Olives (16 page)

I managed a
laugh, but my heart rate was stratospheric. ‘Looking for you,
actually.’

She turned to
her friend. ‘I’ll catch up with you in a second, Maha.’

Maha walked
past me into the office suite with an amused glance as Aisha smiled
at me and said, ‘I meant what are you doing at work?’

I tried to
mask my relief. ‘That’s a very long story. Are you doing anything
tonight?

‘
Nothing
arranged.’

‘
Then I’ll
tell you later on. Right now I’m looking for some help on the
content for issue two.’

‘
Let me get
settled in first and I’ll come down to you.’

‘
Great.
Thanks.’

I left her
and my heart rate started to slow. I took the lift down to my floor
and hurriedly put together a contents list for the second issue of
the magazine ready for when Aisha came down. She arrived fifteen
minutes later, still wearing her coat and scarf.

She wrapped
her arms around herself and chided me. ‘It’s cold, Paul. How can
you sit there in your shirtsleeves?’

I took her
hand in mine and, sure enough, hers felt warmer. She put her other
hand on mine.

‘
You need warming up,
ya
cold
Brit.’

I felt myself
blushing like a teenager as I looked at her, bathing in the warmth
of her gaze. We sat with our hands together, neither of us daring
to move, until someone called across the office and we both
remembered where we were. I snatched up the contents list and
noticed Aisha doing the same. We agreed on the editorial plan and
she left, touching my shoulder fleetingly as she went. I couldn’t
move from my desk for twenty minutes in case someone noticed the
consequence of her touch.

A box of
advance copies of the magazine’s first issue arrived from the
printing press. I scanned a copy. It looked good. It smelled good
too – there’s nothing quite like the smell of fresh print in all
the world. I picked up a handful of them and made my way up to
Abdullah Zahlan’s office. I sat down with Zahlan and waited for him
to go through the magazine. He flicked through the pages, nodding
appreciatively.

I had come to
realise Zahlan put on personalities, not just clothes and I had
consequently begun to look forward to each change in his wardrobe.
If I’d been back at home, I’d have started an office sweepstake on
the next outfit. A little voice in my head was making a catwalk
announcement as I waited for his verdict:
Today, Abdullah Zahlan wears tight, dark denim
designer jeans and a white collarless shirt and is sporting this
year’s advertising agency executive look.

Zahlan
beamed. ‘It looks very good, Paul. When does it go to
distribution?’

‘
Saturday.
These are just the advance copies. I’m glad you like
it.’

‘
I do. And I
really appreciate the way you came through on the Web stuff. It’s
not just me being difficult – our communities are using the
Internet more and depend on print less each day. I can see why
Shukri would have signed up to a print only project, but it’s not
part of the vision we have for a modern, accessible and transparent
Ministry. I’m glad you understood that. You are working on the
second one now?’

‘
Yes, I’ve
brought you the draft contents, I’ve just been going through them
with Aisha. I thought we’d focus on the water issue: the Minister
seemed keen on that and there’s apparently a big event, a
conference about water resources, coming up in a few weeks’ time,
so we could use this to highlight some of the issues.’

He smiled at
me as I got up to leave. ‘A good idea. Let’s do it. By the way, I
thought you were off this week?’

I didn’t miss
a beat. I had already given the explanation to Aisha and it came
more easily a second time. ‘Well, my girlfriend was visiting from
the UK but she had to go back early, a crisis at her office, so I
thought I’d use the time to get ahead with the
magazine.’

Zahlan
beamed, walking around his desk to pump my hand. ‘That’s
dedication, eh? Great job on the magazine, Paul. I’m glad we’re
working with TMG on this. I confess I was worried at first, but
it’s worked out really well. This will be good for
Jordan.’

He had made
life pretty difficult for me in the early days, querying every
decision and making huge changes to the magazine at every step, let
alone the great Internet content issue. I was delighted at the way
he’d come round.

‘
I honestly
couldn’t have done it without your help and Aisha’s. She’s been
fantastic.’

He smiled.
‘Well, if there’s anything else you need, you just have to
ask.’

‘
Thanks,
Abdullah. It’s appreciated. I might need a hand convincing the
Minister to have some photographs taken looking out over an aquifer
or something. I know how valuable his time is right now, especially
with the new cabinet and the whole water privatisation issue to
deal with.’

‘
Yes, he’s
been really tied up, but the new cabinet’s confirmed now. They’ll
announce it in the papers next week. He’s free to get on with the
privatisation. You’ve heard about it, then?’

Is espionage
this easy?
‘Yes, it seems to
be the talk of the town right now. In the UK it’d be top secret
stuff.’

Zahlan
laughed. ‘Nothing’s secret in Amman, my good friend. Nothing.
There’s usually lots of guesswork going on and you’ll find a
hundred people who know someone who knows someone who heard it from
someone else and has the answer. We’re the opposite to your people:
the reality gets shrouded in speculation here, not
secrecy.’

I shrugged.
‘So what is the reality?’

‘
Between us?
The privatisation will be fought by two qualifying bidders who came
through the first round. One’s the British-led Petra-Jordanian
Consortium and one’s Jordanian, headed by Jerusalem Holdings. You
know Aisha’s brother, Daoud Dajani, yes? From what we’ve seen of
his consortium’s bid, it’s highly innovative, uses some leading
edge technology and research and has every chance of supplying
Jordan with the water it needs through exploration and discovery of
new resources and better access to old ones. The Brits are a little
stronger on conservation and management experience, but the
Jordanian consortium’s work has really set people afire here.
They’re going to get our water back for us.’

Zahlan rose,
his hand on a thick buff file on his desk. ‘The fact is, Paul,
water’s something of a political hot potato around here. We’ve
already been getting expressions of concern from our friends next
door who are snooping around trying to find out what we’re up to.
They’d prefer we remained dependent on their handouts and we’d
prefer not to trust them after the way they’ve handled reducing our
water allocations under the 1994 peace treaty. So I’d appreciate
you treating this as highly confidential, not even for your bosses
in London. We’re expecting to announce the winning bidders during
the Dead Sea Water Conference, but it’s pretty much a done deal
already. And our friends next door are not going to like it one
bit.’

‘
Our friends?
The Israelis?’

Zahlan
nodded, his fingers intertwined and his face serious. ‘Yes, Paul.
Who else? They took our water. Now we’re going to get it
back.’

‘
So we focus
on water in issue two?’

‘
Yes, Paul,
focus on water. And give the Brits plenty of coverage, would you?
Make them look like favourites. I’ll arrange some time with Harb
for you so he can tell you how inspirational we find their approach
is, no?’

I managed to
hide my awe. The old fox had just confirmed the whole bid was as
good as awarded and the Brits were going to get some lip service as
the consolation prize. I grinned at him and Reynard grinned right
back.

‘
Sure,
Abdullah. Consider it done.’

I managed not
to jump and click my heels mid-air as I said goodbye to Zahlan, but
it was a close thing. Bond pulls it off, walking insouciantly away,
the Ministry building in flames behind him.

I met Aisha
at Grappa, the funky bar we’d last gone to with her friends when
they had helped me move into the house. We shared a bottle of red
wine sitting inside, all warmth and noise, the glowing interior
fuggy with smoke. The sky had been dark all day, roiling black
clouds deadened the light in the city, brooding over us all as we
scurried about our business, dulling the afternoon and ushering in
the cold night.

Aisha was
fiddling with her lighter again. ‘How did it go with
Anne?’

‘
I told you a
lie this morning, Aish. She hasn’t gone home. She’s still in Amman.
We argued and she went to stay at the Hyatt.’

‘
All over?
Just like that?’

I put my hand
on hers to stop her twisting the lighter and left it there because
I wanted to.

‘
It was
pretty messy, to tell you the truth. Anne didn’t like Jordan at all
and we both found we had grown apart since I came out here. It was
a disaster from beginning to end.’

‘
Were you
sad?’

‘
No, not
really. I drove her to the Hyatt and she said some stuff that made
me mad so I ended up shouting at her in front of everyone.’ I
caught Aisha’s troubled expression. ‘I’m not particularly proud of
that bit, incidentally.’

‘
So what did
you do afterwards?’

‘
I drank some
whisky and went to bed. I broke a tumbler in the
kitchen.’

‘
Because you
were drunk?’

‘
Yes, but not
by accident. I just dropped it.’

‘
How
metaphorical of you, Paul. You have a talent for drama.’

‘
Not intended
metaphorically.’

‘
Hmm.’ She
poured us both more wine from the bottle on the table. ‘So what are
you going to do now?’

‘
I don’t
know, Aish. She’s due to leave tomorrow. I tried calling, but she
hasn’t returned any of my calls. She’s probably got an earlier
flight in any case. Anyway, I don’t know what I’d say to
her.’

‘
How about
starting with, “Sorry?”’

I sat back.
‘Well, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? Because I am and I’m
not. I didn’t want the scene outside the Hyatt to happen and I
didn’t want to take my anger out on her. But if I’m truthful, I’m
actually glad she’s gone and I can’t pretend to her or anyone else
I’m not. We have nothing whatsoever in common anymore and she made
it really unpleasant for us both.’

‘
And you
didn’t?’

‘
No, I don’t
think I did. I tried very hard. But the harder I tried, the more
she seemed to reject everything around her.’

Aisha lit a
cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air. Her gaze was cool.
‘And you couldn’t have helped her to try and understand it, to make
allowances for this little country of ours? To at least give her
some time to become used to the fact you have changed?’ Aisha
waggled her lighter at me. ‘And you
have
changed,
Paul.’

‘
I did try. I
think she’d set her heart against here from the first second which
just meant she hated it and was against all of the things I’ve come
to love here.’

‘
So it’s
over.’

‘
Yes, it
is.’

‘
Simple as
that. Shout at her, throw her out and Paul’s off the
hook.’

I was
surprised to find Aisha taking Anne’s side in this. I’d somehow
expected her to be pleased rather than mad at me.

‘
No, Aish,
not that simple. I’ve changed and she hasn’t. I found myself trying
to work out what we ever did have in common. I’ve come to realise I
don’t like her friends, I don’t share her values. And now I can’t
for the life of me work out how we ever came to believe it could
last. It’s as if we had never shared anything more
than…’

Anything more
than what? A bed? Hotel room weekends with champagne and room
service and so much boisterous, noisy lovemaking that on one
occasion the staff had audibly tutted when we checked out? Paphos
and nights of Retsina-fuelled passion? The movies, the laughter,
the walks together?

Aisha was
combative. ‘Than what?’

‘
Oh, I don’t
know. Just anything.’

‘
You’re very
eloquent except when you’re talking about your own feelings, aren’t
you?’ She wasn’t smiling. ‘You can be a very cold Brit,
Paul.’

I had nothing
to say to her, just sat looking at my hands joined on the rough
table top as her long, steady regard burned into the top of my
head. I looked up but found it hard to hold her gaze and dropped my
eyes first. I fiddled with my wine glass, looking at the orange
glow of the lights shimmering on the surface of the
liquid.

‘
Paul.’ Aisha
paused until I met her glare. ‘Paul, if you ever do that to me I
will find you, wherever you are, and I will fuck you
up.’

Her eyes were
rock steady on mine and I felt like a rabbit in headlights until
she smiled and was beautiful, raising her drink to me. I clinked
mine against it, sealing the past and ringing in the future with
the clean, bright sound of glass on glass.