Dark Oil by Nora James Page B

was the truth. She did like that, even if right now she’d give it all up for motherhood.
    â€œDo you find the men treat you with respect when you work?” The Minister’s wife seemed perplexed and genuinely interested in what must have been a way of life so foreign to her.
    â€œOverall they do, I think, though there are still differences between men and women in our country, too. Men get promoted more, paid more and rarely have to juggle housework and children with paid work.”
    â€œWe are fighting for women’s rights here. We want to vote. And other things, too. Do you know our constitution?”
    â€œA little,” Lara said, reluctantly. She could see this might be a slippery path to go down, and although she thought women ought to stand up for their rights, she couldn’t become politically engaged. She was in the country in her capacity as lawyer to Global Oil. And she could only guess how dangerous it would be for any woman, in any event, to advise on women’s rights here.
    The Minister’s wife jumped to her feet, suddenly fidgeting with the edge of her veil. Lara turned to see Martin and Jack walking in their direction. “Please, do not mention our talk to anyone,” she whispered mysteriously.
    â€œOf course, I’ll treat it as confidential.” Lara rose to her feet, too, smiling at her hostess, hoping to reassure her. “It’s been a wonderful evening. Thank you so much.”
    Jack overheard her. “It has been so enjoyable, Mrs Minister,” he said as he strode over, “Thank you for your kind hospitality.”
    â€œYou have a very good lawyer, Mr Jack,” replied the Minister’s wife, “Very tactful. I hope to see you again before you go back home. In the grace of God.”
    â€œSo do we, God willing,” replied Martin, who’d walked over.
    Lara, Martin and Jack made their way across the tent to the pile of shoes. They rummaged through it to find their own and slipped them on, before making their way to the car.
    Out in the open Lara crossed her arms to keep herself warm. The temperature had dropped considerably, despite the stillness. She looked at the moonless sky and was amazed to see how many stars there were, arranged in a pattern so unfamiliar for someone who came from the southern hemisphere.
    There was beauty here, in the soft shape of the dunes and the infinite sky, in the children’s smiles and the donkey’s almond-shaped eyes. It was the kind of beauty that came from emptiness—a sad and haunting beauty.
    At the car they found their driver was waiting, as always. He quickly opened the doors for them. Lara climbed in. “It was a good evening but I’m ready to go to bed.” She collapsed on the back seat. “How long is it since we’ve slept?”
    Jack, too, got in the back. “I’ve stopped counting. Something like forty hours, I think. I can really feel it, too.” Weary, he rested his head against the window.
    They drove up the bumpy dirt track in silence. After a few minutes Jack’s breathing slowed and thickened until Lara heard him snore softly. She could see the outline of his aquiline nose, his full lips slightly parted. “He’s sleeping like a baby.”
    Martin shrugged. “He’s probably pretending so he can listen to what we say.”
    â€œJack, did you know those meatballs you were eating were camel’s testicles?” asked Lara. He continued to snore. “No reaction. He’s asleep.”
    Martin chuckled. “Sounded like you were having a good time at your table. I heard you laugh more than once.”
    â€œThey were nice people. One of the men was very good at telling jokes.”
    â€œLucky you. I think everyone was asleep at my table. We talked about mobile phones for a while. Tell me, how did he get to sit at the Minister’s table, do you think? He probablydidn’t even manage to get anything interesting