He looks like that little kid again, the one who sat on the stairs at his nana’s house, down on himself because, after living in Kenya for six months and only wearing only flip-flops, he had forgotten how to tie his shoelaces.

‘Kiama, I’m going to find this hard. I can’t hide that.’

He looks away from her.

‘She was my best friend.’

‘Yeah and she was my mum. My mum who no one ever talks about.’ Again, he growls in frustration. ‘I know I’m not meant to say this but I can’t be sad about Mum anymore. I don’t want this to be some sad trip where I walk about Kenya feeling miserable about her all the time. Crying and sitting in this big hole of grief. I need to feel something else.’ He looks up at Yvonne. ‘I want to remember her and be able to feel something other than sadness.’ He draws his legs up, sitting cross-legged. ‘That’s why I called you, because you knew her the best. You can tell me stuff.’

Is that all? Is that really the reason he wants to do this trip? They could have done this at home? Why travel to Kenya for it?

‘Kiama, I’m not sure what you want to hear from me.’

‘You just need to tell me something other than that she died. Because I already know that.’

‘Okay,’ Yvonne nods. ‘I get it.’ She reaches down her hands to pull him up from the floor.

Chapter Nine

Teal Tie

October 2020

Kiama

They emerge into the arrivals hall of Jomo Kenyatta Airport after nine at night, shuffling slowly through passport control and onto baggage claim. He yawns again, it’s hard to stop.

‘You really should have tried to sleep on the plane,’ she says.

But it’s alright for her, popping a pill and being knocked out for hours, the odd snore escaping. He had nudged her a few times and she smiled in her sleep before turning her head the other way. Yvonne doesn’t seem to be much of a smiler so it was kind of funny to see her with her guard down. He doesn’t remember her having such a serious vibe. She was fun back when he was a kid, always the one up for taking him somewhere; cinema, park, farm, it was always with her. He remembers he could make her laugh too, that she used to call him a ‘baby giraffe’ and slip him a fiver whenever they passed a shop.

‘The arrivals hall is this way,’ she says the second after lifting the bags from the belt.