entirely happy ...' he spread his hands, 'you might have weighed the consequences more— wisely.'
Abby drew a short breath. 'If you're implying that having a good job has anything to do with my decision, you couldn't be more wrong. I—I wouldn't go back with you whatever the circumstances.'
. K a rim's arrival with the food forestalled any further discussion at that point, and he wheeled the trolley into the room, laden down with an assortment of dishes. The sides of the trolley opened out to provide a comfortably sized table for two, and after laying out the cutlery and uncorking the wine, Rachid dismissed him.
'We will serve ourselves,' he told the man curtly, in Arabic, and Abby was amazed at how easily she followed their exchange. Languages were like that, she thought, once learned, never forgotten.
Karim had placed two of the upright chairs at either side of the improvised table, and Abby took the one Rachid offered with polite acquiescence. Her husband seated himself opposite, and then asked her what she would like of the various foods provided.
Abby looked at the table rather perplexedly. There was a bewildering choice of dishes, and in her present state of nervousness she found all of them a little overpowering. Egyptian caviare was rich and salty, luscious pink prawns nestled on a bed of tossed salad, a thick yoghurt was coiled creamily in a chilled dish, and a steaming bisque simmered over a tiny flame.
And they were only appetizers, she thought unhappily. To follow there was a choice of Middle Eastern dishes like kebabs, and a thick soup served with vegetables called moulukhiya, and more traditionally Western foods like steak, and lamb chops, and tiny whole ducklings, served with orange sauce. Obviously Karim had been instructed to provide a variety of choice, and Abby was overwhelmed by it.
'What will you have?'
Rachid was looking enquiringly at her now, and Abby made a helpless gesture. 'I'm not sure. There's so many things. It—it's hard to decide.'
'Then have a little of each,' suggested Rachid dryly, indicating the caviare. 'I can recommend this, although perhaps you Would prefer something sweeter.'
'I—no. The caviare would be fine,' murmured Abby uncomfortably, reaching for a cracker, and while Rachid served her, she gazed with wonder at the enormous bowl of strawberries just visible on a lower shelf, and the juicy figs beside a tray of cheeses.
Despite her misgivings, the food was so excellent that Abby made a good meal, following the caviare with kebabs, and finishing with strawberries and cream. Rachid, she noticed, ate next to nothing, and as the meal progressed, she wondered if she had not been a little insensitive about his illness. It was obvious the food had no interest for him, and she felt slightly ashamed when he had gone to so much trouble to offer her so many delicious things.
'That was—marvellous,' she said at last, finishing the wine in her glass, and refusing his offer of more. 'I didn't realise I was so hungry. I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy it with me.'
Rachid pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. 'I am glad you are pleased,' he remarked, summoning Karim once more. 'We will have coffee now, I think. Then we can talk.'
Abby nodded, leaving the table herself as the swarthy manservant appeared, wandering restlessly about the room as he wheeled the trolley away, examining the pictures on the walls. Rachid's words about talking had reminded her of her reasons for being here, and while she had not forgotten the outcome of this meeting, she was not looking forward to their proposed discussion.
Karim had the coffee prepared and waiting for them, and after it was served Rachid asked that he should not disturb them again. 'I will ring if there is anything else I need,' he instructed in their own language, and Karim retired with a gesture of understanding.
Alone with Rachid, Abby could feel her nerves tightening, as much from an awareness of her own weakness as from any
Abby drew a short breath. 'If you're implying that having a good job has anything to do with my decision, you couldn't be more wrong. I—I wouldn't go back with you whatever the circumstances.'
. K a rim's arrival with the food forestalled any further discussion at that point, and he wheeled the trolley into the room, laden down with an assortment of dishes. The sides of the trolley opened out to provide a comfortably sized table for two, and after laying out the cutlery and uncorking the wine, Rachid dismissed him.
'We will serve ourselves,' he told the man curtly, in Arabic, and Abby was amazed at how easily she followed their exchange. Languages were like that, she thought, once learned, never forgotten.
Karim had placed two of the upright chairs at either side of the improvised table, and Abby took the one Rachid offered with polite acquiescence. Her husband seated himself opposite, and then asked her what she would like of the various foods provided.
Abby looked at the table rather perplexedly. There was a bewildering choice of dishes, and in her present state of nervousness she found all of them a little overpowering. Egyptian caviare was rich and salty, luscious pink prawns nestled on a bed of tossed salad, a thick yoghurt was coiled creamily in a chilled dish, and a steaming bisque simmered over a tiny flame.
And they were only appetizers, she thought unhappily. To follow there was a choice of Middle Eastern dishes like kebabs, and a thick soup served with vegetables called moulukhiya, and more traditionally Western foods like steak, and lamb chops, and tiny whole ducklings, served with orange sauce. Obviously Karim had been instructed to provide a variety of choice, and Abby was overwhelmed by it.
'What will you have?'
Rachid was looking enquiringly at her now, and Abby made a helpless gesture. 'I'm not sure. There's so many things. It—it's hard to decide.'
'Then have a little of each,' suggested Rachid dryly, indicating the caviare. 'I can recommend this, although perhaps you Would prefer something sweeter.'
'I—no. The caviare would be fine,' murmured Abby uncomfortably, reaching for a cracker, and while Rachid served her, she gazed with wonder at the enormous bowl of strawberries just visible on a lower shelf, and the juicy figs beside a tray of cheeses.
Despite her misgivings, the food was so excellent that Abby made a good meal, following the caviare with kebabs, and finishing with strawberries and cream. Rachid, she noticed, ate next to nothing, and as the meal progressed, she wondered if she had not been a little insensitive about his illness. It was obvious the food had no interest for him, and she felt slightly ashamed when he had gone to so much trouble to offer her so many delicious things.
'That was—marvellous,' she said at last, finishing the wine in her glass, and refusing his offer of more. 'I didn't realise I was so hungry. I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy it with me.'
Rachid pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. 'I am glad you are pleased,' he remarked, summoning Karim once more. 'We will have coffee now, I think. Then we can talk.'
Abby nodded, leaving the table herself as the swarthy manservant appeared, wandering restlessly about the room as he wheeled the trolley away, examining the pictures on the walls. Rachid's words about talking had reminded her of her reasons for being here, and while she had not forgotten the outcome of this meeting, she was not looking forward to their proposed discussion.
Karim had the coffee prepared and waiting for them, and after it was served Rachid asked that he should not disturb them again. 'I will ring if there is anything else I need,' he instructed in their own language, and Karim retired with a gesture of understanding.
Alone with Rachid, Abby could feel her nerves tightening, as much from an awareness of her own weakness as from any
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