The List by Yomi Adegoke

Author:Yomi Adegoke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2023-05-15T18:00:42+00:00

16

1 day to the wedding

Michael kept the spare key taped underneath the plant pot on the left. Or was it the right one? Ola forgot which each time and ended up having to lift both. This was harder than it sounded, as they were large, cast-iron monstrosities reaching her shins and required her to kneel on the ground to tip them backwards. She crouched to lean the left pot against the wall and scanned the base. No luck. She moved across to the second and did the same. Jackpot. Ola dusted the debris of Michael’s porch from her knees and opened his front door.

Entering his hallway, her underarms were moist with exertion and apprehension. She felt thankful the sweat wasn’t visible through her shirt, a black, 90s-style graphic tee with Louis Theroux on the front, paired with distressed dark denim shorts. The casual clothes looked at odds with her extravagant, extra-long wedding hair, nails and lashes, reminders that the wedding was just around the corner. Ola wasn’t sure how she had managed to let a whole month fly by with no answers or direction on what to do about the wedding. How could she focus on the order of the procession, the pace of her walk, when she didn’t feel she should be there at all? But when Michael texted, asking her to pick up the order of ceremony booklets from his flat, she took it as a sign. It was an opportunity to be alone in his house, with his laptop. An opportunity to dig as deep as she possibly could. As guilty as she felt, what choice did she have? Rationality had long left the equation, ever since she’d got Luke involved in this mess weeks ago. The wedding was tomorrow and her total confusion was presently overriding her feelings of regret. This was the eleventh hour. If she didn’t find anything on his computer, she’d take it as the universe saying she’d done all she humanly could. If she did … she’d cross that bridge when it came.

Ola raced up to Michael’s bedroom. The air inside was smoky and stale. Stacked plates with congealed foods lined the floor and too many bottles of whiskey sat empty on his side table. It was difficult not to be affected by the tragedy of his surroundings. Cracking open a window, she bent over the open MacBook on his bed. Her heart rate quickened as she typed in the password, certain he wouldn’t have changed it. Then she was in.

Sat on his bed, illicitly logged in to his laptop, Ola realised that she had no idea what it was she hoped to find. A neatly outlined log of his harassment activities was unlikely. And, anything that might even hint at abusive behaviour was probably deleted by now. She clicked her way through his Gmail inbox anyway and a grubby feeling came over her. Though her gut feeling was hard to ascertain through the dread, something told her she was searching for an answer she already had.

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