her breath as we continued our journey.
TO BE CONTINUED
