wait, he told himself.
It was a huge tactical
error, though he did not know that yet. For he had not retracted what he had
decreed in a moment of anger. And, although Leona might appear to have set the
words aside, she had not forgotten them. Nor had she forgotten the reason she
was here at all: there were people out there who wanted to harm her.
But for now they
pretended that everything was wonderful. Like a second honeymoon in fact—if an
unusual one with Rafiq and Faysal along for company. They laughed a lot and
played like any other set of holidaymakers would. Matters of state took a back
seat to other more pleasurable pursuits. They windsurfed off the Greek islands,
snorkelled over shipwrecks, jet-skied in parts of the Mediterranean that were
so empty of other human life that they could have had the sea to themselves.
One week slid stealthily
into a second week Leona regained the weight she had lost during the empty
months without Hassan, and her skin took on a healthy golden hue. When matters
of state refused to be completely ignored, Rafiq was always on hand to help
keep up the pretence that everything was suddenly and miraculously okay.
Then it came. One
heat-misted afternoon when Hassan was locked away in his office, and Faysal,
Leona and Rafiq were lazing on the shade deck sipping tall cool drinks and
reading a book each. She happened to glance up and received the shock of her
life when she saw that they were sailing so close to land it felt as if she
could almost reach out and touch it.
'Oh, good grief,' Getting
up she went to stand by the rail. 'Where are we, Rafiq?'
'At the end of our time here
alone together,' a very different voice replied.
CHAPTER SIX
Leona turned to find
Hassan was standing not far away and Rafiq was in the process of rising to his
feet. One man was looking at her; the other one was making sure that he didn't.
Hassan's words shimmered in the air separating them and Rafiq's murmured,
'Excuse me, I will leave you to it,' was as revealing as the speed with which
he left.
The silence that followed
his departure pulsed with the flurried pace of her heartbeat while Leona waited
for Hassan to clarify what he had just said.
He was still in the same
casual shorts and shirt he had been wearing when she had last seen him, she
noticed. But there, the similarity between this man and the man who had kissed
the top of her head and strolled away to answer Faysal's call to work a short
hour ago ended. For there was a tension about him that was almost palpable, and
in his hand he held a gold fountain pen which offered up an image of him
getting up from his desk to come back here at such speed that he hadn't even
had time to drop the pen.
'We arrived here sooner
than I had anticipated,' he said, confirming her last thought.
'It would be helpful for
me to know where here is,' she replied in a voice laden with the weight of
whatever it was that was about to come at her.
And come it did. 'Port
Said,' he provided, saw her startled response of recognition and lowered his
eyes on an acknowledging grimace that more or less said the rest.
Port Said lay at the
mouth of the Suez Canal, which linked the Mediterranean with the Red Sea. If
they were coming into the port, then there could only be one reason for it.
Hassan was ready to go
home and their self-made, sea-borne paradise was about to disintegrate.
He had noticed the pen in
his hand and went to drop it on the lounger next to the book she had left
there. Then he walked over to the long white table at which they had eaten most
of their evening meals over the last two weeks. Pulling out a chair, he sat
down, released a sigh, then put up a hand to rub the back of his neck as if he
was trying to iron out a crick.
When he removed it again
he stretched the hand out towards her. 'Join me,' he invited.
Leona shook her head and
instead found her arms crossing tightly beneath the thrust of her breasts.
'Tell me first,' she insisted.
'Don't be difficult,'
It was a huge tactical
error, though he did not know that yet. For he had not retracted what he had
decreed in a moment of anger. And, although Leona might appear to have set the
words aside, she had not forgotten them. Nor had she forgotten the reason she
was here at all: there were people out there who wanted to harm her.
But for now they
pretended that everything was wonderful. Like a second honeymoon in fact—if an
unusual one with Rafiq and Faysal along for company. They laughed a lot and
played like any other set of holidaymakers would. Matters of state took a back
seat to other more pleasurable pursuits. They windsurfed off the Greek islands,
snorkelled over shipwrecks, jet-skied in parts of the Mediterranean that were
so empty of other human life that they could have had the sea to themselves.
One week slid stealthily
into a second week Leona regained the weight she had lost during the empty
months without Hassan, and her skin took on a healthy golden hue. When matters
of state refused to be completely ignored, Rafiq was always on hand to help
keep up the pretence that everything was suddenly and miraculously okay.
Then it came. One
heat-misted afternoon when Hassan was locked away in his office, and Faysal,
Leona and Rafiq were lazing on the shade deck sipping tall cool drinks and
reading a book each. She happened to glance up and received the shock of her
life when she saw that they were sailing so close to land it felt as if she
could almost reach out and touch it.
'Oh, good grief,' Getting
up she went to stand by the rail. 'Where are we, Rafiq?'
'At the end of our time here
alone together,' a very different voice replied.
CHAPTER SIX
Leona turned to find
Hassan was standing not far away and Rafiq was in the process of rising to his
feet. One man was looking at her; the other one was making sure that he didn't.
Hassan's words shimmered in the air separating them and Rafiq's murmured,
'Excuse me, I will leave you to it,' was as revealing as the speed with which
he left.
The silence that followed
his departure pulsed with the flurried pace of her heartbeat while Leona waited
for Hassan to clarify what he had just said.
He was still in the same
casual shorts and shirt he had been wearing when she had last seen him, she
noticed. But there, the similarity between this man and the man who had kissed
the top of her head and strolled away to answer Faysal's call to work a short
hour ago ended. For there was a tension about him that was almost palpable, and
in his hand he held a gold fountain pen which offered up an image of him
getting up from his desk to come back here at such speed that he hadn't even
had time to drop the pen.
'We arrived here sooner
than I had anticipated,' he said, confirming her last thought.
'It would be helpful for
me to know where here is,' she replied in a voice laden with the weight of
whatever it was that was about to come at her.
And come it did. 'Port
Said,' he provided, saw her startled response of recognition and lowered his
eyes on an acknowledging grimace that more or less said the rest.
Port Said lay at the
mouth of the Suez Canal, which linked the Mediterranean with the Red Sea. If
they were coming into the port, then there could only be one reason for it.
Hassan was ready to go
home and their self-made, sea-borne paradise was about to disintegrate.
He had noticed the pen in
his hand and went to drop it on the lounger next to the book she had left
there. Then he walked over to the long white table at which they had eaten most
of their evening meals over the last two weeks. Pulling out a chair, he sat
down, released a sigh, then put up a hand to rub the back of his neck as if he
was trying to iron out a crick.
When he removed it again
he stretched the hand out towards her. 'Join me,' he invited.
Leona shook her head and
instead found her arms crossing tightly beneath the thrust of her breasts.
'Tell me first,' she insisted.
'Don't be difficult,'
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