The meal turns out to be less awkward than Maya had thought it might. The food is unusual but very tasty, even the Tahdig, which it turns out is supposed to be crispy and ever- so-slightly burned.

Maya watches Mr. Jahanpour across the table. There is a ridiculous layer of baby-fuzz covering the crown of his usually shiny, bald head. Honora's cream must be working, but perhaps not quite as fast as he required. Sally doesn't seem to mind though as her eyes are trained on him in constant adoration. The clover seems to have done its trick.

Mrs. Lee's eyes, on the other hand, are trained with hawk-like ruthlessness on Sally herself, transforming into sweetness whenever Sally looks her way.

''You never told me your uncle is Mr. Jahanpour the pharmacist!'' Maya hisses at Truman while the adults are chatting.

He shrugs. "Why does it matter?''

''Well, it doesn't, I guess. It's just weird is all. He has known me since I was a baby.''

''You could say the same of everyone around here though.'' He has a point.

"So, you are going to become a pharmacist then? That's what you were talking about in class when you said you were expected to take over your uncle's business.''

He sighs.

"Yeah. My mom is a chemistry teacher, and my uncle is a pharmacist. My dad is actually a mechanic, he runs an auto shop but that won't cut it with my mother. She keeps on going on about how important a high education is. How her people were denied it in their home country. How they left, in part, for the freedom to learn.''

Maya nods sagely, pretending to know what he is talking about and then, as the main meal comes to an end, she excuses herself to the bathroom and googles furiously, staggered by what she finds. Arbitrary arrests, executions, imprisonment. The prevention of Bahá'is from attending universities or even school and the prevention of the establishment of Bahá'i places of learning. She is shaking slightly when she returns to the table.

"Did you use the special bathroom slippers, Maya dear?'' Mrs. Lee asks. Oh bugger! Was that what that other bucket of slippers was for in the bathroom?

"Mm-hmm.'' She nods vaguely.

''You ok?'' Truman asks, looking concerned at Maya's obvious pallor.

''Yip. I'm good. Thanks,'' she replies, taking her seat once more. While she was gone, a huge brass samovar has appeared on the table. It has ornate, scrolled handles and a pretty porcelain teapot painted with pink roses balanced unexpectedly on the top. Mrs. Lee is pouring out cut-glass mugs of the clear, brown brew, tossing in a dried rosebud and a cardamom pod before handing each one out.

"How do you take your tea, Maya?'' she asks. "I know most English people prefer it with milk and find the rose and cardamom a bit odd.'' She shoots a scalding glance across at Sally, who is sipping her milky concoction with oblivious content.

"Um, thanks Mrs. Lee, but I am very happy with the rose and cardamom. We drink a lot of herbal blends at my home.''

''Maya's mummy is an excellent cook!'' chuckles Mr. Jahanpour amiably, stroking the bum-fluff on his dome rather fondly. "Did you say she made these sweets Azita?'' Honora's old-fashioned sweets have been served alongside the tea in little silver dishes: coconut ice, barley sugar twists, toffee and mint-humbugs

Mr. Jahanpour pops a barley sugar twist in his mouth.

"Oh, this takes me back Azita! Try one!'' Mrs. Lee takes a delicate bite of the twisted, orange confection and her expression becomes wistful. She too, has been transported.

''I remember Armin! The Brighton Pier, when we were children! We had only just arrived in this country, and everything felt so frightening and unfamiliar. I was devastated to leave the family back in Iran, what with all the killings. But the Brighton Pier just took my breath away... and I knew that we would be ok here after all.'' She looks tearful. "It's good to be back together after so many years dâdâš.''

"Awwww,'' says Sally in her slightly nasal voice. "You guys!''

Maya smiles secretly, thinking of how she had thought the sweets an odd choice when her mother suggested them. She should know better by now; her mother has a way of sensing just what the right thing is to do.

Mr. Jahanpour and Sally leave not long after everyone finishes eating, claiming work early the next day. But Maya suspects they just want some alone time, and she can hardly blame them. Maya watches Sally's neat, white-socked heels slip-slapping their way back to the entrance hall.

Mr. Lee has been all genial warmth at the couple's departure and Mrs. Lee, cold, but effusive. When they return from saying farewell they are arguing volubly.

"I am just saying that she seemed quite nice, that is all,'' says Mr. Lee, raising his hands in frustration.

''Quite nice! Quite nice, Frank? Did you hear what she said to me? She said my dinner was exceptional. Exceptional I tell you! Can you imagine the bad luck she is putting on us? When my Tahdig burns next time and there is none for you – then you will know who to blame! In fact, I must go and get the Esfand right now.''

The couple disappear into the kitchen, and the sounds of opening cupboards and a clicking gas stove flaring to life can be heard alongside the ongoing rumbling argument. Truman offers Maya another sweet and they sit, chewing in awkward silence until Mrs. Lee returns, a long metal ladle containing some sort of smoking black seed in her hand. She rotates it over her head, waves it about the room and then circulates it over everyone else's head in turn.

''Sorry Maya dear, it really is unfortunate that the evening has to end this way,'' she mutters as Truman gives her an awkward grin and then assumes a posture that looks like he might be dying of embarrassment. But Maya can't blame him for not asking his mother to stop. Mrs. Lee is a force of nature, and she can only hope never to get on her bad side.

After dinner, Truman walks Maya to the door and returns her shoes.

''Nice socks by the way,'' he smiles. Somehow, seeing him in his home environment has made him much more human. At school he is this cool guy; popular, good-looking, in control but at home he is just like everyone else, a cog in a family wheel that is probably spinning much too fast in a direction he doesn't really want to go. "I think my mum liked you.''

''Yeh? She won't be cleansing the room with smoke after I leave then?'' Maya teases.

He snorts. ''I know she can be a bit much.''

''No really, Truman. You wouldn't say that if you had met my family.''

''Well maybe you will invite me to some time.'' His grin is cheeky. The corners of his eyes crinkle into mirthful lines. Images of Felicity and her occasional cheroot come to Maya's mind... her mother cuddling her chickens and George saying... well, anything. Could Truman handle them? His mother did just wave a ladle full of burning incense over her head to chase away the evil eye. It's not impossible.

''Maybe I will Truman. Maybe I will.''

They smile at each other, neither quite sure what to say next. The silence is heavy. Could this be... no? Maya slaps herself mentally. He wouldn't try to kiss her... would he? The rise and fall of Mrs. Lee's pitchy voice from inside places them both firmly back in the moment.

''Um... would you like me to walk you home?'' he offers, gesturing out the gate. Oh! Maya feels like an idiot. He was just waiting for her to leave, is all. And there she was staring at him like a half-wit.

"It's fine. Thanks. It's pretty safe around here at night, there aren't really any strangers, and I have my bike. It's just at the corner.''

"Ok, if you are sure.'' He looks uncertain, but Maya is already leaving his front yard.

''See you at school tomorrow Truman,'' she calls. '''Thanks again. It was fun.''

Maya unlatches her bike from its lamppost but doesn't mount. Instead, she wanders slowly down the road, her mind picking over and savoring moments from the evening. Truman teasing her about her socks, telling her she looked pretty and the roses blowing gently in the darkness when he looked at her just now.

''What do you think you are fucking doing, Maya?'' a voice blistered with malice snaps out of the darkness.

"Reese?'' she stops in surprise. ''I could ask you the same bloody thing. Why are you lurking there in the dark? Are you... stalking me?''

''I wanted to see if you would actually go through with it. Him Maya? Seriously? I thought it was my turn.''

This is beginning to sound really wrong.

''Your turn Reese? There is no turn. I am not a piece of equipment or a playground toy.'' He steps out into the cold, pale lamplight. His face is angry, contorted, and his eyes are bloodshot.

''You promised me, Maya.''

"I did no such fucking thing. Whatever you think happened. It did not. Whatever you think is going to happen. It is not. You need to back off Reese. Right now – or I have told you what will happen to you.'' She swings herself quickly onto her bike and pedals fast downhill in the direction of Bishop's End.

I realise I never put in a picture of Reese. So here goes... Darren "Whackhead" Simpson as Reese.  I am sorry, Darren, I listen to your radio show every morning and you are hilarious. But you look like someone I wouldn't want to encounter in a dark alley. Please don't prank me for this.