‘What—?’
Melanie winced. ‘We decided it was the best thing for everyone. Robbie needs him—even you agree with that, Sophia! And marriage seems to be the best way to give him the security he—’
‘Are you mad?’ her friend shrieked. ‘I’m coming home,’ she decided.
‘No!’ Melanie cried. ‘Don’t do that, Sophia! I know what I’m doing, I—’
‘You’re a babe in arms when it comes to men, is what you are, Melanie Portreath!’ the other woman derided. ‘Have you stopped for one minute to think what his motives are for suggesting such a wicked thing?’
Oh, yes, Melanie thought, she’d stopped to think. The word HOT lit itself up in block capitals, followed by the word SEX!
‘He will rush you to his desert hideout and lock you away there while he waltzes off with your son! It’s the way they do things over there! Get behind me, woman, and all that!’
‘He isn’t like that,’ she said, agitatedly twisting the ring on her finger.
‘All men are like that if they think they can get away with it!’
‘You don’t know him—’
‘Neither do you! You just slept with him once—’
Twice, Melanie silently corrected, then closed her eyes and thought—three times if you counted the last feverish grappling.
‘Then he took off, with your virginity etched on his belt,’ Sophia was saying, with no knowledge that Melanie had just taken off to a place she knew she should not be revisiting. ‘And left you behind with the word slut etched on to your blasted forehead!’
Melanie blinked. Sophia was right. She had walked around for years thinking that word was branded on her brow. She hadn’t dared trust herself with another man just in case he believed it and treated her the same way that Rafiq had done.
‘Do me a favour, Melanie, and don’t do anything stupid until I get back,’ Sophia said urgently. ‘Then we will grab your lawyer and sit down to talk through all of this.’
‘Okay.’ It made a lot of sense—more sense than she had been making all day, for that matter. ‘But don’t cut short your weekend or I won’t forgive you!’
The call ended with Sophia reluctantly agreeing to wait until Monday before she began her crusade to save Melanie from a fate worse than death. Melanie put the telephone back on its rest, feeling a whole lot better for having had Sophia talk stubborn strength back into her.
It lasted only as long as it took her to prepare Robbie’s favourite meal of pasta with tuna then to go in search of the two of them. She found them in William’s study, and the moment she stepped through the door her new-found strength collapsed like a house of cards.
The room itself said everything about the man who had spent most of his life in it. The walls were lined with books, the furniture was so old it was threadbare. The fire wasn’t lit and the two high-wing-backed chairs that flanked the fireplace looked as if they had been there for centuries. There was a chill in the air because the room was so rarely used these days, but someone had closed the heavy velvet curtains across the window and had switched on the faded table-lamps.
William’s big old desk stood in the window. Robbie had pulled a chair up to it to kneel on while Rafiq stood beside him. Both of them had lost their jackets, both dark heads were close as they pored over the huge map that had been spread out across the top of the desk. Robbie was using an elbow to support his chin, Rafiq the flat of a hand as he listened to his son tell him all about the Arabian state of Rahman as if he had lived most of his life there.
‘William said the river here keeps the valley fertile. And the mountains have snow on them in the winter,’ Robbie was explaining casually. ‘He said that you can walk for six days without seeing anything but sand, and that your daddy built this huge place—here—for the camel trains to use when they need to take a rest.’
His finger was pointing knowledgeably, but Rafiq wasn’t watching it. He was watching his son. The light from the desk lamp caught both sets of features, one young and smooth and contentedly serious, the other carved like wood to represent total infatuation.
‘William said you have the biggest oasis in the country. Is that true?’ He looked up, big brown eyes fixing on their older matching pair.
‘It belongs to my father.’ Rafiq nodded. ‘It is called the Al-Qadim Oasis. My—home is there.’
‘Yes.’ The boy looked away again, graver now, worried a little. ‘William said that your daddy is poorly. Is he feeling better? Is that why you’ve come to visit me?’
‘I came because—yes…’ Rafiq paused, then answered, ‘he is a little better.’
‘Good.’ Robbie nodded. ‘William was poorly for a long time before he—Shall we look at the photographs now?’
‘How about some supper first?’ Melanie inserted, trying hard to keep the thickening tears from sounding in her voice.
Both looked up; both straightened. One smiled at her; the other didn’t. ‘Hi,’ Robbie said. ‘I was just telling my daddy about Rahman.’
My daddy clutched at a tender spot inside her. ‘That’s nice.’ She tried a smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. ‘But it’s getting late. Why don’t you go and get washed and changed now? It’s your favourite for supper.’