To her it’s everything that is magical about Cape Town: a giant shopping mall built around the harbor, with sun-drenched Table Mountain as a backdrop. The place is full of rich white people with tans and foreign accents. All the designer stores are here—from Jimmy C to Louis V—and she feels connected to a big, wide, glamorous world just walking past the brightly lit window displays, holding Brittany’s hand.She bought Britt a cone and the kid is skipping along, a smear of ice cream on her nose. Dawn stops and crouches, wiping her child’s face with a tissue.“Come, get done with that thing now. I wanna take you shopping.”The cone disappears, Brittany cramming it into her mouth—little pig—and Dawn neatens her up a bit and they walk into Egg, the kid’s store where Nick Exley’s dead daughter got her clothes.Young as she is, Brittany knows this place is something special. Britt looks cute, sure, in her outsized T-shirt and Chinese blue jeans, but Egg is designer wear for the under-tens.“Mommy gonna buy me one like so?”
