Nandi turned towards the door. She didn’t know who she expected, but she didn’t expect her mother. She was at work, and normally she would only get home from her cleaning job much later.

“Nandi! What are you doing at home?”

It was her mother. Nandi sat down on her bed, and didn’t look at her. She bowed her head, and looked at the floor, waiting for the shouting to begin. She was not disappointed.

“For how long has this been going on?!” shouted her mother. “How long have you been staying at home and not going to school?”

Nandi did not answer.

“Answer me Nandi!” shouted her mother, moving to stand in front of her, and bending forward to shout right into Nandi’s face. Nandi turned her face away.

“Answer me!”

Nandi looked up.

“What’s the point?” she said softly, shrugging her shoulders. “You never listen to me anyway.”

Nandi’s mother suddenly backed off, and walked slowly across the room to sit down on her own bed. She sighed deeply, and put her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nandi, after a moment.

“I am sick,” said her mother, from behind her hands. “I just cannot work today. I am sick. And I am tired. Why did you have to do this to me today as well, Nandi? Why are you giving me trouble?”

“I didn’t mean to do anything to you, Mama. I just had something I had to do today, that’s all. I did try to talk to you but you never listen. You’re always too tired, always too busy with work, or church, or…”

“Nandi,” her mother said, putting her hand up. “Just be quiet. You are only fifteen years old. You must still do as you are told. I am working hard for you. For your future.”

Nandi sighed, and began gathering her school books, from where they were strewn on her bed. Tears welled up in her eyes, and spilled silently down her cheeks.

“What was so important that you had to stay at home from school to do it?” asked her mother, who was lying on her bed now, and watching her through the dim light of the room.

“Nothing Mama. It doesn’t matter.” Nandi wiped her hand across her cheek, and began to slowly pack her books back into her school bag.

“Nothing matters but your education,” said her mother firmly. Then she added softly. “You don’t want to end up like me, do you? Look at me. I am so sick and tired, but I have no choice. I must go and clean every day. I must be grateful that I have a cleaning job.”

Nandi’s mother sighed deeply.

“Can I get you some medicine Mama?” asked Nandi gently, sitting down again. She pulled the letter that she had begun writing to her mother towards herself across the bedspread.

“No,” said her mother. “I have taken some paracetamol. I will be better tomorrow. I only need to rest.”

Nandi and her mother looked at each other in silence across the room. Nandi felt for the piece of paper in her pocket. After a while she spoke, very quietly, and very hesitantly.

“Mama,” she said, “there is something I need to tell you. Something I have wanted to tell you for months now.”

“Mmmm,” mumbled her mother. Her eyes were closed, and Nandi could see that she had begun to doze off.

“Mama,” said Nandi, suddenly feeling a sense of urgency, a sense that she had to speak, had to tell her mother, before she fell asleep.

“Mmmm,” said her mother, her eyelids making an effort to flicker open. “What is it?”

“I’m pregnant Mama,” said Nandi, so softly that even she struggled to hear herself, and so she lifted her chin and spoke again, more loudly this time.

“Mama, I am pregnant.”

***

Tell us what you think: How do you think Nandi’s mother is going to react to the news that Nandi is pregnant? What do you think the note in Nandi’s pocket is all about?