Page 169 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘You could?’ I asked, genuinely intrigued. ‘What does it say?’
‘It says “kind man”, sir.’ Lashay replied. ‘It’s written right under your name.’
I gasped and sank into my office chair. In an instant, my mind was transported back to the Waldorf Astoria dining room in New York City, and Cecily Huntley-Morgan’s smiling face.
Look! I even wrote ‘kind man’ on the back! I shall keep it with me forever, as a token of good luck.
‘Are you still there, Mr Tanit?’ asked Lashay.
‘Yes,’ I replied, exasperated. ‘Uh, Lashay, I actually have a hunch about who the baby might belong to. I wonder... do you knowanythingabout her family circumstances?’
There was a slight pause on the line. ‘Well, we know one thing. The Hale House Centre isn’t just for unwanted children.’ I winced at the term. ‘Mother Hale provides support for children who are born addicted to drugs. I’m sorry to tell you that we strongly believe that this baby is addicted to crack cocaine.’
I put my hand over my mouth. ‘Good Lord.’
‘A lot of people find it shocking. But that’s the reality here, sir. Drug dens are rife in Harlem. If I were to bet, I’d say that this child came from the one off of Lenox Avenue.’
Lenox Avenue. I’d heard the name before. ‘Listen, I’ll make arrangements to fly over tomorrow.’
The very next day, I found myself standing in front of Mother Hale House – a crumbling brownstone – in Harlem. I knocked on the door, and was greeted by a woman dressed in a bluetracksuit with a magnificent afro haircut. ‘Are you Mr Tanit?’ she asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m Lashay Jones, we spoke on the phone.’
‘Hello, Lashay, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ I put my hand out to shake hers.
‘Nuh-uh. We do hugs around here,’ she said, pulling me down to her and wrapping her arms tightly around me.
I gave a chuckle of surprise. ‘Oh, that’s very nice.’
‘You just flown in from Sweden?’
‘Switzerland, actually.’
She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. ‘That near Sweden?’
‘It’s... on the same continent.’
Lashay burst out laughing. ‘I’m joking, I’m joking. Sorry, busy morning. We’ve got a lot of hungry bellies in here today.’ I instantly warmed to Lashay and her charming self-deprecation. ‘Come on in.’ I followed her into the Hale House Centre, and was directed towards a door on the left of the hallway. ‘She’s just in here.’
‘Who is?’
‘Mother Hale, of course!’ Lashay opened the door and revealed a small office. Behind a large desk in front of a window was a slight old woman with grey hair, dressed in a white cardigan. She turned around as I walked in.
‘This is the gentleman from Europe?’ she asked Lashay, who nodded. The woman stood up gingerly, and made her way over to shake my hand.
‘Clara Hale.’
‘Atlas Tanit. It’s an honour to meet you.’
‘Likewise, I’m sure.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Lashay said with a smile, before backing out of the room.
‘Please, won’t you sit?’ The older woman indicated a beaten leather sofa.
‘Thank you.’
