Tonight something was different though. She looked around the dining room at the appointed time but no cold stares returned her own. Khaled sat alone amidst the plump cushions.
‘Come,’ he said, beckoning her to join him.
‘Saleem?’ she asked, lowering herself opposite.
‘Is away.’ He poured her a glass of tea. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with just me for tonight.’ He handed her the small glass and held on, even when she’d moved to take it from him.
Her eyes found his and caught the crinkle at the sides.
He was laughing at her.
‘Lucky me,’ she said, wresting the glass from his grasp, suddenly ruing Saleem’s absence. His resentful disposition seemed suddenly preferable to Khaled’s unwelcome jibes. ‘Tell me,’ she said, looking to wipe the smug look from his face and regain the initiative, ‘how is your fiancée?’
With coffee came Sapphy’s chance to make her usual quick exit.
‘Are you in a hurry to leave?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ she lied, when all she wanted to do was escape. Dinner had been tense after their early jibes and more than once she’d caught his brooding eyes fixed on her, surveying her. But why?
‘Then come,’ he said, rising from the cushions and holding out his hand. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, as he led her into a part of the palace she’d never been before. He’d taken her through a seeming labyrinth of passageways, up and down short stairways and turning this way and that, so much so that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to find her way back by herself.
‘You’ll see,’ he said, finally leading her through a large, richly decorated doorway. She followed him through and stepped into another world.
Lush greenery surrounded her, softly lit with torches flickering shadows against the ferns, palms and vines. Scented flowers perfumed the air, sweet and rich. They were in a large courtyard, completely enclosed by the palace, but the foliage was so tall in places that you could imagine you were miles from civilisation. From somewhere unseen came the splash of water, setting a musical backdrop, while the exotic call of birds settling down for the evening provided an accompaniment.
‘It’s the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen,’ she said as she wandered along the marble-paved walkways lined with clipped shrubs and stone. She recognised a few of the plants and bushes—myrtle, bay trees, even a grove of orange trees, their coloured fruit standing out against the foliage as brightly as ornaments on a Christmas tree.
He reached up alongside her and plucked one of the oranges from the tree and handed the heavy fruit to her solemnly.
‘The best oranges either side of the Tigris,’ he said before he twisted off another for himself, studying it, weighing it in his hands as he talked.
‘This was my mother’s favourite place. My father had it planted for her as a wedding present.’
She looked up at him. It was the first time he’d ever referred to his parents. Apart from Saleem, she knew nothing at all of his family. She touched his forearm gently.
‘Tell me about them.’
Even in the muted light, she saw the darkness swirl in his eyes, felt the tension in his corded arm, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Then he uttered a deep sigh and turned down the path, taking her with him.
‘My mother was a Frenchwoman, a model turned successful actress. And very, very beautiful. My father saw her on the screen and fell in love with her at first sight. He went to Paris and wooed her and brought her back to be his wife.’
A French mother. An Arab father. And no doubt a university education in Europe somewhere. His blend of accents suddenly made sense. No wonder he’d been so difficult to place.
‘What happened to your mother’s film career? Did she continue making movies?’
‘Not once she married my father.’
‘She gave it all up? She left everything behind, her career, her stardom, to come here and be someone’s wife?’
‘Does that surprise you? My father was a very good-looking man. He was also very persuasive and he wanted her.’
‘But what about what she wanted? Times might have been different then, but didn’t she get some say in it?’
‘She wasn’t a prisoner here. She could have left any time. But she fell in love with my father and they were married. They were very happy together. Very happy.’
She matched his steps along the marble flagstones, marvelling at the constantly changing views at each turn, feeling the magic of the garden permeate her soul. It was so peaceful here, so beautiful. Was it enough, though, to make someone abandon their former life?