“These're so ugly” she whispered. “I feel like I got boats on my feet. The new shoes're slip-ons, Barbara. They've the loveliest leather braid round the top and the sweetest little tassel dangling over the toes. They're a bit 'spensive, which is why not everyone has them yet, but I know I could wear them forever if I got them. I really could.” She looked so hopeful, brown eyes the size of old tuppence pieces.
Barbara wondered how her father managed to deny her anything. She said in her position of arbiter, “Will you go for a compromise?”
Hadiyyah's brow scrunched as effectively as had done her toes. She said, “What's compromise?”
“An agreement in which both parties get what they want, just not exactly how they expected to get it.”
Hadiyyah thought this over, bouncing her lace-up-clad feet against the ottoman. She said, “All right. I s'pose. But they're really pretty shoes, Barbara. If you saw them, you'd understand.”
“Doubtless,” Barbara said. “You've probably noticed what a fashion hound I am.” She heaved herself to her feet. With a wink at Hadiyyah, she called into the kitchen, “I'd say she's got several months in these, Azhar.”
Hadiyyah looked stricken. She wailed, “Several months?”
“But she'll definitely need another pair before Bonfire Night,” Barbara said meaningfully. She mouthed compromise in Hadiyyah's direction and watched the little girl do the mental maths from September to November. Hadiyyah looked pleased when she'd counted up the weeks.
Azhar came to the kitchen door. He'd tucked a tea towel into his trousers to serve as an apron. In his hand he held a wooden spoon. “You can be that exact with your shoe analysis, Barbara?” he asked soberly.
“Sometimes my talents amaze even myself.”
Curry in the kitchen was just another thing that Azhar appeared to do effortlessly. He accepted no assistance, even with the washing up, saying, “Your presence is the gift you bring to our meal, Barbara. We require nothing else of you,” to her offers of help. Nonetheless, she bullied her way to clearing the dining table, at least. And while he was scrubbing and drying in the kitchen, she entertained his daughter, which was her pleasure.
Hadiyyah pulled Barbara into her bedroom once the table was cleared, declaring that she had “something special and secret to show,” a just-between-us-girls revelation, Barbara assumed. But instead of a collection of film star photos or a few penciled notes passed to her at school, Hadiyyah pulled from beneath her bed a carrier bag whose contents she lovingly eased out onto her counterpane.
“Finished today,” she announced proudly. “In sewing class. I was s'posed to leave it for the display—did you get my invitation to the sewing show, Barbara?—but I told Miss Bateman I'd bring it back nice and clean but that I had to have it to give to Dad. 'cause he wrecked one pair of trousers already. When he was cooking dinner.”
It was a bib apron. Hadiyyah had crafted it from pale chintz on which was printed an endless pattern of mother ducks leading their broods towards a pond with a stand of reeds. The mother ducks all wore identical bonnets. Their little ones each carried a different beach-going utensil under a tiny wing.
“D'you think he'll like it?” Hadiyyah asked anxiously. “The ducks re so sweet, aren't they, but I s'pose for a man … I especially love ducks, see. Dad and I feed them at Regents Park sometimes. So when I saw this material … But I expect I could've chosen something more mannish, couldn't I?”
The thought of Azhar encased in the apron's folds made Barbara want to smile, but she didn't. Instead, she examined the zigzagging seams and the hem with its lopsided, loving hand stitching. She said, “It's perfect. He'll love it.”
“D'you think so? It's my first project, see, and I'm not very good. Miss Bateman wanted me to start with something simpler, like a hankie. But I knew what I wanted to make 'cause Dad wrecked his trousers like I said and I knew he didn't want to wreck any more trousers cooking. Which's why I brought this home to give to him.”
“Shall we do that now, then?” Barbara asked.
“Oh no. It's for tomorrow,” Hadiyyah said. “We've a special day planned, Dad and I. We're to go to the sea. We're to pack a picnic lunch and eat on the sand. I'll give it to him then. As a thank-you for taking me. And afterwards, we'll ride the roller coaster on the pier, and Dad'll play the crane grab for me. He's quite good at the crane grab, is Dad.”
“Yes. I know. I saw him work it once, remember?”
“That's right. You did,” Hadiyyah said brightly. “Would you like to come with us to the sea, then, Barbara? It'll be such a special day. We're taking a picnic lunch. And we'll go to the pleasure pier. And there's the crane grab as well. I'll ask Dad if you can come.” She scampered to her feet, calling, “Dad! Dad! Can Barbara—”
“No!” Barbara interrupted hastily. “Hadiyyah, no. Kiddo, I can't go. I'm in the middle of a case and I've got mountains of work. I shouldn't even be here right now, with all the calls I should've been making before bed. But thanks for the thought. We'll do it another time.”