A Bride For The Sheikh (11 page)

“Mother! What a wonderful surprise,” Rashid said.

“A surprise, yes. Wonderful, no. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Rashid escorted his mother into the living room.

“So this is where you live now. I have servants’ quarters bigger than this. You are the son of the Sultan of Bezira. Why are you living like a common person?”

“Can I get you some tea? Some coffee? You must be tired after your trip.” Rashid decided that it was best to avoid his mother’s questions as much as possible.

“I don’t see any signs of any servants. Not even a simple maid. What are you going to do? Make the tea yourself? How undignified. Sit down and let me talk to you.”

Rashid offered his mother the most comfortable chair in the room and sat on the black, plastic sofa. “How’s California? When did you arrive back?” he asked in an attempt to make small talk.

“California’s fine. I’m sure it will carry on without me, though I had to cancel a luncheon party for two hundred just so I could come back here and sort out this mess. I arrived yesterday afternoon after an extremely tiring flight with your cousin, Hamad. He was the most appalling escort. Instead of looking after me, he spent the entire flight harassing the female flight attendants. I’ll be having words with his mother about it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rashid replied, trying not to smile at the idea of Hamad chatting up all the women on the plane.

“So you should be. You’re the reason I’m here.” She pointed her finger at him. She was wearing black gloves as well as a long black abaya, or cloak. Over her head, she wore a black silk scarf, edged in heavy lace, but left her face unveiled. She once told Rashid that it made her too hot to cover her face.

“Where’s this woman who’s been causing all this fuss?” she asked.

“You mean Angelina? She’s out shopping.” Rashid was glad that she wasn’t in. Hopefully he’d be able to calm his mother down a bit before Angelina got back and met her.

“Shopping? Really? You’ve given all your money away. How can she buy any decent clothes without any money?”

“She’s not shopping for clothes. I think she’s out buying food,” Rashid replied.

“Like a servant! How awful. I talked to Queen Elizabeth about this.”

“About Angelina going shopping?” Rashid knew that his mother spoke regularly with the British sovereign, but when would they have talked about Angelina going out shopping for food?

“I talked to her about the possibility of you being with a commoner. She’s been a queen almost twice as long as I have and she gives terribly good advice. Whenever I have a problem, I give her a call and ask her for her opinion.”

“And what did she say?” Rashid asked.

“Apparently everyone’s doing it. There practically isn’t a royal family left in the world that doesn’t have one or more of their children married off to someone who’s terribly common. Several of her own children have done it, including, of course, Prince William, the heir to the throne. She said that things are working out rather well so far with Kate Middleton. Apparently the trick is to find one who’s a quick learner. Is this girl of yours clever?”

Rashid went through all of Angelina’s accomplishments, relieved that the Queen of England had given the whole idea her general approval. He knew how much weight his mother gave to the queen’s opinion and advice.

“She sounds clever enough.” His mother looked at her watch. “However, I don’t have all day to sit around chatting. There are myriad other things I have to sort out. I’ll be back later. Please make sure she’s here when I return.”

Rashid promised that he would, and escorted his mother to the chauffeur-driven car that was waiting outside. He then went a few doors down the road to a small restaurant and asked whether they had a waiter they could spare to serve his mother when she came back.

“Go and hire yourself a maid,” the owner said. He was a large man with a greasy face and small, piggy eyes. “This isn’t an employment agency, you know.”

Rashid was about to offer him a large sum of money, when he realised that he no longer had large wads of hundred-dollar bills to hand out as he wished. Nor could he say that he was Sheikh Rashid and could have the man’s business closed down. He was just plain Rashid and had cut himself off from his government connections at his father’s palace. However, he could tell them the truth.

“The Sultana of Bezira is coming to my apartment later today and I would be most grateful if you could let one of your members of staff help me serve her coffee and snacks when she comes,” he said as politely as possible.

“The sultana?” The man laughed. “Coming to your apartment? Who’s she bringing? The royal bloody family with her? Get out and stop wasting my time. I’ve got work to do.”

Rashid sighed. He would have to try somewhere else. However, as he was leaving the restaurant, he saw a skinny young man go up to the owner and whisper something in his oily ear.

“Stop!” the large man called out just as Rashid walking through the door. “This boy, Motin, says that he’s seen a silver Mercedes with royal number plates coming and going from your place. He even seems to think that he just saw you help the sultana herself into a royal car.” He turned to the young man next to him. “Is this true, Motin? Are you sure that’s what you saw? Because if you’re lying, I’ll send you back to the sewers of Bangladesh where you came from.”

“Yes, sir. I promise, sir.” The man shook his head repeatedly so that his heavy, black hair flopped about in front of his eyes.

“The sultana came to see me about some business,” Rashid said, coming back into the restaurant. The few people who were in there eating looked up and stared at Rashid. “As I said earlier, she’s coming back later and I need a waiter.”

The owner wiped his face with a large, grey cloth. “Okay. Just this once. But you’ll be responsible for all his wages for the entire day, this morning included. If he breaks anything, it’s not my fault. It’s between you and Motin. Agreed?”

Rashid agreed to the man’s terms and the owner promised to send the waiter to his apartment in an hour’s time, once he’d cleared up the kitchen in the restaurant.

Rashid then went to a cake shop nearby and bought a selection of all his mother’s favourite cakes and took them back to his apartment. When he got there, he saw that Angelina was already back.

“I bought some vegetables, rice, and lamb. I thought I’d try to cook something local,” she called out from the kitchen.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Rashid replied. “My mother’s coming to meet you.”

“When?”

“She didn’t say exactly, but probably later this afternoon, which doesn’t leave us much time to get you ready.” Rashid knew he only had a few hours, four at the most, to prepare Angelina for the most gruelling test of her life: her first encounter with his mother.

Angelina went through the list of things to remember one last time with Rashid. “When I meet her, I call her ‘Your Majesty’ and I don’t sit down until she asks me to, and I mustn’t turn my back on her.”

“Correct. You must either be behind her or next to her at all times, never in front, and it’s ‘Your Majesty’ for the first few times and then ‘Ma’am’ after that.”

“And I wait for her to eat and drink before I do, and I don’t pour the tea or hand her anything.”

“That’s right. Motin will do all that.” Rashid showed the waiter again how to serve his mother.

Angelina wasn’t sure that hiring a waiter was really necessary, but Rashid had insisted, saying that it was just for one day and he was desperate for things to go perfectly so that she would make a good impression on his mother.

“And how do I know when to come through?” she asked. Apparently, if they were in a palace, she would wait in an antechamber until she was summoned by a palace guard, but there were no antechambers or guards in their small apartment, so they’d settled for her waiting in the bedroom while Rashid went through the preliminaries with his mother.

“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to my mother and ask her if I can introduce you. Then, if she says yes, Motin will knock on the bedroom door and escort you into the living room.”

“She will say yes, won’t she? I won’t have to sit in the bedroom the whole time, will I? What if I need to use the bathroom?” The apartment lacked an en-suite, which had helped Rashid to negotiate the rent down when he first looked at it.

“She might not want to meet you. It all depends on what mood she’s in, but whatever happens, don’t come out of the bedroom until you get the signal from Motin, even if you’re desperate for the toilet.” Rashid seemed more nervous than she was and had already changed his clothes twice.

Angelina was wearing a long, navy dress that Rashid said made her look beautiful, but not overdressed. At first, she’d wondered whether she’d be expected to cover up and put on a black robe and veil, but he said it wasn’t necessary, especially as it was a meeting between women. Even when the time came for her to meet his father, he said that it wouldn’t be necessary to completely cover up, as some Arab women didn’t. The main thing, he told her, was to look modest.

They heard a car pulling up outside the apartment. Rashid looked out the window. “It’s her. Into the bedroom quickly,” he said. “And don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be great.” He gave her a quick kiss and rushed off to the kitchen to check for the tenth time that the coffee and cakes were ready.

Angelina sat on the bed and waited. She felt as if the whole thing was some kind of anachronistic charade with silly rules and regulations. What if she did turn her back on the sultana by accident? What if she took a sip of something before the sultana did? What did it really matter? Would the ground open up and swallow her? Surely there were more important things in life to worry about. However, she knew it was important to Rashid, and she knew that he’d already given up so much already, so she couldn’t possibly ask him to renounce his family and refuse to see them. Therefore, Angelina decided that whatever her personal opinions about it all were, she would do her best and try to make to make Rashid proud of her.

Angelina was just wondering what was going on in the other room and whether perhaps she wasn’t going to meet Rashid’s mother after all, when Motin finally knocked on the door.

“Madam,” he called. “Come.” Motin had some English, but it was limited.

Angelina took a deep breath to prepare herself and walked into the living room. Rashid was standing in the middle of the room, looking more worried than she’d ever seen him before. She hoped it wasn’t a bad sign. Next to him was a woman in a very expensive dress. Covering her hair was a matching silk scarf. Angelina could see what looked like a long, black
abaya
, or woman’s robe, hanging on the back of the front door. The sultana had large, dark eyes, like Rashid’s, and although she was only average height, her presence seemed to take up the entire room. Angelina realised that the immense rooms in the palaces were created for larger-than-life women like this.

“May I introduce Angelina Smith?” Rashid said.

“Your Majesty,” Angelina said. She remembered that she wasn’t meant to shake the sultana’s hand, but to remain standing at a reasonable distance and curtsey.

“Come here. Let me look at you,” the sultana said.

Angelina stepped forward and let the woman inspect her. She half expected the sultana to prise her mouth open and check her teeth, but she didn’t. Instead, she just turned to her son and said, “She’s very beautiful, like you said.”

Rashid offered his mother the best armchair and she sat. He then motioned for Motin to offer her some more tea and cake, which she declined.

Angelina remained standing, as she’d been instructed. Looking at the table in front of the sultana, it seemed that Rashid and his mother had already had something to eat and drink. Angelina wondered what the rule book said about that. She knew that she had to wait for the sultana to eat and drink first, but what if the sultana had already had something and Angelina hadn’t? Was it permissible to eat and drink after the sultana had finished? Angelina had gone through the rules with Rashid, but they’d only had a few hours. They hadn’t had time to go through every single possibility in the rule book of court etiquette in one afternoon.

“You can sit down,” the sultana said to her, as if it were an afterthought.

Angelina sat on the edge of the black, plastic sofa, praying that the afternoon would come to an end soon.

“Rashid tells me that you plan to study law in London,” the sultana began.

“That’s correct, Your Majesty,” Angelina replied.

“And why would you like to be a lawyer, Miss Smith?” the sultana asked.

“Because I want to help other people; make sure they receive a fair trial. A lot of people are accused of crimes they haven’t committed. And some people have crimes committed against them and nothing gets done about it.” Angelina thought about people like Chrystal’s maid, who weren’t given any sick leave off work.

“So you want to be a defendant for criminal law,” the sultana replied, not sounding very impressed. “You do know that there’s a lot more money to be made in civil law.”

“I’m not interested in the money,” Angelina replied.

“So I hear. Rashid, my dear.” The sultana turned to her son. “You can leave us now. I’d like to have a little chat on my own with Miss Smith.”

Angelina threw him a glance to say
Please don’t leave me here alone
, but Rashid left the room. Motin began to follow him into the kitchen, but the sultana stopped him. “You can stay,” she told him. “Miss Smith might like some coffee.”

Angelina wasn’t sure whether that was her cue to have coffee or not. She wasn’t sure what to do or say. Rashid hadn’t said anything about her being left alone with his mother and hadn’t prepared her for this.

“You say that you’re not interested in money, Miss Smith, but money is a very relative thing. Let’s ask this young man what he thinks.” The sultana called Motin over.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Bangladesh, ma’am. From a small village six hours away from Dhaka.”

“And you normally work at Akbar’s Kebabs, don’t you?” The sultana pointed to a label on his waiter’s uniform.

Motin nodded.

Angelina cringed to see that Rashid’s small deception to his mother about having a servant had been so easily seen through.

“And can I ask you how much you earn there?” Rashid’s mother asked.

Motin replied with an amount that was just about an acceptable minimum wage. From the way he said it, Angelina wondered whether he was telling the truth. She suspected that he was paid less.

“And how much did you earn in Bangladesh before you came here?” the sultana went on.

“Forty dollars a month. Bezira is a very good country, Your Majesty; that is why I came here.”

The sultana’s face didn’t waver, but Angelina couldn’t believe it. Forty dollars a month was just over a dollar a day! However, this time she was sure Motin was telling the truth.

“And what do you do with the wages you earn here?” the sultana persisted.

Motin explained how he sent almost all of it home to help his extended family of eight younger brothers and sisters, his parents, and his grandmother. His father was injured in an accident in a garment factory two years ago and since then, he’d been unable to work.

“So you support eleven people and can I assume that your family lives entirely off what you send home and if you didn’t, they would starve?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I was very lucky to get such a good job here.”

“And what’s your accommodation like in Bezira?” she asked.

Motin described how he lived in the kitchen in the restaurant. At night, after he had finished work, he pulled out a bed roll and slept on that.

“And is that better than your accommodation in your village?”

“Of course! I have the kitchen all to myself. Back home, I sleep in the same room as all my brothers and sisters and it is very small.”

“Smaller than this room?” The sultana smiled, as if nothing could be smaller than the living room in Rashid’s apartment.

“This room is bigger than my parent’s entire house,” he replied.

“And what do you think of this room? This apartment?”

“It’s wonderful. It’s like a palace; very fine, but that’s because it belongs to a very important man.”

Angelina almost laughed at the idea, but she could see that Motin was being completely serious.

“Thank you, Motin. Now, perhaps you could make us some fresh coffee?” the sultana asked.

The waiter bowed low, picked up the coffee pot and left.

Angelina wondered what the point of the whole conversation had been. She thought that Rashid’s mother wanted to speak to her, not the waiter.

“A man like that supports a large family on a pittance of a salary and considers this to be the height of luxury.”

“Yes, imagine,” Angelina replied.

“And yet you believe this is a normal, simple life. As a qualified lawyer, you will earn how much a year? One hundred, two hundred thousand?”

“I guess.” Angelina wasn’t sure, but she hoped it would be enough to pay off her student debts as soon as possible.

“Imagine what a man like that waiter would make of such a sum. He can’t possibly hope to earn that in a lifetime.”

“But it’s all relative.” How could the sultana compare her work as a lawyer with that of an immigrant waiter?

“It is. What one person might consider to be excessive wealth, another might think to be normal, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So the waiter thinks you are extremely rich, while you think that my family is.”

“But you are. The sultan, your husband, is one of the richest people in the world.”

“But you just said so yourself that it’s all relative.”

Angelina felt that she was being tricked into something. She wondered whether this was what it was like being cross-examined in court.

“And you said that you wanted to help people,” the sultana continued. “What about all the people that my son employed? He had a staff of more than forty people. I’ve checked. What are they supposed to do now that he’s given it all up?”

Angelina wasn’t going to be caught out so easily this time. She already knew the answer to this. “He gave them all a year’s wages. He told me himself.”

“And after a year, what then?”

Angelina shrugged.

“My son is a good, kind man. He was a kind employer. I doubt few of his staff will find someone as good as him, and that’s if they even find a job. Some of them will return to their villages, villages like the one the waiter mentioned where large numbers of people rely on them sending back money every month.”

Angelina wasn’t going to let this woman make her feel guilty. “It was Rashid’s choice to give everything up, not mine.”

“He did it because he loves you. However, in this world, there will always be rich people and poor people, no matter how you define those terms. What this world needs is people who can be responsible custodians of wealth. People who will use the privileges that come with money wisely and carefully. People who won’t abuse their power.”

“But your son did.” Angelina knew that one of the rules was that you weren’t allowed to contradict the sultana, but she no longer cared. If the sultana wanted to talk about not exploiting exulted positions, she would tell her what she thought. “Rashid used the security division to investigate my family and he then used his connections to get my father promoted.”

“He did it because he loves you. However, he needs someone to guide him and channel his good instincts. You could do that for him.”

“I can’t now. As you know, he’s given it all up.”

“No, he just thinks he has. I checked this afternoon. According to Bezira’s laws, we, his parents, can disinherit him, but he cannot disinherit his titles and his fortune. He is still Sheikh Rashid bin Jafari Al Abid and he is still a billionaire, whether you like it or not.”