on the kettle,” she said to the woman. The maid scuttled away; a short, dark, low-browed woman, with a faintly pugilistic air.
“She is from Sri Lanka,” Yasmin said. “She is not much use, but thank goodness I have got her. Raji calls so many people for dinner every night that I have no time for the baby.”
“People don’t seem to have much domestic help here. It surprises me.”
“In the grander households, of course, you will find it. But the Saudis are discouraging it now. They don’t like the foreign influence. Of course, it is a good point, these young girls come to the Kingdom as housemaids, and then they cause trouble.”
“Do they?” Frances sat down, where she was bidden. “What sort of trouble?”
“They get unhappy,” Yasmin said. “Because they have left children behind them at home. Also the Saudi men, you know, they find that these girls are not very moral.” The maid came in; put down the tea tray. Yasmin dismissed her with a nod. “Then the poor things are trying to commit suicide. You would like some of this Crawford’s shortbread?”
“Thank you,” Frances said. She took a piece. Yasmin gave her another composed smile; poured tea. “How?” Frances said. “How do they commit suicide?”
“They throw themselves from the balconies. Silly girls. But this one, I have got a reference for her. She is all right, I think.”
“What’s her name?”
“It is Shams.”
Frances repeated it, tentatively. “I can’t quite get hold of it.”
“Shams,” Yasmin said. “As in ‘Champs Elysees.’”
“Oh, I see.”
“Means ‘sunny.’” She tittered. “I do not find her a little ray of sunshine about my house. But Raji was six months waiting for the work permit for her. He doesn’t like to ask the Minister for favors. You are used to a servant, Frances?”
“I’m used to help. But it doesn’t bother me, either way.”
Yasmin sighed. “It is a problem,” she said.
In Yasmin’s apartment, there was flowered wallpaper and patterned rugs, and little gilt tables with glass tops, and an enormous sideboard, crowned by family photographs. Yasmin with her newborn; earlier, Yasmin beneath a wedding veil of gold lace, her mouth painted emphatically red, and her delicate hand on the dark-suited arm of her plump husband. He looks older by some years; a handsome man, though, with a full expressive face, liquid eyes. Yasmin’s own age is not easy to determine; she sits swinging one slippered foot, a long-nosed, spindly young woman, with a flawless ivory skin, a festinate way of speaking, and large eyes which are lustrous and intractable, like the eyes of a jibbing horse.
“So your husband’s building is coming along?” she asked.
“I haven’t been to see it yet.”
“Your husband is shy, I think. He runs away.”
“Really?”
Yasmin smiled. “Samira would like to meet you.”
“The lady up above?”
“You will be surprised. She speaks good English.”
“I should like to meet some Saudi women.”
“She is very young. Nineteen. Some more tea?”
“Thank you.”
“You will see Selim, my son, when he wakes up just now. You are thinking of starting your family soon?”
This question. Oh dear. “I’ve always worked,” Frances said.
“Jeddah is a good place for families.”
“Is it?”
“You have not been here long enough to see the advantages. You are still missing England, I expect. Your parents.” Yasmin’s tone was encouraging. She proffered the biscuits again. “Do take another one, Frances. You are so slim. You have seen this film,
She did rush straight at things, Frances thought. Suicidal housemaids, decapitation. She put her shortbread down on her plate. “I heard about it. But I didn’t see it. I wasn’t in England at the time.”
Relief showed on Yasmin’s face. Is she the custodian of Saudi culture then? “I remember the fuss it caused,” Frances said. “Princess Misha, wasn’t that her name? She was married, and she took off with another man. They caught her and she was executed.”
“This film has caused a lot of trouble between Saudi Arabia and Britain,” Yasmin said. “They do not understand why it should be shown.”
“Oh,” Frances said, “we are interested in other parts of the world. Foreign customs.”
Their eyes met. “In any case, it is false,” Yasmin said firmly.
“False?”
