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game for years.”
    Later that night, as the last of the members left the building, Shafia was engrossed in the closing routines. She put the catch on the main door and went to lock the fire escape, when she heard footsteps clang on the metal stairs. Aila appeared in the dim light of the members’ lounge. The black chemise was inside out and the flower she’d pinned to the crown of her head hung in tatters.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œHa. Went like clockwork. After you phoned, I was out the door, bag packed. You should’ve seen his face when I turned up. I’m walking up the street and I am feeling it. He’s parked in his car. ‘Baby girl,’ he says, ‘you’re on fire’ and he holds the car door open for me, like a proper date. Then he gives me one of those kisses and I am there.
    â€œWe drive to Stratford and he can’t keep his hands off my legs and I’m kissing his arm, just real soft on the shoulder and he’s going wild. He fights not to lose control while he’s driving. We get to the hotel he’s booked, so posh and we get a bottle of Malibu and some Coke and head up to the room. ‘Let’s chill first,’ he says and we put MTV on for some music.
    â€œI move round the chair to a slow jam. En Vogue; how could I not? A figure of eight with my hips and he can’t take it anymore. He grabs me from behind and moves me to the bed. It happened so fast. He couldn’t wait. Then we did it again over and over and we’re shouting and singing and the headboard’s banging away.
    â€œHe didn’t stay on the bed though. We were on the floor up against the wall outside the bathroom. We even went inside the wardrobe. So sexy. Who’d a thought a girl like me could do it in a wardrobe? He didn’t care. He says I’m the sexiest thing on two legs.
    â€œThen I was so cool. You’d have been so proud of me. I had a shower, gathered my things up and made ready to walk out. He wasn’t expecting that. He thought I’d be all clingy and ‘When will I see you again?’, but no way. I have my stuff and I’m by the door ready to go. He stands up close and rests his arm on the door with me in front of him. ‘Time to go,’ I say, so cool, so calm.
    â€œâ€˜Is that it then?’ he says.
    â€œâ€˜What more do you want?’
    â€œâ€˜The whole night. When will I see you again?’
    â€œâ€˜Don’t know Ojo,’ I kiss his lower lip. ‘I’ll message you. Thanks, it’s been great!’ and I open the door and walk out.”
    â€œOmigod, you’ve done it. I hope it was worth it. Your Dad didn’t ring again but you really need to sort yourself out while I finish locking up and Ails, lose the flower”
    â€œI did, Shaf.”

Eid-al-Fitr
    Eid fell on a Friday, and she crept towards it like a fugitive. After breakfast, Sadhan polished the Peugeot before he and Maz went to the mosque, while Aila dressed in her festive best. She slid a turquoise earring into place and looked at the cards propped up on her table: ‘Eid Mubarak’, proclaimed in classic font, in the midst of the Mac palettes and Eye Lure lashes.
    The new sari wouldn’t sit right. No matter which way she tried the blue silk, it just didn’t work, not over one shoulder, and not across her chest. Whichever way she turned, the curves were unconcealable.
    So, start again. The gold beads look okay round the top. Even slender, meaner cousins admit she’s got it on top, and she’s always had a tiny waist. Freakishly small, relative to the rest of her body.
    The problems start after the waist. Ojo loves the slope of her back, how it curves ‘like a snake’. She turns in front of the mirror to see what it is he feels from behind. Are curves a blessing or a curse? Depends where you are and who you’re with and, quite soon, it’ll be judgement day.
    The aunties will give her grief