They exchange secrets; two strangers on the bus.
The fans circle, humming sonorously, making no difference in the dense hot air. My aunt and I sit surrounded by cascades of colourful, gold-embroidered silk as the small birdlike dark skinned shop assistant claws more saris from the shelves, fanning them out to their full glory, allowing the light to catch the subtle changes in hue, the double colours, the intricate embroidery. Motherless since the age of three, Amayi, unmarried, unencumbered by children of her own, has always been my substitute mother.
The last few days have been hectic. We’re fence-sitting with schools. Unhappy with the enormous changes at the current school, we’ve decided to keep our options open, which means applying to other schools. The CEO loves the school we’re looking at. I’m nervous. It’s much more intense and I’ve got all kinds of concerns about the kind of pressure that’ll mean on Godzilla and the TeenWolf.