“Hello. Kaftan …”

“Hello. Is a lady called Simidele there?” The voice of an older man cuts down the line.

“Fred?”

“Simidele?”

“Yes. Marybelle called to tell me that you’re both coming over to see your daughter.”

“Correct.”

The strength in Fred’s voice amazes Simi. He does not sound like the old man with the wavering cough, who she last saw wrapped in blankets on the lodge verandah. “You sound well.”

“I am well. We’re going to stay with my daughter in Rotherhithe. May we see you while we’re in London?”

“Of course. When?”

“Two weeks time.”

“I shall be in my shop, working on our new project.”

“Ah. A new project?”

“To raise funds for that school – the one near the lodge that got hit by the landslide.”

“Ah …” says Fred.

Simi hears hesitation, and pauses her enthusiasm. “It’s a good idea isn’t it?”

“Well … it’s a generous idea,” Fred replies.

“But?”

“But, perhaps we need to fund our own schools.”

“Yes, but surely after the cyclone …. don’t you think you need some help?”

“Of course, but we must be the helpers. Zimbabwe is rich, and we know how to build schools.”

Simi frowns. “But …I thought … I mean … things didn’t look great even before that cyclone. Now there’s all the damage?”

“I agree, but if everyone keeps fixing us, our leaders will keep robbing us. That’s the problem. Anyway, what if we came over there and started building schools?”

Simi laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” says Fred.

“But … you wouldn’t have to. We’ve got plenty. I think we can manage.”

“There you go. That’s where we need to get to.”

Simi feels her excitement flattening. “So what then? What can I do? How can I help?”

“Help one of your own schools, while thinking of us.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And, you could always give us lunch?” Simi hears the smile in Fred’s voice. “Shall we say the last Wednesday of the month? Leave plenty of time to fix the world.”

“It’s a deal,” says Simi, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, despite the squashed plans.

“Not sure what time we’ll arrive. I’ll telephone when we get there.”

“Perfect. And you’ll meet my assistant and new designer, Lola. Kaftan Shop. You’ll find it on the internet.”

“I look forward to it. Best greetings to you both. Goodbye.”

Simi puts the mobile back in her pocket. She looks at Lola and sees that she is struggling not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Lola’s reply tumbles out, each word grinning. “You. He was the soldier, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well … I could sort of hear him. Made you listen.”

“And?”

“Sounded like he didn’t want our help.”

“Well, I don’t know if he knows ….”

“Makes sense to me. He’s not going to want your charity.”

Simi feels a flash of impatience. “You didn’t see what a mess it all was out there.”

“No. But I know my old school needs help. Our library books were so ancient …”

“Huh.” With a swirl of kaftan Simi turns away from Lola’s mirth, and stands looking out through the front entrance, arms folded. She sees that it’s raining outside, and that Joe and his dog are now huddled together under the same plastic mac.

“What are you going to do with Marybelle and the soldier when they’re in London?” Lola asks.

“I have no idea,” Simi replies, quietly.

Marybelle in London – that’s going to be a whole other story.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023