She walked over to the counter and picked up her apron. She was caught in the glow of the lamp light now, and Amina patted the baby's back and watched Miriam, a slight frown on her face. She had never in her life felt so disconcerted by anyone, and as she stood in the gloom by the open door, she examined Miriam as though she were a framed picture on a wall. She watched her slender hands place the apron around her waist, saw the slim muscles that flickered like thin fish beneath the skin of her forearm. She watched the lit face intent on tying the bow, watched the shadowed angles of her cheekbones, and the long eyelashes that brushed the tops of her cheeks when she blinked. Miriam felt the eyes upon her and looked up. The shop was dark beyond the circle of the lamp, and she walked away from the light, towards the door.
"I can't believe you drove through all this rain," she said. The baby was restless, and Amina handed her back. Miriam felt the girl's hands brushing hers as the child moved between them and wondered for a moment why she was so aware of such small things where Amina was concerned.
"I'm used to driving in the rain."
"Oh, yes. I forgot that you used to do taxi-driving," replied Miriam.
"I still do," Amina corrected. "I'm leaving again next week, in fact. To Cape Town."
"Cape Town," Miriam repeated, and the tone of wonder in her voice made Amina turn to look at her again. "What is it like, in Cape Town?" asked Miriam.
"It's beautiful," Amina said. "Lovely small towns. And the mountains and the beaches. There are some beautiful beaches ' especially if you're White, especially." She paused and looked out again.
"I don't stay there long," she said. "I like the drive more than anything even when it's not picturesque, like the Garden Route, there are always things to see. Even driving past townships, you see all these people living very different lives from your own."
Miriam held the baby close and thought that Amina herself lived a very different life from her own.
"You 've been on the Garden Route?" she asked, her tone wistful.
Amina nodded. "Twice," she said.
Miriam turned and sat the baby down amongst her toys on the floor behind the counter, pausing to touch her soft hair.
"I've never been anywhere," she said, straightening up. "Only to Pretoria."
Miriam hardly noticed the girl move, but suddenly Amina was standing right before her, with only the counter top between them.
"Come with me to Cape Town," she offered, and her tone was one that Miriam recognised from before, flirtatious and laughing. She was looking Miriam directly in the eyes, and then she looked, disconcertingly, at her mouth. Miriam pulled back, for Amina was standing so close to her that she could catch the fresh scent of her, a scent that she still remembered well from the night the girl had stayed over. Miriam said nothing, but came out from behind the counter and went back to her spot by the open door.
"Come with me," said Amina again, more serious this time. "It would be company for me. And we could take turns with the driving."
"I can't drive," said Miriam.
Amina considered this. "Well, I don't really need help with the driving..."
"I can't go with you," Miriam told her abruptly. "I have a husband and three children and a shop to look after." She looked away, and they were both silent, listening to the rain and the blues tune that floated out from the radio.
"Okay," said Amina quietly, to pacify the sudden irritation, and she sat down on the window sill and looked up at Miriam. "Okay. Anyway, that's not what I came here to ask you."
"I see," said Miriam, although she did not. She did not want Amina to think badly of her, and was embarrassed at her moment of ill temper, which had come of frustration. She wanted nothing more than to see Cape Town, but she was trapped in this vast, limited square of countryside forever.
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