Michael Pearce - The Bride Box

‘That would be a pity,’ said Owen.

‘That is what Soraya said. And my mother was very angry, and said that a Pasha did not need to take instruction from a servant girl.’

A man came up at that point and spoke to Karim. He gestured at the gun. ‘Better let me have that,’ he said.

‘I want to keep it,’ said Karim sulkily.

‘Tamuz says, let him keep it. He will give it to you on the way home.’

‘Ah!’ said Owen. ‘So Tamuz is here now?’

The man looked at him coolly.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Tamuz is here.’

‘And the boxes?’

‘I don’t know anything about boxes,’ said the man.

Mahmoud set off early the next morning, while it was still dark, for the Pasha’s lady’s house. Riding in the cool made it much more pleasant and the journey did not seem so long this time. By the time it grew light he was nearly at the house and able to find the last part of the way easily.

‘You are back,’ said the Pasha’s lady.

‘The police are always back,’ said Mahmoud, ‘when they have not been told correctly when they first came.’

The lady raised her eyebrows.

‘What is this?’ she said.

‘You did not tell me all,’ said Mahmoud.

‘All?’ said the lady bitterly. ‘That would be a long story!’

‘And you took care that I should not hear it,’ said Mahmoud. ‘You sent Suleiman away.’

‘I sent Suleiman away because I had work for him to do. Do you think the world stops for you, Mr Parquet man?’

‘I wished to see him. With the others.’

‘You will have to wait, then. For he is with my family in the Sudan. And will not come back until I tell him to.’

‘That is disappointing,’ said Mahmoud. ‘Because this is an important matter.’

‘Is it to do with that girl?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then that is not important. She was merely a servant girl.’

‘To be commanded,’ said Mahmoud. ‘But not to be killed.’

‘The men who killed her are, no doubt, evil men; but not without wit.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because they sent her to my husband.’

‘Wit?’

‘She was a Sudani. And he loves Sudanis. Doesn’t he?’

‘He loved you once.’

‘And then he didn’t any more.’

‘Are you saying he loved someone else? A Sudani?’

‘It may be, for all I know.’

‘Soraya?’

She startled. ‘Soraya! He might have used her. But I don’t think he would have loved her. She was just a servant girl.’

‘I wondered why you sent her away?’

‘Not because of my husband, I assure you!’ said the lady drily. ‘I would lay many charges against him, but not that!’

‘Why did you send her away?’

‘She was presumptuous. She presumed too much.’

‘In what way?’

She was silent. Then she said: ‘I prefer not to tell you.’

‘Presumptuous, I would accept as a reason for dismissal from your service. But I would like an instance of it.’

‘She brought her bride box.’

‘But that was the second time that she came. What of the first?’

‘There were indications,’ she said, after a moment.

‘Indications? Of what?’ He waited. ‘You will have to tell me in the end. Was it Karim?’

‘Perhaps,’ she said.

‘You will have to tell me.’

She was silent, Then: ‘Karim is … backward. In all things. In this as in other things. He did not understand what she was doing to him. I had to protect him.’

‘So you sent her away?’

‘I had to end it.’

‘But then you decided not to. You called her back.’

‘I was foolish. It was ended. I should have let it stay like that. But … he missed her. I could see that. A mother knows. He became difficult. The heart went out of him. I thought it would go away, but it didn’t. So I thought …’

She made an impatient gesture with her hand, as if sweeping it away. ‘I thought, perhaps after all it was for the good. Or could be for the good if I could control it. If she gave him pleasure, well, why not? There was not much pleasure in his life. And she was kind to him, I could see that. And gradually in him something stirred. I could see that, too. And in a way I rejoiced at it. Do not laugh at me. I was foolish, I know. But a mother of a child like mine always hopes — can’t not hope — that perhaps by some miracle her son will become a man. A foolish hope in the case of Karim, I know, but … but you can’t help hoping. And it seemed to be happening, because of Soraya. So … so I sent for her again. Hoping that … but knowing inside that …’ She made the gesture again, fiercely. ‘I was foolish. As I have said.’

‘You found you could not control it?’

‘Who can control these things?’

Again the gesture: dismissal, but also despair.

‘And Soraya, too, perhaps, was foolish?’ suggested Mahmoud. ‘For she, too, had hopes.’

‘She set her hopes too high. They were not realistic. What would Karim’s father, his father’s family, have said? A Pasha’s son and a servant girl! And what — given the way that Karim was — what might they bring into the family? Another monster? That is how he, and they, would have seen it. Another monster to begin, perhaps, a line of monsters. No, I could not let this happen. I could not do that, even to my husband! So I sent her away again. And broke Karim’s heart.’

‘You sent them both away. Her and the bride box?’

‘I thought of sending just the box away. I thought that would be a sign. Would tell her what she needed to realize. That that would be enough.’

‘Why didn’t you do that?’

‘It wouldn’t have done any good. Her heart — no, not her heart, her mind, for she was crafty and knew what she was doing — her mind was set, and she would not abandon her hopes. I told her the box would have to go. “Does that mean I am to go, too?” she said. “Yes,” I said, for by now I could see no other way. “It will hurt Karim,” she said. “So be it,” I said. She bowed her head. But I could see she still hoped. So I said: “It does not have to be like this.” She looked at me quickly. “Does it not?” she said. And I could see that she still hoped. “Set your hopes lower,” I said, “and you can still have him.”’

She stopped. When she continued, it was in a kind of mutter. ‘I thought that perhaps we could come to some agreement. That she could stay here, in the house, with him. But not as his wife. I thought that perhaps his father would accept that. And the family. Why should they not? They already knew about Karim, about what kind of person he was. Every family, even a Pasha’s family, has secrets. Let them accept him, as he was. And if they could do that, perhaps they could accept the girl also. Every family has its handmaids and no one questions how far their service goes. Why should it not be like that with Karim and Soraya?’

‘Did you put this to your husband?’ asked Mahmoud.

‘No. For Soraya wouldn’t have it. She had seen me weaken, and she thought she had only to go on and I would give way. Completely. She was, in the end, like her father. Foolish, narrow, limited. I knew her mother. If she had been alive it would probably have been managed. But the mother was dead, and she would not listen to me.’

‘So she had to go again,’ said Mahmoud. ‘And this time for good.’

‘This time for good,’ agreed the Pasha’s lady.

‘Was that what you told Suleiman?’ asked Mahmoud.

The lady looked startled.

‘Suleiman?’ she said. ‘Why should I tell Suleiman?’

‘I just wondered if you had told Suleiman.’

‘About the girl?’ said the Pasha’s lady, with a flash of anger. ‘I did not need to tell Suleiman. He knew.’