A few months ago I spent a few days with a very dear friend who lives in a block of luxury flat, and noticed the occupant of the next flat to hers was new. In the past, the flat had been occupied by some noisy neighbours. It was a relief to have some measure of peace and quiet. “We have peace and quiet alright,” agreed my friend, “but it’s laced with a lot of intrigue. I was instrumental in the lady moving in.
“I couldn’t manage it. Thanks to Sanni helping with the rent, I could keep my head above financial waters”. After knocking on the door for quite a while, I came out of my flat wanting to find out what was going on. Ben’s face was like thunder as he shrieked abuse at his wife and urged her to open the door. She didn’t budget. Ben kicked the door open and there was Angela, cowering in the bedroom. When Ben threatened to beat her up, I reminded him not to get the police involved.
This story had one or two loose ends that needed to be tied, so I gave my friend a week or so, then called her, “I was expecting your call,” she said, amused. What happened to Labi, the third lover in this eternal rectangle? “It’s Angela. I was worried about….” my friend said. “I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was the one who let the cat out of the bag.