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added, ‘Actually, Abena is the name given in Ghana to a girl born on a Tuesday.’
    Looking up from the colourful Burning Spear album he had been examining, Wesley spoke for the first time, his pale blue eyes staring at her dispassionately.
    â€˜Is that so? That’s interesting. It’s Faye, is that right?’ He paused for a moment, continuing after she nodded in confirmation. ‘What about yourself – you were born on which day?’
    To Faye’s surprise his accent was, if possible, even more pronounced than Jiggy’s. She collected her thoughts as best as she could through the rum-induced fog that was fast enveloping her.
    â€˜Thursday. My ‘home’ name is Akua. It’s spelt A-k-u-a but you pronounce it like “a queer”.’ She started giggling as the powerful rum hit her. She didn’t notice Michael’s frown as she took another sip of the rum and carried on, now determined to reclaim her cultural credentials.
    â€˜There are names for boys too. Like Kofi Annan? You know, he used to be the Secretary-General of the United Nations. Well, he’s from Ghana and Kofi is the name for aboy born on a Friday.’
    Everyone in the room had now stopped to listen to her. The only sound to be heard in the room was the wail of Maxi Priest begging someone to ‘Make My Day’.
    â€˜Well, fancy that now,’ Philomena said, clearly impressed with her guest’s knowledge of her cultural heritage. Heaving herself off her cushion with surprising agility, she swayed over to drinks tray and, without stopping to ask, generously topped up Faye’s pink glass, now almost empty.
    â€˜Go on, Faye, share some more of your culture with us,’ she said as she settled herself back into the immense scarlet cushion. ‘If I come across Abena, I’ll be able to tell her I know something about her homeland,’ she added, chuckling comfortably.
    Faye shifted her almost numb, but at least ethnically correct, backside against the cushion that was now a far cry from its initial apparent softness. She still held the floor and as even Michael was now looking at her with newly appreciative eyes, she hardly needed Philomena’s encouragement to keep on going. She took another sip of the rum, her voice getting louder as her confidence grew.
    â€˜There are also special names given to children, depending on the order they were born in. For instance, if you are an Ashanti, the third boy in a row in your family is quite likely to be named Mensah. In our family, my dad’s younger brother is called Mensah Bonsu because he was born after my father who was the second son.’
    Luther nodded. His eyes were bright with interest as he listened to the impromptu lecture. ‘It sounds like you know quite a bit about your culture,’ he said soberly,respect clearly visible in his pale eyes.
    Wesley’s intent stare wasn’t quite so friendly, although his tone was neutral. ‘So what kind of music are you into, Faye?’
    She stared back, her thoughts immediately flying to the Coldplay CD hidden away in her glove compartment. She glanced at Michael and bit her lip at the look of naked pleading on his face.
    â€˜I’m pretty open – I like a lot of different kinds,’ she said casually. ‘Michael introduced me to Bob Marley’s music – actually I was playing one of his albums earlier this evening.’
    Her boyfriend visibly relaxed and carried on chatting to Luther. But it was soon apparent that Wesley hadn’t finished with his line of questioning.
    â€˜So what kind of music is popular in Ghana, then?’ His eyes stabbed at her, belying the casual tone of his voice.
    Faye gulped at her rum in an effort to buy time and was saved by Philomena marching back into the room clutching two large bowls of snacks.
    â€˜Sorry, people, I didn’t get time to cook today – my women’s group meeting went on longer than