Page 70 of The Black Flamingo

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and says, “Maybe when

we get back to London

you could join my gym.”

Our second evening, we visit our great-aunt

for dinner. She points to Daisy first

and I can work out from Mum’s hand

gestures that Mum is explaining Daisy

is not her child, but Anna and I are.

She doesn’t speak any English but

she smiles and she feeds us. Black-eyed

beans and greens. This food, again, is familiar

but her words are not. Our great-aunt

refers to Anna and me as “ta mávra.”

Mum doesn’t want to translate it but I insist.

“It means ‘the black ones,’

but not in a bad way.”

I don’t know why Mum needed to say

not in a bad way, unless itwasbad.

Daisy isn’t seen as black like Anna and me.

Daisy looks down at her plate and doesn’t

say anything.

Mum hardly speaks any Greek to us at home.

She has always said she wanted to fit in

and be British. Here in Cyprus, Anna and I

can’t access family conversations without

her translations.

Mum, Anna, and Daisy go shopping

the next day, so I stay at the house with my

grandparents.

Sitting out on the porch with Grandad

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