"For the last time, I have told you that nobody goes by that name here. I don't know any Romola and if I catch you here, inshallah, I will use a matchet to design your skin." The house owner slammed the door in Yetunde's face.

She eyed the door, hissing and turning away from the green one storey building. Dami had brought here several times to look for Romola's parents but the answer was always the same. Romola didn't live here.

Nobody went by that name on the street.

Nobody looked like Romola on the street.

Yetunde knew this but she had to be sure.

She strolled down the staircase, leading to the ground floor. Her eyes focused on Romola's picture on her phone. Thank God Romola didn't die from an overdose. Now, she could really find out who the girl was instead of spending hours mourning someone who didn't deserve to be mourned.

Olumide insisting that Romola live with him had complicated things at first, but now, she had several days to think of a fool proof plan. A simple way to twist all the information she already had in her favour. There had to be a way to discredit Romola in front of Olumide's parents. The girl wasn't who she claimed to be but that piece of evidence wouldn't do the job. She needed to know exactly who the girl was. A giggle escaped her lips. Olumide will soon realize that the woman he liked was not a real person and he would drop Romola like a hot pot.

She walked to the street gate and stopped where the curb ended. Where would she go from here? How could she find out who the girl really was? As long as her friend suffered memory loss, there was little she could mine from Romola. Everyone adored Romola and they could always claim that what she found were lies.

"Ah aunty, you don come again?" A coarse voice called out.

Yetunde faced the rectangular building that served as the street's security post. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes na. You come here with one boy abi? Are you finding something?"

Yetunde eyed the man. He should have stuck to his pidgin. It wasn't necessary to attempt to speak the queen's English. "So what?"

The man took off his black face cap and flashed a poor imitation of a sultry smile. "I just want to help you."

"Keep your help to yourself. The person I am looking for is not on this street." Yetunde raised her palm to the man's face.

"Calm down." The man rubbed his stomach and licked his dark cracked lips. "See, I know everybody wey dey this street, just call the name. I go call the person for you."

"She doesn't live here."

"I don dey do this work for five years." The man said. "I know people fot this street wey no even know themselves."

Yetunde clicked her tongue and stood back, allowing her eyes to stray down the road as she searched for a bike that would take her room. She'd ended her session with her therapist early so she could find time to search for Romola's house. She stared at the clock on her hand. She had to be home no later than 30 mins from now and she didn't have the patience to deal with lustful old men.

But then again, she turned to the man, she could keep entertaining herself until a bike man passed. What stupid things would he say when he saw Romola's picture? She pulled up the picture on her phone.

"Do you know this girl?" She stepped into the rectangular building. A pungent smell, like spoilt rice and rotten eggs, smacked her nose. The smell of burning cigarettes was an assaulting flavour. She shook her head. These were the men that were supposed to protect the street. The other man had relaxed on the small floor beside the wall with his eyes shut and his snore acting as a background music as he snored away the seconds of his life.

"Ah wait." The disappointment in the man's face had her smirking until his eyes widened. "I know am."

"Of course you do." She rolled her eyes, taking her phone away.

He snatched it out of her hand and rushed to his colleague, tapping the sides of the man's leg. He pushed the phone to his partner's face. "Tony. Anthony! Shey you no know this girl? That your babe?"

Anthony sat up, clearing his eyes with his hands before staring at the phone. He took the phone from the old man and stared at the screen intently as though he was trying to make sense of what he had seen. The fair skin of his face turned darker with the creases on his forehead. Yetunde's heart dropped. Were they just wasting her time?

"Who be this?" Anthony growled.

Yetunde reached for his hand. "Give me my phone."

He dodged her hold and peered harder at the photo, his mouth breaking into a grin.

"Ehn. My babe. My Romola. I don wonder where she been go."

Yetunde's head jutted forward. Her jaw loosened but she brought her head to order, asking, "You know this girl?"

"Sure na." Anthony shrugged. "She dey study accounting for UNILAG. She suppose hawk bread pass here tomorrow. Who kon give her makeup like this?"

Yetunde's lips spread in glee. "It's me. I am a photographer. I want to give her a job. She told me she lives on this street but I can't find her. Do you know where she lives?"

Anthony threw his hands in the air and the bones in his body cracked. "That on na small thing. Her small sister go soon pass. Just sit down for that chair."