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‘Everyone who is a guest of the palace receives a gift.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m working here—’
He held up his hand in a stop gesture. ‘It is necessary. You are still my guest. And you will receive traditional Jebbai garments as your gift. You would not think of offending Hebra’s finest dressmakers surely? They are most honoured to be designing something for you, a famous designer from the fashion capital of Milan.’
‘No,’ she conceded. ‘Of course I wouldn’t want to offend them. Thank you.’
‘Good,’ he said with an air of finality. ‘Someone will be sent to measure you for them tomorrow morning. Goodnight.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SAPPHY threw herself into her work over the next few days. She organised her staff, planning a schedule and putting those she could to work immediately. She’d never had so many people to work on her designs so in one way it was luxury, in another it was a challenge keeping them all occupied and coordinating what they were doing.
But they were excellent. It was clear straight away that Khaled had supplied her with top dressmakers and seamstresses, expert at sewing and beading. Some she’d been able to set tasks immediately, to work on the delicate veil, or bead the intricate panels that would be inset later into the dress. Even the language difficulties she’d expected didn’t eventuate.
And while she hadn’t been permitted to meet with the bride, she’d been provided with a set of measurements, allowing her to draft the pattern and run up a model in a simple fabric to test the design. And now, one short week after her arrival in Jebbai, the dress itself was starting to take shape.
Her new life was taking shape too, already assuming some kind of pattern. In the mornings she took breakfast in her suite, usually fresh fruit with dates, dried figs and creamy yoghurt, while she arranged her schedule for the day.
Then she would work solidly until four or five o’clock, depending on the day’s progress. While her staff took a midday break she in spected their work, which was for the most part faultless, and that ensured better than anticipated progress.
Azizah would let her know when it was time for the evening meal and, as she had on the first evening, she would join in a shared meal with Khaled and Saleem. Khaled would ask after her health and seek a report on the dress, and she would tell him what he wished to know.
She was still reluctant to open up and talk freely with Saleem present—somehow she didn’t feel comfortable with him knowing anything about her and it was clear he didn’t welcome her input. So for the most part she left the two men to discuss matters amongst themselves and she’d then excuse herself after coffee, removing herself while doing her best to ignore Saleem’s frosty glare and Khaled’s hooded gaze.
It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but at least now she was becoming used to the routine and learning not to feel so uptight in their presence.
Tonight something was different though. She looked around the dining room at the appointed time but no cold stares returned her own. Khaled sat alone amidst the plump cushions.
‘Come,’ he said, beckoning her to join him.
‘Saleem?’ she asked, lowering herself opposite.
‘Is away.’ He poured her a glass of tea. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with just me for tonight.’ He handed her the small glass and held on, even when she’d moved to take it from him.
Her eyes found his and caught the crinkle at the sides.
He was laughing at her.
‘Lucky me,’ she said, wresting the glass from his grasp, suddenly ruing Saleem’s absence. His resentful disposition seemed suddenly preferable to Khaled’s unwelcome jibes. ‘Tell me,’ she said, looking to wipe the smug look from his face and regain the initiative, ‘how is your fiancée?’
With coffee came Sapphy’s chance to make her usual quick exit.
‘Are you in a hurry to leave?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ she lied, when all she wanted to do was escape. Dinner had been tense after their early jibes and more than once she’d caught his brooding eyes fixed on her, surveying her. But why?
‘Then come,’ he said, rising from the cushions and holding out his hand. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, as he led her into a part of the palace she’d never been before. He’d taken her through a seeming labyrinth of passageways, up and down short stairways and turning this way and that, so much so that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to find her way back by herself.
‘You’ll see,’ he said, finally leading her through a large, richly decorated doorway. She followed him through and stepped
into another world.
Lush greenery surrounded her, softly lit with torches flickering shadows against the ferns, palms and vines. Scented flowers perfumed the air, sweet and rich. They were in a large courtyard, completely enclosed by the palace, but the foliage was so tall in places that you could imagine you were miles from civilisation. From somewhere unseen came the splash of water, setting a musical backdrop, while the exotic call of birds settling down for the evening provided an accompaniment.
‘It’s the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen,’ she said as she wandered along the marble-paved walkways lined with clipped shrubs and stone. She recognised a few of the plants and bushes—myrtle, bay trees, even a grove of orange trees, their coloured fruit standing out against the foliage as brightly as ornaments on a Christmas tree.
