Barbara, more of an event than a tea, or really, more of a meeting than an event. Mrs. Thompson had a lady come to talk to them about their bodies, you see, and all the girls in the class and all their mums came to listen and afterwards they could ask questions and after that they had orange squash and biscuits and cakes. So Mrs. Thompson called it a tea although no one actually drank tea. Hadiyyah, having no mum to take along, had eschewed attending the event altogether. Hence the phone call from Mrs. Thompson to her father because, like she said, everyone was really meant to go.
"Dad said he would've gone," Hadiyyah said. "But that would've been excruciating. 'Sides, Meagan Dobson told me what it was all about anyway. Girl stuff. Babies. Boys. Periods." She pulled a shuddering face. "You know."
"Ah. Got it." Barbara could understand how Azhar must have reacted to the phone call from the teacher. No one she had ever met had as much pride as the Pakistani professor who was her neighbour. "Well, kiddo, if you ever need a gal pal to act as a substitute for your mother," she told Hadiyyah, "I'm happy to oblige."
"How lovely!" Hadiyyah exclaimed. For a moment Barbara thought she was referring to her offer as maternal surrogate, but she saw that her little friend was bringing forth a package from within the bag of groceries: Chocotastic Pop-Tarts. "Is this for your breakfast?" Hadiyyah sighed.
"Perfect nutrition for the professional woman on the go," Barbara told her. "Let it be our little secret, okay? One of many."
"And what're these?" Hadiyyah asked as if she hadn't spoken. "Oh, wonderful. Clotted-cream ice-cream bars! If I was a grown-up, I'd eat just like you."
"I do like to touch on all the basic food groups," Barbara told her. "Chocolate, sugar, fat, and tobacco. Have you come across the Players, by the way?"
"You mustn't keep smoking," Hadiyyah told her, rustling in one of the bags and bringing out a carton of the cigarettes. "Dad's trying to stop. Did I tell you? Mummy'll be so pleased. She asked him and asked him to stop. 'Hari, it'll make your lungs all nasty if you don't quit,' is what she says. I don't smoke."
"I should hope not," Barbara said.
"Some of the boys do, actually. They stand round down the street from school. These're the older boys. And they take their shirttails out of their trousers, Barbara. I expect they think it makes them look cool, but I think it makes them look..." She frowned, thoughtful. "...beastly," she settled on. "Perfectly beastly."
"Peacocks and their plumes," Barbara acknowledged.
"Hmm?"
"The male of the species, attracting the female. Otherwise, she'd have nothing to do with him. Interesting, no? Men should be the ones wearing makeup."
Hadiyyah giggled at this, saying, "Dad would look a sight wearing lipstick, wouldn't he?"
"He'd be fighting them off with a broomstick."
"Mummy wouldn't like that," Hadiyyah noted. She scooped up four tins of All Day Breakfast-Barbara's preferred dinner in a pinch after a longer than usual day at work-and carried them over to the cupboard above the sink.
"No. I don't expect she would," Barbara agreed. "Hadiyyah, what is that bloody-awful screeching going on round your neck?" She took the tins from the little girl and nodded at her headphones, from which some sort of questionable pop music was continuing to issue.
"Nobanzi," Hadiyyah said obscurely.
"No-whatie?"
"Nobanzi. They're brilliant. Look." From out of her jacket pocket she brought the plastic cover of a CD. On it, three anorexic twentysomethings posed in crop tops the size of Scrooge's generosity and blue jeans so tight that the only thing left to imagine was how they'd managed to cram themselves into them.
"Ah," Barbara said. "Role models for our young. Give that over, then. Let's have a listen."
Hadiyyah willingly handed over the earphones, which Barbara set on her head. She absently reached for a packet of Players and shook one out despite Hadiyyah's moue of disapproval. She lit one as what sounded like the chorus to a song-if it could be called that-assailed her eardrums. The Vandellas Nobanzi definitely was not, with or without Martha, Barbara decided. There was a chorus of unintelligible words. Lots of orgasmic groaning in the background appeared to take the place of both the bass line and the drums.
Barbara removed the headphones, and handed them over. She drew in on her fag and speculatively cocked her head at Hadiyyah.
Hadiyyah said, "Aren't they brilliant?" She took the CD cover and pointed to the