Hiding in Plain Sight

20

It is nine in the morning and Bella is in the kitchen drawing up her shopping list for tonight’s dinner party when her mobile phone rings. It’s Padmini, who offers to give a hand with the cooking. “And if you haven’t done the shopping yet,” she goes on, her voice low, almost whispering, “you can come and get me, and we can go to the Indian spice shop close to the Nakumatt.”

“Would Valerie like to come too?” Bella asks.

“I doubt it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It was quite a fitful night.”

Bella knows there is no point in questioning her further; it’s clear there is a reason Padmini is not being more forthcoming. So she simply says, “Please expect me in an hour.”

She showers, puts on a pair of slacks and a pair of sneakers, and knocks gently on Salif’s door. “Wait,” he says, and when he opens the door, he is dressed. “Morning, Auntie,” he says. “What’s up?” He is ready to roll.

She tells him what her plan is. He says, “I know the routine. You want me to stay put and look after my sister and the house, right?”

She hugs and kisses him and drives off to get Padmini, thinking about her plight, especially if she can’t persuade Valerie to return to India with Padmini. She thinks to herself that one day, without warning, a door will open somewhere in Padmini’s mind or, rather, a sense of despair will stroll in and take up residence. Then the poor woman will say enough is enough and she will leave Valerie. That is the damage that divided loyalty does, and the signs of an inevitable split are there. Bella can smell it the way you can smell an approaching storm. Maybe Padmini senses it is time she ups and flees, the way frightened people flee an oncoming hurricane. But Bella selfishly hopes that the women manage to leave together and that their parting of ways takes place after they are back in India.

Bella parks in front of the hotel and doesn’t get out of the vehicle. She calls Padmini’s mobile, but there is no answer, so Bella just waits; she does not want to risk running into Valerie. It occurs to her that they are behaving like a couple having a clandestine affair. But Valerie doesn’t seem to care.

Bella’s thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of Padmini, and she drives off in the direction of the Nakumatt shopping mall.

“So what is all this cloak-and-dagger stuff?”

“After you dropped us off last night, Ulrika, the lesbian who has a financial stake in that raided club, BIH, came to the door of our chalet, veiled.”

“Veiled, as in looking like a devout Muslim?”

“Yes. And there was a man with her, a German. Ulrika was in need of a place to hide from the police. I didn’t want to oblige them but Valerie insisted. So Ulrika slept on the couch, and her friend slept on the floor of our chalet. Early this morning, the man left, but Ulrika is still there.”

It doesn’t escape Bella that it is her own munificence that is now paying to keep Ulrika free. I might as well join the movement myself, she thinks. And of course, here in Africa, where gays are victimized, harassed, and harangued, they could do with all the help they can get.

“Any idea what effect the current situation will have on your plans for departure tomorrow?”

“No.”

It’s clear to Bella — and must be to Padmini too, Bella thinks — that Ulrika and Valerie have already had at least a fling. Will they continue their interrupted liaison now? Bella suspects that they might, which does not auger well for either Padmini’s or Bella’s plans.

Padmini says, “Valerie says that Ulrika is safe with us until tomorrow morning, when we are due to depart, thanks to your generosity in paying for the room until then. After that, she says, it’s up to Ulrika to find another sanctuary.”

“Is that arrangement okay with you?”

“No. What if the police find out where she is? We’ll be considered accessories to the crime for offering shelter to a fugitive.”

“What is Valerie’s response to this?”

“She maintains that the likelihood of that happening is minimal and that we should give Ulrika shelter until an hour or so before we are scheduled to leave.”

“Remind me when that is, your departure time.”

“We are due to check in at Ugandan Air at five.”

“Tight,” comments Bella.

“I said it is too tight for my liking. But she insists that she wants to leave. She says she wants no repeat of what occurred in Kampala. She threw another stinker of a fit when she discovered you had paid the hotel bill up through tomorrow morning, by the way.”

“Why?” says Bella. “Is the woman mad?”

“Anyhow, she was raving and ranting and calling you all sorts of terrible names until Ulrika and her friend showed up. Then she was singing a different tune.”

“She still doesn’t know how to show gratitude.”

“Valerie doesn’t know the meaning of the concept.”

“So you are set to go?”

“Cross your fingers we are.”

—

In the mall, Bella leaves Padmini in the spice shop and walks across to the Nakumatt. She gets arugula for the salad, and the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon, pepper, and Dijon mustard she needs for her favorite salad dressing. She also gets pasta and peppers and tomatoes for the penne all’arrabbiata she is planning. For Padmini’s dish, she gets basmati rice, chicken pieces, yogurt, fresh ginger, and fresh hot chilies, some green, some red. For dessert, she gets several types of cheese from the Nakumatt deli.

They meet at the checkout counter, and Bella pays. A youth elbows Padmini out of the way and takes hold of the cart Padmini is pushing. Not wanting to fight about it, they let him wheel it to the car, where Bella tips him.

They arrive home to a joyous brouhaha upstairs. Qamar and Zubair have arrived, and the four young people are up in Salif’s room “having fun,” as Qamar puts it, after a hug and a kiss from Auntie Bella when she looks in. Bella informs them that Auntie Padmini is with her downstairs, but that Valerie is delayed.

“But she is okay, though?” asks Dahaba.

“Of course she is.”

“And she will be here in time for dinner?”

“Of course she will be.”

Bella is surprised not to have received warning of their children’s arrival from Fatima or Mahdi. Not that this upsets her, but it is unlike them. She checks her phone and discovers she has inadvertently turned it off. There are several messages from them explaining that they are attending a funeral service for a relative on the outskirts of town and so it made sense to drop the children at Aar’s place first. Bella relaxes, happy that their relationship is already such that they don’t have to stand on formality.

In the kitchen, Padmini chats with Bella as she goes about putting away groceries and rustling up some lunch — a dozen baked chicken drumsticks for the children, and, for Padmini and herself, some slices of mozzarella and tomato drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

“Any news from Valerie?” asks Bella.

“Ulrika has been in contact with the German embassy in Nairobi to inform them of her situation.”

“And?”

“The embassy will see what can be done.”

“To my mind, this is the wrong approach.”

“How so?”

“The diplomatic process is a lengthy one at best, and you don’t want this to drag on longer than it has already. And the embassy may get in touch with the hotel management to find a discreet way of spiriting her out of harm’s way. My only worry is that if any of this comes to light then matters may get much worse, at least in the short term. Lately this kind of interference by European and North American governments in local police matters in Africa and Asia has created diplomatic incidents.”

“I had no idea.”

Bella opens the oven and turns the drumsticks. Then she asks, “On what grounds are the police seeking Ulrika’s arrest?”

“Valerie is under the impression that if they apprehend her they’ll charge her with taking hefty fees to set up lesbians visiting from overseas with young African girls.”

“Of course, we are all aware young African boys and girls are farmed out for such purposes to tourists all the time and there has never been any fuss about it.” Bella sets out plates and tumblers filled with water and goes on. “In Mombasa, elderly white men openly frolic with young boys not even of shaving age. And in the seventies, Scandinavian women chased male teenagers in Gambia and Cape Town.”

Padmini flinches at the mention of Cape Town but she agrees. “I saw it myself when I was there.”

“There must be another reason why the police are now gunning for Ulrika. Why are they charging her with a crime they’ve chosen to ignore for so long?”

“Maybe she hasn’t made the payoffs the authorities demand,” ventures Padmini.

Bella calls up to the youngsters to come down and eat. They come to the table in high spirits, all of them yammering away at the same time and taking photos of each other and Padmini and Bella, even of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Bella lets them serve themselves, wondering if they hear one another when they jabber like this. “Get your drinks yourselves and give us peace,” she says, shooing them into the dining room.

After lunch, with the tables cleared and the dishes washed, Padmini prepares the tandoori chicken, mixing the spices she bought earlier with yogurt.

Padmini calls Valerie then reports on their conversation to Bella. It seems that things have taken a turn for the worse because the liaison in the German embassy is no longer picking up his phone and Ulrika and Valerie are stiff with worry. She tells Bella that Valerie is considering bringing Ulrika to the dinner tonight as her guest.

To this, Bella says, “That is decidedly not on.”

“Knowing Ulrika, she may try to crash the party,” Padmini says, sounding worried.

“Tell her she’ll be turned away,” Bella says, and she means it.

They have barely started to cook when Catherine Kariuki telephones to confirm that she will be coming but that James won’t be able to; there’s a security problem on the school grounds that he has to deal with.

Shortly after five, Mahdi and Fatima arrive. It’s long before dinner, but Mahdi and Fatima are like family. Bella makes them tea and catches up with them at the kitchen table. Mahdi tells her that the Kenyan doctor they’ve consulted believes that Fatima’s cancer is in remission, but Bella knows that Mahdi’s optimism tends to run high.

Mrs. Kariuki’s arrival alters the dynamics of the gathering. She cuts an authoritative figure, perhaps because she is used to being listened to by students. She is almost as tall as Padmini and broader, and she has a very strong handshake. She has known Fatima and Mahdi for a long time because Zubair and Qamar have been at the school since kindergarten. But this is the first time they are socializing.

Catherine Kariuki, when it pleases her, boasts a voice as booming as she is broad in the shoulders. Now she stands at the bottom of the stairs and hollers to the children to come and greet the adults. The four of them obediently come down the stairs single file, as if they were about to receive the blessings of Holy Communion. They extend their hands to her in turn, their heads bowed in deference, then step aside and wait to be dismissed. But within a few minutes, they have lost their shyness, and they go up to their rooms and bring down their cameras. Salif takes group photos in various combinations and Dahaba does single portraits. Bella can tell they are experiencing the special status that wielding a camera affords: stand here; smile and say “cheese”; put your hand here, chin up. The adults, even Catherine Kariuki, submit to them, following their instructions meticulously.

Fatima asks Padmini where Valerie is, and Padmini explains that she has been held up but is expected in time for dinner.

Then Gunilla arrives. Again, the dynamic alters. Bella introduces her around as Aar’s colleague, and Gunilla goes around the room shaking hands with each of them until she reaches Catherine. The expression on Gunilla’s face suggests she regrets not opting to say “Namaste” and keeping her distance the way Indians do. Fatima and Mahdi, who have heard so much about Gunilla from Aar, forego the handshake and give her a hug. Salif and Dahaba warm to her instantly, recounting their camping trip and taking pictures of her.

Bella encourages everyone to move from the kitchen to the living room. In an instant, they break up into smaller groups, some with their drinks on their laps, chatting, others on their feet, listening. Gunilla is tête-à-tête with Fatima; Padmini talks to Mahdi with animation, with Catherine chiming in. Bella, watching the groups merge and unmerge, wonders how much of Aar’s relationship with Gunilla Mahdi and Fatima know about or suspect; or if Padmini, who knows about Gunilla’s part in her and Valerie’s release from detention in Uganda, will dare to raise the subject at all.

Having tired of taking pictures, Dahaba lends her camera to Qamar, who excitedly starts photographing everyone. Dahaba brings out the family albums, Gunilla’s and her own. More photographs are taken of people congregating around the albums. Fatima begins to weep, looking at the photos of Aar, and Mahdi pats her back and comforts her. Fatima vows to assemble the ones she has from their days together at school and university to make a gift of them to Salif and Dahaba.

Salif organizes a tour of the darkroom. Everyone is impressed, especially Catherine, who suggests that Bella teach a photography class at the school and that Salif and Dahaba become the school’s designated photographers. When they return from the darkroom, they find that Bella and Padmini have set the table and are ready for people to be seated. There is still no sign of Valerie. Dahaba says she will call her mum and tell her to hurry up, but Padmini says she will do it and steps out of the room.

When Padmini gets back to the kitchen to help Bella with the food, she says that Valerie is on her way in a taxi but is caught in traffic. Padmini further whispers that she is worried that Valerie may be lying.

“Why would she lie to you? This makes no sense.”

“That is the way Val is,” says Padmini. “I have the bizarre feeling she is not telling the truth because she told me in the same breath that she had packed her suitcases and booked a cab to the airport for five tomorrow morning.”

They bring out the food on large platters and put them on a side table in the dining table with plates, cutlery, and napkins. It’s quite a spread: Bella’s arrabbiata and arugula salad and Padmini’s chicken tandoori, plus a fish curry and a rich array of vegetarian dishes, including lentils, chickpeas, and an assortment of Indian finger foods. Everyone is seated except for Zubair, who is taking pictures. Mahdi is presiding at the adults’ table, Catherine having assigned him the duty “because you are the oldest man present.” The children are at their own table.

The guests serve themselves, and the dinner seems to be a hit. Catherine, Mahdi, and all the children help themselves to seconds, and Padmini and Bella receive the guests’ compliments gracefully. Fatima and Padmini are the only ones except for Bella who eat the arugula, however; Padmini asks for the recipe for the dressing. Meanwhile, wine, water, and soft drinks flow like nobody’s business, with Catherine emptying her glass as soon as it is topped up.

“How would you describe Kenyan cuisine, Mrs. Kariuki?” asks Mahdi. “No offense intended, but would you agree with the sentiments expressed by a Kenyan chef I once met who said that it is nothing more than bland peasant cooking?”

“The coastal cooking in Kenya is definitely not bland,” says Catherine, “but then you may not consider the coastal cooking as representative of the indigenous food we used to eat before all these foreign influences came in. Kenyan coastal cooking is more like Yemeni food, with a touch of Indian cuisine. I love it.”

“I would consider it Kenyan, but it is only a small area of the country,” says Mahdi.

Catherine is mulling over what Mahdi has said. “Could you define what you mean by peasant cooking?”

“A cuisine lacking cosmopolitan influence, where the main purpose is to satiate hunger,” says Mahdi. “I am thinking that in a place, a city, a country, or a region where there is a crosscurrent of cultures feeding off one another the kitchen becomes an amalgam of tastes. Like India.” He turns to look at Padmini as if to seek her support.

Catherine appeals to her as well. “What do you think about this assertion?”

“India has suffered a great number of invasions,” says Padmini. “It is a subcontinent with an ancient civilization, a huge population, and diverse cultures and faiths. I would say the cuisine reflects this multiculturalism. India boasts a cosmopolitanism far beyond that of many countries in Europe, including England.”

“But both India and Kenya were British colonies,” says Catherine.

“That’s taking hold of the wrong end of the stick,” Mahdi says. “In my visit to that island, I’ve found traditional British cooking rather bland and uninteresting, but more recently, Britain has benefited from the large influx of immigrants, especially from India and Italy, and British taste buds and cooking habits have benefited similarly.”

“What is Somali cooking like?” Catherine asks Mahdi.

“The cultural crosscurrents passing through the Somali peninsula have altered the way we cook in the urban areas of the country, but they seem not to have penetrated beyond the cities and the towns,” he replies. “I would say that we have borrowed freely from Arabia, India, and Italy, influences that set urban Somali cooking apart from peasant cooking. Our indigenous cooking rarely uses spices, and with its reliance on local grains, it sits heavy on the stomach. An ingredient like garlic is almost unknown. In cosmopolitan cooking, there is a variety of ways you can use the same ingredients to prepare a meal; peasants tend to eat the same food day in and day out. A Frenchman who taught at our school once complained that he had to come to Nairobi for his spices, even his garlic and lemon.”

Catherine’s mobile rings, and before answering it, she looks at her watch. Then she listens, nods her head, and get up from her chair with the suddenness of someone stung by an insect. Then she says, with equal abruptness, “It is my husband telling me that the chauffeur is ready to pick me up and that I must go.” As if her abruptness has dawned on her only now, she adds, “I didn’t realize it was so late, and I don’t want my husband to worry.”

She calls out to the children, who come round to perform what Bella refers to as their “salutations.” They take one last photo with “Madame Principal,” after which she pats them on either the head or the shoulders as if she were a pontiff delivering benedictions. Bella escorts her to the waiting car outside and thanks her for coming, sending her best regards to James. As the car moves toward the gate, which the guard opens, Bella notices that another car that is just arriving is blocking the exit.

This being Nairobi at night, the arrival of this unexpected car gives Bella a momentary worry. But then she recognizes the occupant of the vehicle, and in a moment, Valerie steps out, shielding her eyes against the headlights of Catherine’s car. I’ll be damned, thinks Bella to herself, the madwoman is here. But is she alone? Bella moves forward to greet Valerie, glad that Valerie’s path and Catherine’s have not crossed.

For the third time, the group dynamics change. It is like cards being reshuffled; there is no knowing how they will fall. It takes Bella less than a moment to determine that she won’t ask Valerie about Ulrika because she is undoubtedly not supposed to be in the know, and in any event, this is a matter between Valerie and Padmini, no matter how much the outcome might affect her. With Valerie right on her heels, Bella walks into the living room, and a hush descends, broken by a squeal of joy from Dahaba, who runs toward her mother and hugs and kisses her. Salif stops taking pictures long enough to say, “Hi, Mum,” from where he stands. Bella watches Padmini in nervous anticipation; she can tell that Padmini is as anxious as she is, neither of them knowing the outcome of the incident involving Ulrika. If Padmini, like Bella, has taken a gamble in coming to Africa, it appears that hers hasn’t paid off.

Valerie acknowledges Dahaba’s enthusiastic welcome then detours into a brief huddle with Padmini. Bella regrets that she doesn’t have a clear sight line to both of them or the ability to read lips, but from Padmini’s expression, she surmises that l’affaire Ulrika has been positively resolved.

Bella takes Valerie’s elbow and steers her over to Fatima and Mahdi, and then, as soon as there is an opportune moment, brings her before Gunilla. She has to give Valerie credit: she remains composed and unflustered as she shakes Gunilla’s hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, smiling warmly. They chat a bit, only glancingly acknowledging that they have spoken before on the phone, and Valerie slips away before the conversation can turn to anything substantial. Bella is relieved that neither opens a can of worms in public, and she is in her own way grateful to them both, especially to the unpredictable and volatile Valerie.

Bella asks Valerie if she has eaten.

“I’m starving,” she says.

“Come to the kitchen,” says Padmini, “and see what Bella and I cooked. There is plenty left.”

Bella keeps the children occupied with a spiel on photography so that Valerie and Padmini can have some time alone in the kitchen. She talks about what you need to produce photographs that can be sold to magazines and newspapers.

“I want to become a cameraman,” says Salif, “and maybe a filmmaker. I’ll be Somalia’s best filmmaker, Auntie, thanks to you.”

Bella asks what the others dream of becoming, and Qamar replies that she wants to become a literature professor while Zubair hopes to have a career in law. “What about you, honey?” she says to Dahaba.

“A medical doctor, to cure the sick, of whom there are far too many,” Dahaba says. “I’ll work for international charitable organizations, helping women and children, the poor and the homeless.”

Qamar asks, “And you, Auntie Bella, what other accomplishments do you want to attain beyond all that you’ve already achieved?”

Bella thinks very hard to make certain that whatever she describes leaves room not only for Dahaba and Salif in her life but also for Zubair and Qamar, whose mother is in such precarious health. She reasons that perhaps it is just as easy to look after four children as two, especially children so wonderful. She hugs each of them and says, “For now, my plan is to start a photo studio here and look after Dahaba and Salif. And I hope that you two,” she says, looking at Qamar and Zubair, “will spend a great deal of time with us too. Because you are my family, you are all I have.”

Dahaba, acting as spokesperson, says, “You are the world to us four and we love you, Auntie, love you to bits.” And they go into a group hug.

Teary-eyed, Bella leaves them in haste and goes straight to the washroom to have a good cry. She looks at herself in the mirror and washes her face in cold water. She emerges, dry-eyed, to find Gunilla still chatting with Fatima and Mahdi about Aar. Fatima is admitting to the crush she had on him that he just shrugged off. She nods at Bella and concludes, “The boys in the class envied him, and the girls adored him. Aar was special,” and then she lets her emotions take over, bringing her story to a tearful end.

Bella offers tea and coffee all around.

Mahdi and Fatima take the offer as a discreet signal that it is time they left. They exchange mobile numbers with Gunilla, making plans to meet at a time and place to be agreed later. Fatima says to Mahdi, “My sweet, let us round up our children and take them home, it is very late.”

Bella says to Gunilla, “I predict that the children won’t want to be separated and will resist going with their parents.”

“They are winsome, all of them,” says Gunilla.

“And they get on so well, the four of them,” says Bella, looking in the direction of the kitchen and wondering where Valerie and Padmini have ended up. Bella feels like a shepherdess trying to gather her unruly flock and failing.

Gunilla says, “Time for me to go too, dear,” and she is up on her feet. She stretches and says, “Must go to the gym tomorrow. I am out of shape.”

“I haven’t had a workout for days either,” says Bella.

“I’ll show you where my gym is, in Westlands,” says Gunilla.

“We have a date,” says Bella.

Fatima is back with Bella and Gunilla to report that Zubair and Qamar are, as Bella predicted, resisting leaving. Mahdi asks Bella if they can pick them up tomorrow. Bella says, “Of course.”

Fatima says apologetically, “You see, with no school until next week, they get out of hand,” although there is nothing to apologize for. They say their good-byes, and this prompts Valerie and Padmini to come out of the kitchen at last. They bid Gunilla, Fatima, and Mahdi good night, and Bella escorts her friends to their vehicles.

On her return, the children are taking pictures of Padmini and Valerie, and they want Bella to stand in the middle as Padmini and Valerie pose. Then there is a family portrait with Dahaba and Salif joining them and Zubair and Qamar taking photos in turn.

Before the children go to bed, Dahaba insists that she show Valerie the darkroom. Valerie is appropriately wowed and indulges her daughter’s over-the-top enthusiasm. Then more good nights, the children yammering up the stairs until their voices fade behind the bedroom doors.

In the kitchen, the mood is ominous, but Bella bides her time, gathering the plates and piling them up in the sink. It feels good to push back the chaos she associates with Valerie and reaffirm this new life where there is no room for clutter. She brings in all the cups, glasses, and empty soft drink cans, and begins to wash up.

“Drinks, anyone?” asks Bella.

Valerie says, “Just water for me, please. I’ll help myself.” Bella hardly dares wonder if she is to regard this as a good omen.

“And you, Padmini?”

“More wine, please,” replies Padmini. “And I’ll do the same.”

Valerie sips her water and says, “We are leaving at dawn, Padmini and I. I am packed and have booked a cab to the airport.”

Bella cannot believe that matters are turning out this way, with Valerie drinking water and refraining from sowing rancor. She wonders if she can trust it.

Then, as if at Valerie’s behest, Padmini says, “And we thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve been the most generous host possible, especially considering your state of mourning.”

And Valerie, if a touch begrudgingly, adds, “And we mourn with you. He was a wonderful man and proved himself to be a wonderful father to our children.”

And what is there left for Bella to say but “Thanks”?

She is fond of silence, Bella reflects, in whose palatial space she can move around; she is seldom betrayed by the slip of her tongue, the way Valerie often is. But tonight Valerie seems to be a different self.

Bella asks, “Shall I call down Salif and Dahaba so that you can say a real good-bye?”

“Please, no,” says Valerie.

“But why not?” says Bella in surprise.

“For one thing, I hate saying good-bye, and I can’t stand the sight of Dahaba weeping and Salif making cutting remarks. I’ve never regretted doing what I did, leaving them. And I feel they are in superb hands with you — in fact, I trust that they will do better in your company and care than in mine.” She pauses, and then goes on. “I love the darkroom, which I see as a wonderful illustration of your dedication to them, your interest in their well-being, and your intention to share the most important parts of yourself. If I speak with them again, I may muddle things. I don’t want to leave them with conflict in their minds.”

Valerie’s mobile phone sounds. She looks at it, then nods to Padmini. “Our cab is here, darling.”

Padmini again articulates their thanks, and they both rise to their feet. “We can see ourselves out,” Valerie says, gesturing to Bella to stay put. Then she says, “Many things that ordinary people view as normal, including saying good-bye, are foreign to my nature. I have several selves, in fact: a private self that I am comfortable with and a public self that I find as demanding and exhausting as speaking a foreign tongue that I am barely familiar with. No doubt, you all think that I am rather unusual, uncouth in my outlook, ungrateful when I should be grateful. ‘Good-bye’ and ‘thank you’ do not figure in my vocabulary for reasons that have to do with my father and my upbringing. And so I would be lying to you if I use the very words I associate with a period of my young life that I viscerally hate to relive.”

Bella thinks of the Somali wisdom that holds that what your parents don’t teach, you will be compelled to learn the hard way from an unfeeling society. She is glad that Valerie is showing some signs of coming to her senses about her life and her priorities. But true to her word, Valerie neither thanks Bella nor apologizes, and she makes it clear that she does not wish to hug or to be kissed on the cheek. As she heads for the door, Bella takes Padmini in a tight embrace.

“Go gently, my friend,” says Bella.

And then Padmini goes to join her partner in the waiting cab.