Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
S arah laughed as her headscarf slipped around her shoulders and her hair went streaming out in the wind as they drove out across the desert to the mountains. Not east as she’d hoped, to where she knew her family—if she had any remaining—would live, but west. But she couldn’t regret it. Not after a night of lovemaking like they’d shared, with the prospect of five whole days ahead with just the two of them. She glanced into the wing mirror. If you didn’t count the security cars which followed them at a discreet distance.
Kadar glanced at her. “Happy?”
“Yes.” She raked her fingers back through her hair and twisted it into submission. “I am.” She reached over and placed her hand on the back of his, which rested lightly on the gear stick. “Especially happy that you somehow managed to get leave of absence from your scary vizier for a week.”
He shifted the gear so that it revved up a steep stony track before releasing it once more as they rolled down into the hammada plains. He didn’t say anything immediately, and she glanced at him, wondering why. His jaw was clenched, and a muscle ticked in it. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses which reflected the monotonous landscape ahead and the bright blue sky.
She pushed herself up the seat. “Why was that, by the way?”
“Why was what?”
She frowned. Had he really not heard her?
“Why did your vizier agree to this trip when you said it had been a struggle just to get a night on your own at the desert castle?”
He shrugged. “He seemed to think a holiday was a good idea. After all, the night at the desert castle hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Besides, he’s quite capable of running the country for a few days.”
She sat back, satisfied. “Good. His loss is our gain. So, are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
“First stop is the royal mountain retreat.”
“A retreat, huh? What kind? A cave with a mat? Some kind of authentic Bedouin experience?” She shot him a cheeky grin.
“You’ll see.”
“Um,” she said, sitting back and looking out the window. “That sounds intriguing.”
“I hope you will find it so. Now, it’ll take about half-an-hour to reach our destination, so why don’t we get to know each other? Fill in the gaps of our lives. Tell me about your life in England. Tell me about your grandfather.”
Her smile faded as she stared out at the stony plains, as she remembered her grandfather and was filled with sadness all over again.
“My grandfather.” She sighed as she remembered his face. The dearness of it. How he’d only ever spoken kindly to her and had looked after her the very best he could. Even if that wasn’t exactly as her friends were looked after. He’d done his best and now she knew how much that had cost him. “He was everything to me.” She swallowed and propped her elbow on the armrest and supported her forehead, rubbing it as the familiar tension took over, like a band tightening around her head.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose someone who means the world to you.”
She gave a grunt and cleared her throat as she tried to disguise her sadness. “Yes. He put me at the center of his world. I can’t say I always appreciated it growing up. Sometimes I wished I had an ordinary mum who’d collect me at the school gates in a cool car, wearing cool clothes and take me to ballet lessons like my friends.” She huffed an amused laugh. “My grandfather didn’t drive. He walked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He’d think nothing of walking for an hour into the city and expected me to do the same.”
“He was a man of this land. Few people drive here. Especially outside the city.”
“I know that now. But then? I felt like a misfit even while I loved my grandfather and defended him when the other girls taunted me with his difference. With my difference,” she added bitterly.
“You’re not different here, Sarah. You’re with your own people here.”
She glanced at him. “Maybe my family is from here, but I don’t know any of my relatives. I don’t even know if there are any, and I was raised in England. So I guess I’ll have to live with always feeling just a little bit different. A little bit out of place.”
“Maybe. But my guess is that, if you settle here, you will feel less different, feel you belong. Blood is thicker than water.”
“Meaning?”
“The blood which runs through your veins connects you to this land and, in time, the superficial veneer of western customs will leave you. That is my meaning.”
“If I settle here,” she repeated his words. “I hadn’t thought of doing that.”
“Why not? You probably have relatives here. You appear to like the country. And I have to say, I’m enjoying your company. Maybe you’d like to stay here permanently.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “The time it’s taking to get my passport, maybe I’ll have to,” she answered flippantly, not willing to take his comment seriously, in case he hadn’t meant it that way. “But it would be good to stay a little longer than planned,” she ventured, choosing her words carefully. “I know so little from my grandfather about Sirun. He didn’t want to talk about it until the end. Everything he did, he did for me. He said he owed it to me after the death of my parents.”
“Why?” asked Kadar. “Did he feel responsible for their death?”
She didn’t answer immediately. It was something she’d often wondered, but had never asked because the past wasn’t something her grandfather had ever wanted to discuss.
“I don’t know.”
She felt Kadar glance at her. “You never asked?”
She shook her head and bit her lip. “No. It wasn’t that easy. Grandfather never wanted to talk about it and I didn’t want to upset him, so…”
He put his hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if it’s still too painful.”
She looked at him and thought that, for the first time, she found herself wanting to talk about the past. No one before in her life had showed any interest or would have ever understood. But this man knew more about what had happened than anybody. “It is painful. But I think I would like to tell you what I know. Maybe you could help fill in the gaps.” She paused as she collected her thoughts. She didn’t want to tell him too much. Not yet. “The deaths of my parents weren’t accidental. I think it was political, but I don’t know why or how they died.”
It was his turn to be silent for a few moments, masked by negotiating a tricky corner in the road. Eventually he relaxed a little, and with one hand on the wheel, glanced at her.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I’m the only child of my grandfather’s only son. It seems my grandmother looked after me as both my parents were involved in politics in some way. I don’t know anything about that. Grandfather refused to speak of it. All I know is that they were shot down at a public meeting about taxes. My father died first. My mother died a lingering death. Further assassinations followed and my grandmother killed herself in grief. Thing is, I don’t know why my parents were killed. Why kill two random people who were demonstrating?”
She watched his reaction closely. She’d omitted to tell him one significant piece of information—that her grandfather had blamed Kadar’s father for their deaths. But there was no change in his expression.
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “the deaths weren’t random. Perhaps the government considered them to be a risk.”
“Pretty brutal way to mitigate a risk.”
“Indeed.”
“So you know nothing about the circumstances of their deaths?” she asked, desperate for him to shed some light on that tragedy which had happened so many years before, and the truth of which was shrouded in mystery.
“What were your parents’ names?” he asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. I’d assumed we shared the same surname. But it doesn’t look like it. It turns out there are no Albrights in Sirun. I think grandfather must have changed our name after arriving in England. He certainly wanted to make sure no one could track us down.”
“Hopefully, when you receive your birth certificate for your passport, it’ll have the answers on it,” Kadar said.
“Maybe. I’ve never seen it. My grandfather organized my passport years ago and, now I think of it, anything else which required proof of my birth certificate. He didn’t leave it among his possessions.”
“Has the British Consulate contacted you yet?”
“No. I thought they’d have called me at least.”
“I’ll contact them. I’ll do what I can to expedite matters.”
She had to know. “Kadar… I wonder, could you tell me why your father?—”
He interrupted her by pointing to the mountain face which they’d now reached. “We’re here.”
She looked, and what she saw swept her question out of her mind. A sheer rock face lay ahead of them.
“Where are we exactly?” she said, peering up through the windscreen.
“Where we need to be.”