He perches on the side of the bed, careful not to touch me, but makes no attempt to leave. Instead, after a moment, he starts to speak. “I served a couple of tours in Afghanistan.” His voice is quiet, “Well, let’s just say I saw things I wouldn’t wish anyone to see and did things I would never have believed myself capable off. The worst mission was a bodged extraction. We were supposed to bring out ten young girls taken from a village. We got there too late and couldn’t save them. We only found their tortured bodies. Even after I returned to England and was discharged, those girls’ faces would visit me, night after night after night. Teenagers and even younger who’d never have a chance at life.” He pauses for a moment, leans forward, his elbows on his knees, one hand cradling the other. “I know what it’s like to have nightmares.”
I’m stunned he’s revealing so much of himself and am saddened by his story.“It wasn’t your fault, was it? That the girls died?”
“No, we couldn’t have done anything more. The intelligence we were given was naff, and we’d searched in the wrong place first, causing the delay. But something like that always haunts you and doesn’t stop you thinking whether there was anything that you could have done differently. But we weren’t in control, the terrorists were. The girls never had a chance.”
“Do you still have nightmares?”
He shakes his head, “Not so often, now. I left the service four years ago, couldn’t cope with more—that wasn’t the only incident but by far the most horrific. I got therapy, which helped me see that I’d been helpless in the situation. That there was nothing more I could have done.” In the dim light from the lamp, I see his eyes turn to me. “Just like you. You were a victim, but I bet you’re blaming yourself, wondering why you let him fool you in the first place? Wondering why you let yourself fall for him? And why you didn’t leave when it first got bad. I know you are, Zoe. That’s to be expected.” He pulls himself up straighter, laser eyes almost burning me, “It’s not your fault; nothing was your fault.”
Deep down I understand what he’s saying, but I can’t help thinking that a different person wouldn’t have been taken in by Ethan. How could I have been so stupid?
“Not every man is like him,” Sean tells me what I already know, even if it’s hard to accept.
“How can I tell, Sean? Perhaps other people have an abuser detection meter, but mine’s faulty. I don’t feel I can trust anyone to be what they appear on the surface.”
Reaching out his hand he slowly strokes my face, and calmer now, I don’t flinch away. “You’ll get there. It just takes time. Are you feeling better now? Ready to go back to sleep now? I’ll stay if you want me to.”
I give him the appropriate positive and negative responses and he leaves me alone. I don’t turn off the light, keeping it on in the hope it will help keep my virtual monsters at bay, if not the real ones. My talk with Sean seems to have settled me, and thankfully the rest of the night passes without another appearance from Ethan.
The next morning I wake surprisingly refreshed and excited. I’m in Amahad; I’m going to do the job I was trained to do. And there’s no one here who’s going to tell me scrubbing around in the dirt is unladylike!
While we’re eating breakfast, a package is delivered with ID cards for both Sean and me, together with a map of the palace and an invitation to meet Cara in her suite at ten o’clock. Suspecting it will be more comfortable in the heat, I select Capri pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt from the selection Kadar had provided, hoping it’s demure enough not to give offence. I’m still not certain what the dress code is in the palace, but know this practical clothing will suffice when I’m crawling around checking foundations. I can’t wait to get to work!
With plenty of time to spare, Sean and I leave the small house and go over to the Palace, crossing through the public areas. Then our passes are checked as we enter the entrance to the private quarters. When we arrive at Cara’s suite of rooms, Sean goes off to do whatever bodyguards do when they’re not on duty. Apparently, the palace guards will take over my protection from here.
Cara greets me warmly, but I notice getting out of her seat is a bit of a struggle. I indicate her stomach, “When are you due?”
“Still two months to go,” she answers, an easy grin coming to her face, “And I can’t wait. I already feel like an elephant!”
We discuss the baby for a few minutes and then I ask her whether what I’m wearing is suitable. It’s the opening for a discussion and first lesson on my new home. “You can wear what you like here. You wouldn’t be popular if you went topless bathing, but otherwise Amahadians are reasonably permissive. The citizens wear western or Arab dress in the capital. Amahad is multicultural and any religion can be practiced here. Of course, out in the southern desert, the nomadic tribes are a bit more traditional, but Kadar is trying to bring them into the twenty-first century.” Her face drops slightly, and her natural smile disappears, “It’s not easy protecting our ways; fanatics are continually trying to cross over our borders to fuel a religious war. That’s why Nijad, my husband, isn’t here, and why I am. Matters are escalating, and while he needs to be in the desert city to direct operations there, he prefers me to stay and have our baby in the safety of the capital.”
I feel sorry for her, “How often do you see him? Can he come to you?”
“Oh yes, he’s never away much longer than a night or so. And he’ll be here for the birth—it’s only a two-hour helicopter ride away. But, come, it’s time you saw the harem and the work you’ve got in store for you.”
I love her positivity and friendliness. Even now I know she’s akin to a princess, I can see no airs and graces, and I quickly forget her status as she opens the door to the suite and ushers me out. As I take in the almost intimidating opulence of the hallways of the palace, my companion looks so comfortable you would think she had been born here, but to my surprise, she explains she’s only lived here a few months. Her friendly chatting helps me relax as we make our way through long corridors with alcoves outlined in gold paint off to the left and right, and past gleaming white marble pillars.
Glancing at the walls decorated with beautiful tapestries and paintings which can only be originals, I feel I’m in a museum, and again I’m amazed how Cara, of equally common birth as me, seems to be taking it all in her stride. Emphasising her status, but almost ignored by Cara, are the guards and servants bowing in obeisance as we pass. She greets them simply with a nod or a smile. Perhaps one day I’ll get used to it too! But for now, I’ll just appreciate the unique experience of working in a royal palace.
We descend from the living quarters and enter the state rooms of the palace. As she points out the ballroom, dining room and library, large and small sitting rooms I start to move closer, thinking if I lose sight of her I’d be lost forever, wandering round in circles trying to find my way out. At last leaving the magnificence of the main palace behind, we come to corridors with plain stone walls and instead of marble underfoot are uneven flagstone floors. We’re alone here, except for the discreet guards following behind, and our footsteps echoing on the ground becomes the only sound we can hear. Eventually, we come to a set of massive ornate golden doors which have clearly seen better days. My companion and guide pauses, as if for dramatic effect, giving me time to see the tarnish and dirt, allowing me time to start a mental list of what needs to be addressed in the renovations.
With a flourish, she pulls the doors open. “The Harem!” she announces, unnecessarily. With a feeling of awe, I step inside. The guards take up their post outside the great doors and stare resolutely straight ahead, not even taking a peek into the forbidden area. A sense of reverence comes over me. Until the emir makes the decree to lift the restrictions, this is a women only domain.
Touching Cara’s arm and indicating the guards, I whisper softly, “What would happen if they came in?”
“Beheading, castration…something like that,” she replies, laughing. “I need to speak to Kadar about rescinding that ancient la
w.”
It’s is not difficult for me to fall immediately in love with my new project. The harem is gorgeous and beautiful, and there’s such an aura of mystery the very air seems to pulse as if the building has a life of its own. Strangely I don’t associate it with kidnapping or keeping women against their will, but of sensuality and love.
“Hey, let me show you round. I know every inch of this place.” Cara has a glint in her eye as she speaks and I expect there’s a story there, but it seems that it will be one for another day as she moves on, offering no explanation. “There are cubicles or bedrooms if you like, around this central pool. The water must have drained away long ago because of the crack in the base.”
I walk over and look down mentally jotting notes of what kind of expertise I’d need to bring in to complete the restoration. I notice a beautiful mosaic on the bottom of the pool, broken because of the crack, and I wonder whether there might be a local artisan with the skills to return it to its former glory. As I nod to confirm I’ve seen all I need for now in the central area, Cara leads me through to the bathrooms, all but one in a state of disrepair. I love the old Victorian plumbing, but the pipe work needs replacing, and much the ancient porcelain appears to be damaged beyond repair.
Once I’ve had my first glimpse of the inside of the harem, she takes me outside. What once used to be a beautiful garden with paths, raised flower beds and palm trees all surrounded by a high wall now seems a desolate area. Paths and walls are crumbling, the raised beds spilling over onto the paving. The ancient irrigation system has rusted away. There’s a tremendous amount of work to be done here, and I’m excited to start, feeling a longing to get my hands dirty. My primary role will be planning and designing, then employing and directing the craftspeople to complete most of the physical work, but here, outside in the garden; I won’t be able to resist joining in.
The sun’s blazing down, and I find it a little too much not yet being acclimatised to the heat. Seeing me wilting, Cara walks me back into the harem and shows me a secret door. I tilt my head, curious, as she seems to stand in a trance in front of it. After a moment, realising what she’s doing, she turns with a quick laugh, “Memories,” she explains, looking a little embarrassed. But she doesn’t elaborate further.
I notice she looks tired, but then again, she is carrying a baby inside her. “If you’ve got things to do, Cara, just leave me here, and I’ll start getting a better feel for the place and what needs doing.”
I’d apparently read her correctly, as she quickly agrees with the idea and we spend just a little longer discussing the practicalities of how she wanted to be kept up to date. She introduces me to Asif, one of the men still waiting outside. He’s a fierce looking man armed to the teeth who’s apparently been assigned as my personal guard, and who, thankfully, speaks quite good English. We swap telephone numbers and agree that he’ll be my escort to and from the harem, allaying my fears I’ll get lost in the maze of palace corridors. Asif nods at Cara’s suggestion that he’ll act as interpreter when I need to go out into the city or meet with local craftsmen. We seem to have all the important details sewn up, so Cara takes her leave, and I’m, at last, left alone in my new workplace.
For a moment I’m satisfied to sit on the crumbling surround of what was once the central pool, soaking up the atmosphere. Cara’s asked me to come up with some designs and suggestions for making the place work as a sensual retreat. Getting myself into work mode and opening my bag, I take out my laptop and sketch pad and begin, in my usual way, by staring at a blank sheet of paper. Gradually different notions and ideas start to come to me, and soon the ground around is covered with half started drawings and scribbled out diagrams on the discarded sheets of paper.
By the end of the first day, I’m toying with an idea that excites me. The more I look around and develop concepts in my head the more animated I get. Could it be I’m on the right track? Is this something that might interest Cara? Unable to wait any longer I use the phone I’ve been given to ring the Sheikha and make an appointment to see her the following morning.
The next day Asif takes me, not to the Sheikha’s suite, but to the newer part of the palace housing the government offices. He leads me through the busy area where people are working hard behind computer screens, just like any workplace in every other part of the world, and then through to where the senior government staff work. An assistant announces my arrival, and then opens the door to a large private office. Sitting behind the desk, evidently hard at work, is Cara. My face shows my surprise, and she grins, quickly filling me that she assists the Finance Minister, and that she occupied the role until she’d helped Kadar find a replacement. She goes up in my estimation. I mean, it was already obvious she is a very intelligent woman, but I didn’t expect to be seeing her in such an important position in what I had foolishly assumed to be a very male-dominated world.
After a couple of clicks of the keys, she closes a program on her screen and then gestures me to a small conference table located by an open window. Soft perfume wafts in from the scented garden outside, and the view over the palace grounds gives me some ideas for the exterior of the harem. I must have been gazing out lost in my mind as a polite cough brings me back to the present.
“Sorry. Right,” I open my laptop, and pull up my design programme, but slightly close the lid as if Cara doesn’t agree with the basic premise then there’s no point going further. I take a breath, “The harem has an atmosphere—and I’m planning the decoration to keep it that way.” At Cara’s nod, I think she understands exactly what I mean. “It’s romantic, sexy.” Another nod. “Soooo,” I string out the word, hesitant to suggest my idea, “What about making it a destination for hen parties?”
Cara stares at me for a moment, her lips part, and then she claps in delight as her face breaks into a brilliant smile. It’s at that instant I know how she’s bagged herself a sheikh; she is a gorgeous woman, animation lighting her face showing off her loveliness. I pull myself back to the business in hand. “We can employ,” I hold up my hands to demonstrate I’m putting the next words in quotes, “‘Eunuchs’ to serve them. And I haven’t been yet myself, but I understand there are a night club and a casino in the city, and of course, they can have an arranged visit to the souk.”
“Camel rides at sunset into the desert!” Cara’s eyes glaze as she catches on with the idea, “Zoe, that’s a brilliant proposal!”
Now it’s time to open my laptop to show her the quick design that I’ve come up with. It will need more work, but my initial idea is to keep the cubicles as they are, and I’ve come up with some designs for decorating the walls with murals of concubines relaxing semi-naked awaiting their sultan. Apart from restoration, I don’t plan to do much other than enhance and repair what’s already there. The place is designed for a bevy of women, so why not maximise on that idea?
We spend time throwing around ideas of what kind of packages they could offer but are brought back to earth by the thought that Kadar needs to be on board. Though Cara doesn’t think there’ll be any problem; one of his main aims apparently is to put Amahad on the map as an international tourist destination.
A buzz from her intercom interrupts us and alerts her to another meeting, so we part. I’m surprised that she hugs me before I leave, holding me close and then keeping her hands on me as she steps arms-length away. Her eyes examine me carefully. “You’re looking more relaxed already, Zoe. I must admit, when I was talking to you that day on the phone, I knew you needed this job, as much as we needed you to do it. Now I’m so glad we’re going to be able to help each other.”
She’s given away that Kadar has probably shared at least some of my story, so I tell her the truth, “I do feel safe here. And I know I’m going to love my work.”
She nods slowly, a sad look crossing her face. But as I shake my head she realises I don’t want her sympathy. The moment breaks, and I leave her to her to get on with whatever she has to do.
****
A couple of days
later I lose my personal bodyguard when Sean returns to England. Intelligence has confirmed Ethan is still chasing his tail in England and appears to have no knowledge I’ve left the country. Grade A Security have been keeping note of his whereabouts, and has confirmed he’s still tracking down rumoured sightings of me; though, unfortunately, he hasn’t yet gone as far as Iceland. It’s considered safe for me to rely on the palace guards now. While I miss Sean’s cheery presence, I quickly find I prefer living on my own, and not having a constant bodyguard around means that I can start to live a normal life without worrying that Kadar is laying out considerable expense employing people to keep me protected. Or worry myself wondering why such an important man is so bothered with my protection in the first place.
It’s been a very long time since I could feel like an ordinary girl, but gradually as time goes on, I stop looking over my shoulder. Day by day the harem draws me, its atmosphere exotic and enticing. Even if it weren’t my job, I’d feel the compulsion to spend time there. The environment seems to soothe me; perhaps it has something to do with it being a place forbidden to men. Whatever the reason, it enables me to produce some of the best work I have ever done as I draw up plan after plan reflecting the designs I have in mind.
But it’s not all toil and slog; I have all the time to myself that I need. In the evenings, I enjoy reading extensively, learning as much as I can about the harem’s history and past occupants to help me reproduce the authentic atmosphere. In its heyday, I glean, it would have housed women and children, the wives and concubines of the Sultan, who were kept sequestered away from the world. Some were there by choice; others undoubtedly kidnapped for the ruler’s pleasure. My romantic leanings lead me to wonder what it would be like to be abducted by a handsome sheikh, and in my mind, such a kidnapper always bears an uncanny resemblance to Kadar.
Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3) Page 19
