I walked into that art exhibition looking like a million dollars, let me tell you! Refilwe spent all afternoon doing my hair. And she is Top-Knot’s best. She used so many different products, I lost count. Luckily the boss-lady was out.

Then I went up to Bishopscourt to borrow some of my sister’s clothes. My sister Lindi works as a children’s nanny there. Her employer gives her cast-off designer clothes – sometimes with the price tags still on. My sister was also out, which made it easier. Lindi is sometimes very selfish about lending me her clothes.

But the security guard let me into the Bishopscourt property. “Anything for you, Angel-face,” he said. He always calls me Angel-face. He tells me that if he was twenty years younger, he would marry me tomorrow.

I chose a halter neck black dress. Very chic! I took off the price tag (that was well into the thousands). I found Lindi’s silver sandals with killer heels. And her favourite earrings that look like they’re real diamonds. Elegant! No-one would believe that I sweep up other people’s hair for a living.

I don’t know why this local artist was supposed to be hot. His paintings at the art exhibition were awful. Just great messes of bright colours smeared around the place. Like a Grade 1 kid would paint. No sunsets, no waterfalls, no flowers. But all the rich and famous people around me were going, “Ooooh” and “Aaah” and “How stunning! How deep.”

And then I saw him: my Prince Charming. He stood alone in his soft grey suit and violet tie. Tall and handsome and confident. He looked across at me like I was the only other person in that huge room.


But I turned away, nearly tripping over my killer heels. I pretended to be very interested in one of the paintings: a mess of pink and black. Gotta play hard to get, right? Rich girls always play hard to get, don’t they? They can afford to!

He came to stand close beside me. I could feel the expensive cloth of his sleeve. I could smell his exclusive aftershave. To die for!

He said, “You aren’t fooling me. I can see right through you. So stop pretending.”

“Pretending?” I panicked. Was all my effort for nothing? Was my cover blown so quickly? I nearly burst into tears right there in front of all those people.

“Yes. Tell the truth: you don’t like these paintings any more than I do!”

What a relief! I smiled up at him. I could feel my dimples deepening.

“So what do you say, pretty lady? Let’s get outta here. We can go to my place and watch the sun set.”

“Your place?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a house in Clifton. Right on the sea shore.”

Clifton! That’s more exclusive than Bishopscourt! Forget playing hard to get! I allowed him to guide me outside to his car. A silver Jaguar! Imagine! With white leather seats. Absolutely to die for!

You know how the story of Cinderella ended? She lived happily ever after. “Girlfriend,” I told myself, there inside the Jaguar, “maybe this will have a fairy tale ending too!”


What do you think? Is Zonke going to live happily ever after with this guy?