No wonder Uncle Zed loved Africa so much.

‘I am going to have to come and live here as soon as I am old enough to leave home,’ Felix told himself.

He took in the circle of tiny mud huts and the dusty yellow dogs running around; he gazed at the children who sat in shady doorways and the old women who crouched over pots on little stoves. He stared at the goats nibbling idly at the scrubby grass and bushes. He drank it all in and sighed happily.

Then, just as Felix thought things could not possibly get any better, Bibi put two fingers to his mouth and let out the loudest whistle Felix had ever heard. Immediately a face appeared from the furthest hut, and then the body followed, careering towards Bibi at full pelt.

‘DADDY!’ cried the figure.

Bibi held out his arms to the child and swooped her up in the air, as she giggled and wriggled, crying, ‘Put me down! Put me down NOW!’

Bibi set the girl down and then said proudly, ‘Everyone, this is my daughter, Harmony. Harmony, say hello to our guests.’

‘Hello to our guests!’ said Harmony. Then she let out the most extraordinarily loud, hyena-style laugh.

The girl was about the same height as Felix. She had a mischievous look in her eye; her hair was a dark, fluffy cloud that framed her pretty face like a brown halo and was every bit as curly and amazing as Flo’s hair.

Felix had always loved Flo’s hair: it was so wild. He had often thought what it would be like to touch it. Would it be bouncy? Could you hide things in it? He found himself having the exact same thoughts about this girl’s hair, too.

‘Harmony,’ said Bibi in a warning tone. ‘Introduce yourself properly, please.’

The girl rolled her eyes, then she went up to Felix and pumped his hand up and down and expertly twisted it around to hook his thumb with hers in the traditional handshake Bibi had given Zed.

‘Hello. What is your name?’ she asked.

‘I’m Felix,’ said Felix, pulling his hand back. It felt as though it had been through a tumble-dryer on fast spin.

‘Well, that’s good,’ said the girl. ‘And don’t call me Harmony – only my daddy calls me this. You can call me Mo.’

Mum gasped when she heard this and started to say something, but Mo took her by surprise by grasping her hand and giving it the same treatment she had given Felix’s. ‘Dumela, Mma,’ she said. Then she added, ‘Hello, madam,’ and batted her eyelashes.

Felix watched Mum nervously. He did not think it had been a good idea for Mo to call Mum ‘madam’. Mum called Flo ‘madam’ when she was cross. Like the time Flo had put Hammer the hamster in the fridge in the lettuce compartment ‘because he needed a change of scene’.

However, Mum simply stammered, ‘Oh, I’m – call me Marge.’

Soon Zed and Mum were busy chattering away to Bibi about plans for their trip, so Mo slipped aside to talk to Felix.

‘Grown-ups are so borrring,’ she said. ‘Who cares about all that polite chit-chat that they do. Will you be my friend?’

Felix nodded enthusiastically.

‘Oh good. Because I have always wanted an English boyfriend.’

‘Ah!’ Felix was taken aback. ‘I – I don’t really want to be a boy-friend,’ he muttered.

Mo frowned and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. ‘What are you talking about? Hmmm? You want to be my friend, and you are a boy and you are English. So therefore you can be my English Boy Friend.’

‘Oh.’ Felix blushed. ‘OK,’ he said.

He looked at Mo’s fierce dark brown eyes and her incredible hair and her shiny dark skin and found himself thinking how cool she was. This made him feel even more timid. He did not know what to say next.

‘How come you can speak such good English?’ he tried.

Mo roared her hyena-laugh. ‘What a silly question! I speak English because I go to school! Don’t you go to school to learn things?’

‘Well, yes,’ Felix admitted. ‘Only we don’t learn useful things.’

Mo shook her head and puffed at her hair. ‘But you can speak English too, so you must have learned something right.’ Then she put her hands on her hips in a pose that Felix recognized with a shiver of dread. ‘Anyway, listen to me, Feeeliiiix,’ she said, trying out his name, drawing out each last syllable. ‘I can speak three different languages, so you had better be nice to me, or I will go and talk about you behind your back in Setswana or Kalanga and then you will not know what I am talking about!’

Felix sighed. He was used to this kind of thing. Flo was always talking in secret languages to the Pink Brigade when she was fed up with him.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I will be nice to you.’

‘Good,’ said Mo, with a decisive nod. ‘So let’s leave the boring grown-ups to it, and I will show you how to stalk a lion and catch it.’

A strong hand appeared on Mo’s shoulder, restraining her.

‘Oh no you won’t, young lady,’ said Bibi firmly. ‘We are here to look after our guests, not to lead them into danger. Anyway, it is time to eat.’

Zed and Mum were right behind him.

‘Y’know, Mo, you like, kind of remind me of someone,’ said Zed. ‘Do you know what I mean, guys?’

‘Don’t we just,’ muttered Mum. ‘Don’t we just . . .’