‘Aren’t we supposed to take our shoes off or something?’ Charlotte whispered to Sandra as they pushed open the door to the Stanley Mosque and Islamic Centre. The building did not look at all as she had imagined it would. It was a converted shop, in a small row of shops, none of which appeared to be flourishing.
‘I’m sure someone will tell us what we have to do,’ Sandra whispered back, looking around nervously.
They were in a wide room. To the right and the left were tables of the sort often seen in church halls and community centres, with plastic chairs grouped around them. Straight ahead, beyond several small groups of people standing around chatting, she could see an archway in the back wall. Through that, three shallow steps led up to an empty area that seemed to be strewn with discarded shoes of all descriptions: sandals, trainers, smart black business shoes and flip-flops.
Sandra continued to stare round, unsure what to do next. Tahira had assured them that she would be there to meet them, but none of the faces looked familiar. At last, she spotted Hibaaq, standing tall among a small cluster of young people, principally men of South Asian appearance. Ah good! She had seen them and was making her way across the room to greet them.
‘Come in!’ she called, all smiles. ‘I’m so glad you made it. Let me introduce you to our imam.’
What do you think? Can you identify with Sandra's nervousness on entering a mosque for the first time?