“Hello Yasmin,” she calls, using her mother’s first name, “That’s

Me off, it’s five o’clock, back by four this afternoon.” “Rats!”

Her mother groans, “School is so early now. I may be later,

I’m doing a sofa. Love you, Ma’soumeh.” “Love you, Mater,”

she replies, using the word from the English Boarding School books

she favours. She runs to the Metro at Azadegan, looking

ahead for the 05-10, as she enters the station, flashes her card

and arrives on the platform with the train, on which men are barred

from the first and last carriages, so that female virginity may be

protected. “Good idea” she thinks, without care for the theory

but great appreciation for the practice which means fun and games

beyond state control. She smiles as she recognises the same

hawker of cheap jewellery who had sold her a bangle last week

while she finds a seat in the rear coach, as if amongst colleagues,

some of whom greet her, Hi ‘Soumeh, Hey Professor, Salam darling,

which she receives by blowing kisses. There are at least 8 starting

their journey to work or study along line 3 and will be more. “Boys

will surrender to you if you use this,” the hawker says, “which brings joy.”

“I’m not much interested in boys,” she grins. The seller waves the scent

Bottle towards the older women. “Come on girls, your husbands will be begging

For it.” “He is already but he only gets it Fridays” one chuckles. “After Prayers

Of course,” another adds. “Ladies, ladies, remember we’ve got to behave

for the sake of Ma’soumeh here. “Nonsense Layla, she’ll get more education

here than in any school!” “Sisters and mothers,” Ma’soumeh says, “Your attention

for something my mother made.” Yay! Show us!” It is a very small handbag,

pale leather, with a darker image of a bird. They pass it round, with frank

admiration, “Is it for sale? How much?” “No, she made it for me, ‘cause

I love birds, but you can order yours with something you love.” “Who knows

What I love, but we know what you love, Sabrina and you can’t show it

On a bag, eh?” “It takes three days work, at 6million rials a day, plus

The cost of leather, another 6million, so a bargain at 25million. Less

Than a week’s wages. Order from me.” More women are getting on

From the platform and the bag is passed to them. “I’ll need to sweat

to afford that, but order me one, with a rose.” Others are getting off

At their stations, saying goodbyes and blessings, with hands pressed

To her cheek, then Ma’soumeh exits at the City Theatre, and the rest

Of her journey is a walk to her school, a familiar route for her to follow.

Now she is ready for Maths, Science, Iranian Literature, and Allah.