The Night Letters

to Hadi’s. He’d recently added a second-hand glass serving counter, but because the shop was too small for the counter it had been pushed up against the back wall so its stock of Coffee Mate, plastic bottles of bleach and various washing detergents could only be reached by moving it away from the wall, after moving the boxes of water and fizzy sweet drinks stacked in front of it. On top of the glass counter sat layers of corrugated cardboard separating dozens of eggs alongside stale cakes wrapped in clear cellophane. The shelves lining the three walls of the shop were bulging with bottles of shampoo, bars of soap, tins of biscuits, light bulbs, brightly coloured boxes of tea from Pakistan, sweet breakfast cereal and cheap vegetable oils, alongside cans of tomatoes and jars of olives. The legumes and pulses, plus various spices, were stacked out the front of the shop in tins or large hessian sacks. More plastic-wrapped bottles of water and fizzy drinks sat in front of the dried goods.

‘I’m giving you a little extra,’ Hadi said to Sofia as he weighed her lentils.

‘That’s very generous of you.’

‘I would never steal from my friends. You know that, don’t you, Dr Sofia?’ It was a tough question considering he did steal from his friends.

‘You have no idea what Hadi just did,’ she said with some amusement to Rashid as they headed off across the square with her bag of lentils.

‘He gave you extra?’

Sofia stopped and looked at him. ‘How did you know?’

‘He’s giving everyone extra today.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘He’s frightened.’

‘Of what?’

Rashid, the man of few words and no gossip, shrugged.

Back in her apartment, Sofia sat with her cup of tea by the window, watching Hadi and Ahmad packing up for the day. Hadi is frightened and overly generous, she thought, Jabril has upped my security, Tawfiq is worried about something and Iqbal thinks I’m in some sort of mystery that’s going on in the square, although it might only be about Daniel. She tried to figure out how all these things might be connected and decided they weren’t. There was always some sort of intrigue in the square. Sooner or later she would find out what all the fuss was about.

After finishing her tea Sofia phoned Fatima to tell her about the female doctor from MSF who was interested in meeting the midwives, without saying specifically why, and the male doctor with the UN who was interest in speaking with her about women’s needs in Kandahar. With Fatima approving both meetings Sofia phoned Jabril about the fundraiser before texting Daniel to say his name had been added to the invitee list, and if he was still free she’d love to have that drink afterward. She added that she’d be happy to go with him and Clementine to Kandahar on Friday, and while he wouldn’t be able to speak with the midwives, Fatima would be happy to answer all his questions. She got a text back almost immediately thanking her for all her efforts and confirming he’d love to catch up for that drink.

After showering, Sofia opened her wardrobe door and stood staring in at the meagre pickings. What to wear to impress? So much for the idea of not seeing him again, she thought, as she pulled out a blue and silver salwar kameez.

23

A PHONE CALL from Clem that afternoon had Daniel agreeing to meet her forty-five minutes before the fundraiser began. With the Serena not having a bar, or serving alcohol, they had agreed to meet in the patisserie on the ground floor of the hotel. The only available table was a small round one by the entry with only one chair. After scavenging a spare from a nearby table, Daniel ordered coffees for both of them and sat down to wait.

He cared deeply about Clem and always would, but for a hundred different reasons it was a difficult relationship built on a shared history and a tragedy, complicated by the fact that they were friends who had become lovers and were trying to be friends again. When Clem had lectured Daniel that morning at breakfast about how much time he spent working, he hadn’t reacted. The topic of his work-life balance had been a constant theme of Clem’s since Amahoro’s death, after which he’d found work a distraction and a salvation and found no good reason to change that. It was a conversation he would not have accepted from anyone else.

From the beginning of each new relationship, including the disastrous one with Clem, Daniel had taken pains to explain he was not long-term relationship material. While some women had been relieved – for neither were they – there were others who thought love would change him, it never occurring to them that he might not want to change, or that he might never love them. Friendship, affection, tenderness, sex, loyalty – he had willingly given all these things, but for some it wasn’t enough. He understood that and when relationships ended he accepted the acrimony, although he was never completely sure it was all rightfully his. He had never lied to anyone, including Clem, and he had never promised forever – that also included Clem. After Amahoro and Alice it didn’t feel like he had any more he wanted to give.

He had fallen for Amahoro the first time he had seen her in the refugee camp in Uganda. She had been wearing the traditional African dress with a vibrant piece of material tied high around her head as she sat on an upturned crate reading to a group of little children. What first struck him about Amahoro was the way she held herself – her head high and her back straight – and how she spoke, her words soft and lyrical as the wind through the trees. Leaving early for work the following day he had hoped to see her again but she wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there the next day or the one