Nyela laughed, so loudly that the paper lamps shook.
‘Is he always this charming?’ she wanted to know. ‘Such a charming liar?’
Yoyo didn’t answer, coughing instead. She seemed to have just realised that the spiciness of the pancakes struck with a malicious delay. Jericho took a slug of palm wine.
‘Nyela, we’ve been play-acting a little. Muntu was actually recommended to us. So we’re not here completely by chance. We would like to include you in a food guide. Would you be interested?’
‘What kind of guide?’
‘A virtual city guide,’ said Yoyo, who had got a grip of herself again and, her eyes sparkling, picked up on Jericho’s idea. ‘People could get a three-dimensional experience of your restaurant in it by putting on hologlasses. Are you familiar with holographics?’
Nyela shook her head, visibly amused. ‘My speciality is the law, my child. I studied law in Jaunde.’
‘Picture it like this. We produce a walk-in image of the restaurant as a computer program. With the necessary equipment, people can even take a peek into the cooking pots. But there is also a simpler version, just an entry online.’
‘I can’t say I fully understand, but it sounds good.’
‘Are you in?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then we just need to take care of the formalities,’ said Jericho. ‘If I’ve been correctly informed, you’re not the owner?’
‘Muntu belongs to my husband.’
‘Andre Donner?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, you’re Mrs Donner?’ He raised his eyebrows, feigning sudden realisation. ‘May I ask – your husband – I mean, Donner isn’t an African name—’
‘Boer. Andre is from South Africa.’
‘No, what a love story!’ cried Yoyo in delight. ‘South Africa and Cameroon.’
‘And you two?’ grinned Nyela. ‘What’s your story?’
Jericho was just about to reply when Yoyo’s fingers flew nimbly across like a squirrel and covered his.
‘Shanghai and London,’ she whispered happily.
‘Not bad either,’ said Nyela cheerfully. ‘I’ll tell you what, my girl. Love is a language that everyone can understand. It’s the only one you’ll ever need.’
‘We—’ said Jericho.
‘—are in love, and we work together,’ smiled Yoyo. ‘Just like you and your husband. It’s so wonderful!’
Jericho could almost hear the string section warming up. He didn’t know how to pull his hand back without making it look suspicious. Nyela looked at them both, visibly moved.
‘And where did you meet?’
‘In Shanghai.’ Yoyo giggled. ‘I was his tour guide. To be more specific, he had the glasses on, the holo things. Owen fell in love with my hologram, isn’t that sweet? After that he did everything he could to get to know me. I didn’t want to at first, but—’
‘Amazing.’
‘Yes, and you? Where did you meet your husband? South Africa? Or was it in Equatoria—’
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ interjected Jericho. ‘But we still have a lot of things to do. So, Nyela, in order to prepare the entry we need to speak to your husband. We need his signature. Perhaps he’s here now?’
Nyela looked at him thoughtfully with her shining white eyes. Then she pointed at the tapioca pudding.
‘Have you tried it yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then you’re not going anywhere, not for the time being at least.’ Her grin lit up the room. ‘Not until you’ve eaten everything up.’
‘No problem,’ purred Yoyo. ‘Owen loves African food. Don’t you, poppet?’
Jericho thought he must be hearing things.
‘I sometimes call him poppet,’ Yoyo confided in Nyela, who seemed interested and not at all embarrassed. ‘When we’re by ourselves.’
‘Like now?’
‘Yes, like now. What do you think, poppet, shall we stay a little longer?’
Jericho stared at her. ‘Of course, you old bag. Whatever you say.’
Yoyo’s smile frosted over. Her fingers made their retreat. Jericho felt a mixture of regret and relief.
‘Andre isn’t here right now, by the way,’ said Nyela. ‘How long will you be in Berlin?’
‘Not long. We’ve got an early flight.’ Jericho scratched the back of his head. ‘There isn’t any chance that we could meet him at short notice, is there? This evening perhaps?’
‘We’re actually shut this evening. Although—’ Nyela put a finger to her lips. ‘Okay, wait a moment. I’ll be back shortly.’
She disappeared through the swing doors.
‘Did you really call me an old bag?’ asked Yoyo under her breath.
‘I did. And I meant it.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome, poppet.’
‘But why?’ she protested. ‘What I said was nice! I said something nice, and you—’
‘Consider yourself lucky I didn’t say something worse.’
‘Owen, what’s all this about?’ A steep fold was building up between Yoyo’s brows. ‘I thought you knew how to joke around.’
‘You nearly let the cat out of the bag, you twit! You were about to say Equatorial Guinea.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘I heard it!’
‘But she didn’t.’ Yoyo rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, I’m sorry, calm down. At the very most she would have thought I said the equator. And that makes sense, right? Cameroon is on the equator.’
‘Gabon is on the equator.’
‘Daft know-all.’
‘Toad.’
‘Jerk!’
‘Are we having a relationship crisis?’ mocked Jericho. ‘We shouldn’t push it, darling, or we might as well leave right now.’
‘So I’m the one that’s pushed it too far? Because I was nice to you?’
‘No, not because of that. Because you weren’t being careful.’ He knew he was reacting too harshly, but he was boiling over with rage.
Yoyo looked away morosely. They were still silent when Nyela came back to the table.
‘What a shame,’ she said. ‘Andre is obviously on the move. And can’t be reached. But he should be giving me a call sometime in the next few hours. Can you give me your mobile number? I’ll call you.’
‘Of course.’ Jericho wrote his number on a paper serviette. ‘I’ll make sure my phone’s turned on.’
‘We’d like to be in this guide of yours.’ Nyela laughed her throaty, African laugh. ‘Even though I don’t have a clue what hologoggles are.’
‘We’ll put you in,’ smiled Jericho. ‘With or without the goggles.’
‘Wow, a restaurant guide. What a great idea!’
Yoyo fidgeted along behind him resentfully as they left Muntu. The midday light was crystal clear, a hot early summer Berlin day, the sky an upside-down, sparkling blue swimming-pool. But Jericho didn’t stop to take it all in. He crossed the street, marched into the shade of the row of buildings opposite and halted so suddenly that Yoyo almost ran into him. He turned round and stared at the restaurant.
‘She didn’t notice anything,’ Yoyo assured him. ‘I’m sure she didn’t.’
Jericho didn’t answer. He gazed thoughtfully over at Muntu. Yoyo paced on the spot, planted herself in front of him and then waved her hand around in front of his eyes.
‘Everything okay, Owen? Is there anyone at home?’
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he looked at his watch.
‘Fine, you don’t have to speak to me,’ she warbled. ‘We can write to each other. Yes, that’s a good idea! You can write everything down on a little piece of paper and give it to someone to give to me. And I—’
‘You can make yourself useful.’
‘Oh, you do have a voice!’ Yoyo bowed in front of an imaginary audience. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The man has spoken. It is with great pride that we present to you—’