‘Do we really have to go?’ Zafir asked again. They’d just arrived at Tetah’s house and were about to leave for afternoon tea with the new priest and his family.

‘Yes, of course,’ Tetah replied. ‘It would be most rude not to go.’

They set off for the church where Tetah went to pray most days of the week. Zafir lagged behind. What would a priest’s family be like? He could picture them – serious, never doing anything wrong, boring. Even worse, would they talk about religion all the time? His friends in Dubai came from lots of different backgrounds but religion was something that never came up except for wishing each other ‘Eid Mubarak’ or ‘Happy Christmas’ or many ‘Diwali’ blessings.

‘The Reverend Father and his family live in the house behind the church,’ explained Tetah as she led Mum, Pops and Zafir down the alley that ran beside the church. Zafir dragged his feet. He wished he’d worn two pairs of socks. Clouds had swallowed up the sun and the day was bitterly cold. Although the church was only a five-minute walk from Tetah’s, Zafir’s toes and fingers were starting to feel numb.

They came to a wooden door with a lion’s-head knocker. Tetah gave the door a loud ratatat with the lion’s head.

Suddenly, Zafir heard a rumbling sound behind him. He turned. Swerving around the corner was a girl on a skateboard. Her knees were bent and her head was down so she didn’t see them.

‘Hey!’ Zafir yelled. The girl hurtling towards them looked up and teetered slightly but quickly moved her feet and swayed her body so that the board spun to the side and skidded to a stop in an expert power slide. Zafir nodded. That was impressive. Even if her board, a Powell Golden Dragon, was a few years old and more like a beginner’s one.

The girl was wearing a tracksuit and a blue-and-white ski cap pulled down to her thick eyebrows. She picked up the board, held it under her arm and grinned at them.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said in English, but with a strange accent, not like the American English Zafir was used to hearing. ‘Mum said to get back before three-thirty and I was … er, I mean I am a bit late.’

At that moment the door opened and behind it stood a short woman with long dark hair tied in a braid down her back. She smiled.

‘Ahlan wa sahlan, welcome. I see you’ve already met my daughter, Eleni,’ she said. ‘Please come in. It is a pleasure to have you and your family visit our house.’ Her Arabic was excellent.

As the adults introduced themselves Eleni turned to Zafir. ‘You must be Zafir,’ she said. She wasn’t like any of the Syrian girls he’d met at his school. She was more like the girls in Dubai. He hoped she wouldn’t giggle. She didn’t, but after she put her board in a cupboard by the door she turned and looked him up and down and frowned. ‘But I thought you were younger,’ she said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Same as me. I’m glad you speak English. My Arabic is terrible.’ She went on. ‘I have to tell you, you’re not going to get along with my twin brothers. They’re only ten years old and they’re little pests.’

As she said that, two boys who looked identical raced up to them.

‘Are you going to be—’ said the first one.

‘Eleni’s boyfriend?’ the second finished.

Eleni rolled her eyes, and Zafir understood what she meant.

Then they started chanting. ‘Eleni’s got a boyfriend! Eleni’s got a boyfriend!’

Zafir felt his face burning.

‘Boys, bas, enough!’ A loud voice boomed through the dark hallway and the boys ran towards it, giggling. Out of the darkness loomed a tall man with a long dark beard. He was wearing a black cassock and a cross on a chain that hung around his neck. The boys hid behind him.

‘Reverend Father, may I receive your blessings,’ said Tetah, bowing down so her right hand briefly touched the floor. As she rose she put her hands out towards the priest with her palms upwards.

‘May the Lord bless you all and welcome to our home,’ replied Father Papadopoulos, making the sign of the cross with his hands.

Tetah moved forward and kissed the priest’s hands. ‘I would like you to meet my son, Paul, his wife, Nadia and my grandson, Zafir.’

‘It’s so good of you to come,’ said Father Papadopoulos. He laughed a loud, happy sound. ‘It will be good for the children to become friends,’ he said, laying his hands on the shoulders of each of the twins, who were now acting as innocent as angels. ‘Alex and Georges have each other, but it’s difficult for Eleni. She misses her friends back in Sydney. As does my wife.’

‘I’d like to hear about Australia,’ said Mum, smiling at Presbytera Sophia.

‘I’ll tell you all about it over tea,’ said Presbytera Sophia. ‘Please come this way.’

She showed them to a room full of overstuffed couches and dark wooden furniture. A table in the middle of the room was laid with plates of sweets and small sandwiches. Zafir was pleased to see baklava – one of his favourites. Nearby was a large samovar lit with a small flame to keep the water boiling in the silver pot.

Presbytera Sophia poured tea and Eleni offered a tray of sweets to the adults. Soon, they were chatting like old friends. Zafir wasn’t sure what to do. Should he stay standing like the adults and wait for Eleni to serve him? Or help himself like the twins and sit down? He glanced over at the boys. At least eating the food they’d piled up on a plate was keeping them quiet.

‘Would you like some baklava?’ asked Eleni, holding out the tray towards Zafir. ‘Mum and I made it this morning, especially.’

‘Shukran,’ said Zafir, picking up a sticky pastry.

‘Have some more,’ said Eleni. She put the tray on a couch and plopped down beside it. ‘These couches aren’t very comfortable but it’s better than standing up.’ Zafir sat down.

‘You don’t say much, do you?’ Eleni went on. ‘But that’s probably because I’m talking too much.’ She laughed. ‘I do that when I’m nervous. Mum says I’m too nosy. She says I’m always asking questions, but you can start if you like. Ask me something.’

That was easy.

‘Have you upgraded the trucks on your skateboard?’ said Zafir. ‘That wasn’t a bad power slide before.’

‘Do you skate?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got a Blind – Jake Brown Eternal Life.’

Eleni nodded approvingly and soon they were talking about the best grip tape. Zafir said he’d cut a circle in his tape to show the Blind logo. Eleni said she’d once used clear grip to show off the bright purple of the deck, but it didn’t work as well so she’d gone back to the normal black.

Zafir was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Eleni. He felt sorry for her when she told him she was homesick for Australia and missed her friends. She had no chance to make any new friends in Syria because she was being homeschooled by her mum.

The afternoon had turned out to be a lot better than he’d expected. Mum had a good time with Presbytera Sophia and Pops got on well with Father Papadopoulos. When they finally realised it was time to go, Tetah looked pleased with herself.

‘Please call me,’ Mum said to Presbytera Sophia. ‘I can help with your Arabic lessons.’

‘I will. We must have coffee soon.’

‘I might see you next weekend when we come to Tetah’s,’ Zafir said to Eleni. ‘I’ll bring my board.’

Eleni grinned. ‘Sweet.’

Zafir was surprised at how disappointed he was the next Friday when Tetah rang and said not to come because she didn’t feel well.

‘Now what are we going to do?’ he asked.

‘It’ll be nice to have a day at home,’ said Pops, stretching. ‘I’ll get the Friday papers and some zatar, bread and fresh cheese and olives for breakfast. We can have a lazy day.’

‘I’m going to spend the day in bed doing research,’ said Mum after breakfast.

‘I’m going to read these papers from cover to cover,’ said Pops.

‘What am I going to do?’ asked Zafir. He could go and skate around the carpark but he didn’t feel like it.

‘Why don’t you check your emails?’ said Mum and she smiled. Zafir knew something was up, but he didn’t check his emails straight away because Rami sent a text message to see if Zafir wanted to play one of his favourite online war games. When they heard the call to prayer, Rami had to go.

Finally, Zafir checked his inbox. Nothing new there. Then he decided to clean out his junk mail. There were heaps of messages in that folder. He was about to delete them all when his eye caught on an email address: leniroo99@hotmail.com.

He clicked the message.

Hi Zaf,

Gr8 to meet u. C u soon ;)

Eleni

The message had been sent last Tuesday – the day Mum had met Eleni’s mother for coffee and to teach Eleni and her brothers Arabic. Zafir hit ‘this is not junk mail’ and then when the message appeared in his inbox he hit ‘reply’. He typed:

Hi Eleni,

I just found your message. It was in my junk mail!!!

Tetah is sick so we’re not coming over today.

Ashufik, see you.

Zaf.

He pressed ‘send’ and less than a minute later another email from skateleniroo99 arrived.

Looking in your junk mail? You must be as bored as I am today.

Yes.

The emails zipped back and forth. They chatted about skating, Australia, Dubai, taking photos, and even about how Great Lent was starting on Monday and Eleni was going to give up eating sweets for the whole forty days. Zafir told her about how they were getting a holiday from school on Tuesday to celebrate Revolution Day when the Ba’ath Party took over the government of Syria. He didn’t realise how long he’d been at the computer until he heard adhan al-mahgrib, sunset call to prayer.

It hadn’t been such a boring Friday at home after all.