Marguerite Kaye - Summer Sheikhs

‘Is that where we’re headed?’

‘I have friends who will give us lunch.’

The house was like those she’d seen in the city: low, white and domed, set in the middle of a broad courtyard surrounded by a high white wall. A servant opened the outer door to them with a murmured ‘ Marhaban,’ and the blistering heat of the midday sun was instantly mitigated by the shade of numerous trees and the sound of a fountain.

A strikingly attractive woman with flashing black eyes and black curls cascading down her back came out of the house, smiling and calling what was obviously a warm greeting in Arabic. In a cotton summer dress, she had bare legs and feet; her arms were bare save for a few bracelets.

‘Marhaban, marhaban jiddan, Salah! Nahnou…’

‘Desi, Nadia,’ Salah said, just as Desi took off her hat to wipe her forehead and her fair hair came tumbling down. ‘Desi doesn’t speak Arabic, Nadia.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Nadia’s level gaze met hers with a frowning smile as the two women shook hands. ‘Hello, how are you? Welcome! You are very welcome! Salah, it’s so good to see you!’ she said. ‘Ramiz will be here in a minute. Come in, come in!’

She led them across the shady but still hot courtyard and into the cool of a large, airy room whose decor seemed to blend West and East, modern and ancient, with perfect ease. It was a massive, spreading space obviously covering most of one floor of the house, protected from the midday sun by green-covered canopies and thick walls.

The furniture was a mix of Western and Eastern, with conventional sofas and chairs and coffee tables in a cluster at one end, and cushions on a massive knotted silk carpet at the other.

The right-hand wall had sliding glass doors looking out on to an obviously antique, mosaic-tiled pool with a fountain that reminded Desi of what she had seen at the palace. The left wall was a stunning row of pillars and delicately fluted arches through which could be seen an endless maze of pillars, arches and mosaic floors, and the corner of a distant, sunny courtyard.

It took Desi a moment to realize that the entire scene was a trompe l’oeil painting. She was looking at a solid wall.

‘This is spectacular!’ she exclaimed involuntarily, stopping to gawp as Nadia, happily chatting to Salah, led them along the length of the room down to a sofa at the far end.

Nadia and Salah turned in surprise, then, seeing what had caught her, laughed.

‘I love it, too,’ Nadia confessed with a smile. ‘You haven’t seen it since it was finished, Salah, yes? That shows how long since you visited us! Anna finished it almost three months ago. She’s a perfectionist, she kept coming back with her paints to put on “the final touches”! But now it’s done.’

‘It’s magnificent,’ Salah agreed.

‘Like living in a palace,’ said Nadia, grinning up at him. ‘Or is it?’

‘It’s like a page from a fairy tale!’ Desi said, still gazing, and feeling a little as if she’d been put under an enchantment. ‘Who is the artist?’

‘You may have heard of her. She is English, but she lives here in Western Barakat. Her name…’

‘Oh, my God, is this an Anna Lamb? Of course !’ Desi exclaimed. ‘She did one in London for Princess Esterhazy, and then everyone was after one! Fabulous, too, but not nearly as extensive as this.’

Nadia stared at her for a moment, then smiled broadly.

‘Oh my goodness! I knew I’d seen you before! You’re Desirée ! How amazing!’

‘I didn’t expect to be recognized so far from…home.’ Desi laughed. She was glad she had stopped before saying civilisation.

‘We read Vogue in West Barakat, too! But what are you doing here? How do you come to know Salah?’

At that moment a dark, thin-faced man came into the room, closely followed by two servants carrying trays.

‘Salah! Great to see you!’ he cried, as the two men embraced. ‘What are you doing in Qabila?’

Salah turned. ‘Desi, this is my very good friend Ramiz.’

Soon the four were seated on sofas around a low table, on which had been placed jugs of juice and water, and tall glasses.

‘So why are you here? Just touring? Or is it a modelling assignment?’ Nadia asked eagerly. ‘That would be exciting for us, to have Barakat used as a background.’

‘No, something much more interesting, as far as I’m concerned. I wouldn’t spend days camping out in the desert for a shoot, let me tell you!’ She paused and looked at Salah, wondering if his friends knew about his father’s site.

‘Camping out in the desert?’ Nadia repeated in amazed tones. ‘In this heat?’

‘Desi wants to see an archaeological dig in progress,’ Salah filled in. ‘I’m taking her to Baba.’

Ramiz’s eyebrows went up. He exchanged a look with Salah, and then his eyelids drooped, masking his expression. The sound of a child’s voice came from the next room, and for the first time Desi realized that one of the doorways under the painted arches was real.

‘But I don’t understand,’ Nadia said. ‘Why are you…?’

‘You haven’t seen Safiyah for a long time,’ Ramiz said to Salah, over her. ‘She misses you. You’ll be surprised by how much she’s grown. Tahir, too.’

‘Ayna Safiyah?’ Salah called. ‘Ayna walida jamilati?’

The child’s high shriek answered him, and then a little girl came tearing into the room and ran straight into his arms, followed by a woman carrying a baby.

‘Aga Salah! Aga Salah!’ the child cried.

Desi watched as Salah swung the shrieking child up into the air. His face was suddenly soft, his expression relaxed and warm. The face of the Salah she remembered.

He was not lost, the man she had loved. He was still there, underneath. If only she could reach him.

‘Have you really been camping out in the desert at this time of year?’ Nadia asked Desi against the background of the child’s chatter. ‘What’s Salah thinking of?’

‘He did warn me, but I insisted. This is the only time I had to visit. The first night we stayed with nomads. Last night at Halimah’s Rest.’

Nadia frowned and shook her head. ‘Was the water clean enough to bathe in?’

‘Call it a large puddle.’

Nadia looked at her. ‘And then you drove all morning in the desert to get here? Salah must be crazy!’

‘I haven’t felt so grubby and sticky since I was five and my father took me for a day at the fair.’ Desi laughed.

‘Desi,’ Nadia said hesitantly, ‘would you like to take a shower now? I am sure…’

‘Oh, could I?’

So Nadia showed her to a bathroom, gave her towels and soap, and left her to indulge herself. Never had water been such bliss! She could have stayed under the cool flow for half an hour, but even here in Wadi Daud water must be a precious resource at this time of year. She restricted herself to five minutes.

She came out feeling human again, her newly washed hair twisted up on top of her head, her face cleansed, her skin breathing for the first time in two days. Heaven.

In the sitting room, meanwhile, Nadia took a protesting Safiyah away to get her lunch. Ramiz and Salah were left alone.

‘Two days through the desert, via West Barakat, to get to your father’s dig?’ Ramiz asked softly.

‘And we’re only halfway there,’ Salah replied blandly. ‘It’s a four-day trip. Nadia’s not likely to mention where the dig is, is she?’

‘Does she know? I don’t, not with any accuracy. Subtle form of abduction, brother? She’s very beautiful.’

‘Subtle form of interrogation. I want to know why she wants to see it.’

‘Ah.’ Ramiz pursed his lips. ‘Nadia recognized her. Supermodel? She would have a lot of connections among the wealthy.’