‘The man who just came to see me warned me of a crisis in Kamar that needs my immediate attention. I have to leave at once. But we’ll talk when I get back.’
‘When will that be?’
He shrugged. ‘How can I tell?’
‘Oh, I see,’ she said in a deflated voice. ‘That kind of promise. One day, never.’
‘How suspicious you are! You think I mean never to return?’
‘Well, if you do it’ll be a long time, and you’ll have forgotten we ever had this talk.’
‘You may be right. In that case, you’ll have to come with me.’
She gasped with delight. ‘You mean that?’
‘I’m a man of my word. You will be my guest in Kamar.’ His eyes held a curious light. ‘You will be privileged as no woman has ever been before, and I promise you an experience you will never forget.’
‘When do we leave?’
‘In half an hour.’
‘But I don’t have my passport.’
His ironic smile reminded her that he was a head of state. ‘Leave me to worry about that. Hurry now! If you’re not ready on time I’ll depart without you.’
Fran didn’t need any further encouragement. Filled with joy and relief, she bounded up and headed for the door. Laughing, Ali turned the key and let her out.
In her own room she threw her few clothes together and had just zipped up her bag when there was a knock on her door. Outside, she found a beautiful Arab girl, who bowed gracefully to her.
‘I bring you these,’ she said, holding out her arms which were filled with dark green robes. You wear- and you will be me.’
Through her fractured English she explained a little more, and Fran gathered that she was a Kamari servant in Ali’s household, allowed to enter the country only to work for him. Fran would assume her identity, and her passport for both the outward and return journeys.
The girl helped her on with the robes, and showed her how to cover her head and swathe her face so that only the eyes were visible.
‘But you must look down so that nobody sees your blue eyes,’ she advised. ‘Also, that is how a woman must walk, with eyes downcast. Not raise to master.’
Really, thought Fran ironically. It was a black mark against Ali, but she was feeling too much in charity with him to brood on it.
A few minutes later she was ready to join Ali’s car, waiting at the front. He was already seated in the back, and she stared at the sight of him. He had discarded western clothes, and now looked every inch an Arab prince in splendid flowing white robes and headdress. He was absorbed in papers, but he looked up and indicated for her to sit beside him.
When she was settled the door slammed behind her, and the car began to move.
‘You’ll have to forgive me if I work,’ he said. ‘This crisis is going to take much of my attention.’
‘What kind of crisis?’ she ventured to ask.
‘Don’t ask me questions now.’ A brief smile flitted across his face. ‘When we reach Kamar, all will be made clear to you.’
In half an hour they were at the airport. The car swung away from the main terminals towards the area where cargo planes and private aircraft operated. Looking out of the window, Fran saw the chauffeur get out and approach an official, handing him some documents which, she supposed, were the passports. The official glanced at the Rolls with its Kamari flag, proclaiming that the head of state was on board, and indicated for them to go through. It was easy if you were royalty.
The Rolls swung in a great arc and finally stopped. The chauffeur opened the door on Ali’s side and bowed as his master got out. Fran followed and found herself standing before a private jet, painted in the blue and silver colours of Kamar. Ali was already headed up the steps without waiting to see if she followed, and she hurried to catch up with him.
The interior of the aircraft took her breath away. It was hung with silk curtains and the seats were large armchairs. A thick, multicoloured carpet covered the floor.
Ali seated himself alone, while someone waved Fran to a separate section of the plane. She guessed he’d retreated into loftiness because his employees were there, and for the moment she was prepared to play along with it.
The engines were already running, and as soon as the doors were closed the plane began to taxi. In another few minutes they were airborne.
Soon after take-off the steward fixed a small table in front of her, and served wine and almond biscuits. It was some time since she’d eaten, and she devoured them. Ali joined her for a few minutes, smiling at her excitement.
‘I shall have to spend most of my time on the phone,’ he said, ‘but I have ordered that your needs should be attended to. There is a bed if you wish to sleep. It’s gone midnight and this is quite a long flight.’
She yawned. ‘I guess you’re right. Perhaps a lie-down would be nice.’
He gestured with his head and the steward showed her the way to a separate compartment. Her jaw dropped as she saw the satin-draped double bed. This was more like a luxury hotel than an aircraft. But then, Sheikh Ali was like no other man.
She was almost ready for sleep, but she found that as soon as she lay down her yawns vanished. She was too excited to miss a moment, and she lay by the window, gazing through it at the lights on the wings, until the first gleam of dawn appeared on the far horizon.
She watched, transfixed, as the light grew until she could see the world, and she took a long breath of sheer wonder. Below her was sand as far as the eye could see. The sun was rising, and the desert lay in a pale half light, dim, mysterious. For the first time she realised its immense size. It was huge, featureless, and potentially as dangerous as the man who was taking her to it.
But danger was only a small part of the story. The fierce beauty of the desert struck some people like a fever from which they could never really be cured, and in that instant she knew that she was one of the afflicted. With joy she realised that she had come to the land of her dreams, the land that had haunted her ever since that lonely, rain-drenched childhood. And nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
She heard the door open, and the next minute Ali had dropped down beside her.
‘There is my land,’ he said. ‘Waiting to welcome you.’
‘It beautiful,’ she said, awed. ‘More beautiful than anything I could ever have imagined. It’s so big and lonely- so-so self-sufficient.’
He looked at her with quick interest. ‘You’re right. That is what I have felt myself. The desert needs none of us. It is complete unto itself. How clever of you to understand that at once. Many people who are born here take a lifetime.’
She smiled, glad that he felt she was on his wavelength. It was a good start to her trip.
And then the sun finally appeared fully over the horizon, and the sand was flooded with smouldering light. Before her eyes it blossomed into deep yellow. The sky became a vivid, incredible blue, and the whole world seemed to glow.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
He shot her a troubled look that she didn’t see.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘We’ll be landing any moment.’
She took her seat, still looking eagerly out of the window. Then the desert vanished, and they were coming in to land at Kamar’s main airport, which looked exactly like every other airport. Another Rolls, with blacked-out windows, was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.
Fran hastily adjusted her veil, lowered her eyes, and followed Ali demurely down the steps and into the back of the car. The door slammed, and they were moving.
The first part of the journey was uninteresting, along a long straight road that led from the airport to the city. Looking out of the darkened window, Fran saw the squat buildings of refineries.
But then they reached the city, full of early morning bustling, and at once her interest quickened. There was no time to see very much, for the car moved quickly, but she noticed that some of the people smiled and waved at the
