‘This must be your lovely Nabeel Said’s way of secretly marketing her restaurant, while pretending to promote sport for girls,’ said Zain.

‘Wow. You really are so much fun to hang out with, Zain. So full of positive vibes. Always seeing the good in people,’ said Saba.

Zain took a mock bow, wobbling on his perch, ‘Always happy to be of service.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Saba nudged Inaya. ‘Why so quiet, suddenly?’

Inaya sighed. ‘I’m going to miss the two of you. I won’t know anyone at all over there. Fariha was selected but her parents aren’t letting her go. So, I’m the only one from Rawalpindi.’

‘I’m sure this league of yours will have lots of interesting spice girls from all over Pakistan,’ said Zain. ‘The Biryani Blasters, the Kofta Challengers . . . ’

‘Your jokes are so pathetic, Zain,’ said Saba.

‘So, what are the European teams called?’ continued Zain. ‘The Fish and Chippers?’

He found this so funny that he almost fell off the tree laughing. Saba shook her head and rolled her eyes.

‘Uff . . . Just ignore him, Inaya.’

‘Inaya Haider, you don’t have to pay any attention to me, but do pay attention to all the cricketing tips you’ve picked up over the years from me . . . ’ began Zain.

‘ . . . from your cricket coaching sessions, you mean,’ interrupted Inaya.

‘Well, at least those sessions were of use to one of us,’ grinned Zain. ‘Now go, smash it out of the ballpark. Show the world what Pindi is capable of.’

Zain held out his fist and both Inaya and Saba bumped fists with him.

‘I still think Curry Cruisers is a seriously crappy name,’ said Zain.

Saba and Inaya looked at each other and then, as if by some unspoken code, they simultaneously reached out, plucked the mangoes nearest to them and took aim at Zain.

Mind the Gap

London, United Kingdom

The train journey from London’s Heathrow airport to Paddington was fairly short, but it felt interminable to Inaya. Because no one spoke. The silence was deafening, especially after the cacophony of voices, laughter and general mayhem back home. Here, everyone studiously avoided each other’s eyes and buried their noses in their books or newspapers.

Inaya sat beside her grandmother; her grandfather sat in the seat across the aisle, clearing his throat at regular intervals, the sound of which resonated throughout the hushed compartment.

‘Does Adeela know we’re coming today?’ Habib asked his wife, leaning across the aisle between them.

‘Yes, of course she does,’ Humaira replied.

‘I hope she’s remembered to prepare some hot lunch for us, unlike the last time, when she fed us those frozen leftovers that broke my tooth and fractured my jaw.’

‘How you exaggerate, Habib!’ chided Humaira, while Inaya giggled. ‘And while we’re here, please don’t make life difficult for my sister. Please just adjust. Adeela is vegan now, so please don’t demand lamb curries and such.’

‘Your delightful sister breathes fire and cracks walnuts with her bare hands. What choice does one have but to adjust?’ said Habib.