There were more stars in the twilight sky when Spokes eventually and hesitantly made his way to the salesman’s caravan. The passengers who had been met by people had cleared away and left him standing there, a spectator of things he could not be part of.

Spokes found it rather surprising that no one had come to collect her as yet. Who would leave something so very precious unattended for so long? As if to answer his question, he heard her say to the salesman, ‘He always does this. Always keeps me waiting.’ To which the salesman replied, ‘He is a very important man; he keeps everyone waiting.’

A very important man … Spokes understood then that he had no chance at whatever he was trying to have a chance at.

‘May I help you?’ the salesman asked, and all attention – even hers – turned to Spokes.

What had he planned to say when asked why he had journeyed so far? Spokes struggled to remember as he removed his fedora from his head. ‘A school,’ was all he could think to say at first before hastily adding, ‘I hear there is a mission school in these parts. I am looking for a job as a teacher.’ He could feel all eyes – even hers – looking him over, assessing his clothing and appearance, judging and determining whether or not he was teacher material. He dared not look at any of them – especially her – for fear that they were finding him wanting in some way. Where was the perfect exchange that he had imagined?

‘I’m afraid you’ve been somewhat misinformed, but only slightly,’ the salesman said. ‘The nearest school is just over five miles away. Nearest bus station is Krum’s Place. Spelled K-R-U-M, but not pronounced as crumb, pronounced as K-R-O-O-M. You got off two stops too soon.’

‘When does the next bus come this way?’ Spokes asked, crushing his hat in his hands, feeling the desperation that comes with futility.

‘Very bus you alighted from. Early tomorrow morning. Heading back to the City of Kings,’ the salesman said.

Spokes’s plight must have been palpable because most of the remaining customers, not wanting to be co-opted into his predicament, noted the lateness of the evening and made their various ways home.

‘I travel to Krum’s Place first thing in the morning,’ the salesman said. ‘If you are here bright and early, I could take you.’

‘That would be very kind of you, sir,’ Spokes said. He would have to go to Krum’s Place and continue his job-seeking charade before returning to the corner of Lobengula Street and Selborne Avenue and waiting on a promise. Serve him right for not thinking things through.

‘It is indeed a kindness on my part,’ the salesman said. ‘But not an altogether fortunate one. I cannot put you up for the night. Only room for one in my caravan.’

Before Spokes had a chance to process any of this, she spoke directly to him for the first time, and it was like music.