From Pasta to Pigfoot Read Online Free PDF

usual. Faye,’ she turned to her guest with a smile. ‘I’ve got some plantain chips here for you.’
    Faye took the bowl on offer and crammed a couple of the chips into her mouth. She savoured the sweet crispiness of the snack and ate a few more in quick succession, hoping to soak up the powerful rum. Too little, too late , she thought, as the room swayed gently before her eyes in a kaleidoscope of colour.
    Desperate to fend off Wesley’s questioning, she turnedto Philomena. ‘These chips are really tasty – where did you buy them?’
    â€˜All the shops around here sell them.’ Philomena sounded puzzled by the question, but her smile was friendly as she settled back into her cushion. ‘You don’t have them where you live?’
    Faye shrugged, not about to admit that plantain chips were not the usual snack of choice in Hampstead shops or that, thanks to Lottie, she rarely did the grocery shopping.
    Wesley leaned back in his cushion. His eyes almost matched the light sea-blue tones of the fabric, and his voice sounded lazy and relaxed.
    â€˜So, you and Michael…’
    â€˜Ye-es?’
    â€˜You’ve been seeing each other long?’
    â€˜Almost two years,’ Faye said slowly. She took another sip of her rum, wondering what was coming next.
    â€˜So, then, is it serious?’ His tone hadn’t changed and he sounded like someone discussing the weather and not delving into personal territory with a virtual stranger.
    Philomena chuckled and waved a lazy hand in Faye’s direction. ‘Girl, just ignore him! You don’t have to be telling any of us your business.’
    Wesley shrugged and grinned, although the humour stopped short of reaching his eyes. ‘Hey, just curious, you know.’
    Without warning, he switched topics. ‘I hear there are good things happening in Africa these days – how’s Ghana’s economy doing?
    What the hell is this? Who Wants to Be a Millionaire time? Faye gritted her teeth, wishing she could phone a friend or, preferably, a hit man who could remove this intensely annoying man.
    She tried to shrug off the numbing effects of the rum and opened her mouth to speak. Her tongue suddenly felt heavy and wayward, as if it had a mind of its own and was ready to do its own thing. She focused hard on her words and forced them out carefully. ‘Well, from what my dad says, the economy is going through some challenges at the moment. But the country has a lot of natural resources, so things should pick up over time.’
    Michael and Luther had also been listening and to her relief, Luther smiled and nodded. Michael, on the other hand, was eyeing the half-empty glass in her hand with alarm.
    But Wesley wasn’t finished. ‘Do you get to go back home often?’
    Stopped in her tracks, she stared back at him and groaned in silent agony.
    Okay, Faye, you big mouth, kiss goodbye to all the brownie points you just scored!
    As her now captive audience was still waiting for her response, she tried one or two sentences out in her head before answering. Then she took a deep breath.
    â€˜Well’, she started, sounded awkward, and stopped. She squirmed uncomfortably on her cushion. Taking a swift gulp from her glass, she tried again, trying hard not to sound apologetic.
    â€˜Well, my father, my brother and I came to live in England when I was five after my mother died. My fathertravels a lot for his work and, well, we’ve never really had the chance to go back since…’
    Her voice trailed off as she took in the expression of barely disguised scorn on Wesley’s face. Desperate to avoid his eyes, she took another sip of her drink and stared fixedly down into her glass.
    The taste of the rum was now beginning to make her feel very sick. It was patently clear to everyone that Faye’s moment in the spotlight was over and Jiggy and Michael quickly turned back to the music selection spread out in