don’t doubt that the bigger boys knew better, and you were just behaving in a thoroughly rude and thoughtless way to a visitor to this country,” said John.
“A lot of hooligans,” said Carol.
John turned the two boys round to face Khadija.
“Now I want you to meet each other, so that none of you will be frightened by appearances again,” said John. “This is Khadija. She is nineteen—not so very old, you see. And she is an Arab princess and a visitor who will have a very poor impression of English boys if you always behave in that way.”
Khadija softened. She could see now that the two boys were just as scared of her as she had been of them. She held out her slim brown hands to them.
“Hello,” she said. “Come to me. I am not a black eagle or a witch. Though perhaps I did come to England on a broomstick. A silver one with wings that flew high in the sky.”
“That’s an aeroplane,” explained Shorty, helpfully.
“Just because Khadija wears her own native dress does not mean that she is any different from other girls. In fact, she’s a lot cleverer than most girls. Do you know, she speaks four languages,” said John, with an unconscious touch of pride. “English, French, Arabic and Italian.”
“Only a little Italian,” Khadija murmured.
John let the boys go home and Khadija asked to go to her room. She had lost a sandal whilst running, and her foot was cut. Someone would have to bathe it. Perhaps this girl in the white overall was a servant; but John had said that English people did not have servants—it was very confusing.
“We shall have to get Khadija some English clothes,” Carol was saying. “Something like this will happen every time she goes out. People will stare at her or make remarks. She will enjoy her stay much more if she looks like an ordinary English girl. I’m not doing anything tomorrow afternoon. I could drive her into Scunthorpe to do some shopping,” she suggested.
Khadija smiled behind her mask. “I should like that very much,” she said. “I would like to do some shopping.”
John groaned inwardly at the thought of Khadija let loose in the shops, but he could see that Carol was right. And he did not want to discourage anyone who looked like becoming an ally.
John went out when Khadija retired to her room. He was tired. He walked round the old haunts of his childhood and then along the sea front, on to the beach. It had turned cooler and there were few people about. Some boys were throwing sticks for a wet and shaggy dog to retrieve. A couple were braving the weather, wrapped up in woollies and mackintoshes.
He felt sorry for Khadija. Her first two days in England had not been a success. First, she’d had to leave half of her possessions at the airport, then his mother had not exactly laid out a mat of welcome, and now these boys, throwing stones. Poor kid. After the quiet seclusion of the harem, it must all seem a nightmare.
The sea air had blown away the cobwebs and John felt better as he strolled back through the town. The shops were beginning to put up their shutters, and he suddenly thought of the promise he had made to himself to buy Khadija something nice to make up for having to leave her things behind.
He saw that a new boutique had opened where the old fish shop used to be. It was full of trendy clothes and accessories and he felt sure he would find a gift for her in there. Twenty minutes later, he came out with a gift he was certain would please any woman. It had cost a lot of money, but for once he did not begrudge the expenditure on Khadija. The fear in her eyes as she ran to him through a hail of stones—John wanted to erase that experience from her memory.
As John walked away with the gaily wrapped box under his arm, he did not notice a man’s figure in the shadow of a doorway on the opposite side of the road. He was wearing a thick navy reefer coat fastened across the neck as if he were cold, and his face was hidden in the shadows.
“A lot of hooligans,” said Carol.
John turned the two boys round to face Khadija.
“Now I want you to meet each other, so that none of you will be frightened by appearances again,” said John. “This is Khadija. She is nineteen—not so very old, you see. And she is an Arab princess and a visitor who will have a very poor impression of English boys if you always behave in that way.”
Khadija softened. She could see now that the two boys were just as scared of her as she had been of them. She held out her slim brown hands to them.
“Hello,” she said. “Come to me. I am not a black eagle or a witch. Though perhaps I did come to England on a broomstick. A silver one with wings that flew high in the sky.”
“That’s an aeroplane,” explained Shorty, helpfully.
“Just because Khadija wears her own native dress does not mean that she is any different from other girls. In fact, she’s a lot cleverer than most girls. Do you know, she speaks four languages,” said John, with an unconscious touch of pride. “English, French, Arabic and Italian.”
“Only a little Italian,” Khadija murmured.
John let the boys go home and Khadija asked to go to her room. She had lost a sandal whilst running, and her foot was cut. Someone would have to bathe it. Perhaps this girl in the white overall was a servant; but John had said that English people did not have servants—it was very confusing.
“We shall have to get Khadija some English clothes,” Carol was saying. “Something like this will happen every time she goes out. People will stare at her or make remarks. She will enjoy her stay much more if she looks like an ordinary English girl. I’m not doing anything tomorrow afternoon. I could drive her into Scunthorpe to do some shopping,” she suggested.
Khadija smiled behind her mask. “I should like that very much,” she said. “I would like to do some shopping.”
John groaned inwardly at the thought of Khadija let loose in the shops, but he could see that Carol was right. And he did not want to discourage anyone who looked like becoming an ally.
John went out when Khadija retired to her room. He was tired. He walked round the old haunts of his childhood and then along the sea front, on to the beach. It had turned cooler and there were few people about. Some boys were throwing sticks for a wet and shaggy dog to retrieve. A couple were braving the weather, wrapped up in woollies and mackintoshes.
He felt sorry for Khadija. Her first two days in England had not been a success. First, she’d had to leave half of her possessions at the airport, then his mother had not exactly laid out a mat of welcome, and now these boys, throwing stones. Poor kid. After the quiet seclusion of the harem, it must all seem a nightmare.
The sea air had blown away the cobwebs and John felt better as he strolled back through the town. The shops were beginning to put up their shutters, and he suddenly thought of the promise he had made to himself to buy Khadija something nice to make up for having to leave her things behind.
He saw that a new boutique had opened where the old fish shop used to be. It was full of trendy clothes and accessories and he felt sure he would find a gift for her in there. Twenty minutes later, he came out with a gift he was certain would please any woman. It had cost a lot of money, but for once he did not begrudge the expenditure on Khadija. The fear in her eyes as she ran to him through a hail of stones—John wanted to erase that experience from her memory.
As John walked away with the gaily wrapped box under his arm, he did not notice a man’s figure in the shadow of a doorway on the opposite side of the road. He was wearing a thick navy reefer coat fastened across the neck as if he were cold, and his face was hidden in the shadows.
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