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“Here,” he said and brushed the cover of the hardback he’d found before handing it to Aisha.

Aisha gasped. “Gabriela Mistral is in here.”

Gabi looked over her shoulder. “Who’s she?”

“She was a Latin American author. She won a Nobel Prize for her poetry. This is incredible. Thank you.”

José smiled. “I knew you would appreciate it. It’s a compilation of some of the greatest poets.”

The shop door opened, and José excused himself to deal with the new customer.

Gabi watched Aisha leaf slowly through the pages, her lips moving as if tasting the words. It was sensual and mesmerising. Aisha’s eyes narrowed, and she swallowed, and sighed, and held her hand to her heart. Gabi wanted to kiss her. “You really love poetry,” she said, her voice affected.

Aisha smiled. “It opens my eyes.” Aisha looked towards José. “I used to come here as a child on a Saturday when Mama came into town, and I’d help with stacking and sorting the books. José helped me learn to read stories and then poetry. Words are everything. Love, loss, suffering, passion, hatred, and joy, and everything we know or can dream of can be captured in just a few lines. It’s compelling. It gives me hope. It makes my heart ache and sing.” She sighed. “It makes me realise I’m not alone in the way I feel,” she said softly.

Gabi wanted to hold Aisha so badly the strain of holding back was excruciating. “How do you feel?” she asked.

Aisha held Gabi’s gaze with a thoughtful expression. “Confused. Trapped.”

Gabi put her hand on Aisha’s arm. Aisha looked towards where José was talking to the customer. Gabi let go, confused because yesterday Aisha had comforted her when they’d waited for the bus. “If you want to talk about anything,” she said.

Aisha ran her finger over the cover of the book. “Maybe I will learn to write properly one day and put my feelings into words.”

Gabi shoved her hands in her pockets. “I think you should.”

Aisha closed the book and sighed. “Do you ever dream of a different life?” she asked.

Gabi shook her head. “Winning the lottery would be good. I wish my mum hadn’t died and that I’d paid attention better at school, but that’s more about hindsight.”

Aisha stared at Gabi. “You’re lucky.”

Gabi smiled. “Maybe I just lack imagination.”

Aisha shook her head. “No. You have options.”

“Don’t you?” Gabi’s stomach turned leaden as Aisha stared at her. She hadn’t meant to be flippant, but Aisha was serious and intense. The differences between their lives were huge, and Gabi hadn’t been respectful of the challenges Aisha had already faced.

“Not like you,” Aisha said.

“But you enjoy living here?” Gabi asked.

“I love Granada, I love my family, and I love dancing. But our laws are strict, and we aren’t free to choose how we live or who we love.”

That explained the tension that slipped between them at times when other people were around. “My dad went mental when I kissed a girl,” she said, hoping it would encourage Aisha to talk openly.

Aisha lowered her head and ran her finger across the cover of the book.

“I was eight.”

Aisha smiled.

“We’d built a snowman together. That was my first kiss.” Gabi shrugged.

It had ended up as one of those tick tock watching the grandfather clock moments. Dad had shouted at Nana about Gabi being out of control and needing to see someone, though Gabi hadn’t quite worked out who she was meant to go and see or about what. “He went ballistic, and he’s never accepted me for who I am.”

Aisha sighed. “It’s important to get a parent’s blessing.”

Gabi shook her head. “Not for me, it isn’t. We’re not close, and he’s not going to change his attitude, so there’s no point in me wasting my time fighting for something he’s not willing to give.”