Zanzibar Tides – Part 1: Burnt Out

The email from her firm had arrived at 6:04 in the morning, London time, and Pia had read it on the balcony of a beach bungalow in Paje, Zanzibar, with her coffee going cold beside her.

We need you back on the Halden case by Monday. Please confirm.

She did not confirm. She turned off her phone, put it in the drawer beside the mosquito net, and walked straight down to the sea.

The water was warm and clear and so shallow she could walk out a hundred metres before it reached her knees. The sand was white and fine as sugar. Along the beach, fishermen dragged their wooden boats up from the tide, and women in bright kangas laughed and called to each other across the palm trees.

Pia had not laughed like that in months.

She found the kitesurfing school by accident, following a painted sign along a dusty track. A tall young man sat on an upturned crate, mending a kite with a needle and thread. He looked up when she came near, grinned, and said, "You're looking for the lawyer."

"How do you know I'm a lawyer?"

"You walk like you're late for a meeting that doesn't exist," said Juma, and went back to his needle. "Lessons start tomorrow at seven. Bring sunscreen. And a sense of humour."

"Is the sense of humour compulsory?"

"Very," said Juma. "Otherwise the wind will laugh at you."

The first lesson was a disaster. The kite pulled Pia off her feet within a minute and dragged her across the shallows like a rag doll. She came up spluttering, sand in her hair and up her nose.

Juma was waiting on the sand, hands on his hips, grinning like a loon.

"You're not supposed to enjoy that," he said.

"I'm enjoying it enormously," Pia choked out, sitting up in the surf. "Why is the kite so angry?"

"The kite is not angry. It's asking you to listen," said Juma, wading out to help her up. He held out his hand, and she took it, and his grip was warm and steady as he pulled her to her feet. "Breathe. Feel the wind. Tell me how it feels in your hands."

"Like I'm holding a horse that wants to go somewhere I haven't decided yet."

"Good," said Juma, delighted. "That's exactly right. Try again."

By the end of the week she could stand on the board for almost ten seconds. She had sunburn across her shoulders, sand in every pocket, and a laugh that surprised her every time she heard it.

On Friday evening Juma sat beside her on the beach, watching the sun sink into the Indian Ocean.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

"To forget a work deadline," said Pia. "I didn't expect to remember how to laugh."

"Sometimes the wind does that," said Juma, and smiled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to watch the sunset properly tomorrow? Not from the school. Just the two of us, on the rocks at the point."

Pia's heart gave a small, nervous leap.

"Yes," she said. "I think I'd like that."

"Good," said Juma. "Then it's a date. Bring the sunscreen."