by M S James
Sleep was impossible for either of us. I was incoherent with desperation and rage, crying and thumping anything that came to hand. Only the fear of waking Jake stopped me from screaming. Philip was silent and drawn, staring ashen-faced at a blank wall. We wandered round the villa, occasionally coming up with suggestions of where she might be. My fraught imagination was now in full flight coming up with one horrific outcome after another. The thought of someone misusing my child for their own evil predation made me want to howl in despair. Philip held me tight and tried to calm me down.
‘It looks bleak from where we are now but you’ve got to hold on to the hope that this will soon be a nightmare that we wake up from,’ he urged.
I prayed fervently that whoever had her was treating her well.
Grey and gaunt we set off once more to Police HQ. Our inspector was busy with his staff but came out to tell us that they hoped to question the shepherd later and to try to get more information about whoever had taken Anna. No child had been handed over in any of the substations. He smiled encouragingly. ‘We hope to have a good result soon.’
Since there was no point in going back out to the desert I decided to make another visit to the consulate to bring them up to date. Sitting around in the villa was driving me to distraction. The office said they would send Angelo to me as soon as he was back from the school run. Philip went in to try to catch up with some work.
Unfortunately, he was in the process of handing over the supervision of one project to one of his colleagues and taking on the supervision of a project for the National Guard.
The National Guard was an internal army tasked with maintaining order within the Kingdom and was mainly manned by Bedouin who had given their allegiance to the House of Saud and could be relied upon if there was intertribal conflict. A new city was being built to house the local members of the National Guard and their families, and Philip had found himself at a critical point in the project just as the disaster had struck our family.
The consulate duty officer was the same one we had met the day before. Dear God, was it only Sunday? It seemed like a lifetime since I had last been there. He was considerably more chipper when he heard the news that Anna had survived the storm and was pleased that their request to the authorities had been implemented so promptly.
Ever the distraught mother, I wanted to know what could be done to track down whoever had taken Anna.
‘This really is a police matter from now on. We can pass on our concerns through the normal channels and thank them for initiating the air search. I think we can say that their prompt action progressed the matter considerably.’ Hmmm, I thought, it was a good job I had suggested it.
‘Have you ever had to deal with missing children who have not been found?’
‘Um, well, I personally have no experience of that.’ We were now on very thin ice and the duty officer looked more cautious.
‘Since my arrival in Saudi six months ago,’ I said, ‘I have heard a number of rumours about Western children disappearing. I know of one child who was the subject of a potential abduction. My son was also in a situation where a young Saudi persistently wanted to take him off to “buy him presents”. Little more than a month ago the pilot of a Saudia internal flight asked if he could buy Anna. I think we should consider the possibility that someone is either keeping her or intends selling her on.’ By the end of my speech I realised my voice had become very insistent and forceful.
‘Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ he reasoned. ‘The police have acted decisively and we know far more than we did twenty-four hours ago. You must be going through hell, but try to stay calm.’ I wanted to smack him but that was a result of my frustration rather than offence at his tone. He was right. I would just have to grit my teeth and try not to lash out.
‘You’re right,’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for your input on our behalf.’
‘We’re here to help,’ he replied. ‘Take our telephone number and then you can update us without having to come in person.’ I took the hint.
Angelo was catching up on his sleep but quickly came to as I opened the car door.
‘OK, Angelo, places to go, people to see.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Where to?’ The humdrum tasks of daily life needed attention. We were running out of food and clean clothes. ‘I think we’d better go to Euro Marché and do a shop. When is prayer time?’ Angelo consulted his Saudi-time watch.
‘In a half hour.’
‘Good, we’ll get there before they close and I can shop until prayer time is over. Can you take me home with the shopping and then fetch Jake from school?’
I glanced at the Hello Kitty shop as we pulled up outside Euro Marché. Angelo and I sighed, both thinking of the time Anna had gone missing, only to be found there clutching a much-desired purse. I hoped I wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew. I dreaded having to explain what had happened, but the first person I encountered was Nadia.
‘Kate!’ She came up and put her arms around me. At least she knew everything and I wouldn’t have to retell the whole ghastly story. She looked at me closely with tears in her eyes. ‘You look terrible!’ she exclaimed.
‘I am exhausted, angry, and beside myself with worry. None of which improve the appearance.’
‘No, I can see that. The police are working hard to find her?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘You told Hani you think someone is holding her?’
‘Whoever found her and took her off in his pickup has not handed her over to the police. We must assume he is keeping her or…’ She understood the implication of what I was saying.
‘Have you thought about going to the Governor of Riyadh’s majlis?’
‘No, what’s that?’
‘All the ministers and governors – they are all members of the Royal Family – hold a weekly majlis. Even the King holds one. They sit in a large hall and queues of people – anyone can go – line up to present him with requests and grievances they want sorting.’
‘I will ask Mahmud more about it and ask if he thinks it would be advisable. Being a Saudi, he would know when the Governor’s majlis happens – and where.’ Having another plan of action to work on, I continued my shopping with more enthusiasm.
Back at the villa I had a list of tasks to perform. The one I dreaded the most was writing a letter to my mother and another to Philip’s parents. I could have telephoned my mother but the conversation would rapidly turn into incoherent sobbing which would baffle and alarm her and be made all the worse without my presence to comfort her. Philip couldn’t ring his parents for similar reasons and he was hoping every hour that good news would arrive.
The letters written, I addressed them for Angelo to take to AAC, to be included with the office mail for the Central Post Office.
Jake came in from school, starving as ever. ‘Mum, it’s my birthday this week.’ I stared at him in horror. We had been so obsessed with our search for Anna that Jake’s imminent birthday had never occurred to us. ‘Yes, of course, darling. We must organise some sort of celebration. It won’t be much of an event, I’m afraid.’ The last thing I wanted to do at that moment was organise a party. Momentarily I felt a wave of anger that Jake should want a party but of course, he didn’t know how serious were the consequences of her abduction and thought she was only temporarily missing. To a seven-year-old child, a coming birthday is a big deal. I did a rapid calculation and realised it would be the following Saturday, a school day. That was a relief; I wouldn’t have to organise a party at our house. I couldn’t face a houseful of highly excited children at that moment and, given the situation, it might have had to be cancelled at very short notice. ‘It’s next Saturday. I’ll come with you to school tomorrow morning and ask Mr Woodford if you can have a party at mid-morning break. We can take in a good supply of snacks and a birthday cake for you to share out. Would you like that?’ He was in full agreement. ‘An
d we can go shopping on Thursday to buy you a present. What would you like?’ He thought for a few moments and then said, ‘A kite!’
‘That’s a good idea. We can go into the desert and you and Daddy can fly it.’
‘We might find Anna.’
I sat him down and gently reminded him that she wasn’t in the desert but was probably with someone. It was difficult to explain that although Anna had survived the sandstorm someone else was looking after her but we didn’t know who.
His face crumpled and tears started to roll. ‘The police are looking for her and interviewing people,’ I assured him. ‘We are hoping for good news soon.’ I would have to ask Mr Woodford how Jake was coping with this turmoil whilst in school.
Angelo took us to the British School the next morning. The school was out in the middle of the desert miles from any habitation. It had previously been a commercial building but had been well adapted to its present use. There was a central tarmacadam playground surrounded by infant acacia trees and a continuous row of blue metal buildings on all four sides. My architect husband called them ‘crinkly tin construction’ which made them sound tacky but they served their purpose well. When I stuck my head around the door of Mr Woodford’s classroom the temperature was pleasantly cool and the classroom bright and airy.
‘Hello, I’m Mrs Thomas, Jake’s mum,’ I said. Jake’s teacher jumped up from his desk and took my hand.
‘Good morning. We are all devastated by the news of your daughter’s disappearance.’ We sat down on small classroom chairs whilst I brought him up to speed.
‘How is Jake managing in school?’ I wanted to know.
‘Surprisingly well. His classmates all know the situation and are being sympathetic and caring. The school day is crammed with activity so he hasn’t got time to dwell on the situation.’
‘It’s his birthday on Saturday. I wonder, if he came in with a supply of snacks and a cake, whether he could have a mini party at morning break? I really can’t face holding a proper birthday party at the moment but we need to mark the day somehow.’
He readily agreed and assured me that all the staff were watching out for his welfare.
‘If there is anything the school or staff can do to help, you’ve only to ask.’
‘Just keep a close eye on Jake, if you would, and let me know if he becomes distressed,’ I replied.
Back at AAC’s office I sought out Mahmud. He was busy with Hani but said he could speak to me shortly. I wandered through the large open-plan office and smiled bleakly at the British expat staff who gave me friendly hugs. Philip was deep in conversation with various engineers but raised his eyebrows when he saw me. ‘I am just having a quick word with Mahmud about the majlis,’ I explained.
Mahmud came over and escorted me to his office. Hani waved through the glass partition; no doubt Nadia had told him of her suggestion.
‘I believe one can approach the Governor of Riyadh at his majlis to ask for help?’ I started.
Mahmud looked sceptical. ‘It is unusual for a woman to attend a majlis, even more so a European woman. What would you want to ask him?’
‘To do everything possible to find Anna.’
‘He will answer the police are doing that. He might also wonder why you are at the majlis and not your husband.’
‘I shall say that my request would be more memorable, coming from a woman, and that I am hoping his influence will reach further than that of the police.’
‘Hmm. He might find that plausible. You will need an Arab speaker to go with you. His Highness will speak English but some of his staff may not.’
‘Will you come with me?’
Mahmud looked at me steadily. ‘I must think about your request. I will talk to my family and see what they say.’
I thanked him and left. I wasn’t sure Mahmud wanted to be associated with where the search was leading.
Angelo had gone on a mission for Nadia so I had super-shot Efren to drive me out to collect Jake. I didn’t really need to go but I was spinning my wheels somewhat with nothing to do except fret and worry. For a change, Efren was quite talkative. ‘I am very sorry, ma’am, about your daughter. She is a very pretty girl. We all hope you soon find her.’
‘It’s more a case of the police finding the person who is holding her. Filipinos work in many houses and companies in Riyadh. Can you spread the word amongst your friends? Perhaps they might notice a European child in an Arab household.’
‘Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.’
To fill up the afternoon I took Jake on an expedition down to Bat’ha by bus to look around the souk. The toy souk would be the place to start in view of Jake’s impending birthday. I loaded a roll of fliers into my shoulder bag and we set off through our neighbourhood back streets to Airport Street where the bus stopped. The buses were single-deckers and strictly segregated. The front three-quarters of the bus was for male passengers and women had to sit at the back – rather like black people in previous times were forced to do in the American Deep South. We even had our own exit so that we didn’t have to come in contact with men. I was partly amused and partly irritated. Throughout the afternoon I stared hard at every small girl I saw through my dark sunglasses. However futile, there was always hope.
We saw a number of different kites for sale in the toy souk and made a mental note of where we would find them on Thursday when we came with Philip. ‘Can I have a skateboard as well?’ Jake’s attention had been caught by a display of brightly coloured boards with equally lurid wheels.
‘Do you think you could ride one?’
‘Yes! Of course!’
‘Well, I’ll get you one now.’ It was lovely to have one happy child.
The women’s souk was open so we went in to investigate. It didn’t open on a regular basis but it was worth a visit. I had heard it was possible to buy freshwater pearls from the Arabian Gulf from there and I hadn’t seen any for sale elsewhere. Jake didn’t yet count as a man so was able to come into the souk with me. The vendors were Arab women, many of them black, sitting on the ground under canvas awnings to shelter them from the sun. They mainly sold jewellery and trinkets. I was always surprised to see black Arabs; perhaps they were the descendants of slaves brought by Arab slavers. I was shocked to be told that slavery in Arabia wasn’t banned until the 1960s. To each of the stallholders I showed them a flier and said, ‘Binti mafquda ar’Riyadh. Binti hinna? (My daughter is lost in Riyadh. My daughter is here?)’ This phrase tripped off my tongue so fluently, having said it so often, people thought my Arabic was better than it actually was so they told me lots of things which I didn’t understand. I made a telephone sign with my hand and pointed to the number saying, ‘Shoof?’
One of the stalls had strings of pretty little pearls reminiscent of Rice Crispies. The seller didn’t speak English but through a sign language of holding up different groupings of fingers, we struck a bargain and I bought five strings. I figured I would have enough to make one presentable necklace of lu’lu, the charming name for pearls in Arabic.
The freshwater pearls came from an amazing source. The Arabian Peninsula is on a tectonic plate of its own, slightly tilted so that the rainwater that falls on the Asir mountains in the west slowly filters through the lower rock strata for 10,000 years, eventually appearing on the east coast of Arabia. The Arabs of that region had discovered aeons ago that fresh water, always a precious commodity in desert lands, was percolating into the sea. They captured it by swimming down to the source with empty camel-skin bags and filling them up, bringing the fresh drinkable water up with them. This is where the lu’lu came from. I looked at my pearls with amazement. Having distributed my roll of fliers, we wended our way back through the souks hoping to see Anna at any moment.
The sun was going down so we had to make haste before darkness descended. I wondered what Tuesday would bring.
The Majlis
P
hilip had taken Jake to school whilst I sat and stared at nothing in particular, drumming my fingers on the dining room table. We had a rather fine painting of camels and their riders charging heroically across the desert which gradually came into focus as I stared ahead. We had inherited the painting from the previous tenants of the house. It wasn’t one that Philip and I would ordinarily have chosen, but over the months of living with it I began to appreciate its qualities. It certainly captured the ferocious tenacity and fearlessness of those who lived in that barren, unyielding terrain. They were a proud disdainful people who had never been conquered; why would any of the Great Powers want to conquer them? There was nothing there. Nothing until the Americans found a use for the black gold which oozed out of the ground. Being astute as well as wily, the Arabs, under the leadership of Abdulaziz Al Saud, had taken the oil production into their own hands and made the House of Saud, as well as many of their countrymen, wealthy beyond the dreams of Croesus.
The man who I wanted to intercede on my behalf was the Governor of Riyadh, a descendant of the founder of Saudi Arabia. He had a reputation for not suffering fools gladly but was even-handed in his judgements. Obviously, a man to be reckoned with.
The telephone rang. I braced myself before lifting the receiver, hoping it wouldn’t be bad news.
‘Marhaba, it’s Mahmud here.’
‘Marhaba. How are you?’
‘Fine, thanks. I think you should go to the Governor’s majlis. As you say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.’
‘And you’ll come with me?’
‘Yes, but Philip should be there also.’
‘Thank you very much, Mahmud. We are very grateful.’
‘Can you come to the office this morning and we’ll decide what to put in your petition to the Governor? The three of us can meet mid-morning.’