Marilyn Heward Mills

The Association
of Foreign
Spouses

Out now from Little, Brown

Marriage to a handsome Ghanaian architect has brought Eva far from the quiet English countryside. He had made it sound heavenly: an easy, warm life, jovial people, exotic food, vibrant colours, a fascinating culture. The reality was quite different. The heat and humidity sapped her energy; the general hardship drained her of vitality; the foreign culture still bewildered her. But Eva has her friends – Dahlia, Yelena and Margrit – all of them strangers in a foreign land, who through the years have relied on each other to fill the gaps left by distant relatives.

A sudden coup unnerves everyone, but for Dahlia, things become more dangerous still. And as Eva's relationship with Alfred also unravels, The Association of Foreign Spouses discover that there are dark sides to their lives and that they must scheme and deceive to protect themselves and their families.

Set in Ghana in the turbulent eighties, The Association of Foreign Spouses, is a story of love and friendship, betrayal and forgiveness. It is the story of a group of women who live in a land that at times defeats them, amongst people who often disappoint and baffle them. Through their trials and hardships, the women support each other, unified by their foreignness, their distance from home and the choices they have made, as ultimately, they are wooed by this strange place that they come to call 'home'.

The Association of Foreign Spouses: extract

Faustina was still singing in the kitchen. Eva smiled, thankful that most of the preparations were complete. Faustina had cooked the jolof rice yesterday, and made a pork stew with a thick, oily tomato and onion gravy. Eva had baked several cakes and biscuits. Today they would fry the chicken, which Faustina had boiled yesterday with onion, garlic and bay leaf to tenderise the meat; the chickens were broilers, strictly not suitable for frying, but there had been nothing else. They had already cut several fingers of ripe plantains into slithers, which now lay in the freezer ready to be fried when the guests arrived. She had no idea how many would come, had no idea who Alfred had invited in addition to the agreed guests, whether the people who had promised her they would come would in fact show up. She shrugged. There would be enough food, which was the main thing. She no longer worried about guest lists, numbers, times; there would be plenty of food and drink, enough chairs and space, and no timetable. And there would be fun. She knew now that if you seat a group of Ghanaians together, preferably with something to eat and drink, their laughter would quickly come true and deep, their conversation would not cease.

Faustina stopped her singing when Eva walked in and hummed under her breath. Eva got out the vegetables from the fridge: green peppers, cabbages, spring onions and carrots and began to chop them up. She wanted the right mix of colours. In her head she ran through the things they still had to do, adding to a neat list that lay next to her chopping board. Faustina had to wash and wipe the plates and cutlery they used for parties to remove any traces of geckos and cockroaches. Eva would check that her new blue and white tie-dye tablecloths and napkins didn't need to be ironed. The garden furniture looked pretty against the blue fabric and Zachariah had wiped all the tables and chairs before leaving, saving them one task. The guests could sit outside amidst the many trees she had planted over the years, the palms, banana and plantain trees, a large flame of Africa, and pink and purple bougainvillaea which clambered over the walls, so they could enjoy the shade and privacy, the scents and coolness of the garden. She would make sure they could all see the orchid.

There was also the chest freezer to pack with bottles of beer and soft drinks, more ice to be made, several large plastic bottles to be filled with cooled boiled water and then popped into the freezer later to make sure that there was enough cold water for the guests. At least there was electricity. With a shudder she dispelled the urge to go and check the taps again.

She was deep in thought, comfortably aware that she was well prepared for her guests when the gate bell rang, followed quickly by the loud burp of a car horn. Eva looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was only seven-thirty, too early even for unannounced visitors. And the clock couldn't be far wrong, she had reset it just last week and it only lost a minute or so each day. The bell rang again and she heard a woman call Faustina. Eva's heart sank as she recognised the voice of her mother-in-law. Why was Gladys here so early? Although she was forbidden from calling her Gladys out loud, she referred to her as such in her mind, to her friends and to the children. 'Only her peers can call her by her first name,' Alfred had explained the first time after Eva's faux pas. 'You must call her Auntie Gee, like we all do.' When Eva asked him why he didn't call his mother by some term that indicated their relationship, he simply shrugged and replied, 'I don't know. I have always called her Auntie Gee. I suppose that is what I heard everyone else call her when I was little, so I copied them.

In fact, Eva had broken so many rules in the early days.  It seemed Alfred was correcting her constantly: never sniff food that is handed to you on a plate; never use your left hand to give something to someone, that hand is reserved for dirty work, the right hand is for clean work; on no account call someone 'silly' or 'daft'. And, anyone older than you is owed more respect than you; you must not argue with them or contradict them. She had learned even more just from watching him. He smiled and nodded politely to older relatives even if they were talking utter nonsense, and he said 'yes', even when she knew he meant 'no', and agreed with them to their face, just to express the opposite view later. Eva had struggled with this unwillingness to question. It was too close to dishonesty and plain lying. She couldn't do that, it was one step too far. Instead, she had perfected the art of smiling and saying nothing whatsoever when she didn't want to contradict someone or to lie. She had learned to ask fewer questions too, even, perhaps especially, when things made no sense whatsoever to the ordered way of thinking with which she had been raised.

She stood and watched the commotion at the gate, safe in the knowledge that she was hidden from sight. Finally Solomon, Alfred's driver, found the right key and unlocked the padlock, swinging the gate open. A car edged on to the driveway, and from its egg-yolk yellow side flanks, Eva knew it was a taxi. She saw Gladys waving her arms about. She saw Solomon and the driver unloading the boot of the taxi. Solomon put a large crate on his head and began to head down the path towards the kitchen. The taxi driver followed with a weighty hessian bag in each hand, and behind him, Faustina and Akua, Gladys' young maid, followed with large, shiny aluminium pots balanced on their heads. Eva peered in astonishment as they approached the kitchen like a troop of farmers returning with a bountiful harvest, smiles of victory on their faces. Now that they were closer, Eva could see the cage on Solomon's head contained a huddle of fluttering feathers, and over the chatter of Faustina's loud directions, she heard the desperate clucking of chickens. Her heart sank…