The Gatecrasher by Sophie Kinsella Page A

about?” Nura always simply shrugged and smiled. She was a remarkably pretty girl, with smooth skin, dancing eyes and rounded features verging already on plumpness.
    “If he is too bossy, I will not marry him,” she said once.
    “Won’t your parents make you?”
    “Of course not. They will let me meet him and then we will talk about it.”
    Fleur stared at her. Suddenly she felt jealous. Nura’s life was being comfortably mapped out for her, while herown wavered uncertainly in front of her like a broken spider’s web.
    “Perhaps I could marry, like Nura,” she said the next day to Nura’s mother, Fatima. She gave a little laugh, as though she were joking, but her eyes scanned Fatima’s face sharply.
    “I’m sure you will marry,” said Fatima. “You will find a handsome Englishman.”
    “Maybe I could marry an Arab,” said Fleur. Fatima laughed.
    “Would you convert to Islam?”
    “I might,” said Fleur desperately, “if I had to.”
    Fatima looked up. “Are you serious?”
    Fleur gave a tiny shrug. “You could . . . find me someone.”
    “Fleur.” Fatima rose and took Fleur’s hands. “You know you would not make a suitable bride for an Arab. It is not just that you are not Islamic. You would find the life too difficult. Your husband would not allow you to answer back in the way that we do. You would not be allowed to go out without his permission. My husband is very liberal. Most are not.”
    “Are you going to find a liberal man for Nura?”
    “We hope so, yes. And you will find a man too, Fleur. But not here.”
    Two days later the betrothal was announced. Nura was to marry Mohammed Abduraman, a young man from one of the wealthiest families in the Emirates. It was generally acknowledged that she had done very well indeed.
    “But do you love him?” asked Fleur that night.
    “Of course I love him,” said Nura. But her eyes were distant, and she wouldn’t discuss it further.
    Immediately the family was plunged into preparation. Fleur wandered about, unnoticed, watching with disbelief the amount of money being spent on the wedding. The bolts of silk, the food, the gifts for all the guests. Nura was whisked away into a whirl of veils and scented oils. Soon she would be whisked away for ever. Fleur would be on her own. What was she to do? The el Hassan family didn’t want her anymore. Nobody wanted her anymore.
    At nights she lay quite still, smelling the sweet musky scent of the house, allowing the tears to trickle down the sides of her face, trying to plot her future. Nura’s parents thought she should go back to England, to the aunt in Maidenhead whom she’d never met.
    “Your family is the most important,” Fatima had said, with the confidence of one surrounded by an extended web of loyal family members. “Your own family will care for you.”
    Fleur knew she was wrong. It was different in England. Her father’s sister had never shown any interest in her. She was going to have to rely on herself.
    And then Nura’s betrothal party had been held. It was an all-female affair, with sweetmeats and games and much giggling. Halfway through, Nura took out a little box.
    “Look,” she said. “My betrothal ring.”
    On her hand it looked almost incongruous, a huge diamond set in an intricate web of gold. The room was filled with satisfactory gasps; even by Arabic standards it was enormous.
    That’s got to be worth a hundred thousand dollars, thought Fleur. At least. A hundred thousand dollars, sitting on Nura’s finger. It’s not even as though she’s ever going to be able to show it off properly. She’ll probablyhardly ever wear it. A hundred thousand dollars. What could you do with a hundred thousand dollars?
    And then, before she could stop herself, it happened. Fleur put her cup down, stared straight at Nura and said, “I do so admire your diamond ring, Nura. I admire it greatly. I wish I had one like it.”
    The room fell silent. Nura turned pale; her lips began to quiver. Her