22. Sorrow and pain

Shirleen rushed into the gym banging the door against the wall followed closely by Adrian who had tried and failed to stop her. She had found out that Angela was staying in the house and she had gone into a rage. Angela stopped hitting the training dummy and turned to look at the door. "You are not welcomed in this house," Shirleen shouted stepping forward.

Angela laughed reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat dripping down her face, "I believe this is my house," she said turning away from Shirleen. "Now get out I haven't finished my training."

"You killed my mother," Shirleen said in anger, "I refuse to live in the same house as a murderer."

Angela flinched very subtly only a very keen observer would have noticed the change in expression. "I am told you are very good when it comes to martial arts," Angela said turning to look at her. "I will let you attack me and if you win I will leave this house earlier than I had expected but if you lose you will keep yourself in the West wing for the reminder of my stay and I will keep myself in the East wing and I can continue ignoring your existence in peace." Shirleen's eyes swirled with anger and hatred as she looked at the woman who had destroyed her childhood and caused her parents untold suffering. To her Angela was vermin that needed to be exterminated and taught a lesson. "Agreed," Shirleen said menacingly. Angela laughed and very slowly took a stance and motioned for Shirleen to attack her. The fight lasted thirty minutes and by the end of those thirty minutes Angela won. Shirleen lay on the carpeted floor breathing heavily and nursing painful bruises. Angela looked at the girl on the floor speculatively, "Fighting in anger is a sure way to lose. Surely one of your instructors must have told you this," she said coldly. "I will be here for a week so stay out of my way till then." Angela picked up her bottle of water and left without a backward glance leaving Shirleen with Adrian who was helping her to her feet. "I lost to her," Shirleen said her voice broken.

"Angela was born into one of the most ruthless families in Kenya. She has been trained in martial arts since she was able to walk," Adrian explained softly caressing her face.

"One of the five families?" Shirleen asked curiously.

Adrian's eyes widened in surprise, "How do you know that?"

"My tutor taught me. Apparently, the criminal underworld is ruled by five families, Phoenix, Jaguar, Tiger, Lion and Dragon families each specializing in specific crimes like drugs, bank frauds, assassinations, debt collection and money laundering."

Adrian's surprise faded and he looked intensely at the woman before him, "Your education is quite eccentric," he said smiling. "Let me take you to your room."

Adrian walked out of Shirleen's room and stood outside for a few minutes looking at the door. That Shirleen knew of the five families brought forth a lot of questions, questions that he had thought of but quickly discarded as they did not make sense at all. There was something he was missing and he hated that feeling.

Shirleen kept glancing at the doorway leading into the living room shifting nervously on the sofa. "She won't come to this part of the house," Mrs Nzula assured her softly. "Madam Angela I mean."

"How do you know?" Shirleen asked.

"Because she visits this residence only once a year. She comes late at night, spends the day and leaves the day after early in the morning," Mrs. Nzula replied.

"Is there a reason?" Adrian asked folding Shirleen in his arms.

"Yes," Mrs. Nzula said as if reluctant to continue. She heaved a deep resigned sigh, "You must have seen the stone mausoleum out in the back garden at the very edge that is closed off. That is where her daughter who died at birth is buried. She comes here on this day every year to place flowers at the mausoleum. She comes here to grieve."

"Now I finally realise why she is so willing to be in the same vicinity I am," Shirleen said relaxing.

"She has been at the mausoleum since this afternoon," Mrs. Nzula said her face sad.

"How long have you known Angela?" Adrian asked her.

"Since she was ten years old when her mother died and her father needed someone to look after his daughter," Mrs. Nzula said softly. "She wasn't always so cold. Once upon a time she was cheerful and so ready to believe in everything the world could offer. Her father was not a nice man. He tried every day to break her and make her in his image, but she never did break. She defied him and broke away from his control and she was happy for a time. Her eyes used to sparkle and every day she would laugh. It was truly a beautiful sight. But then she learned something, and she disappeared for a whole year hiding. When I saw her again, she had lost her child in childbirth and her eyes had turned cold and hard. The emotions that used to appear on her face so readily were gone. Her face became a blank slate. She changed completely from the girl I used to know. She became hard and unbending nothing seemed to move her," Mrs. Nzula paused lost in the past. "Where her father had failed that experience had succeeded. She had broken and remade in the image her father had wanted. When she came back she willingly went back to her father and joined the family business a business she had once abhorred to the delight of her father. From then on no one could penetrate that wall she surrounded herself with."

"Her past does not excuse what she did," Shirleen whispered her voice filled with pain and hate. She reached blindly for Adrian's hand.

"I know little one," Mrs. Nzula said reaching to touch Shirleen's face offering comfort. "Please understand me my dear. I raised Angela. I saw her go through hell at the hands of her father who thought that would be the only way to make his daughter strong. I saw her survive that man only to be broken by another. To me she will always be my little girl. I may not have given birth to her but she is my daughter in many other ways." The main door opened and Angela stepped in. She looked haggard and beaten down. Sorrow and pain showed on her face. She was ravaged by grief. She turned and noticed them in the living room. Her back straightened and her face lost all expression and became blank. She turned for the stairs, "Nana," she called softly, "Bring a bottle of whiskey." Everyone watched her disappear up the stairs stiffly.