Daughter of Hassan & Heart of the Desert(37)

‘Maybe she needs a little more time—just her and Rina,’ Georgie attempted. ‘You do hover a bit. Rina seems wonderful, you just don’t give her a chance. It’s good you’re out this morning.’

But Felicity would not relent. ‘I want Azizah to grow up with family.’ She looked at Georgie. ‘I want to be with my family too. Mum’s considering it, but I know she’d jump if you were here too. Please, Georgie, say you’ll seriously think about it.’

And it would be so easy to say yes, because she missed her sister and niece too. So very easy to give up trying to get her holistic healing business off the ground and just sink into the luxurious lifestyle her sister was offering.

Too easy.

Felicity had always looked out for her, had always looked after her through difficult times. The reason Felicity had first come to Zaraq had been to pay off the loan she had taken out to pay for Georgie’s rehab, and though the offer was tempting, there was a need in Georgie to go it alone, to prove to herself she could get by without her big sister’s help.

‘Let’s talk about it another time.’ Georgie said as the car headed off and she craned her neck for a glimpse as the palace gates slid open.

‘What are you looking at?’

‘Just the view.’ Georgie smiled. ‘I can’t believe I’m staying in a palace.’

‘You could live in a palace.’ Felicity pushed, but Georgie just gave a noncommittal smile, her mind elsewhere.

It wasn’t the palace, she had been trying to get a glimpse of.

It had been Ibrahim.

It was always Ibrahim, not that she could admit it to her sister. And he stayed on her mind as they arrived in Zaraqua and an external glass elevator propelled them to the forty-second floor of a skyscraper, and Georgie remembered that she didn’t like heights.

‘Ibrahim’s work!’ Felicity said to Georgie’s pale face as they shot skyward. ‘He designed this lift.’

‘Then remind me to tell him I hate him!’ Georgie shivered. ‘And tell me when I can open my eyes.’

‘Now.’

They stepped into spa heaven. The lights were dimmed and the air fragrant as they were led to a changing room that was twice the size of Georgie’s small flat at home. ‘I want to try everything…’ Georgie said as she changed into a gown, her mind exploding with ideas for her fledgling business back home. ‘Is there a menu?’

‘It’s all sorted,’ Felicity said. ‘We’re here for the Hamman Ritual and there isn’t a single decision you have to make. It’s absolute bliss.’

It was.

Through dimmed rooms lit with candles they were led, and as Georgie’s eyes adjusted she saw the tadelakt wall with its intricate tiling.

‘It’s so hot,’ Georgie whispered.

‘You’ll get used to it.’

Oh, she’d love to get used to it. She was lowered into a sunken bath and her body washed with black soap and then, on emerging, she was led to another heated room where every inch of her skin was exfoliated, the bathing repeated and then every superfluous hair removed with sugar and honey. From heated room to heated room they were guided, every treatment skillfully applied, every scent thoughtfully chosen, and two hours later, wrapped in a robe, sipping at fragrant tea and enjoying the soft music, Georgie smiled back at her sister, who was watching her.

‘I can’t believe how far you’ve come.’

‘I know.’ Georgie admitted, closing her eyes and letting joy flood through her, because a couple of years ago today would have been impossible, the thought of a spa abhorrent, but now she could relax, could enjoy healing hands on her, and it was her dream to in some small way impart the same experience in her work. She wanted to help others as she had been helped.

‘Your Highness!’ Georgie had forgotten for a moment her sister was now a princess and she was jerked out of her introspection as a nervous receptionist approached. ‘We would, of course, never normally disturb you, it is a strict rule of the spa, but the palace has called…’

‘It’s fine,’ Felicity said, and took the phone and then spoke with a nail technician, who was standing by. ‘Would you excuse us, please?’ Only when they were alone did she take the call, a smile on her face as she listened, her voice reassuring when she spoke. ‘No, you’re not making a fuss…I’ll come now.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You were right to call me.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Jamal,’ Felicity said. ‘She’s done this a couple of times. Hassan’s away and she’s anxious, she’s not sure whether or not she’s having contractions.’

‘Surely there are a million doctors on call for her?’

‘Exactly.’ Felicity rolled her eyes. ‘The whole country is holding their breath about this baby and the palace doctor isn’t taking a single chance—last week she ended up being taken to hospital and monitored. There were the press waiting before she even arrived at the hospital and it was only Braxton-Hicks’ contractions. She probably doesn’t want another repeat.’

‘Poor thing.’

‘You stay here and finish. If we both dash off, they’ll suspect something,’ Felicity said. ‘I don’t want to give anyone here a hint—I’ll make out that Azizah’s fretting for me or something.’

Georgie stayed for a little while, had her feet hennaed with pretty flowers and her toenails painted, but it wasn’t as much fun without Felicity and after an hour or so Georgie chose to head for home, or rather the palace that she called home for now. Even as the car swept into the driveway, still she had trouble believing this was where her sister actually lived. It was just a world away from the small house in which they had grown up, in the North of England. A house Georgie had never considered home. A house she had run away from at every opportunity.

For the first time the palace doors didn’t magically part as Georgie climbed the steps, but just as she was wondering if such a magnificent door even had a doorbell, it opened, and there, most unexpectedly, was Ibrahim.

‘Where’s Felicity?’ She peered over his shoulder as he let her in.

‘At the hospital,’ he replied. As she stood in the hall way two maids dashed up the stairs without stopping to greet her or bow their heads to Ibrahim. ‘Jamal is having the baby, so things have been thrown into chaos here—they are trying to get hold of Hassan.’

‘I thought it was a false alarm. It’s too soon!’ Georgie said, but Ibrahim seemed unperturbed.

‘Your sister says it is a little early, but it will be just fine. My father just left for the hospital. Felicity explained you were at the spa. She was going to have a message sent for you but things started to move rather quickly, otherwise I’m sure we would not have been left alone.’ And that small comment told her he had been warned about her, but he did not linger on the matter, just stood silently as a group of robed man swept past, all deep in urgent conversation.

‘Where’s Azizah?’

‘With the nanny. She is getting her ready.’ At first she assumed it was a slight slip in English, that the nanny was changing a nappy or getting her niece dressed, but Georgie soon realised there had been no miscommunication. ‘She will bring her to the car. You need to get your things together too. We should leave soon,’ he said, but Georgie just stood there.

‘Leave?’

‘We need to get to the hospital.’

‘Me?’

‘You’re family,’ Ibrahim said. ‘And the future king is about to be born. Why wouldn’t you want to be there?’

‘Because I’ve never spoken to my sister’s sister-in-law before for starters!’

Felicity had warned her to hold her tongue, to think before she spoke, and Georgie wondered if she’d gone too far, but his mouth moved into a smile she hadn’t been privy to in a very long time, a smile like no other because it told her that his question had been teasing, that he took no offence at her response. It was a smile that welcomed her to his world, that told her he understood how bizarre this all must seem. Then he must have remembered he was still sulking because his smile faded and his words were stern when they came.

‘I am looking forward to this about as much as you are. There is no choice.’

Rina came down with little Azizah, who was wrapped in a delicate cream shawl ready to meet her new cousin, and the enormity of what lay ahead hit Georgie then.

‘I really don’t think anyone would notice if I didn’t attend.’

‘Oh, they’d notice.’ Ibrahim said. ‘You are to bring Azizah.’

‘I’m not ready…’ She gestured to her clothing. The loose white dress was crumpled from the oils, her hair heavy and greasy from her scalp massage, and she didn’t have a scrap of make-up on. Worse was the thought of being amongst the royals. Being a part of such a prestigious event had her head in a spin—but a maid slithered a veil over her and Georgie was grateful in that moment for the robes, for the shield, for the anonymity it would afford her.

Without it, she would never have made it through the day.

As they all walked out to the waiting car and she saw the police motorbike escorts waiting for them, it was all too intense for Georgie. The silver limousine with blacked-out windows that had taken Felicity and herself to the day spa had been replaced by a black vehicle that was far more formal. There was even a flag at the front.