listening to the heated exchange, their raised voices only making the girl shrink further into the corner of her seat. But the older woman had chivvied them into seeing things her way, and now she and Asa were together, her hand around the girl’s waist as she steered her into the shop.
‘Dress,’ she said, pulling at a rack of summer clothes and then indicating her own cotton frock.
Asa looked at Shereen intently. ‘Dress,’ she parroted.
‘Good girl, Asa.’ Shereen smiled broadly and patted the girl’s arm to show that she was pleased with her. ‘Now let’s find you some suitable things to wear.’
Asa’s head was spinning after the walk through the marble-floored hall. Never in her young life had she seen so many white people together. There were, admittedly, a few Asian faces amongst them, and once, an African couple who had glanced her way before Shereen had tugged on her arm, making her walk faster. But it all looked so terribly strange, so
foreign
, that Asa’s longing for home was stronger than ever. Now here she was in this enormous shop full of different sorts of clothing, some of it piled into towering stacks, and faceless white mannequins that made her shudder despite the clothes fitted on to their skinny frames.
Shereen’s voice chattered on as the girl wandered further and further into this place full of colour and finery. Once, she had turned timidly to the older woman, hands outstretched as if to ask permission to feel the cloth of a particular blue dress, and Shereen had grinned widely, nodding her head. The girl’s mouth was open in wonder as she touched the acrylic material, its soft folds slipping like water under her hands. After a quick rummage along the rail Shereen selected a small size and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
Quickly a pattern began to emerge. No sooner would Asa’s fingers touch the silky fabric of one garment than Shereen had it whisked off the hanger and added to the growing pile over her arm.
‘Come over here, time to try these on, Asa,’ she said at last, pushing the girl towards the entrance of the changing rooms.
The girl drew back a little as she was faced with a row of white canvas curtains. What lay behind them? her frightened expression seemed to ask.
But just as she was resisting the pressure on her thin arm, a girl of about her own age emerged from one of the fitting rooms and twirled around. Asa gave a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand as she saw the same blue dress being shown off to a couple of other girls who were waiting outside.
The next half-hour passed in a dream, Asa trying on one dress after another, Shereen always there with an encouraging nod or a shake of her dark curly head if she didn’t think the garment quite right for the girl.
Asa was in a daze as they left the fitting room behind. Shereen had selected four dresses, the blue and three others that Asa had chosen. Now the woman was heading towards a different area, where the girl saw baskets full of underwear and rows of matching panties and brassieres stretched over clear plastic hangers. Atop a high shelf a black figure reclined, another mannequin, clad only in the skimpiest pale pink bra and bikini pants. Asa’s lips parted, the desire to ask questions burning inside her. Were these things for everyone, then?
Without a glance towards her companion, Shereen shoved several gossamer-thin sets of underwear, bright pink, turquoise and lime green, into the round shopping basket.
‘Shoes,’ she said, stopping suddenly. ‘What size will you be, d’you think?’
Asa stared blankly, unable to understand what was being said.
‘Shoes,’ Shereen repeated, bending down and tapping her own footwear. ‘Come on, we need to get you something you can walk in.’
And so it was that Asa found herself seated on a low stool, several pairs of brightly coloured high heels scattered around the carpet as she tried on one pair after another, her slender feet slipping inside most of
‘Dress,’ she said, pulling at a rack of summer clothes and then indicating her own cotton frock.
Asa looked at Shereen intently. ‘Dress,’ she parroted.
‘Good girl, Asa.’ Shereen smiled broadly and patted the girl’s arm to show that she was pleased with her. ‘Now let’s find you some suitable things to wear.’
Asa’s head was spinning after the walk through the marble-floored hall. Never in her young life had she seen so many white people together. There were, admittedly, a few Asian faces amongst them, and once, an African couple who had glanced her way before Shereen had tugged on her arm, making her walk faster. But it all looked so terribly strange, so
foreign
, that Asa’s longing for home was stronger than ever. Now here she was in this enormous shop full of different sorts of clothing, some of it piled into towering stacks, and faceless white mannequins that made her shudder despite the clothes fitted on to their skinny frames.
Shereen’s voice chattered on as the girl wandered further and further into this place full of colour and finery. Once, she had turned timidly to the older woman, hands outstretched as if to ask permission to feel the cloth of a particular blue dress, and Shereen had grinned widely, nodding her head. The girl’s mouth was open in wonder as she touched the acrylic material, its soft folds slipping like water under her hands. After a quick rummage along the rail Shereen selected a small size and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
Quickly a pattern began to emerge. No sooner would Asa’s fingers touch the silky fabric of one garment than Shereen had it whisked off the hanger and added to the growing pile over her arm.
‘Come over here, time to try these on, Asa,’ she said at last, pushing the girl towards the entrance of the changing rooms.
The girl drew back a little as she was faced with a row of white canvas curtains. What lay behind them? her frightened expression seemed to ask.
But just as she was resisting the pressure on her thin arm, a girl of about her own age emerged from one of the fitting rooms and twirled around. Asa gave a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand as she saw the same blue dress being shown off to a couple of other girls who were waiting outside.
The next half-hour passed in a dream, Asa trying on one dress after another, Shereen always there with an encouraging nod or a shake of her dark curly head if she didn’t think the garment quite right for the girl.
Asa was in a daze as they left the fitting room behind. Shereen had selected four dresses, the blue and three others that Asa had chosen. Now the woman was heading towards a different area, where the girl saw baskets full of underwear and rows of matching panties and brassieres stretched over clear plastic hangers. Atop a high shelf a black figure reclined, another mannequin, clad only in the skimpiest pale pink bra and bikini pants. Asa’s lips parted, the desire to ask questions burning inside her. Were these things for everyone, then?
Without a glance towards her companion, Shereen shoved several gossamer-thin sets of underwear, bright pink, turquoise and lime green, into the round shopping basket.
‘Shoes,’ she said, stopping suddenly. ‘What size will you be, d’you think?’
Asa stared blankly, unable to understand what was being said.
‘Shoes,’ Shereen repeated, bending down and tapping her own footwear. ‘Come on, we need to get you something you can walk in.’
And so it was that Asa found herself seated on a low stool, several pairs of brightly coloured high heels scattered around the carpet as she tried on one pair after another, her slender feet slipping inside most of
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