I turned to Philippe at the same time as he turned to me. We both spoke at once.
‘Philippe, please don’t feel…’
‘Sky you may prefer…’
He laughed. ‘After you.’
‘I was just going to say that you don’t have to escort me this afternoon.’ That sounded a little rude. ‘I mean, if you have something else you would prefer to do…’ I hadn’t really made myself clear.
‘Bea is right,’ he said. ‘I adore the gardens but obviously I don’t want to impose upon you, you may prefer to be on your own.’
I could tell that he didn’t want to go either, but it was all a bit awkward, neither of us could get out of it without sounding ungracious. I gave up. ‘Well, if you’re sure then it would be lovely.’
‘Excellent.’ Philippe smiled hesitantly. ‘Well, I’ll be here all afternoon so just come and find me when you are ready.’
I smiled back equally hesitantly
Beatrice didn’t really know why she had done that. It was out of character. What demon had suddenly taken hold of her? She knew that Philippe was annoyed with her and she couldn’t really blame him. It was true that he loved the gardens but part of their appeal was their solitude. He liked wandering alone. Sky hadn’t looked best pleased either. She shrugged her shoulders, it was too late now.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For the first time in weeks Nick forgot all about recent events. He was totally immersed in the moment, utterly captivated by the food market. He stood mesmerized, absorbing the colours, the fragrances and the sheer beauty and artistry of the displays. Closing his eyes he tried to distinguish the various fragrances. The air was heady with the scents of nutmeg, mint, cinnamon and saffron. The spices were piled high in exotic pyramids, their vibrant colours making his head spin.
The sharp smell of frying onions made his mouth water and turning around he spotted a wizened man perched on a low stool, deftly tossing onions and lamb in one pan while throwing a flatbread on top of another. He couldn’t wait to taste them.
The air crackled with energy and vitality. There was constant noise, heated haggling, sudden bursts of laughter, music and the buzz of voices.
He edged closer to the stalls, watching the women test the fruit, observed them gently squeezing, shaking and smelling in order to secure the pick of the bunch. Deep red prickly pears lay alongside gleaming purple aubergines, vibrant green chillies, soft yellow bananas, ochre pineapples and shining lemons. Every colour under the sun lay spread out before him and he couldn’t stop the smile of joy spreading across his face.
Delighted at his reaction, Ibrahim led him from stall to stall, handing him dates and figs, dried apricots and raisins, pistachios and pine nuts, grinning at his expression as he tasted everything. Ibrahim seemed to know everyone and they were all keen to share their produce with Nick. He loved it and completely understood their sense of pride in what they were selling. Everything was fresh, everything was bursting with flavour, and Nick was in paradise. His whole body felt alive and every one of his senses felt heightened. His mind was buzzing with new ideas and recipes and he longed to get into a kitchen. He would go on bended knee to Bushara and beg for the chance to try some of them out.
Finally the baskets were full and Ibrahim led Nick to a small local café, where the smell of cigarettes mingled with the sweet aroma of the hookah pipes. Coffee and honey-covered pastries were immediately brought to the table and Nick fell upon them greedily.
‘You like to cook?’ Ibrahim stated the obvious.
‘With a passion.’ Nick grinned.
‘First time here?’
‘I went to Tangier with a group of friends many years ago but that doesn’t really count, we spent most of the week either drunk or asleep.’ Nick looked around him. ‘I can’t believe that I’ve left it so long. I had no idea what I was missing. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and I’m already hooked.’
Ibrahim didn’t comment but drew deeply on a cigarette.
‘And you?’ Nick asked. ‘Have you always lived here?’
‘I would never want to live anywhere else.’
‘No, why would you?’
Nick arrived back at the riad just as we were leaving.
‘Come with us.’ Sonny looked overjoyed to see him. I was less so. ‘We is exploring with…’ He paused, not sure of the name.
‘Radar,’ Gail filled in the gap. ‘Radar by name and Radar by nature apparently. He is our guide.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Radar.’ Nick smiled at the young lad. ‘A Liverpool fan I see, I’m a Rangers man myself, have you heard of Rangers?’
The boy shook his head.
‘No, well, they’re not exactly top notch these days, you’re better off sticking to Liverpool.’
‘Come with us.’ Sonny tugged at his sleeve.
Nick glanced over at me. I remained non-committal.
‘Not this morning, Sonny, I need to sweet-talk Bushara into letting me cook.’ Sonny’s face fell. ‘But you pay close attention to Radar and remember where he leads you and then maybe you and I can go another time.’
‘How was the food market?’ Gail asked.
‘Sensuous, stimulating, exotic and exciting.’
‘Heavens, sounds like you’re describing something completely different.’ Gail giggled. ‘I must go.’
‘I’ll escort you.’ Nick smiled, then hesitated for a moment before turning to me. ‘I took photos, Sky,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll leave my camera in Beatrice’s office.’
Once again I was caught off balance and merely mumbled an ungracious OK. I knew I should thank him properly but I was bloody angry with him for constantly putting me in these awkward positions. Why on earth couldn’t he just leave me alone?
I stormed out of the riad wrapped up in my own world. I was so engrossed in my misery that I was totally unaware of my surroundings and marched quickly after Radar.
‘Sky?’ Gail’s voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Sky, slow down, we can’t keep up the pace.’
‘Oh, God, Gail, I’m so sorry.’ I was immediately contrite. ‘I’m being so selfish, you must think me incredibly rude.’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort, I just think you’re walking too fast.’
‘One moment I think I’m OK and then wham, suddenly it hits me all over again.’
‘You’re still in shock, it’s still all very new and raw.’
‘Do you think that I’m being terrible to Nick?’
‘I think you’re hurting, Sky,’ Gail answered me carefully. ‘And the people who have hurt you are the ones who love you, so it isn’t easy to know how to behave.’
‘I don’t really want to punish him, and yet in a way I do because I want him to suffer as much as I am.’
‘He is suffering, Sky, there is no doubt about that.’
‘Only a few weeks ago I thought my life was pretty perfect, I thought I had it all worked out, how smug I must have seemed.’ I raised my eyes to the heavens. ‘How the hell could I have got it so wrong?’
But before Gail could respond to me Sonny called her.
‘Mummy, look at the goat what’s got babies.’ Sonny had raced ahead with Radar and was now eyeing a goat with two kids. She was eyeing him back in a distinctly unfriendly fashion and pawing the ground. I could sense that he was about to go and stroke her.
‘Sonny, stay away,’ Gail called sharply as we both raced to stop him but Radar was one step ahead of us, he took hold of Sonny’s hand and led him away.
‘She bite,’ he said, snapping his teeth dramatically at Sonny.
‘Why?’ Sonny asked. ‘I’m not going to hurt her.’
‘She has babies, Sonny,’ Gail explained. ‘She is protecting her babies.’ She turned to Radar. ‘Thank you.’
He grinned and pointing to a small, intricately decorated archway said. ‘Souk begins.’
I had never seen anything like it. I was completely dazed by the tiny alleyways and the stalls spilling out onto the pavements.
We were in the covered souk and the air was hot and intense. I wanted to touch everything. I wanted to go into every shop. I wanted to buy everything I saw.
‘I’m going to need a new suitcase.’ I turned to Gail. ‘I want every single one of these in every single colour.’ I was eyeing up a row of kaftans woven in a soft cheesecloth fabric and embroidered with intricate white stitching. They were beautiful. ‘I am never going to wear anything else, I’ll have a different colour for every day of the week.’
‘They are gorgeous, but more you than me.’ She smiled.
‘Nonsense, they’re for everyone, they would suit everyone, that is their beauty.’
‘I can’t quite see it catching on in Chigwell.’ Gail laughed.
‘Well, you can be the trail blazer,’ I said. ‘How long have you lived in Chigwell?’
‘Pretty much all my life.’ She paused. ‘In fact pretty much in the same house, gosh, that really does make me sound dull and boring, maybe my sister was right.’
‘Well, prove her wrong and buy one of these kaftans.’ I laughed.
‘Only to look now.’ Radar stopped me as I grabbed one from the rail. ‘Just to look now, buying later after you have seen all.’
‘Well I guess that sort of makes sense.’ I acknowledged, reluctantly leaving behind the brightly coloured garments.
We meandered slowly around the endless network of alleyways for the next couple of hours. I was utterly entranced. It was all I’d ever dreamed of and more. Every section had its own speciality, we wandered past vivid hand-woven baskets, mountains of coloured pottery, exotic perfume shops, leather stalls displaying slippers, belts and handbags, stunning hand-beaten silverware and of course the inevitable carpets and rugs. I honestly felt as if I had entered an enchanted kingdom and I never wanted to leave.
‘This way to square.’ Radar stood on the corner of a small street. We had come out from the covered market and the sun was blinding.
‘Thirsty, Mummy.’ Sonny tugged on Gail’s sleeve.
‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘Is there a café nearby, Radar?’
‘Come to square, plenty places.’
Radar led us to a small café on the edge of the huge Jemaa El-Fna Square. It was impressive, everywhere I looked there was drama going on. I felt as if I was seated in a giant theatre with a cast of thousands. It was hypnotic.
The eerie notes from the flutes of the snake charmers mingled with the cries of the water sellers. Hawkers spread their goods on coloured rugs and entertainers were everywhere, performing magic tricks or practising their somersaults. Mopeds and horse-drawn carriages weaved carelessly around each other. A young henna tattoo artist approached our table and I simply couldn’t resist. I held out my left hand.
‘Sky, you can’t be serious?’ Gail looked astonished.
‘I most certainly am,’ I replied. ‘I’ve always wanted one.’
The young lass held out a sheet with various designs. I beckoned Sonny over. ‘Which one do you think, sweetheart?’ Without hesitation he pointed to a picture of a snake curling down around the fingers and twisting around the wrist. ‘Good choice.’ I smiled at the artist and she grinned back.
‘Are you not tempted, Gail?’ I asked.
‘Go on, Mummy.’ Sonny was fascinated by the artist, he was watching her every move.
‘Not today, darling.’ She laughed.
Fifteen minutes later the young girl was finished and I was overjoyed at the result.
‘I love it, it’s stunning.’ I held it out for admiration. ‘How long will it last?’
‘Two, maybe three week,’ she replied, holding out her hand for money. I reached into my purse and saw Radar frown at the amount I was giving her but I didn’t care. She had made me happy for a while, made me forget my problems and right now that was worth any amount.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I stood on the pavement waiting while Philippe paid the taxi driver. I was hot and tired and wished I was back in the shade of the riad courtyard. I’d had a wonderful morning but I was still feeling off balance and fragile, almost as if I were waiting for the next blow to strike me.
I had brought my sketch pad and pastels but doubted that I would use them, especially if Philippe was looking over my shoulder. I loathed painting when people were watching and again I felt a surge of irritation towards Beatrice for suggesting that Philippe accompany me.
‘Shall we go in?’ Philippe smiled at me and I forced myself to respond with some enthusiasm, I knew that I was being unreasonably churlish, everyone was being kind and I was behaving like a spoilt brat.
We walked through the entrance into the inner courtyard and I literally squealed with delight. All irritability and tiredness vanished in a second. Turquoise and blue mosaics framed a square fountain surrounded by dark terracotta tiles. The water gleamed and the colours shimmered in the sun.
‘Oh my God, it’s beautiful.’ I turned with a wide smile.
‘Sky, this is just the start, you haven’t seen anything yet.’ But I could tell he was pleased. I must have been very offhand in the car and I vowed to try and behave better.
I’d heard so much about the Majorelle Gardens. I had spent hours poring over the old photographs that my parents had taken and had been enchanted. From the moment I stepped inside I knew I wasn’t going to be disappointed.
We ambled slowly along shady paths overhung with plants and trees from exotic origins. Pools and streams were filled with water lilies and lotus flowers. The birds sang and the air was filled with a sweet fragrance. We passed unusual cacti and walked to the Yves St Laurent memorial.
I honestly felt that I had entered paradise, the weight had lifted from my shoulders and I was living solely for the moment. There was no room for the torment of the past weeks. I felt quite dizzy with the beauty of it.
We rounded a corner to find a Moorish building painted in such an intense blue that it almost hurt my eyes to look at it. I stopped in my tracks and stared open-mouthed.
‘Philippe, I have to draw this. Can we stop for a short while?’ Without waiting for his answer I made my way to a small bench, pulling my sketch pad from my shoulder bag.
‘Of course. I need to take the weight off my leg for a while.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’ I was filled with remorse. I hadn’t given his injury a single thought. ‘I’ve been so inconsiderate wanting to see everything, I should have thought of your knee.’
‘No worries, it’s good to exercise it.’ He headed off to another bench in the shade. ‘You won’t want me watching over your shoulder, I’ll nod off here for a while.’
I smiled gratefully at him but he had his back to me. Christ, I’ve become a real misery, I thought to myself. I’m in danger of becoming a self-centred drama queen. I was aware that I was wallowing in a trough of self-pity but I couldn’t seem to find a way to get out.
Pushing all this to one side I piled my hair on top of my head, securing it with a pencil, and determinedly turned to my sketch pad.
I had no idea how long I had been sketching. Time always became meaningless when I was painting. I was desperate to capture the magic of the place, and was drawing quickly and confidently, blocking in the bright primary colours knowing that I could blend and shade it later on. I had to work fast, the light was intense, almost harsh, and I was desperate to capture it before it changed. Sometime later in the week I would come back and paint the same scene in the soft hues of the evening.
‘Sky, the sun is very hot and your neck is getting burnt.’
I started at the sound of his voice but didn’t look up. ‘I’m OK,’ I replied, not really paying him attention.
‘You’ve been in the sun almost an hour. I fell asleep otherwise I would have warned you sooner. Combination of the heat and painkillers, I suppose.’
‘I’m fine,’ I muttered, desperate to finish my work. Why couldn’t he bugger off?
‘I know from bitter experience that the back of the neck is a painful place to be burnt.’
I
grunted, I wasn’t really keen to engage in conversation
‘You need to be careful, you have very fair skin.’
‘Yes, thank you, Philippe, but I think I probably know my skin better than you.’ Shit, I’d meant that as a joke but it came out harsher than I’d intended.
‘And I think I probably know the sun better than you,’ he replied, turning away.
God, he’s so arrogant I thought. How long had he been standing behind me? Had he been observing me for ages? I sincerely hoped not.
However, I knew he was right, I could feel the prickling on the back of my neck, but contrarily I continued painting for another ten minutes just to spite him.
We drove back to the riad in silence. I was extremely embarrassed at my behaviour. My neck was throbbing like hell and I knew I’d been stupid and childish. He’d only been trying to help me and I had reacted like a petulant kid. I shuddered to imagine what he must have thought of me.
Beatrice was in the courtyard when we arrived back. She looked at us enquiringly but I was in no mood to stay and chat. Not only was I furiously ashamed by my awful behaviour but the afternoon sun had made me feel a bit sick.
‘Thank you very much.’ I smiled awkwardly at Philippe.
He nodded, looking equally awkward, and as I scurried away to the sanctuary of my room I could feel their eyes on me. I dreaded to think of what he would tell her. I didn’t know why but I hated to think of her disapproval. Somehow, it very much mattered what she thought of me.
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