Her eyes and mouth were wide open. “Oh my god! You look so good! I should’ve worn a bright colour too. I picked a white instead—just so I could blend in.”
“No, that’s what I should’ve done. I don’t think the Brits approve of bright greens.” I looked around, my eyes all shifty.
— “Oh, don’t be silly, dear! You look lovely in that dress.”
Dania and I turned around to see an old British woman standing behind us. Apparently, she’d overheard us.
Crinkly eyed and smiling good-naturedly, she asked me, “You see my little granddaughter here? She’s too shy to ask but she wanted to know where you bought your dress.” She was pointing at a girl of about 8 years old, next to her, who waved at me.
“Oh! I had it custom made in India,” I told her, apologetically.
The old lady looked at her granddaughter. “Well, we’ll have to visit India sometime then, don’t we, Lena?” Then, nodding at me and Dania, she said, “Enjoy the gardens, dears. Lovely outfits,” and went in.
When the two of us entered the Kew Gardens, I saw that my dress resembled the plants around. I’d finally blended in.