No Way Home

by M S James

  ‘Thanks!’

  She was waiting for me at the top of the steps by the entrance. ‘Good morning, Mrs Kate. Good news, insha’allah?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ I took a deep breath and told her of our unsuccessful searches during the past week, of my visit to the Governor’s majlis and the conclusion we had all come to that someone was holding Anna. I took out my well-used handkerchief, wiped my red-rimmed eyes and blew my nose.

  She held her head in her hands and sat down heavily on a nearby chair. Her shocked expression was more eloquent than words.

  ‘I cannot go out and find her, other than by walking around Riyadh in the hope that I see her. I cannot speak to people and ask if they have seen her. I cannot drive around Riyadh except with the help of a driver. My husband’s company have been very good in lending me the office driver but I cannot have him all the time. So, what can I do?’

  ‘The police are searching for her?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then it is in the hands of Allah.’

  ‘So, can I come back to the Madrassa? I shall go crazy sitting at home by myself.’

  ‘Yes, of course. When?’

  ‘Monday? If there are developments, I will let you know as soon as possible. Thank you, Sayyida Samah, you have been very understanding.’

  The next morning, after Philip had left with Jake on the school run, I took myself via the back streets of Riyadh southwards towards the busiest parts of the city. It was yet another futile meander around populated areas where I might spot her. I called in at the police station on the off chance. The desk staff knew me well by now and gave me the usual regretful expression. Was this going to be my life from now on? The Madrassa in the morning and trailing around Riyadh in the afternoon? I would need Jake to be with me for protection. Single women walking the streets on their own were viewed with suspicion. A teacher at the British School had been taken into police custody on suspicion of soliciting; she had had a ‘domestic’ with her husband and had left her house in a temper to walk to a friend’s house in the neighbourhood. Admittedly, it was dark and she was a glamorous lady but she didn’t get far before the police picked her up. Her husband had to come to collect her, no doubt having to explain to the police why he had allowed his wife out at that time of night on her own. But I couldn’t expect Jake to spend the weeks or maybe months ahead trailing around Riyadh with me.

  As I walked, I conversed with the Almighty or Allah, as he was known locally; I had been taught to pray as a child but my religious convictions had lessened in recent years. Prayers I had learned always had an element of pleading: Out of the depths, I cry unto Thee Oh Lord, or Forgive us our trespasses or Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. So, my prayers now fell into the category of asking for help, or more often, bargaining with Him. ‘If You find Anna, I promise to help the poor/dedicate myself to good works/be nice.’ However, the rational part of my mind recognised that given a world of suffering and hardship, why would the Almighty favour my prayers and ignore others? Then again, desperate times make us desperate for help, from whatever quarter. So, on the premise that ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get’, I carried on my one-sided conversation with God. Besides, I knew my mother at home would be permanently on her knees and lighting enough candles to illuminate her local church. I had faith in her prayers if not my own.

  While I resumed work at the Madrassa, Philip was deeply immersed in getting his new project off the ground, or to be more precise, into the ground. The National Guard city was to be built on virgin desert. The first stage of the construction was the removal of the top metres of sand to reach a solid surface on which to build. Meanwhile the contractors had to acquire water to build the city by means of the mind-boggling process of drilling deep into the desert, through the oil-bearing strata until they reached the ancient water that was taking its 10,000-year journey from the mountainous west to the eastern Gulf of Arabia. A water treatment plant had then to be constructed to make this water potable and also suitable for construction. To make the cement and, later, the concrete from which all the buildings were to be built, a nearby escarpment of limestone was quarried. The limestone was burned in an on site factory to create the cement with which the precast slabs of concrete could be formed on site, in the purpose-built precast concrete factory. The whole project was a perfect example of serendipity. The water was accessible, as was the limestone, as were the vast amounts of money to pay for it. All that was required was for the Korean workers to physically create this city and the European professionals to oversee their labours. AAC was employed by the National Guard and Philip was the senior consultant who answered to the Guard on the progress of the project.

  Everything progressed well. The National Guard was happy, the contractors were happy and Hani was happy. Funds were flowing into the company and it promised to be a prestigious and lucrative enterprise. I was seeing less of Philip than I would have liked, since site visits could often involve an overnight stay, but at least it took his mind off our family catastrophe and his inability to do anything concrete to discover Anna’s whereabouts.

  This limbo of semi-detached life continued for several weeks. Somehow, we went through the daily routine of work, school, sleepless nights and, for me, perambulations around the city. If there had been tourists in Riyadh, I could have written the definitive tourist guide. As the weeks passed, the temperature increased and it became less possible to wander for long. Jake understood why we were doing it but found it very arduous. Whenever possible, he went to other children’s homes for the afternoon or out to John and Becky’s compound to play in their pool.

  One evening Philip came in from work and came directly to me in the kitchen. He didn’t say anything as he came in, so I looked up from making supper. His expression was anguished and he was unable to speak.

  ‘Is she dead?’ I cried.

  ‘No, no. But I’ve got some very bad news.’ As I gasped and put my hands to my face he said, ‘It’s nothing to do with Anna. I am going to be sent to prison.’

  ‘WHAT?!’

  ‘I think I’m going to prison.’

  ‘What the hell for? What have you done?’

  ‘I haven’t actually done anything, but because I am the senior consultant, the shit presently hitting the fan is deemed to be my fault.’

  Not for the first time recently, my mind froze over with blank incomprehension.

  ‘Come into the dining room and I’ll explain.’ Philip put a comforting arm around my shoulders and led me into the adjoining room. ‘On site we have a precast concrete factory turning out precast concrete panels which form the walls for our various buildings. Making these panels is a firm of subcontractors called Al Yamani. They are a well-known firm, capable of doing this kind of work.’ Philip sighed as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. ‘We went to a meeting with the Guard today and they demanded to know why we were employing non-Saudi contractors in contravention of the contract which specified that only Saudi companies were to be used. The Guard says that Al Yamani are Yemeni – from the Yemen.’

  ‘Well, that’s not your fault!’ I expostulated. ‘You didn’t hire them.’

  ‘No, but as senior consultant I am expected to know pretty much everything and to make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen. The Guard said our failure not only contravened the contract but puts the security of the Guard in danger. The penalty for doing so is prison for those who made the error.’

  I laid my folded arms on the table and placed my head upon them. ‘Jesus Christ, this bloody country is destroying us,’ I shouted in rage. ‘As if we haven’t got enough to contend with; our daughter is God knows where and you will be imprisoned for God knows how long. Aaargh!’ My fists thumped down on the table.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Jake came in from the sitting room, my shouting having drowned out his video.

  ‘Mummy’s cross because of somethi
ng that happened at my work. I may have to go away on site for a while to sort out a problem. You’ll have to be the man of the family whilst I’m away.’

  Jake thought for a moment. ‘Do I have to sleep with Mummy, then?’

  ‘It’s OK, old chap. She’ll be fine in her bed and you can stay in yours.’

  Jake’s sweet response softened my anger and I took him into my arms. ‘It’s you and me together, darling. Hopefully, it won’t be for long.’ Later, when Jake was out of hearing, we talked over the situation at length.

  ‘Who, exactly, has threatened you?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘One of the officials at the Guard.’

  ‘Has anyone else been threatened?’

  ‘The contractor’s project manager, Luke Brackley, and possibly Jeff, our own site supervisor.’

  ‘Hani?’

  ‘Maybe. We don’t know yet.’

  I suddenly thought of Livia Manchetti from the supermarket. ‘What’s going to happen to me? Am I going to have to live on handouts from sympathetic expats?’ I demanded.

  Philip laughed. ‘No, AAC will look after you. Archie and Jenny will be in close contact and keep an eye on you. Also, your passport is with the Madrassa so you can always plead exceptional circumstances if you need to leave. We have enough money in the house for you to buy air tickets.’

  This reassurance made me feel worse. How could I abandon Anna and leave Philip in prison?

  ‘When will they take you away?’

  ‘It could be at any time. I just don’t know. I suppose I had better pack a few things in case they come for me.’ As he went off disconsolately to our bedroom a wave of despair crashed over me. The world was closing in, intent on crushing me with one blow after another.

  The only good thing about Philip’s arrest was that Jake didn’t witness it. He had been concerned when we raided his and Anna’s piggy banks for small change but delighted when we exchanged it for a 5-riyal note. Philip would need a sizeable quantity of halalas to use in the jail’s payphones that were available to inmates. An expat of our acquaintance, the chief scientist of a water bottling company, had been taken to jail for turning right on a red light at an intersection. He had actually followed a police car around the corner but the police car had then stopped and taken the driver of the following car into custody! The irate expat was further annoyed to discover that he didn’t have small enough change to operate the payphones. His Pakistani and Yemeni fellow prisoners were, however, very willing to swap a 5-halala coin for a riyal, making themselves a massive profit. The scientist was finally released when the city started running out of bottled water – the factory needed his presence to continue production.

  I rang Sayyida Samah at the Madrassa, telling her that I wouldn’t be able to come into school since there had been ‘developments’. I would have to explain later. After dropping Jake at school, Philip and I went into the office to assess the situation and for me to get assurances from Hani that I was going to be paid Philip’s salary whilst he was in jail and that Angelo would be available for the early and late school runs. Most importantly, we wanted to know what was being done to stop Philip going to prison in the first place.

  Hani explained, ‘We are contacting the National Guard and the contractors to remind them that Al Yamani’s appointment had been made without Philip’s involvement. We are speaking to Sheikh Mohammad [who owned AAC] to see if he can bring pressure to bear. I am sure your lovely husband will be safe.’ His dark Arab eyes looked through his owlishly large rimmed glasses at me conveying sympathy and optimism. Behind him, through the glass-panelled wall, I could see our police inspector, with a couple of subordinates, enter the office.

  ‘Oh God,’ I said, as everyone turned to see the visitors. Hani went out to meet him. I held Philip’s hand. ‘Has he come about you or Anna?’ I whispered.

  The inspector smiled ironically at Philip and me. ‘How do you say, out of the frying pan into the fire? You are not enjoying your time in Saudi Arabia.’ Looking at Philip he continued, ‘I am sorry but I am instructed by the National Guard to take you into custody.’ Philip collected his overnight bag from his desk and returned to kiss my wet cheeks. ‘Keep safe and keep our boy safe. I’m sure Hani will get me out very soon.’ Hani patted him supportively on his back and walked down with him to the waiting police car. The staff in the office looked shocked and the Fillies also had wet eyes.

  Then there were two

  It was a very trying time. I had so many things worrying me that it was difficult to concentrate on one worry rather than another. In a way, my new concern for Philip’s future stopped me from obsessing so much about Anna’s plight. The more I thought about Philip’s predicament the more convinced I felt that he wouldn’t be in prison for long. The Guard had probably shot themselves in both feet by locking up both their chief representative for the project and the contractor’s project manager. Rather like the diminishing supply of bottled water that brought about our acquaintance’s release, the Guard would find that work on their city would grind to a halt without the two chief organisers of the programme. And surely, even in Saudi, people had the right to be tried in a court? At any trial, it was my belief that they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on – particularly with two shot feet. But then, they did things differently in this benighted land.

  Until Anna’s disappearance, I had considered the Madrassa’s idiosyncratic regime loopy enough to send me to distraction. Now, it was a diversion which kept me from dwelling incessantly on my other concerns. To be fair, Sayyida Samah cut me a lot of slack and I was pretty much left alone to organise my curriculum and teaching methods. She always smiled at me now and the other staff were as friendly as their lack of English would allow. Aisha invited Jake and me to her house for a curry, her husband being detailed to drive us back and forth.

  Philip and Luke had found themselves sharing a large holding cell with a dozen or so other prisoners. He rang me as soon as he had been admitted and sounded calm and resolute which gave me courage to hope. Luke had not been warned about taking small change with him so was reliant on Philip’s stash of coins. They were lucky to have each other’s company and spent quite a lot of time discussing problems arising from the building of the city they were both engaged in. They should have charged the Guard for overtime! Their cell was basic and squalid. A dozen men holed up in a room with minimal washing facilities gave the atmosphere a rank odour which was compounded by the stench coming from the neighbouring latrines. Philip thought he would need delousing when he eventually got out. His cellmates were a cheerful bunch and highly delighted that they had British ‘bigwigs’ in with them. Ordinarily, their paths would never cross socially, so those Pakistanis who had a smattering of English enjoyed grilling Philip and Luke about their lives and families. Nevertheless, Philip kept a close eye on his bag and his supply of halalas. He didn’t know how long they had to last so rang me briefly every few days.

  ‘Hi, how are you doing?’ asked Philip.

  ‘How are you doing? Are they feeding you? What are you sleeping on? Have you had any news about getting out?’

  I got the feeling that Philip was making light of his situation so as not to alarm me further. He said that the food was adequate, the bedding smelly, and Luke had been in contact with his bosses who were in daily negotiations with the Guard. He sounded positive, which gave me some comfort.

  Despite being told that he didn’t have to sleep with Mummy, I was glad to find Jake’s body tucked up next to mine when I woke in the mornings. He went to sleep in his bed but migrated to mine at some point in the night. I suppose he subconsciously needed to check that I hadn’t vanished like his father and sister.

  The McCartneys kindly invited us to stay with them at the weekends. Without a car (or at least not being allowed to drive our car) we would have been housebound except for the bus that travelled down to Bat’ha. Since Friday was execution day I needed to keep us well aw
ay from the souks and Chop Square. John and Becky were good fun and did their best to keep our spirits up. Of course, Jake thought his father was on an extended site visit so we had to be careful about what we said. However, I knew I would have to tell him quite soon where his father was before one of his classmates did.

  A new norm replaced the old one. Jake and I were at our respective schools throughout the mornings and I thought up a variety of places to visit in the afternoon. Apparently, there was a zoo but I couldn’t bring myself to visit it. I had heard tales about the odd, misshapen animals housed there and I couldn’t risk seeing animals imprisoned much as my poor husband was. I could take Jake to the swimming pool at the Marriott Hotel at the end of our street. Only men and children were allowed to swim in it but I didn’t mind lounging in my long skirt and long-sleeved top whilst Jake palled up with other children and enjoyed leaping in and out of the water. As usual, I eyed all small girls in the unlikely event that her captor had risked taking Anna into a public place. There were very few places that you could take an energetic eight-year-old like Jake and I sometimes wondered what on earth the locals did with their youngsters. Playgrounds were well patronised by the children of Anna’s age but there didn’t seem to be much of interest for older ones. I took Jake to our local playpark but he was soon bored by the simple climbing frames and swings. He just hung upside down from a rung like a bat until I thought he would do himself an injury.