‘I suppose you resemble your father more,’ he notes dryly, and I, chewing on my lips, look at my grandmother.
‘You should be able to say that better than me, as I have never met my mother.’
I mean my remark as a statement of something obvious, nothing provocative, yet all the adults look at me with wonder. Only Chris is laughing at the back, beside the window.
‘You’ve thoroughly surprised us with your appearance,’ my uncle continues. ‘To be honest, we never hoped to ever get to know you in person. Father, Amina has only found out recently that Jackie… I mean who her real mother is,’ he turns to the old man.
‘And that’s why you have run away from home. To meet your mother,’ my grandfather says with a frown and the strange intonation of a statement, which makes me pause. Something’s wron
