‘I know. I’m just so sorry that it’s on your second night. It won’t happen again. We don’t usually dine with the king—normally it’s Karim and me in our suite.’
‘So who’s going to be there?’
‘The king, and Hassan will be there with Jamal’s parents and family. Ibrahim, I hope.’
‘Hope?’ Georgie closed her eyes for a moment. She really did not want to face him looking like this.
‘That’s all you can do when he’s around.’ Felicity gave a wry smile. ‘How was he today?’
‘He seemed to enjoy the celebration—he was thrilled for his brother.’
‘Karim said you two spent a lot of time together.’
‘He speaks English,’ Georgie said tersely. She did not have to explain herself, they had done nothing wrong, but she quickly changed the subject. ‘What about the queen?’
‘You know she doesn’t live here.’
‘So when will she get to see her grandson?’
‘When Hassan and Jamal take him to see her—like I did when Azizah was born. Mind you, with him being a little bit premature, it might not be for a while.’
‘So she won’t get to see him?’
‘Georgie, please…’ Her sister was nervous and it irritated Georgie.
‘We’re not allowed to talk about it even in the privacy of my bedroom?’ Georgie shook her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t know how you live like this, Felicity.’
‘I have a wonderful life,’ Felicity said, ‘and of course we can talk about things. It’s just…’ Felicity screwed her eyes closed for a second. ‘Just not at dinner. Georgie, I’m asking you to be discreet. There are things that aren’t to be discussed.’ She tried for the umpteenth time to explain to her younger sister the strange ways of Zaraq. ‘It’s a very delicate subject, The king misses her terribly, he mourns for her.’
‘She’s not dead,’ Georgie pointed out. ‘All he has to do is pick up the phone.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to embarrass you—I’ll be suitably demure.’
She was, and it had nothing to do with Felicity’s warning. The vast table, the company, the introductions, the surroundings had Georgie overwhelmed.
There was no sign of Ibrahim and she heard the king say his name a couple of times to Karim.
‘When do we eat?’ Georgie asked her sister, when they had been sitting for what seemed ages.
‘When the prodigal son appears.’ Felicity answered, and Georgie felt nervous on his behalf. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ But even if she appeared calm, inwardly she was dreading that her sister might have to leave. Especially as Felicity had told her that though they usually did their best to converse in English when she was around, it wasn’t possible tonight as Jamal’s family spoke only Arabic. ‘They are discussing when a photo of the new heir will be released.’ Felicity did her best to keep up with the conversation, but even that lifeline was lost when a maid whispered in her ear and Felicity, with a rather terse nod from the king, excused herself.
It was interminable, smiling and laughing and nodding when the others did, though Georgie had no idea what was being said. She actually found herself wishing they’d bring the food out, just to give her something to do. But then, like a summer shower on a stifling day, Ibrahim strolled in and all Georgie could wonder was how he got away with wearing Western clothes—he was in black dinner trousers and a slim-fitting white shirt and she wondered if he’d been out riding and had just pulled some clothes on, because his hair was tousled and he hadn’t bothered with shaving.
‘You are late.’ The king was less than impressed. The conversation was in English now, no doubt to avoid any embarrassment in front of the esteemed guests.
‘I had to make a phone call,’ Ibrahim said without apology.
‘It is dinner,’ the king said.
‘With family.’ Ibrahim’s smile was black as he made his point. ‘Surely we can relax and share in such a fine occasion.’ He slid into the empty seat beside Georgie.
‘Felicity is sitting there.’ Karim’s response was immediate.
‘Where is she, then?’
‘Feeding Azizah.’
‘She left you to deal with this lot?’ Ibrahim looked less than impressed and just shrugged as Karim frowned at him. ‘I’ll sit with you till she gets back.’ He switched back to Arabic then and spoke for a moment or two with the guests and then turned his attention back to Georgie.
‘You look…’ His eyes drifted down and then back to her face, and there was a hint of a tease in his smile. ‘Like you did the day I met you.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Georgie said, remembering the apricot bridesmaid’s dress. ‘I don’t think the maids are used to dressing blondes.’ She winked. ‘I’ll have to have a little word.’
He was wonderful company. She even forgot to be nervous for a little while, forgot, if it was possible to, just how attracted she was to him. She was just herself with him that night, and that was all she needed to be.
‘I thought they’d be serving now that you are here,’ Georgie commented when, despite Felicity’s prediction, it seemed that the dreaded meal was taking for ever to come out.
‘It shouldn’t be too much longer,’ Ibrahim explained, ‘Most of the socialising is done before dinner. Once it gets to coffee, the evening is over.’
‘Really?’ Georgie gave a tight smile in Karim’s direction. ‘My sister never said.’
Still, when the first course was finally served, somehow he must have sensed the small lick of hers lips wasn’t borne of anticipation as a stream of maids approached with dishes.
‘You’ll be fine.’ He watched as she politely nodded, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes. ‘You really will.’
‘I read that it’s rude not to clear your plate.’ Georgie was almost breathless at the admission, but without Felicity beside her, the prospect of dining in such plush surroundings with food she was unfamiliar with was becoming increasingly daunting.
‘It’s mezze,’ he said, ‘just the starter—dips, pastries and pickles…’ He explained the lavish spread. ‘Just take a little and if you like it, go back for more. Excuse me a moment,’ he said, and turned his attention to his father. ‘Bekra,’ came his brief response, then he turned back to Felicity. ‘My father is asking when I am going to the hospital again. I said tomorrow.’
Somehow she relaxed, so much so she barely noticed when Felicity returned and after a brief awkward moment Ibrahim moved to the other side of the table.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Felicity said in a low voice. ‘Georgie, I really am—’
‘It’s fine,’ Georgie said. ‘Honestly. Ibrahim’s been wonderful.’ She saw her sister’s lips tighten, saw Felicity’s worried blink as she glanced briefly at her brother-in-law and then back to Georgie.
‘What?’ Georgie frowned.
‘Nothing,’ Felicity said, but Georgie could tell she was rattled.
Ibrahim’s behavior was impeccable. As the endless courses were served he spoke with the guests but he still carried on talking to Georgie, guiding her through the courses whenever Felicity was drawn into the main conversation.
As they ate their dessert—mahlabia, Ibrahim informed her from across the table, a creamy pudding layered with rose water—again she felt Felicity tense. Her sister’s reaction incensed Georgie. Admittedly, thorough no fault of her own, Felicity had left her to her own devices all day, and Georgie shuddered to think how the day would have been without Ibrahim’s guidance. Now Felicity seemed annoyed that the two of them seemed to be getting on, even nudging Georgie when she laughed at something Ibrahim said.
‘What?’ Georgie asked. ‘What have I done wrong now?’
‘I’ll talk to you later.’
She would be talking too.
Oh, yes, she’d say something, but later and when they were alone.
Coffee was served and, as Ibrahim had predicted, the evening ended. As farewells were said to Jamal’s family, Hassan declared he would now return to the hospital to spend the first night with his wife and new son. But it would seem the evening was not quite over, for the king accepted another coffee and small biscuits were served. Just when everyone should be able to relax a touch more, the king frowned in annoyance as Ibrahim’s phone rang loudly.
‘Excuse me.’ He stood as he answered it. ‘I have to take this call.’
It was clearly the height of rudeness, and the conversation was strained as Ibrahim took his time. The king’s face was like thunder as the minutes stretched on, and even Georgie was nervous as to what might happen when almost half an hour later an unrepentant Ibrahim returned to the room.
‘What?’ He glanced up at the silence and boldly addressed it.
‘I will speak with you later.’
‘Speak with me now,’ Ibrahim said.
‘You have kept the table waiting for the second time in one meal.’
‘I told you to carry on.’
‘We celebrate as a family.’