“As-salamu ’alaykum,” greets us the tallest and most elegant man in the group.
“Amjad!” My mother yells, overjoyed. “Wa ’alaykumu s-salamu!”
Amjad, my mother and my father greet each other with cheerful hugs while speaking Arabic, until I interrupt them. “Amjad! No hug for me?”
“For the ninety-nine names of Allah!” Exclaims Amjad, with his strong Arab accent. “Are you really little Jemma?”
“In flesh and blood!”
“You are beautiful! The last time I saw you, I told you the stories of theArabian Nightsto send you to sleep!
“Amjad, this is Ashford Parker, the Duke of Burlingham. My husband,” I can’t deny that I quiver a little while uttering the last two words. “And this is his mother, Lady Delphina.”
“My name is Muhammad Amjad Rashid Al Thanyan, the first son of Hadi Muhammad Kalil Al Thanyan,” he introduces himself.
Delphina’s eyes are nearly popping out of her head. “Sh… Sheikh Al Thanyan.”
“Come on, Delphina, don’t be that formal. Amjad prefers to be treated in a more friendly manner!” My father encourages her.
“These are Fatima, my first wife – now my second wife – and Lathva, my third wife. And this is my younger brother Mansour Hadi.”
Ashford gets closer to me and whispers: “Are you telling me that one of the most prominent sheikhs in the Arab Emirates is an old friend of your parents?”
“He was not a sheikh thirty years ago, at the time of the commune. His father was, but he liked to live freely and unconventionally. They’ve been good friends ever since, and, every time he stops by in London, he comes for a visit.”
“I hope that my sudden arrival was not an unwelcome surprise,” says Amjad.
“Absolutely not, it’s an honour and a pleasure, this house is your house.” Delphina takes a deep bow.
While my parents walk to the salon with Amjad, Delphina looks miraculously heartened. “A sheikh at Denby Hall! Ashford, this event will make history. Lord Neville and a sheikh!”
“Let me remind you that, until five minutes ago, you were ready to erect barricades and deploy troops to repel Jemma’s parents’ friends. And, by the way, this is her evening, her birthday, remember?”
Delphina rolls her eyes like the child from theExorcist, and then she goes chasing after her eminent new guest.
Ashford looks at me, embarrassed. “I apologise for my mother.”
“Don’t stress. Your mother is unforgivable, but I accept her the way she is, just as she’s obliged to accept me.”
“Happy Birthday!” Harring enters Denby with his usual assurance. “After the amusement park, I was hoping for at least a mechanical bull.”
Ashford shrugs. “My mother took over. As you can see, her signature is quite recognisable.”
“1997 vintage champagne, heavy-as-hell dinner courses I will probably need two days to digest, and a soporific string quartet…” Harring lists.
“No string quartet. Luckily, the bus let them down,” Ashford informs him.
“God exists!” Harring rejoices.
Just as Cécile enters, we hear the notes ofBang a Gongby T. Rex coming from the ballroom.
“This is music!” she exclaims.
“You only listen to funeral marches, what do you know about music?” Harring mocks her.
“The only funeral march I’m interested in is yours. With any luck, I’ll hear it sooner rather than later.” They’re at it again.
The crowd moves towards the ballroom and I notice that my father is on the balcony; he’s wearing his headphones and is busy playing his records.
