Chapter 19 - Chapter Seventeen — Chandré

"That was delicious." I pat my full stomach and reach for my third dawa. "I could get used to this."

"I am used to this now," Yaa says, chasing the last of her octopus curry around the plate with a torn piece of chapati. "I need a raise, Ledi, so I can afford a chef like this one at home."

"Done!" Naledi toasts with her wine glass full of water. "If this new line sells the way I'm hoping it does, we all get raises."

"It'll be fantastic, like everything you do," Sabelo says. He frowns at her plate and what's left of the rice on it. "You hardly ate. You feeling okay?"

"This was my second plate." Naledi cups his face in one small hand. "I'm fine. The baby's fine. We're in a gorgeous villa on the Indian Ocean."

The house sits on the Kae side of the Michamvi peninsula with the water laid out in front of it — coral rag walls plastered white, a roof of woven palm thatch, nine bedrooms, two private terraces, a pool with outdoor showers, carved doors heavier than any door has a reason to be, antiques mixed in among the most modern fittings, and a kitchen our temporary Swahili chef has made impeccable use of.

"Ja, nice connection, Given," Lonwabo says. "This place is unbelievable."

"He's been offering it to us for..." Given looks to Nqobile. "How long?"

"About two years, but we aren't exactly champions at taking holidays," she says drily. "If I'd known how beautiful it was, we'd have come sooner."

"We'll come back." Given leans over to kiss her hair. "And next time we bring the girls."

She serves a grin to everyone at the table. "Given's convinced we'll have all girls."