The Cupid Club. Cheryl Ntumy S.

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out of varsity, I worked up to twelve hours a day. This is the easy life, Senzi.”

      Senzeni shrugged. “If you say so.”

      “I just hope you’ll still have time for the Cupid Club.” Portia leaned forward with a mischievous smile. “When’s your next date?”

      “Good question,” said Amarava wryly. “Angie still has to get back to me with the details.”

      As if on cue, her phone rang loudly from her desk. “That might be her!” She hurried to the desk to answer it before it could stop ringing.

      “Is that Ama?” Angelique always began her phone calls with that question, as if she expected to find an impostor on the other end of the line.

      Amarava smiled. “No, it’s a military robot programmed to sound like me. What’s up, lovey?”

      “One day you’ll appreciate my caution,” Angelique drawled. “I’ve talked to David. He’s very excited about meeting you and he wants to have the date sometime this week. How’s your schedule?”

      Amarava felt her pulse race at the thought of the first date. There was something about that moment, meeting a man for the first time. “I have a photo shoot on Friday night, but I’m free every other day. How about tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow’s good. And the venue? First date is lady’s choice,” Angelique reminded her.

      “That Japanese place in Rosebank. I’ll meet him there at seven.”

      “Great! I’ll tell him. Oh, by the way, wear purple. And don’t argue,” she added, as Amarava opened her mouth to do just that. “You must have at least twenty purple outfits, so just pick one. He’ll be wearing an orange shirt.”

      Amarava sighed. She hated being told what to wear, but it was standard for all first dates initiated through the club. “Okay. Thanks, Angie.”

      “Well?” demanded Senzeni, as soon as Amarava hung up. “What’s the story?”

      “His name is David,” Amarava replied, and once again she felt the delicious thrill of anticipation. “He’s a photographer, apparently good-looking and funny, and we’re meeting tomorrow for sushi.”

      Senzeni and Portia exchanged glances. “Look at her. She likes him already!” Senzeni marvelled.

      Amarava giggled. “I like the sound of him, yes. But let’s not get excited until I’ve actually met the guy.”

      “He’s the one,” declared Portia, slapping her palm against her desk. “I’m telling you. I’m getting good vibes.”

      Senzeni rolled her eyes. “Yoh, here we go again.”

      Portia’s vibes had developed a reputation in the office. She had vibes about everything, from world events to weather patterns, and she felt the need to share all of them with her employers. Just a few days earlier she’d had a bad vibe about some takeaway Senzeni had ordered when the three of them were working late. Amarava, who was health-conscious and picky about what she ate, stuck to a cup of vegetable soup. Portia had refused to eat a thing, and sure enough, Senzeni had suffered from terrible indigestion for the rest of the night.

      “She had good vibes about Mandla,” Amarava pointed out.

      “We were already together when she met him!” Senzeni protested.

      “Ja, but if I didn’t have good vibes, you would never have married him.” Portia folded her arms and looked smug.

      “Listen to this crazy woman.” Senzeni clicked her tongue. “What are your vibes telling you about our chances of getting some food from S’thandwa’s before two o’clock?”

      Portia closed her eyes and took a deep, theatrical breath. After a moment her eyes fluttered open. “Hhayi khona, Senzi. The queue!”

      Amarava laughed, shaking her head, and returned to her desk. She opened her handbag and took out the tuna and vegetable salad she had packed that morning. She didn’t have time to go out for lunch; she had two women coming in to do a makeover for a magazine, and she had to get ready. Besides, she had no intention of eating the junk Portia and Senzeni called food.

      * * *

      Clement and Olivia’s home was a sprawling estate in Sandton. As Amarava pulled up at the white gate, she felt a familiar pang of nostalgia. Her memory of the flat she had lived in with her parents was hazy, but she had vibrant, wonderful memories of growing up in her aunt and uncle’s home.

      There were times she felt guilty about her good fortune. If her parents had lived, she would never have had the privileges that came with financial security. She would have traded the wealth for her parents in a heartbeat, but she was grateful for all the opportunities her uncle and aunt had given her.

      The gate slid open and she drove into the yard.

      “Hmm,” said Litha, sniffing the air appreciatively. “They’ve just cut the grass.”

      Amarava smiled. The family had two gardeners who made sure the grounds always looked like a little piece of paradise. She parked haphazardly as always, blocking the garage entrance. She grinned at her sister’s impatient sigh. “Relax, Litha. We’re home, remember?”

      They walked up the winding brick walkway to the wide, white-tiled steps, and the front door swung open. Their aunt stood in the doorway, wreathed in smiles. She still looked good for a woman in her fifties, but then again, she had a personal trainer and a nutritionist. Amarava’s heart twisted just a little at the sight of her. Olivia was of average height, with a willowy figure and twinkling eyes. She looked just like Amarava’s mother, except she was wearing a flawless cream suit and heels and Amarava’s mother had been more of a skirt and sandals sort of woman.

      “Girls!” Olivia cried in delight. “Come here and give me a hug.”

      “Did you miss us that much?” laughed Litha, enveloping Olivia in a warm embrace.

      “No, she just wants to soften us up so we’ll offer to do the dishes,” Amarava replied, raising an eyebrow at her aunt.

      Olivia looked at her, all wide-eyed innocence. “When have I ever done that?”

      “Always,” the sisters replied in unison, stepping into the house.

      Their uncle stood in the foyer in his usual golf shirt and chinos. He smiled. “Hello, girls. It’s good to see you.” His hugs were less exuberant than his wife’s; he had never been one for open displays of affection. “Let’s eat now, I’m starving.”

      “Oh, good, you’re here.” Senzeni emerged from the kitchen with an apron on and a large serving dish in her hands. “Ausi Seipati says hi. She was here a few days ago.”

      Ausi Seipati was the family’s former housekeeper. She had been with them for ages, and was like part of the family.

      “Ag, shame. Too bad we missed her,” said Litha as everyone moved to the dining room, where the table had already been set.

      “Don’t worry, she promised to let us know next time she plans to come.” Senzeni set the dish on the table.

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