The Bride Box by Michael Pearce Page A

Disappointing.
    Nevertheless, he went over to them. ‘You knew Soraya,’ he said.
    â€˜We knew Soraya,’ they said warily.
    â€˜And saw her bride box?’
    There was division here: some had seen the bride box, others not.
    â€˜It was taken away,’ someone explained. ‘And put in the barn. And then we did not see it any more.’
    â€˜Did she show it to you?’
    They shook their heads.
    â€˜Once,’ one of them qualified.
    â€˜You went out to the barn?’
    â€˜She showed it to me when it was still in the house.’
    â€˜Just after she had come back?’
    â€˜That is so.’
    â€˜And did you think she had nice things?’
    â€˜Quite nice,’ someone said.
    â€˜Nice, but showy. I have nicer things.’
    â€˜You have a bride box yourself?’
    The woman nodded.
    â€˜And when are you to be married?’
    â€˜Not yet.’
    â€˜Just waiting,’ explained another woman.
    â€˜For someone to ask for her?’
    â€˜For Abdul to make up his mind!’
    There was a general laugh.
    â€˜And was Soraya, too, just waiting?’
    â€˜It would seem so,’ some said.
    â€˜Do you think she was wrong to bring her bride box here?’
    On the whole they thought it was.
    â€˜It was too presumptuous,’ someone said.
    â€˜Her man had not yet spoken for her?’
    He didn’t get a reply.
    â€˜Perhaps he had not made up his mind?’ said Mahmoud with a smile.
    Again there was silence.
    â€˜You women are all in trouble,’ said Mahmoud, smiling, ‘if your men are not going to speak!’
    â€˜It wasn’t that.’
    â€˜Ah? What was it?’
    But again there was silence.
    â€˜The lady would not have it.’
    â€˜Perhaps the lady did not want to lose her,’ said Mahmoud. ‘Having only just brought her back?’
    Again there was the silence.
    â€˜She seemed to hold her dear,’ said Mahmoud.
    â€˜She did, at first.’
    â€˜It was “Soraya do this, Soraya do that! Soraya come and sit near me, Soraya come and talk to me!”’
    â€˜I expect she wanted to hear her own tongue?’ said Mahmoud.
    â€˜Well, yes, but she could always have gone and visited her family if she had missed her own people so much!’
    â€˜
Does
she miss them?’ asked Mahmoud.
    â€˜I think she does. She is always sending them gifts.’
    â€˜It was like that with the Pasha, too. He was always sending them gifts.’
    â€˜At first.’
    â€˜Well, he kept on with it. Even after …’ the woman stopped.
    â€˜After the Pasha had put her aside?’
    â€˜After she had come to live here with the young Pasha – even then he continued to send them gifts. Still does, they say. I wonder why? It’s not even that her people are … well, our people. They are all Sudanis. Gifts, messages, and I don’t know what else! They turn up at the house, and Ismail receives them graciously, which is more than he does with other people. He has to, or the Pasha will fall on him, he says.’
    â€˜So what does he do with them when the Pasha is not at home?’
    â€˜Sends them on to Cairo. Ismail even has to find the money. He doesn’t like it, of course, but he has to do what the Pasha has ordered, and no nonsense about it! But why the Pasha makes such a fuss over them, I cannot think. Particularly as he won’t have anything to do with his wife or son. It’s a strange old world!’
    â€˜And she’s no better. Always sending messages. Suleiman is away now.’
    â€˜No, he’s not. I saw him here this morning.’
    â€˜Yes, he is. I saw him go. Late this morning. In a hurry.’
    â€˜Well, I wonder what that’s about? Mind you, you never know. She won’t say and he won’t say.’
    â€˜Who is Suleiman?’ asked Mahmoud.
    â€˜My lady’s man.’
    â€˜He works in the fields?’
    â€˜No, no, he’s too grand