The Saffron Gate (50 page)

^{'She. Is woman, but legs from camel. Bad demon. Eyes like . . .' She stopped. 'Fire. Comes to graves at night, catch mans. She likes mans.'}

^{'I'm taking Badou home,' I said, unable to bear his trembling. I took his hand, and as I started to step over the narrow grave, Falida shrieked. I stopped, my foot in the air.}

^{'No, no, madame,' the girl said, her voice incredulous. 'No step.'}

^{I put down my foot.}

^{'Step over grave, no baby grows for you,' she said, patting her own stomach.}

^{I looked at her narrow, bruised face, her worried expression.}

^{With Etienne, I suddenly thought, there would be no more chances for another child. He wouldn't allow that to happen.}

^{Why hadn't this come to me before? I had only been thinking of looking after Etienne, loving him, as he grew more ill. But now, in this bleak place, Falida had just reminded me that I would never be a mother. I would never hold my own child, watch it grow. Before I met Etienne and became pregnant, I had accepted life without a husband and children as a part of my legacy, and had never succumbed to any deep yearning or desire. But once I had experienced such a brief, tiny taste of the dream of motherhood, it was much more difficult to go back, to repress the longing.}

^{Standing rigidly in the dismal graveyard, I stared at Falida as she returned to her digging. Badou's small fingers curled tightly over mine, his palm damp.}

^{I walked with him around the end of the grave.}

^{At that moment Falida let out a small cry of joy. 'I have!' she said, this time holding up a tooth with long, pointed double roots.}

^{Bile rose in my throat.}

^{'Tooth most best,' Falida said, grinning. 'Now my lady happy with me.'}

^{We went back to Sharia Zitoun together. I stopped in the woodworkers' alley to buy Badou a small carved boat, trying to take his mind away from what he had just seen. It had been frightening and distressing for me; what was he feeling?}

^{When I came through the saffron gate with Falida and Badou, Manon jumped up, her mouth open. In the courtyard with her was the Frenchman, Olivier, in linen trousers but without a jacket, his white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. They were smoking from Manon's
sheesha,
and an open bottle of cognac and two glasses were on the low table. As usual, Manon was dressed in a glorious kaftan with a diaphanous
dfina
overtop it, her hair arranged elaborately, her make-up perfect.}

^{She frowned, studying my
haik
as I stood with one hand on the open gate.}

^{'Why are you still here?' she asked brusquely. 'What are you doing in Marrakesh?'}

^{I didn't answer.}

^{Falida handed her the basket. 'Kneecap and tooth, lady,' she said. 'Good?' she asked, hopefully.}

^{'Take it into the house,' Manon said, too quickly, glancing at the man. He stood, picking up his jacket. 'You don't have to leave already, do you, Olivier?' she said, laying her slender hand on his arm.}

^{He rolled down his sleeves. 'The children are back. And besides, you have company' he said, raising his chin at me.}

^{'She's not welcome,' Manon said. 'And I can send the children out again. Say you'll stay for just a while longer, Olivier,' she said, her voice cloying.}

^{But the Frenchman shook his head. 'I should get back to work anyway.'}

^{'When will you come again,
mon cher?'}

^{'The same time next week,' he said. As he walked towards me, I stepped out of the way to let him pass. Manon followed him, slipping her hand into his. ‘We will carry our discussion further the next time,
oui
?' she asked, and he stopped, looking at her, running the back of his hand down her cheek.}

^{'Yes,' he said, nodding, the hint of a smile on his mouth. 'Yes.'}

^{As the gate closed behind him, Manon whirled to face me. 'Why have you come? You interrupted an important conversation,' she said. 'There's no reason for you to be here — here, at my home, or in Marrakesh. You're wasting your time,' she said, spitting out the words.
'Allez.
Go. I don't want. you here. We have no more business.'}

^{Badou was running his new boat around the edge of the fountain, but watching us. I could see that the dead bird was still there. It was almost completely rotted now, its eyes eaten out, its body flat and feathers sparse.}

^{Manon turned and went into the house, her kaftan and
dfina
floating behind her.}

^{I left. What had I expected when I came back to Sharia Zitoun with Badou and Falida?}

^{There were shouts down the alley; four boys were kicking a ball against the walls.}

^{Badou followed me, clutching his boat as he stood beside me and stared at the boys. Two were bigger than him, one about the same size, and one slightly smaller. The smaller one hung back, only occasionally aiming his foot at the ball if it came towards him.}

^{'Are they your friends?' I asked Badou.}

^{He looked up at me, then shook his head. 'I know Ali. He is six, like me. He lives there.' He pointed at the gate across from his.}

^{'Why don't you go and play with them?'}

^{'Maman says I mustn't, because they're only Arabs,' he said, watching the boys again, and I bit my bottom lip.}

^{'She says it's better if I help her. She says a son must always help his mother.'}

^{I thought of him spending his days in the house and courtyard, helping Falida and fetching things for his mother. I had never seen him with another child on Sharia Zitoun, had never seen him play with anything except his bits of string and wood, the borrowed puppy one day, and now, with the boat I'd bought him.}

^{'I am the son,' he repeated. 'Will you come to our house again, mademoiselle?' he asked.}

^{'I don't know, Badou. Maybe . . . maybe when Oncle Etienne comes back. Do you know . . . is he coming soon? Or has he already come to see Maman?' I asked, lightly, but deeply ashamed of my own behaviour. Asking a small child for information. Perhaps Etienne was already here but Aszulay wasn't aware of it, I told myself.}

^{'No,' Badou said. 'Now I have to go inside, or Maman will be angry.'}

^{'All right, Badou.' On instinct, I leaned down and hugged him. He hugged me back, quickly and easily, his small arms tight around my neck.}

^{Now I wore kaftans and a
haik
and a veil at all times, quietly going about my daily shopping with my woven bag. I watched, with new eyes, the foreign women in the French Quarter, those who sat indulgently with their drinks and their cigarettes. I watched them in D'jemma el Fna or in the souks, haggling over carpets and teapots, ignoring the beggars with outstretched hands and cries of
baksheesh, baksheesh
: please, give.}

^{I realised how vulnerable these women appeared, everybody able to read their expressions, their bodies defined by their fitted clothing, the skin of their arms and legs uncovered so that, I suddenly thought, they almost appeared naked.}

^{Although in reality it was only weeks, it felt that it was long ago that I had been one of these women, exposed and susceptible away from the safety and familiarity of the European enclave. And suddenly it was surprisingly important that I not think of myself as such a woman, engrossed only in her own petty desires.}

^{On the morning that marked a month since Aszulay had said Etienne might return, I counted my money again. If I ate barely anything, I could stay perhaps two more weeks. That was all. Neither of my paintings had sold; I checked every few days. I had painted three more, but had run out of paper and some paint colours, and couldn't afford to buy any more.}

^{But Etienne was expected any day. And then everything would be all right.}

^{As usual, on this morning I went down to the splintered hotel counter and asked if there were any messages for me. The man who was most often behind the counter — there were three or four who worked there — glanced at the boxes behind him, then shook his head. 'Not today,' he said, as he or the others always said, and I nodded.}

^{'Thank you,' I said, but before I could leave he said, 'Mademoiselle,' and his cheeks slightly reddened. 'I know you are American. But the other guests . . .' He stopped. 'Some have mentioned to me that they stay here because it is a hotel for visitors to Marrakesh. Visitors from France, from Germany, from Spain and Britain. Also from America, like you.'}

^{I waited.}

^{Perspiration gleamed on the man's forehead. 'I'm sorry, mademoiselle. It's not suitable that you dress as a Muslim woman while staying here. It is unsettling for the others. There have been complaints, you understand. If you insist on dressing in this way, I will have to ask you to leave the hotel.'}

^{'I understand,' I said, blinking, then turned and went out into the hot sunshine.}

^{Aszulay was there, standing on the street in front of the hotel, in his blue robes, the bottom of his face covered by the end of his turban. He was looking down the street, so I saw his partly obscured profile, and I caught my breath.}

^{TWENTY EIGHT}

^{I
approached him. My breathlessness was, surely, because seeing him meant he had news of Etienne.}

^{At the sound of my footsteps, he glanced at me, then turned away.}

^{I said his name, and he looked at me again, then said something in Arabic, his tone questioning.}

^{I pulled my veil from my nose and mouth, and he drew back, just the slightest. 'Mademoiselle O'Shea,' he said, his voice muffled. Then he said, 'But why are you—'}

^{'Have you news, then? News of Etienne? Has he arrived?'}

^{'Manon has had a letter,' he said, pushing down the bottom of his turban, uncovering his lower face as I had. I'd forgotten how white his teeth were. His skin had grown darker from working in the intense summer sun, making his eyes appear even bluer.}

^{I stepped closer. 'A letter from Etienne?'}

^{He nodded. 'It arrived yesterday.'}

^{I waited, but by his expression I knew, before he said it, what he would tell me. 'I'm sorry. He wrote to say he couldn't come this week. Perhaps in a few weeks, another month, the letter said.'}