Anne released a groan beneath her breath.

“So Anne” Aunty Joyce said, “what are the plans for your exams?”

“I’m studying,” Anne mumbled.

Anne was a year older than me, and she was in 9th Grade. The National Exams were coming up, and everyone she knew kept asking her how she was faring on. I kind of felt sorry for her knowing that next year was going to be my turn.

“You’d better be,” Dad said, pointing at her with his chicken bone, “we don’t pay small money at that school of yours.”

“Ala!” Aunty Joyce exclaimed. “Schools these days are expensive for nothing. I was just telling Peter the other day, because paying for Junior now is like paying for three people!”

“Really?” Anne asked. “When did you talk to Uncle?”

Everyone at the table went silent. Dad cleared his throat to speak, but Anne beat him to it.

“Where is Uncle, actually? You’re here on a conference for the church, but he isn’t.”

“He’s with the ministry in Kabwe, where he’s supposed to be,” Aunty Joyce replied, but her tone was different.

“Well then the church must be growing – with you here on conferences every two weeks-”

“Okay who wants ice cream?” Mum slid out of her chair loudly, her eyes fixed on Anne.

“Is it that vanilla one that I love?” Aunty Joyce gave her trademark radiant smile.

“The very one,” Mum replied, wrapping her chitenge tighter around her waist.

“Like we have the money to afford it,” Anne murmured. Only I heard her.

“I’ll help,” I volunteered. I got up with my plate and followed Mum to the kitchen.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. The power did not go out, and they actually played one Christmas song, signalling that it was right around the corner.