and she feels a sense of calm she’s not felt in a long while. Scarlet watches the sky until clouds drift over the moon and, all at once, she imagines the clouds slipping out of the sky and falling to earth. Then they aren’t clouds but leaves, perpetually falling from a nocturnal sky.
6:36 a.m.—Goldie
“I don’t want you to get another job,” Teddy says, uncomplainingly munching a piece of burnt toast. He doesn’t mind the endless toast and tins of beans, since it means I’m home for breakfast every morning and dinner every night. “I want you to stay home.”
I smile. “I want that too. And, if I suddenly found a few thousand quid, that’s what I’d do. But sadly—” I’m about to say money doesn’t grow on trees, but it’s something my stepfather used to say, so I don’t.
Yet again, I lament that I hadn’t been able to hit the safe before fleeing the hotel. Teddy interrupts my thoughts.
“What kind of job will you get?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Nothing fancy, I’m not qualified for much.”
Teddy peers over his singed toast, fixing me with his blue eyes. “I don’t care,” he says. “I think you can do anything in the whole wide world.”
I give him a rueful smile, leaning across the table to stroke his hair, the curls soft as moss, and say nothing.
6:45 a.m.—Liyana
“Good morning.”
Liyana looks up, startled to see her aunt—rarely awake before sunrise—walking into the kitchen. She’s annoyed since she’d wanted to be alone, filling out more application forms for exploitative minimum-wage jobs. She’s still not heard back from Tesco.
“Morning, Dagã.”
Her aunt pulls out a chair as if it weighs ten tonnes, then flops onto it with a deep and sorrowful sigh. “Coffee,” she says. “I need coffee.”
“It’s dawn, I need caffeine.” Nyasha rests her head on the table. “Please. Help a frail old lady.”
When Liyana sets down the mug, she hears soft snores emanating from beneath an intricate maze of cornrows. Liyana gives her aunt a poke in the ribs.
Nya squeals and sits upright with a snap, looking confused. “What did you do that for?”
“I just made you an excellent cup of coffee. I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”
“What are you talking about? I was wide awake.” Nya takes a tentative sip of the scalding coffee. “Vinye, I think I’ve found the One.”
“Which one?”
“Well, the first one,” Nya says. “He’s overprivileged, flexible in his sexuality, and looking for a wife. At least”—she sets down her cup—“His mother’s looking for his wife. Anyway, he’s perfect.”
“Wait.” Liyana sits forward, heart quickening. She needs to stall, needs more time to prepare. “Where did you find him?”
“His mother is my cousin’s sister-in-law. She arranged my first marriage.”
“Who did?” Liyana asks, confused.
“My cousin. Pay attention, Ana, he’ll be here any minute.”
Liyana sits up. “What? No, wait, I’m not—”
She’s interrupted by the ring of the doorbell, which instantly propels Nya from her chair. “I’ll get it!”
As the door opens, Liyana wonders if she has time to run. When she hears her aunt’s voice rise into honeyed sweetness, Liyana knows her time is up.
Nya returns to the kitchen like a lion tamer leading her prize lion. And she’s holding a man. A man Liyana recognizes but can’t quite place.
“It’s so good of you to come for breakfast,” she’s saying. “I know you’re very busy.”
“That’s fine,” he smiles. “I’m not due into the office till nine.”
Nya nods as if he’s just said something profoundly wise. Then she drops her gaze to her niece, looking a little surprised, as if she’d forgotten that Liyana was there at all.
“Ana, allow me to introduce Mazmo Owethu Muzenda-Kasteni.” Nya’s hand rests on Mazmo’s shoulder. “Mazmo, I’d like you to meet my niece, Liyana Miriro Chiweshe.”
Liyana considers him. “But we’ve met before.”
“You have?” Nya looks delighted. “Where and when? Do you know each other well?”
“Not yet,” Mazmo says. “We met about a week ago. At the gym on Upper Street—”
“The Serpentine Spa.” Aunt Nya shoots a self-satisfied look at Liyana, since it was her membership that occasioned this auspicious initial meeting. “I’m there three times a week—I’m surprised I’ve never had the pleasure of bumping into you myself.”
“It’s not my usual gym,” Mazmo says. “But I had a meeting in Islington that day, so . . . serendipity.”
Gazing at Mazmo, Nya snaps out of her reverie. “Where are my manners? What can I get you, Mazmo—tea, coffee, warm lemon water?”