by Maha Akhtar
“He makes me feel like a woman, he makes me feel as though I matter,” Fatmeh said. “He makes me feel beautiful, Rania … can you understand?”
“More than you know.”
“Oh I knew you would understand, Rania!” Fatmeh squeezed Rania’s hands.
“But the question now is, of course, what do you do?” Rania said.
“I don’t know,” Fatmeh said sadly.
“You will stay here, with me,” Rania said. “And we’ll figure it out. But you have to get out of your house. I won’t let you go back there, not after what happened here.”
“I thank you, habibti,” Fatmeh began, “but I can’t … where will I sleep? You have no room.”
“In the small room next to mine,” Rania said.
“Oh by the way, what was a British Army officer doing loitering around these parts … ? I mean it’s not the most obvious part of El-Khalili to attract foreigners,” Rania said, clearing away their glasses of lime juice.
“He mentioned he was a friend of Salah’s.”
Rania stopped.
“Another friend of Salah’s!”
Fatmeh laughed.
“Come, let’s go upstairs and you can wash up,” Rania said. “And maybe you’ll get rid of that horrible tent you wear and dress a bit more comfortably and sensibly.
“Maybe you’ll even wear a dress of mine … ,” Rania suggested.
“And maybe Noura will make a dress for me?” Fatmeh grinned.
Rania left Fatmeh resting upstairs and went back down. Suddenly, she realized how hungry she was, she fixed a small plate of mezze for herself and sat down at the kitchen table to eat, reflecting on Fatmeh’s situation.
No wonder she never talked much about her husband. He’s a monster. How did she survive even a day with him? Well, she’ll have to stay here temporarily. I can’t very well throw her out. And we’ll have to figure out what she’s going to do.
After she finished eating, Rania cleared up and went to the front door to make sure it was locked. She was about to turn around when she thought she saw a monkey in a red jacket disappear around the corner. How strange, she thought, furrowing her brow. She turned around to look again and saw a red and white striped galabiyya billowing around the corner.
“Masri and Farhat back in Cairo. Shadid widow has moved to El-Khalili,” read the telegram.
Omer Erdogan was back in Damascus, Ahmad Jemmal having pulled every string imaginable to extricate him from prison in Cairo. What is Masri plotting now?
“Sergeant Celik, get us on a boat to Alexandria. We’re going back to Cairo. I have an idea …”
Chapter Twelve
Noura was up in her atelier. She had one of the military tunics laid out on her tailor’s table and was going over it with a fine-tooth comb. She had repaired the most obvious rips and lost buttons, but was now looking for the most minor tears she could fix, meticulously making notes in a little notebook. Suddenly, she stood up. Wouldn’t it be nice to wash the uniforms and iron them before sending them back? And she could do it out on the terrace and hang the clothes out to dry in the sun. She filled a wooden basin with water and carried it out to the terrace. She came back inside and grabbed a big bar of soap, a brush, and the washboard and went outside again. While she left the uniform soaking in the soapy water, she made sure the small clothes line she had rigged up on the terrace would take the weight of the uniforms. As she began scrubbing the uniform, she thought she heard someone call her name.
“Noura!” she heard as she clattered down the stairs.
“Coming, Tante!” she cried out from the third-floor landing.
“Here I am, Tante Saydeh,” she said, walking into the kitchen.
“Ah! Come to the salon!” Saydeh said, leading the way.
In the salon were three bags filled with clothes.
“Military uniforms,” Saydeh said proudly. “From all the mothers in the area, whose boys are home on leave.”
“Tante Saydeh!” Noura said excitedly. “This is enough to keep me busy for weeks.”
“Yes, well, you only have two,” Saydeh told her, “that’s all the leave they get.”
“Then I better get started.” Noura smiled.
“Each bag is labeled with the house it comes from …”
“Mneeh ktiir, Tante,” Noura said, piling the bags in her arms.
Noura’s tailoring business was growing. And the closer it got to Christmas, the more bags of uniforms arrived at the little house on Zuqlaq al-Hamra as more boys came home on leave.
“Here’s another one.” Salah, who was just back from his most recent trip to the Hejaz, put a bag down in the attic where Noura was busy organizing the uniforms that were coming in.
“Shukran ya, Salah,” Noura said, pushing her hair off her forehead. She stood still for a moment and took a deep breath, looking around her, her hands on her hips.
“I’m very proud of you,” Salah said.
Noura blushed. Her heart beat faster. She daren’t look at Salah.
“Noura … it’s a beautiful day,” Salah said, “which means it’s going to be a beautiful evening.”
“Yes …”
“I’d like to show you one of my favorite places in Cairo.”
“And it’s not your office?” Noura asked.
Salah laughed. “Why? Am I spending too much time in there?”
“Yes.”
“Come on! Let me show you one of the most beautiful places on earth.” Salah deftly evaded further explanations.
“Salah … whatever it is that you’re doing, please tell me it is not dangerous.”
“Don’t worry.” Salah put his hands on her arms.
Noura gave him a skeptical look.
“So … what about this evening?” he asked.
She took a deep breath.
Inwardly she shut her eyes and dove in. “All right.”
“Really?” Salah asked, looking mildly shocked.
“Yes, why not?”
“I … uh … I just wasn’t expecting you to say yes, that’s all.”
“So, what time?”
“I’ll see you at the front door at six o’clock,” Salah said.
Shortly before six o’clock, Noura buttoned a creamy silk shirt with a ruffled neckline she had recently made for herself, pairing it with her old navy blue skirt and short bolero jacket. She pulled on the jacket and peered at herself in the small mirror. She stepped back and nodded approvingly at her reflection. That’s not bad at all, she thought. I didn’t think it would suit me, but it does. She rubbed some cream blush onto her cheeks, brushed her eyebrows and decided on a very thin line of kohl on her top lid close to her eyelashes. Somehow the traditional style of heavily lined eyes had never suited Noura. Her features were delicate, and too much makeup drowned her eyes rather than enhanced them. She brushed her eyelashes with a little kohl, pinched her cheeks, and bit her lips for a little more color. Finally, she dabbed a little bit of rose essence behind her ears.
Her thick long hair was pinned up and held with a clip. She had tied a piece of navy blue silk around her head like a headband and let some of the tendrils curl and wave around her face. She pinned a brooch on her jacket, grabbed a small velvet bag and a shawl in case it got chilly, and slipped into sensible low-heel black shoes, the only dressy ones she had.
She was waiting at the downstairs door when Salah appeared on the first floor landing, ten minutes late.
“Noura!” he called out.
She turned and looked up as he hurried down the already creaky stairs that groaned under his weight.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Salah said, short of breath.
“It’s all right,” Noura said, putting her hand in the arm he offered her. “I haven’t been waiting long.”
“I was reading something and forgot the time.”
“So … where are we going?” Noura asked.
“Can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Patience, habibti.” Sala
h patted her hand. “It is a virtue and it is almost always rewarded.” He winked.
Noura laughed and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She felt her heart beating faster. She wondered if he could hear it. She felt guilty. She wondered if she should allow herself to feel this way.
“Noura … ,” Salah started to say, a little hesitantly. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Who? Now?”
Salah nodded.
“Why?”
“Because he has to take us to where we’re going.”
Noura opened her mouth to say something.
“Please, Noura … I am involved in the revolt. I won’t lie to you. And the Turks are still after me. And after the dynamite at Rania’s, we need to be careful … so please meet Charlie Hackett …”
Charlie was outside the door when Salah opened it.
“Charlie is British Special Forces and he’s got my back … our back now.”
Noura conceded. “Hello, Charlie.”
“Let’s go,” Charlie said.
They took a circuitous route to the Midan Al-Hussein, where Charlie ushered them into a car and jumped in the front.
“You’re taking a real risk, aren’t you?” Noura whispered as they drove toward the new center of Cairo.
“Yes.”
“Just for me?”
“Yes.”
“Salah!” Noura shot up in her seat. “Look! The river! My goodness! It’s the Nile,” she exclaimed with excitement.
Salah smiled.
Noura suddenly felt self-conscious. “What?” she looked back at him.
“You look very beautiful this evening. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you … I got so flustered because I was late …”
“We’re here, Salah.” Charlie turned around. “I’ll wait here for a bit and then I’ll follow behind … at a safe distance, of course.”
“Come,” Salah said and held out his hand. Together they walked toward a bridge.
“This is the Qasr al-Nil bridge that connects Cairo to Gezira Island. You see, all this, beyond the bridge, is Gezira Island.”
“And what are those?” Noura pointed at two large lion stone statues that flanked the bridge’s entrance.
“They were made by a French sculptor, Henri Alfred Jacquemart.”
“They’re beautiful,” Noura said.
They walked to the middle of the bridge, stopped, and leaned over the edge to look down into the blue-gray water, staring at their reflection in the gentle undulations of the great river. Noura saw the two of them together and how they looked. She continued to stare at Salah’s reflection in the water as he looked pensively out toward the shores of Gezira Island. She saw the way his turban sat proudly on his head, saw the kindness in his face and the generosity in his heart. She turned to focus on a group of water lilies as they floated by. I feel so at ease with him, she thought as she looked at the flowers. I feel as if I can tell him anything, as if he will always be there for me no matter what … he makes me feel safe … as though when I’m with him, nothing bad will ever happen … that he will protect me, always.
Noura’s gaze shifted to her own reflection. Ya Allah! What am I doing? What kind of a widow am I? Khaled hasn’t even been gone a year, and here I am allowing myself to be seduced by another man … and not just any other man, but his best friend. Am I insane?
It’s your fault, Khaled, she began a conversation in her mind. If you hadn’t left me none of this would be happening. We would both be living in that pretty little house near the Hamidiyyeh Clock Tower and Siran would probably have a little sister or brother on the way. Instead, here I am, a seamstress repairing uniforms and paying rent to Tante Saydeh and allowing myself to fall in love with Salah.
How can this be? Is it possible to forget someone you love that quickly? she mused.
I loved you, she told Khaled in her mind. I loved you very, very much. And I will always love you. And I will cherish your memory and remember you. And I have not forgotten you, nor will I. And I will tell Siran about her father and the hero he was and how he died for what he believed.
But crying and mourning you for years won’t bring you back. It will only make me bitter and cynical and I will be a horrible mother to Siran, not the pillar of strength she’s going to need in this chaotic, crazy world we live in.
And I think you would want me to be happy too, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t want me to be miserable. Please, Khaled, she prayed, let me let you go in peace and with grace and dignity.
“Noura!” Salah’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Come on or you’ll miss it.”
Noura looked up to see Salah standing at the end of the bridge. “Yallah!” he gestured for her to come over. Noura skipped and ran along to catch up with him. Salah held out his hand and Noura put hers in it.
“It is so lovely here,” Noura said. “I am so pleased that I let you talk me into it.”
“Everyone needs a break, Noura, and I know you’ve been working hard.”
“It’s only because I want this little business to succeed,” Noura said, putting her head on Salah’s arm, “but let’s not talk about that just now. Let’s enjoy the evening.”
“Good!” Salah rubbed his hands happily. “If you are enjoying this time, then my mission has been accomplished.”
“So where are we going, exactly?”
“We’re almost there.” Salah tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
Noura took a deep breath. Just walking with Salah feels right.
They crossed over to Gezira Island and followed a curvy path south, surrounded by trees and plants that led into a deeper wooded area.
“This used to be called the Jardin des Plantes under the Khedive,” Salah explained as they walked. “He had a huge collection of exotic plants shipped here from all over the world and had a French landscape designer named De la Chevalerie design the island’s landscape and plan the gardens and the nurseries. That’s Gezira Palace.” Salah pointed to the Khedive’s u-shaped summer mansion. “It was built in 1869 and it was first used by the Khedive to host his guests who came for the opening of the Suez Canal.”
Noura took a deep breath. It is so green and fresh here … so otherworldly and so perfect.
“There’s another palace being built on the other side of the island for Prince Amr Ibrahim,” Salah said. “And that’s the Gezira Sporting Club.” Salah indicated an imposing colonial building with his head.
“We’re almost there … now close your eyes and let me guide you,” Salah said.
Noura did as she was told. Step by step, Salah led her, finally making her sit down. Noura felt around. It felt like a stone bench.
“You can open them now.”
Slowly, Noura opened her eyes. She was sitting on a stone bench in a little garden that ran down to the water’s edge. The garden was a clearing in the middle of the woods. The view of the Nile in front was spectacular and beyond, on the other bank, was Cairo and the Citadel of Saladin on a hill overlooking the city.
“Saladin built the citadel in the twelfth century to protect the old city of Cairo from the European Crusaders,” Salah said. “Now look over here.” He got up and Noura followed him. In between the trees was a natural grotto that was fed by a freshwater stream on the island.
Noura drew her breath. “Salah! Look at that red fish!” She pointed, running to the edge.
“It’s a rare collection of African fish,” Salah told her.
“Oh Salah! They’re gorgeous!” Noura gazed up at Salah, giving him a big, beautiful smile.
“So this,” Salah said as they sat back down on the bench, “is my favorite place in Cairo.”
“But why isn’t there anyone else here?” Noura asked.
“Yes, it’s curious. It seems as though I’m the only one who knows about it. Whenever I come here, I’m always all alone.”
“Salah, it’s like heaven. It’s breathtaking.”
“Wait,” he smiled. “It gets even better.”
“Wha
t?”
“The view.”
“How do you mean?”
“Shhh,” Salah said.
They sat together in silence, listening to the sounds of the river lapping gently at the edge of the garden. Occasionally a felucca would sail by. Every so often the cry of a bird would add to the tranquility of the place, not break it. The cries of the sailors on the felucca would sometimes reach them, their voices carrying across on the gentle breeze that skimmed the river.
Gradually the sky changed color as the sun started to dip into the Nile. The sky in the east changed from light to cobalt blue, slowly turning to purple and orange in the west. A flock of birds suddenly chirped overhead and the sound of cicadas started up in the bushes, the sounds of night slowly taking over from the day.
Twilight fell and the sky began to fill with stars. The garden filled with the intoxicating smell of jasmine and queen of the night. Noura inhaled deeply.
“Salah,” Noura whispered, reluctant to break the spell. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy and content in my whole life as I am now.”
Salah remained quiet.
“And I need to thank you,” Noura continued, “for everything. You are the most honorable man I know. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what I would have done here. You’ve given me so much, Salah, and I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me … ,” Salah began.
But Noura put her finger on his lips. “No, let me continue. And I’ve just been so brusque and nasty to you at times …”
Salah tried to protest but she silenced him.
“I came back to El-Khalili because I knew you were there,” Noura said.
She took a deep breath. Tears had filled her eyes and her chin was trembling. She was glad darkness had fallen and her face was in shadow.
“I think you know that I have always felt a special connection to you,” Noura began. “Ever since the day Khaled first introduced me to you, something clicked and I just knew we were going to be friends. And when we all went to Izmir, I couldn’t have been happier because I knew I was going to have a friend there. And I was really quite sad when you started traveling so much … after the first couple of months, you were hardly ever in Izmir. And I missed you. I missed talking to you, laughing with you … I missed our friendship. When I first realized I was pregnant, you were the first one I wanted to tell … strange isn’t it? Even before Khaled, I wanted to tell you.”