The Other Side of Truth by Beverley Naidoo Page A

one took any notice of them. It was as if they were invisible.
    They reached another row of shops. Femi tugged at his handle of the holdall.
    “Do you smell that, Sade?”
    Her brother pulled her toward the smell of frying fish. She was hungry now as well. In a shop with plate glass across the whole frontage, people were queueing at a long white counter. A man with a white cap was shaking a basket of chips. There was no point waiting and looking—it only made the hunger worse. But when, a little farther along, they came to a cafe with red checked curtains and matching tablecloths, they stopped to stare inside. A waiter was serving two platefuls of what looked like rice and stew to a couple sitting by the window. When the waiter looked up, he frowned and shook his head at them. Embarrassed, they turned away. A customer opened the cafe door and a gust of warm air brushed past them. A second later the warmth and scents had vanished. How long could they manage like this with no money and no food?
    It was when, however, they came to a shop with plantains and yams piled up by the doorway and windows heaped with bags of rice and gari, that they could not resist going in. Theshop smelled of Lagos. Spices, oils, dried fish and fresh vegetables were all crammed onto overflowing shelves. Bottles and tins did extraordinary balancing acts like on Mr. Abiona’s stall.
    “Plantain chips!” Femi whispered.
    He picked up a cellophane packet, brought it up close to his face and sniffed it before slowly replacing it. They walked through the shop, squeezing past a couple of other customers in the narrow passages. They took their time examining items on each side. After circling twice, they still wanted to delay returning outside into the biting wind. But the man behind the counter had become suspicious.
    “What is it you children want?” he demanded.
    Sade and Femi hesitated.
    “If you are just waiting for someone, then wait outside, please,” he stated in a no-nonsense tone. Sade felt blood rush to her face. He thought they were thieves! Of course she and Femi wanted something…something to eat! But they could hardly say, “We’d like some plantain chips please but we have no money.”
    Femi responded before Sade.
    “This food isn’t good. Not like in Lagos!” he said loudly. “Come on, Sade, we’ll go to another shop!”
    They resettled their rucksacks and pulled back their shoulders before walking out. Neither of them looked in the direction of the counter but a lady’s voice followed them.
    “Makes you wonder about some parents, doesn’t it, Mr. Mills?”
    Cars were still streaming along the road but fewer peoplewere out walking now. They needed to find a place where they could at least huddle up together and try to keep each other warm. Somewhere near light, but also hidden. The small towels Mama Buki had packed for them in their holdall could be their blankets. They began looking for a shop entrance set back from the pavement that did not have a metal grille blocking it. When they came to the corner of one of the darker side roads, they hesitated. Perhaps there might be somewhere there? But it seemed quite deserted and more frightening. They carried on.
    In the next block, Femi pulled Sade to a halt next to a narrow alleyway between two buildings.
    “I can’t walk any more!” Femi’s voice quavered.
    Sade peered into the alleyway. It was too murky to see beyond the entrance. The damp smell was like the open drains in Alade Market after a downpour. It would be horrible to spend a night in there. But before she could say anything, Femi thrust down the holdall just inside the alley and curled himself up like a snail on top of it.
    “Femi, please—” Sade began. She broke off in horror as a shape rose up from the deeper shadows of the alley.
    “Clear off! This place is mine!”
    Femi sprung up wildly, colliding into Sade. The man’s arm swept down toward their bag and snatched it.
    “I said clear off! Everything