Simi looks around the room, wondering if everyone is still awake, or if they are sleeping on the rise and fall of the story. Jacobus’ head is bowed, and does not lift as Tonderai continues.

“Up at the Table all the Favourites are happy for there is quiet below. Even Snake has ceased his whispering, for now he sleeps in the day to be ready for Girl’s stories in the night.

Grandpa too is pleased, for there is peace beneath his Table. There is quiet at his feet and there are crowds at his window. The watchers make him very happy. They have come to see me, Grandpa thinks. Always they come. I am great. I am greater even than great.” Tonderai thumps his chest. “Grandpa grows veeery proud. Soon his head is so big, that the window has to be opened even wider, but Girl does not mind for the fresh air is good for them, and besides, she has a hope. Girl hopes that some of those at the window who look in, will see that all is not well, that Grandpa’s feast leaves nothing for those beneath.

Girl hopes too that the fresh air will be good for Uncle, for she knows he works too hard. He is very thin now. She sees this, but the others do not for they barely see Uncle at all. It is only she and the Children who go to him, and they go for he is gentle. He does not talk of soldiers. He does not talk of war. And he does not beat them. Instead he makes them toys from old pieces of wood. And sometimes he will play the mbira for them. Some days Girl goes with the Children when they visit Uncle, for she wants to be sure that they do not bother him too much, and that they do not see or talk about his work. When she goes, Girl sees that the Children play, that they notice nothing, and she begins to relax. And then one day she hears this.”

Tonderai pauses, then, with his voice now full of the cheerful curiosity of a child, he begins again.

“‘Uncle, what is the work you do on the Table?’

Girl gasps, but Uncle is calm. He has thought of this question.

‘Ah …’ he says with a wink to Knowledge the orphan child, whose head is full of questions. ‘Come, come with me, and see what I do.’

Uncle takes Knowledge by the hand, and Girl and all the Children follow him to the Table, and there they see that one of the legs of the Table is very beautiful, for it has animals carved into it. Giraffe, lion, monkey, elephant, and even the little duiker are there.

‘What is this animal?’ asks Knowledge as he traces one finger around a shape he has not seen before.

‘That is Pangolin,’ says Uncle. ‘This animal, Knowledge, is the most ancient of them all. If you find one it will roll into a ball. It will look like this.’”

Tonderai stands silent, his hands cupped together. Simi watches as he looks down, as though searching for something curled in the darkness between his fingers.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Tonderai speaks, drumming his words into the dark.

“These days Grandpa wears bright shirts. Shirts with his picture on them, many, many times, so that the People may see him from wherever they stand. Or fall. Of course, all the Favourites at the Table wear the selfie-shirts too. Now all anyone can see is Grandpa.”

Then Tonderai lowers his chin, and the drum beat softens.

“So that is how it goes. Every day, high at the Table, Grandpa sits and fills the window. Every day he is in his shirts that are full of his crocodile eyes. And every day, down below, Girl writes more stories. Every day she flies them up and out into the world, up so high that even she cannot see where they travel.

But these stories are only writing.

Now Girl does something different.”

The story pauses and Tonderai begins to pace, hands behind his back. When he speaks again his tone is quieter.

“Now Girl tells new stories, and these are not written down. These are stories that Girl tells in a loud voice to entertain the People. The stories are of brave adventures against horrible monsters. They are thrilling stories that nobody wants to miss. Not even Snake … for that is how Girl has planned it.

On the first day only one or two come to listen, but soon the news spreads. The People hear that Girl’s stories are of such excitement that all should be present.

On day three, Snake sends his Wife to see if this is true, to tell him if these tales are as excellent as the Women say.

On day four, Girl sees Snake’s Wife at the back of the crowd and she calls out to her. ‘Come closer Wife of Snake. You are an important lady and should be near the front.’

Girl sees Wife of Snake smirk. She sees her push past the Women and the Workers, to come closer. No one is happy, for it is Wife of Snake who scolds them when they cannot find cooking oil. It is Wife of Snake who chases them when they wail too loud if their children die. The Women do not like Wife of Snake one bit. Nor do they like Snake.

Girl hears the Women and the Workers grumble, but she does not mind, for she knows that this must be done if her plan is to work.

So every night Girl tells stories of magic and danger, and after each night every listener knows that they must come again to hear who wins or loses. They must be there to learn who will be champion. Who will live to fight on. And so they come, again and again, and Snake too comes every night when the moon rises. He too listens, and while he listens Uncle quietly, quietly does his work. Uncle, who nobody notices, is getting things done.

So that is what happens.”

Now Tonderai walks his gumboot walk into the far corner of the billiard room. All Simi can see of him is his dark height. But she can hear him clearly for his voice is loud, and the wind has vanished.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Simi sits straight. All are silent and waiting. Only the door fidgets as Tonderai circles back towards them. He steps into the firelight and she sees his eyes reaching first one person, and then the next. He stops in front of Marybelle, and her big eyes glue anxiously on to his.

“Girl knows she has to be veeery careful,” he says as though speaking to Marybelle alone. “Uncle will do what he has to with his tools, but she must arrange it so the others do not see. Slowly, slowly is the way, for every day Snake lies under the big, high Table, and waits and watches. But each new morning Girl and Uncle grow their cunning, and their plan.”

Tonderai turns to the fire. Now Simi cannot see his face, and if he were to speak she would not hear him, for the door ups its fidget to a battering. As the wind gusts it smashes away any chance of story, and forces Tonderai back to his seat.

Simi tries to block out the wind. She stares at the fire, her mind full of Snake and Girl and Grandpa. Grandpa, old, greedy and feasting. She imagines his feasts, his food, and feels her own hunger for a hot meal.

A takeaway. Pizza perhaps. Plenty of mozarella. Something on Netflix. Anything. Strictly. Yes Strictly.

Finally, at last, she does not know after how long, the door quietens and Tonderai gets to his feet. He throws the last of the wood into the fire basket and turns to face them. He clears his throat.

“Girl’s plan is this. Now, instead of reading, reading, she will become the one who writes the stories. A Storyteller. One who looks in on the world, and out at the world. Then she will fly her stories through the windows on the pages of old notebooks. On pages that are not quite finished. Pages that she will fill, and then fold into paper aeroplanes to fly out to find readers.”

Tonderai raises his hand, and launches an aeroplane up into the air above Simi’s head. She watches the small plane lift away, her mind travelling each swoop as it sees the little craft arrow towards the outside.

“Girl is fortunate,” Tonderai continues, his eyes still fixed on the distance, “because these days Grandpa likes to open the windows, to allow the people outside his House of Stone to see him in full view. To hear him when he says that he is a most excellent ruler. To see that when he says these things, the Favourites at his Table nod their heads so hard that they almost off. That they shout so loud that the whole world must wonder at his brilliance. This is good. This makes Grandpa proud. So that is why he asks for the windows to be kept wide so that all may see him at his Table.”

Tonderai pulls his shoulders back, pushes his chest forward, and thrusts his chin up into the darkness. Then he turns slowly from side to side as though admiring himself in a mirror.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023