Sold! A Romance In The Sudan (6 page)

“And where is that?” Lilly asked icily.

“Khartoum, about two days travel inland,”
Hafiq answered. “Come on, Lilly, I told you he wouldn’t be
interested.”

As he got up to go, Robinson put in a final
word.

“It’s no use glaring at me, young lady,” he
said smugly. “There are advisories against all travel to the Blue
Nile. Also, we never pay for citizens who are, uhm,
rescued
by members of the local militia.” He sipped his drink slowly. “And
as you are entirely without paperwork, there is no saying who you
really are, is there?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say she’s without paperwork,”
Hafiq announced casually. “Lilly became a citizen of Sudan and my
wife, about half an hour ago.”

Hafiq had never seen a woman so angry. She
didn’t want to go shopping. She didn’t want to see the harbour. She
refused to go anywhere.

They were standing under the hotel’s pink
canopy, waiting for the car valet to return. Hafiq suspected he was
sitting round the corner, enjoying the scene.

“How could you?” Lilly wailed. “What in the
hell were you thinking?”

The hellcat from Atbara was back. Lilly was
in full voice and she didn’t care who heard her but Hafiq was
painfully aware of the attention they were attracting. As she got
louder and louder, he was increasingly humiliated at being scolded
in front of sniggering porters, bellhops and waiters. And by a
woman of all people!

Hafiq curbed his temper manfully. Taking her
firmly by the elbow, he marched her out and through to the car
park. As he suspected, his car was standing there, the engine
idling gently as the boy sat listening with his ears on strings. He
didn’t even apologise; just grinned at him.

Fuming, Hafiq took Lilly home. Her fear of
the traffic kept her quiet for a while but the second they got
home, she was off again. This time she wasn’t yelling; her voice
was icy.

“Are you going to give me an explanation or
are you just going to stand there looking at me like the village
idiot?”

It was a new experience. Hafiq had seen women
scream, shout, cry and on one occasion, throw things. But not one
had ever spoken to him with such disdain. He mustn’t lose his
temper.

“You will not speak to me like that,
Lilly.”

“How do you want me to speak to you? Like
some slave off the block maybe?” her voice dripped sarcasm. “Do you
expect me to say, ‘Yes, Master’ and ‘No Master’?”

Hafiq was fed up. “You wouldn’t be the
first.”

Lilly stood frozen. “You haven’t,” she
whispered.

“I’m 28 and I’m not married. What do you
think I’ve been doing?” Hafiq snapped. Immediately he wished he’d
kept his mouth shut.

“Is that what this was all about? What am I?
An impulse purchase? A toy?”

He was hurt by the stricken look in her
eyes.

“No, Lilly. Don’t say that.” He reached for
her but she flinched and stepped out of his reach.

“I thought you rescued me. How many others
have there been? Were they all as grateful as me?”

The hurt in her voice cut him. He wanted to
hug her. “It wasn’t like that, Green Eyes.” He tried to explain. “A
man has needs. The others were just convenient.”

“You
bought
people? And you think it’s
convenient
?”

“No, no, nothing like that! I used to buy
girls but from a catalogue.”

He hoped she’d notice he was using the past
tense but she didn’t seem to appreciate the subtlety.

“A catalogue? Like a mail order bride?”

“More like a mail order concubine.” He didn’t
see why she was so fixated on what was such a very ordinary
transaction.

“I can’t believe you buy people.”

“I don’t! It’s just a service. They come for
a month or three months and then I get a new one.”

Lilly was speechless.

You know people at home who think the same,
her inner voice chimed in. They rent hookers by the hour; he does
it by the month. Why are you so shocked? Our dear father the vicar
wasn’t exactly pure, was he? A trip to Bradford every Thursday and
a weekend in Soho every month “for ecclesiastical supplies”,
remember?

“If you like me so much, how could you do
this to me?” she whispered.

He was truly bewildered. “I thought you’d be
happy. Heaven is in my arms, remember?”

For a moment Lilly softened. He really didn’t
realise what he’d done. She was terrified his meddling meant she
was no longer British. She might be stuck here forever.

She was about to explain her fears when Hafiq
put his foot in it again. “You need a man to look after you, Green
Eyes.”

Lilly was so angry, she went puce. “You male
chauvinist pig!” she yelled.

The insult, coupled with the knowledge that
the maid, gardener and security guard were all hiding in the
garden, listening avidly, made Hafiq’s temper boil over.

“You should be grateful, woman! I should have
left you in Atbara! I can send you back there any time I want
to!”

“I wish you would!” she yelled back.

Hafiq threw up his arms in exasperation. To
his dismay Lilly fell to the ground, curled up in a ball and
covered her head. “Don’t hit me!”

He stood stunned. Then the anger flooded
back. “Am I a coward now too? One who would strike a woman?”

He wanted to storm out, to leave this hellcat
but to his horror he realised Lilly was crying. Hafiq was aghast.
He knew she’d suffered. When she wept quietly in the night,
thinking he didn’t know, he wanted to talk to her. But she was
proud and he didn’t want to shame her. Now she was weeping and it
was his fault. Hafiq felt a wave of remorse.

Carefully he touched her hair. When she
didn’t push him away, he picked her up, hugging him to her.

“Don’t cry, Green Eyes. I didn’t mean to hurt
you.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

Her eyes were red, her face blotched but
Hafiq still thought she was beautiful. “Have a good cry,” he said.
It was something his English mother used to say. It seemed to
comfort Lilly, although he didn’t understand why crying could
possibly be good. Maybe it was a woman’s thing.

“It’s just that my life seems to be just one
damn thing after another,” Lilly hiccupped. “What am I going to do
now?”

Hafiq chose his words carefully. “Maybe I
didn’t rescue you but I do love you. I thought you loved me
too.”

“I do,” Lilly said.

“You love me but you think I would hit you?”
He could forgive her for calling him a pig, although he would have
killed a man for saying this but her fear had hurt him.

“My father used to say,
spare the rod and
spoil the child
,” Lilly confessed. “He made sure I wasn’t
spoilt.”

Hafiq digested this. “You were wayward?”

“I wasn’t the son he wanted. He used to beat
me three times a week. Not with his hands but with a cane. I never
told anyone this before.”

Hafiq was furious but said nothing. He
stroked her hair as he waited patiently for her to continue.

“My gym teacher saw the marks when I was in
the shower one day. There was a terrible fuss. She called social
services. They were going to take me away but my mum got sick so I
lied and said it wasn’t him.”

Hafiq was surprised. “They would have taken
you from your family because they beat you? That wouldn’t happen
here.”

“I kind of gathered that,” Lilly said
wanly.

“I will never hit you,” Hafiq said earnestly.
“You will be my queen.”

“God, that sounds so corny,” Lilly laughed.
Then, seeing his face, she kissed him quickly on the cheek. “It
sounds nice but Hafiq, we are so different from each other. I mean,
apart from everything else, I’m Christian and you are Muslim.”

He was mystified. “So what? It’s the
same.”

“Is it?”

“Sure! It never bothered my English mother,
so why should it bother you?”

“I won’t cover up.”

“Why would you? I’m not a fanatic,” Hafiq
laughed. “Just don’t dance naked in the street.”

He loved the way she worried about
unimportant things.

“But what about food? You eat differently
from us, don’t you?”

“You seem to enjoy it.”

Yes... but what about alcohol? It’s illegal
here, isn’t it?”

“Sure it is. That’s why I make a fortune from
making
araqi
. What do you think I was doing in Atbara? I was
buying dates and sugar. Can’t make booze without it.”

“You are a bootlegger?” Lilly couldn’t help
laughing

Hafiq grinned at her. “Not exactly. I don’t
make fake stuff; I make traditional wine from dates. It’s
officially illegal but there are lots of us who drink. We just
don’t do it in public.”

“Like dancing naked in the street.”

“Right.”

“I don’t really like alcohol,” Lilly
confessed. “My father drank. It made him crazy.”

“So what is the problem?” Hafiq was
baffled.

“I don’t know,” Lilly confessed. “I still get
the shakes, you know? It’s OK when you’re here but I’m afraid to be
alone.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

She smiled at the love in his voice. “And I
may not be British anymore. I don’t think you can have two
nationalities.”

“Then don’t tell them,” Hafiq said simply.
“Anyway, it’s not like being British was helping you, was it?”

Lilly didn’t know what to say.

.

Hafiq looked into her eyes. “You love me and
I love you. Everything else doesn’t matter. We’ll work it out.” He
grinned at her. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’ve heard that make-up
sex is the best.”

Lilly couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve had
tonnes of women and you’ve never had a fight?”

“Never liked any of them enough to bother
arguing.”

She was silenced.

Hafiq kissed her. “Stay with me, green eyes.
Stay, until you can think of a reason not to.”

Later, exhausted after a sexual marathon,
Hafiq fell promptly asleep but Lilly lay curled up in his arms,
staring at the night.

Hafiq was unhappy. The makeup sex had been
everything he’d hoped for, although he didn’t think he’d make a
habit of fighting with Lilly but for the first time in his life
Hafiq was beginning to doubt himself.

Lilly was sweet but she had an absent air. He
thought she was pining.

When he woke up, she’d been in the kitchen,
cooking his breakfast. The maid was in tears and it took Hafiq
twenty minutes to convince her that it was not a criticism.

Although he’d prevented Lilly from helping
with the housework and settled her with a stack of magazines, she’d
started weeding the window boxes. Hafiq was roused from his
computer by the gardener, who was furious at having his domain
interfered with, threatening to resign.

Having a wife was definitely a challenge.
Luckily Lilly had understood that his people were frightened that
they would find themselves out of work and starving on the
street.

“I had no idea,” she said guilty. “Would it
help if I had a bath and left stuff all over the floor? And messed
up the garden path somehow?”

Now she was sitting in the alcove, looking
out to sea. Hafiq didn’t like the look in her eyes. He suspected
that she’d worry herself into trying to leave again. Somehow he had
to keep her busy but he couldn’t think of anything for her to do.
He would race through his paperwork and take her to bed again.

Hafiq was also unhappy to discover that
Robinson had spread the news of his marriage. Text messages and
voicemail from several sisters and three of his most formidable
aunts meant he’d have half the family round by lunchtime.

On cue, the maid announced that there was a
visitor at the gate. With a sigh of resignation Hafiq gave up on
his paperwork. The next few hours were going to be hell.

Hafiq knew his brothers would be quietly
envious but if the story of the market in Atbara came out, his
aunts, cousins and sisters would tear strips off him. For a moment
Hafiq wondered if he could persuade Lilly to tell them they’d met
at the waterfront. Then he decided against it. There wasn’t any
point; women had a way of scenting weakness. He’d take it like a
man and may be have a drink or two.

The visitor was female but he’d never seen
her before.

“Hafiq, this is Mrs Van Loon.”

Hafiq could see why Lilly didn’t look happy.
The visitor was loud, over solicitous and totally fake. Hafiq
recognised her as the wife of one of the South African traders. He
knew her and her husband to be racist, arrogant and dumber than
donkeys. Now she was in his home, bent on making trouble.

Hafiq wanted to throw her out but hesitated.
Lilly might not like him taking decisions for her. He held his
peace and smouldered.

“I heard about your troubles and as a fellow
Christian I came over instantly to offer comfort,” Mrs Van Loon
crowed. “You poor girl! Tell me, did they really strip you quite
naked in the public square?”

Hafiq seethed but Lilly’s education as a
vicar’s daughter meant she was inured to nasty gossips who
disguised their nosiness as religious compassion.

“Of course not, Mrs Van Loon,” Lilly said
sweetly. “That sounds like a story from a romance novel.”

“Mr Robinson said you’d been abducted,” the
woman insisted, “and we all know what happens when an African man
gets his hands on an innocent, white girl. The people here are just
savages!”

Seeing his temper flare, Lilly put a hand on
Hafiq’s arm and willed him to let her deal with it. To her relief,
he shut his mouth but his look was murderous.

Go for it! The voice inside shouted. We
don’t have to turn the other cheek anymore. We’re free to do as we
like. Sock it to her!

Lilly smiled sweetly. “I quite agree, Mrs Van
Loon. I’ve been here for almost three weeks now and I think we
haven’t spent more than twenty minutes a day out of bed.” She
leaned forward confidentially. “I just love being savaged, don’t
you?”