‘Will Hanane be okay, Yamma?’
‘Omar, I told you to stay home with your sister.’
Omar grips the doorframe, peeking his head into the bedroom, where Hanane lies panting on the bed.
‘Fatima’s fine. Jedda’s there.’
‘This is no place for a boy.’
Hanane arches her back, biting her lips in vain as another scream slides up her throat. Mohammed grimaces. ‘Can you help her, Aicha?’
Aicha stands at the foot of the bed beside Mohammed and Bouchra. She longs to reach out to Hanane, wipe the sweat from her face, calm the girl’s panic, guide the infant into the world. But … What has this beautiful girl done? What djinni has been sent to defile her, to bring his child into the world? She has no husband. She’s ruined herself.
Aicha turns away from the bed. She shakes her head. Her gold coin earrings dangle in her earlobes. She can have no part in this badness. She’d turned her back on her mother’s spells and magic potions long ago. She was in the world to help, not to disturb the djinn. To bring only good. She could not bring a djinni’s child into the world.
‘I can’t. I’m sorry. Hanane must live her fate. It is not for me to interfere in Allah’s will. Come, Omar. We must go home.’
Chapter Sixty-Four
Zitoune, Morocco – June 2009
Amine enters the courtyard of Aicha’s house. He’s had his hair cut very short, highlighting his dark eyes and long, straight nose. The white patch glows against his brown skin, which has tanned darker from the summer sun. He glances at the faces of the family group sitting around the tagine pot.
‘Mohammed told me Omar call him to tell me to come here fast. It’s a problem?’
‘Amine, come and sit.’ Addy gestures for him to sit on the stool between her and Philippa. ‘Have some lamb tagine. It’s delicious.’
Amine sits on the stool and smiles at Fatima as she hands him the basket of bread.
‘I been nervous to come. I thought it’s a problem.’
‘For one time it’s no problem,’ Omar says as he scoops up a chunk of meat with his bread. ‘Addy have some big news for you.’
‘Big news?’ Amine looks over at Addy. ‘Which news?’
Addy darts her eyes at Philippa. ‘You know that Philippa and I are sisters? We have the same father but different mothers.’
Amine nods.
‘Our father came here to Zitoune many years ago after my mother went to Paradise. He met a lady here and they fell in love.’
She glances over at Aicha, who’s busy sucking the marrow out of a mutton bone. It’s just as well she doesn’t understand English. Probably a good thing that Fatima doesn’t, either. She looks at Jedda, who’s peering at her with her good eye. Can Jedda really understand her? No, that’s impossible. Just another mountain superstition.
‘My father and the lady had a baby. The baby was born on December the ninth. Almost twenty-five years ago.’
Amine chews on a piece of mutton. ‘The same day like me. That’s nice.’
Philippa tuts. ‘No, no. You’re not getting it. You’re the baby. You.’
Amine chokes on the meat and swallows hard.
Fatima thrusts the water bottle at him. ‘What’s happening, Adi?’ she asks in French.
‘In a minute, Fatima. I’ll tell you soon.’
Addy reaches over and rests her hand on Amine’s knee.
‘You’re our brother, Amine. Philippa and me, we’re your sisters. Your mother was the lady who my father loved. They loved each other.’
Amine’s eyes fill with tears. He presses his fingers against his eyes. ‘Serious?’
‘Yes, serious. You’re a Percival, just like us.’
Amine’s shoulders begin to shake. Addy reaches over and hugs him against her as Philippa pats him on the back.
‘You give me the biggest gift in the world, Adi,’ Amine says, emotion strangling his words. ‘You give me my father.’
Addy turns over in her bed and watches Omar on his cell phone. Omar finishes the call and sets the phone down on the bedside table.
‘Omar?’
‘Yes, habibati.’ Omar sits on the bed beside Addy.
‘Have you spoken to Zaina’s parents yet? To tell them your engagement is off.’
The crease forms between Omar’s eyebrows. ‘Soon, darling. When the time is better.’
‘Why wait? It’s not fair on Zaina to string her along.’
Omar sighs. ‘Don’t mind about Zaina. She’s young yet. Her father will find her another husband quick.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want another husband.’
‘It’s her problem. Don’t mind for the situation, darling. It’s not your business.’
‘Not my business?’ The blood rises in her cheeks.
He reaches over and turns off the switch on the bedside lantern.
‘Darling, I’m so, so tired. I must sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow. I have to find someone to manage the café of Yassine near the waterfalls. Yassine’s gone with the wind. Even his wife don’t know where, so I’m taking his café to make a business. Soon I’ll have enough money for the architect for Dar Adi with the money you give me as well.’
Addy picks at the bedcover. ‘At least Fatima seems to be happier when Zaina’s around. Have you noticed how much Fatima and your mother are arguing? Even Philippa’s noticed. What do you think that’s all about?’
‘My mum insists Fatima marry Farouk. She’s telling her all the time to do it, but Fatima says no. She insist to marry Amine.’
‘You know she loves Amine. She told me.’
‘It’s impossible for Amine to marry Fatima. He’s a bastard.’
‘My father’s his father.’
‘Even so, Mister Gus didn’t marry Amine’s mother. I’m so sorry for this situation, darling, you know this is true. So, he’s still a bastard.’
‘Don’t say that. It’s not a nice word. He’s illegitimate.’
Omar sits up and turns on the light. ‘Adi, when Mister Gus thought Amine die as well as Hanane, he left Zitoune. He never came back after that. The policeman came to take away Amine because he was bast … illegitimate. The policeman say Amine must go to a special house in Beni Mellal.
‘Mohammed paid the policeman to be quiet and for Amine to stay with him and his wife, even though she was very angry about the situation. Even yet, Mohammed pays the policeman so he doesn’t make trouble for Amine. I cannot permit Fatima to marry into this situation. She’ll suffer.’
‘If Fatima and Amine want to marry, we have to help them. He’s my half-brother.’
‘No, darling. It’s impossible.’
‘Why? Maybe it’s their fate to be together. Have you thought about that?’
‘I swear I’ll help Amine for his future because he’s your brother. It’s incredible that Mister Gus is the father of you and your sister and Amine. Even so, it is impossible to fix this problem. Amine is illegitimate, as you say. That’s his fate, habibati. He can never marry Fatima. You must accept it.’
Chapter Sixty-Five
Zitoune, Morocco – June 2009
Zaina enters the courtyard of Aicha’s house carrying a basket covered with a red-and-white striped cloth. She nods at Addy and Aicha, kisses Jedda on top of her head and sits on a stool beside Fatima, who’s bent over Philippa’s hands applying intricate henna patterns. She sets the basket down and unwraps the striped cloth. The sweet, cakey aroma of freshly baked cookies wafts into the air.
‘Shukran,’ Aicha says. She waves her hands at Zaina, her palms wet with pungent green henna.
A motorbike whines into the lane. The engine idles in front of the house, then the motorbike roars off again. The front door swings open and Omar strides into the courtyard swinging a straw hat in his fingers. He taps at the birdcage and coos at Fatima’s little green budgie, then he walks over to Addy and sets the hat on her head.
‘Thank you, habibi.’
‘I told you I would buy you a new hat since your other one f
lew to Algérie.’
Omar bends over his grandmother and kisses the top of her head. Addy watches Zaina follow him with her eyes.
Omar grabs a handful of cookies and stuffs three into his mouth. He wipes the crumbs from his lips.
‘There is some lunch, honey? I’m so hungry.’
‘No. We’ve been doing the henna.’
He frowns and strides into the kitchen, emerging with a cold brochette, Jedda’s black-and-white cat at his heels. He drags a stool beside Jedda and bites into the cold mutton.
‘We should have tagine for lunch. There is a problem with Fatima.’
‘She’s still upset about Amine.’
‘Still?’
‘Yes. She loves him. You can’t just turn that off like a tap.’
He tosses a chunk of mutton to the cat and licks the mutton grease off his fingers.
‘It doesn’t matter about love, habibati. It matters about security. Amine doesn’t have papers because his parents didn’t marry. So, I tell him he must be rich to make Fatima secure. Then he can pay for the doctor and for the education of his children. To be Fatima’s husband he must be able to support his family well.’ He nods towards his sister. ‘Fatima understands this requirement.’
‘He’s a waiter in his uncle’s restaurant. How’s he supposed to get rich?’
‘This is not my problem. It’s the problem of Amine.’
‘Amine’s my brother. If it’s his problem, it’s my problem, too.’
‘And mine.’ Philippa waves her hennaed hands in the air. ‘Maybe we can get him a job in London.’
‘As you like, Phileepa. Even so, it will take a long time, and Farouk is impatient to marry Fatima.’
‘I thought that was over. Fatima doesn’t want to marry him.’
Omar tugs the last chunk of mutton off the skewer and pops it into his mouth. He chews as he looks at Addy. He swallows and wipes his mouth with his fingers.
‘My mum and my uncle and my aunt insist to make a wedding for Fatima and Farouk. They love it for the honour of the family. They want to do it soon. Even before Ramadan.’
‘But you’re not going to let that happen, right?’
‘Family is very, very important in Morocco. It’s a bad situation to disturb the honour of a family.’
Addy looks down at the twisting curlicues of henna on her feet.
‘But you promised that Fatima could choose her own husband.’
‘Yes, I know. I don’t know the answer for this situation.’
Someone pounds on the metal door and shouts Omar’s name. Omar drops the skewer onto the low table and goes over to open the door. Mohammed shoves past him, waving a crumpled piece of paper.
‘You’re happy, Omar? You make him to do it.’
‘What happened? What are you talking about?’
‘Amine. He’s gone. He said he will go to Europe.’
Fatima looks over at Addy, her dark eyes wide. ‘What’s happening?’
Mohammed waves the crumpled paper at Omar. ‘You told Amine he can’t marry Fatima because he’s a bastard. You said he must be rich, but you know this is an impossibility for him. He said Omar insists that Fatima must marry an old uncle for the honour of her family. It’s true, isn’t it? Mahbool.’
The green budgie jumps off its perch and flaps around the bamboo cage.
‘Mohammed, it’s true I told him he had to be rich to marry Fatima, but I never told him about Farouk. This was not his business.’
Philippa draws her pencilled eyebrows together. ‘If you didn’t tell him, then who did?’
Mohammed pounds his chest with his fist and points a finger at Omar. ‘You think Amine is bastard rubbish. You think he’s the son of a whore. My poor sister who die.’
Fatima tugs urgently at Addy’s sleeve. ‘What’s he saying about Amine?’
Mohammed waves Amine’s letter at Addy. ‘It’s the fault of you. When you showed me the photo of Hanane and your father by the waterfalls, I felt the bad eye happening again. Your father brought big shame to my family. Then everybody forgot the situation until you told Amine he’s the son of your father. You made big problems since you came here.’
‘Mohammed, I had no idea …’
Omar pats the older man on his shoulder. ‘Adi didn’t mean to make problems.’
Mohammed shoves Omar’s hand away. ‘Amine is my blood, even if his father was an evil man. He said he will go on a boat to Europe to be rich. He said it’s finished for him in Morocco if Fatima marries Farouk.’ He presses his fists against his eyes. ‘Amine, Amine.’
‘What, Adi?’ Fatima asks, her voice shrill with anxiety. ‘What did Mohammed say?’
Addy takes hold of Fatima’s hand. ‘Amine wrote a letter to Mohammed. Someone told him that Omar was forcing you to marry Farouk. He said he couldn’t stay in Morocco if you couldn’t be his wife.’
Her eyes widen. ‘Where’s Amine?’
‘Oh, Fatima. He’s gone to Europe.’
Fatima clutches Addy’s hand to her chest. ‘Who told Amine this? Only our family knew that my uncle wished to marry me. My family and …’ Fatima slowly turns to face Zaina.
‘Laa!’ Zaina shakes her head wildly. ‘I only told Amine maybe. Maybe you will marry your uncle. Maybe!’
‘Liar!’ Fatima lunges for the basket of cookies and launches it at Zaina, showering her with shortbread. She picks up the broken cookies and hurls them at Zaina’s face.
Aicha and Philippa leap off their stools and pull at the two girls as they kick and scream at each other.
‘It’s enough, Fatima.’ Omar points to Aicha’s bedroom. ‘Go.’
Fatima runs into Aicha’s room, her wails resonating around the courtyard. Zaina mumbles something apologetic to Omar. He shouts at her harshly. Then she’s on her knees, begging. Crying.
Addy stares at the wailing girl. At the devastated uncle. At her shocked lover.
She’s a pebble thrown into a pond. Mohammed, Omar, Zaina, Fatima and Amine are floating leaves dragged under by the ripples.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Zitoune, Morocco – June 2009
‘Is it true?’
‘What?’ Omar stands at the open window of Addy’s bedroom, staring out over the tops of the olive trees to the mountains beyond.
She tosses her T-shirts into her suitcase. ‘Did you tell Fatima she has to marry Farouk?’
Omar turns around, his eyes narrowing. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Why else would Amine have left like this? He was so excited to find out about his father. He wanted to know everything about him. He said he wanted to marry Fatima and make a life in England with her. We could’ve helped them. They could’ve had a wonderful future there. They could’ve had the chance for a life together that my father and Hanane never did.’
‘If you think it, then it must be so.’
‘You told me Fatima could make her own decision. You promised.’ Addy’s chest constricts as anger takes hold. She slams down the lid of the suitcase. ‘Look where your honour’s got you now. Your sister’s life destroyed. Amine on a dangerous journey to Europe. Mohammed breaking his heart over his nephew. Are you happy now? Are you happy to marry off your sister to an old man as a brood mare? All for the sake of your family’s bloody honour.’
‘You don’t understand how it is to be Amazigh.’
‘You’re right, Omar. I don’t understand it, and I’ll never understand you.’
Addy finds Fatima lying on a banquette in Aicha’s living room, her breath catching on tearless sobs. Aicha sits beside her, rubbing Fatima’s head, while Jedda perches on the opposite banquette like a protective owl, tapping the floor with her stick, the cat curled at her feet. Tea is set out on the low table, but no one’s touched it.
Addy kisses Fatima on her cheek. Fatima reaches her arms around Addy and hugs her. The front door of the house slams against the clay wall. Its tinny reverberations echo around the courtyard. Omar enters the living room. He picks up the teapot and pours a stream
of tea into a glass. Between sips, he answers Aicha’s strident questions.
Jedda slaps her stick on the wooden table and rises to her feet. Grumbling under her breath, she pushes past Aicha and Omar and out to the courtyard, the cat following at her heels.
Addy whispers to Fatima that she’s sorry, that she’d believed Omar when he’d told her that Fatima was free to make her own decision about marrying Farouk. That she never would’ve believed he’d go back on his word.
Fatima sits up, her face puffy and wet. ‘No, Adi. It’s not Omar’s fault. He gave us a chance. He told Amine he must earn ten thousand dirhams and then we could have a wedding. Amine and I discussed it many times. He tried to earn more money in the restaurant and working for Omar. He even was doing some guiding around the waterfalls. But the money came slow – ten thousand dirhams was an impossibility, I could see it.’ She sighs heavily. ‘I made the decision to marry Farouk. It was me, not Omar.’
Addy jerks her head around to Omar. He’s watching her, his face inscrutable. She turns back to Fatima.
‘But why?’
Fatima’s brown eyes are dark with tears.
‘I must be secure in my life, Adi. My children must be secure. I love Amine. Even more since I know he is your brother. He has taken my liver. But he wouldn’t be a good husband for me. He is poor and he have no papers. I would be old before he have ten thousand dirhams to marry me, and I want to have a family. Farouk is my aunt’s brother. My family will have a good honour if I marry him.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘After Farouk left I think about the situation all the time. I think maybe it might be possible to be the wife of Amine, but …’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘I think about having a baby with no name. It’s not possible for me to do that. I think about it so, so much. It is much better for me to marry my aunt’s brother, Farouk. I will have a better life with him. I will be with Uncle Rachid and Aunt Nadia, and I will have his children to look after. I will love that.’
Addy sits back against the cushions. ‘So, you’ve been trying to decide between Amine and Farouk. That’s why you and your mother have been arguing.’
The Lost Letter from Morocco Page 33