Simi calls after Lola. “You know Lola – I loved it. The experience of my life. You’ll want to go and see Africa one day. Trust me.” But Simi can tell Lola isn’t listening. She’s over in the far corner, leaning on the cutting table, sketching something on to a large piece of paper. Above her a lamp is switched on, its light picking out her braids.

Love her hair. If you’ve got a sister who can braid you are so in luck. Plus she’s got the time.

Simi stands up, and as she does so the mobile in her pocket buzzes.

“I’ll get it,” she calls out to nobody in particular. “Hello. Kaftan Shop.”

“Hello,” a cheerful voice bounces down the line. “Can I speak to … Simi? Is that you?”

“Marybelle? How did you get my number?

“From the doctors. Oh, it’s so lovely to hear you. I can’t talk long, I’m on Father Norman’s mobile. It’s just that I’m coming over to England for a visit. Isn’t that crazy?” Marybelle giggles.

“What? A visit? When?”

“Soon. Not sure exactly. Are you well Simi?”

“Yes. Yes I am. But …?”

Simi tries to gather her thoughts, as Marybelle charges on.

“Simi I’m coming all because of Father Norman and Lady Rodwell. Anyway, he got Fred and I …”

“Lady Rodwell?”

“Yes. Oh. Sorry. Maybe you weren’t there. Do you know the Lady Rodwell?” 

“No …”

“Oh. It’s a hospital in Bulawayo. Lots of babies got adopted from there. I was adopted from there.”

“You?”

“Yes. Well, Father Norman’s mother has just died, and she asked him to search for someone in the records there.”

The words tumble down the line.

“Oh …” says Simi, mind racing. “Marybelle, can you just slow down a little?”

“Oh sorry. Well, the person Father Norman was looking for …”

“Is? Is you Marybelle?”

 “No. No silly. Sadly the lady his mother wanted him to find has died. In one of those Viscount disasters I think. But the point is Father Norman also helped Fred and I look for people.”

“Fred? You’re related to Fred?”

“What?”

“You and Fred are family?”

“What? No Simi.” Marybelle’s laughter bubbles into Simi’s ear. “No Simi … I’ll start again.”

“Okay. Can you slow down a bit. I’m really confused.”

“Right.” Simi hears Marybelle take a deep breath. “Father Norman was looking for somebody his mother knew about, a cousin I think. He found the name, but the lady’s died. He then asked me if I would like to find out about my father and, I said ‘yes’. I never wanted to before, but I think the cyclone and the wedding made me think.”

“And?” asks Simi.

“Well, he helped me search. Turns out there’s no trace of my father, and I’m sad, but not too sad about that … can’t really imagine finding him now … but it was exciting to look … but … Simi … guess what?”

“What?”

“He found someone for Fred.”

“For Fred?”

“Yes. Fred also has a link to Lady Rodwell, but I didn’t know that, until Father Norman came. Then I found out.”

“And?”

“Fred has a daughter.”

“And it’s you?”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

“Shop looks great by the way. Any problems?” asks Simi, her eyes still avoiding Lola’s.

“No. No problems. I didn’t sell much from the rails, but I took some orders. One woman wanted five in kente cloth. I got the measurements. Wants them by the end of the month.”

“Great! That will cost her a bit,” says Simi.

“Money isn’t her kind of problem. Not like me,” Lola laughs. “By the way what’s that good idea of yours? The one that made you so happy.”

“Aha!” says Simi. She looks at Lola, who has half a doughnut still to go, sugar all over the desk in front of her, and a head full of happy hopes. Simi sighs, knowing she’s about to open a box her young assistant probably won’t have looked in before. She starts gently. “I want to try to help some people in Zimbabwe. Some children.”

“White children?” Lola asks, as she pats her hands together to get rid of the sugar.

“No. Black children.”

Lola stops what she’s doing, and looks at Simi. “I thought you said you only met white people?”

“Staying at the lodge, yes, but most of the staff were black. Some of them lost so much in this storm.”

“Oh. What happened?” Lola asks her eyes widening.

“Lots of flooding, and one school got hit by a landslide. Ten children died and two teachers.”

“Aaaah …” Lola’s intake of breath, rushes through her lips, shaking her whole body. Eyes ready to spill, she whispers, “that’s terrible.”

“I know,” says Simi quietly.

“Who will help them?”

“I don’t know. They say the government doesn’t work properly.”

“Those poor children. How old were they?”

“Primary school I think. They’ve lost their friends, their teachers, their school. And they don’t have a lot of anything.”

“What? No money? Like people here?”

“No. It’s way worse than here.”

“Worse than here?” Lola looks sceptical. She picks up her coffee.

“Different. Money’s not about stuff there. It’s about staying alive. Food.”

“I know some people like that,” says Lola, staring out across the street to Old Joe. “You know I can’t imagine it – imagine Africa. All you hear about is fighting or starving. Then this kind of weather. Those poor kids.”

“I know,” says Simi. Then fearing Lola might be about to cry, she fills her voice with as much hope as she can, and repeats that she has had a good idea.

“Yes … but what is it?” Lola asks, her gaze coming back to Simi.

“I want to design a kaftan. Or,” Simi hesitates, then rushes on, “rather, I would love you to design a kaftan. One you would wear. Then we can make them and sell them, and use the profits for books. For the school?”

“Raise money for the school. Sounds good. But … a kaftan I would wear?”

“Yes,” says Simi.

“Me? Wear a kaftan?” Lola looks sideways at Simi, eyebrows raised.

Simi laughs. “Well, if you design it, you’d wear it, right?”

“Hmm.” Lola sits back and folds her arms. “Any design?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes … I think so,” says Simi, now worried about her latest impulse idea.

“Great!” says Lola, jumping up. “Let’s do it.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Simi steadies herself and the chair. She likes her new plan and feels stronger because of it. Even her hand doesn’t feel as bad as it did when she raised the shop shutter. The clip of Lola’s shoes brings her attention back to the street.

There she is. Tight as a plum in that dress, but will she wear a kaftan? Says she’s too young. Not even twenty. Huh! And those heels. But … what can I do? I like her. So do my customers.

She watches as Lola beams in, and places the cups she is carrying on to the desk. “Sorry it took so long. They were only just opening. I got doughnuts too. It’s a celebration right? You back, and all that.” She digs in the large bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a paper packet, which she tears open lengthways and places between the cups, scattering sugar like glitter. “And I remembered the napkins.”

“Thanks,” says Simi, leaning back to avoid the glistening confetti fall. “All you need is a chair.”

Lola dusts off her hands, and goes to collect the wooden, back-of-store chair. “You look happy. Something happen while I was away?” she asks Simi as she carries it back.

“Well … yes and no.”

 “I was worried earlier. You looked tired,” she says sitting down.

“I was, but not now – some bad news has given me a good idea.” Simi pulls a coffee towards her, and takes off the lid. “You’ve no idea how I was dreaming of one of these.” Closing her eyes she takes a long sip.

Never going to take Gino’s deli for granted again.

Lola bites into her doughnut, sugar sticking to the plump, poppy red of her lips. She wipes the grains off with a napkin. “I can’t even imagine what it was like out there in Zim … Zim …”

“Zimbabwe.” Simi finishes the word for her. “Green. It was green. Green and brown. Lots of trees and stuff – ‘bush’ they call it. Place was so remote. All I looked at was the lodge when I booked it. To be fair, was beautiful though. Mountains. Tea estates. Ever seen tea growing?”

Lola shakes her head. “No. What was the lodge like?”

“Really comfortable. But strange. You know why? Everyone staying was white.”

“What? White?” Lola, napkin poised by her mouth, stares at Simi. “You were in Africa right?”

Simi nods. “I landed myself in the middle of a white wedding.”

“A white wedding? That’s bizarre.” Lola puts down the napkin. “I should have come with you. Two of us then.”

Simi laughs, head shaking. “It was crazy.”

“Then there was a big cyclone? Where you got hurt?” Lola’s eyes are now so big, Simi fears she might drown.

“Picked up some kind of infection,” she says, looking away.

“You know what? No way I’m going to those kinds of places.” Lola takes a bite of doughnut and chews it slowly, eyes still swallowing Simi. “Why did you go?”

Simi shrugs. “I have no idea. Life. Trying to prove something.” She doesn’t want to talk about SJ so she breaks off a piece of doughnut, and puts it into her mouth like a full stop. Once she’s eaten it, she tries to move the subject on.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023