“What do you mean, my pavilion?” Francis asked.
“I built it just for you,” Hasim said proudly.
“For me?” Francis was stunned. “Hasim, I was only gone a few weeks.”
“And I had my designers begin construction right away,” Hasim said. “I wanted it to be ready for you. For us.”
Francis looked ahead. Leafy trees obscured a smaller building in the distance, set in a quiet spot on the lawn, with the path leading straight to it. He saw tantalising glimpses of a petite, circular pavilion up ahead, with a domed roof topped by a golden statue of a cat. Indeed, with its hot pink walls and goldendecor, this mini pavilion looked like a beautiful cake.
“Oh, Hasim!” Francis exclaimed. “This is marvellous.”
“Do you like it?” Hasim asked eagerly.
“Like it?” Francis drank in the sight before him as they approached, the attention to detail; the front porch was wide and open, with several cats already making themselves at home on the cushions laid out there. Golden palm trees were in place of standard pillars, and lining the front steps were golden statues of cats. “Hasim, I love it,” Francis declared.
Hasim grinned proudly. “Good.”
Four servants, dressed in gold and purple silks with matching turbans and slippers, were lined up at the front steps awaiting them with smiles, bearing trays of refreshments.
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Francis said, eyeing the glass cups on offer. “Anything cold?”
“Yes, the lemonade,” Hasim said, leading Francis to the appropriate tray of drinks. “Kashkab,” he indicated the pale-yellow drink, “lemon, mint, pepper, and citron. Or,qatarmizat,” he indicated another yellow drink, “is sweeter. Or,” he added with a smile, “my favourite. Lemon and strawberry.”
“That sounds good,” Francis said. “Why doesn’t that one have a name?”
“Well, the other ones are recipes from Egypt.” Hasim selected two glasses of pale pink liquid and handed one to Francis. “My own kitchens perfected this recipe themselves, because I found lemonade on its own too tart.”
“Ah, quite right.” Francis took the glass, raising it to toast. “Your health, my king.”
“And yours, my prince.”
They drank together, and Francis found he enjoyed the unique flavour of lemon and strawberry together. “Perfect. Curious flavour but works rather well.”
The servants, all eagerly watching the pair of them withbarely concealed grins, bowed their heads. The one with the tray of pink drinks offered Francis more when he’d finished his.
“Oh, no, that was enough for me, thank you,” he said, setting down his empty glass.
Hasim did the same, then told the servants something in Turkish. The four of them bowed their heads, then withdrew.
“Come,” he said to Francis. “Let me show you the inside.”
They ascended the front steps, where Hasim presented Francis with a thick, golden key. “For you,” he said, and glanced down at the lounging cats on the porch. “Don’t let the cats in. We’ll get no peace.”
Francis chuckled. “No cats. Right. You guard the door while I open it.”
The cats watched them with passing interest but were content to lounge on the cushions outside in the heat. Francis and Hasim managed to get through the door without any cats following them, and shut it softly behind them.
Inside was blessedly cool, with a faint breeze piped in. In fact, with the combination of dark pink walls and soft lighting, it was like stepping into another world; a fairy tale palace.
Hasim gestured for Francis to go first, letting him take it all in in his own time. They entered a long gallery, with bright blue murals of stylised vines and peacocks standing out against the pink walls. Due to the pavilion’s shape, this gallery rounded a bend, and Francis fancied it was akin to exploring a fantasy forest.
He glanced up at the ceiling, noting the jewelled lanterns sparkling, casting shapes of colourful diamonds here and there. Solar powered, he supposed. No flame, but the illusion of it, making the atmosphere cosy. Cherubs and birds of paradise were painted on the ceiling itself, so lifelike and bright in colour.
The gallery continued round in a winding circle, and the leafy murals gave way to murals of cats, then hung paintings inornate frames. Not paintings of people or places, but German quotes in fine calligraphy. The quotes were all declarations of love, and Francis paused to read each one before embracing Hasim.
“This is all so lovely,” he said against Hasim’s shoulder. “I fear I’m quite overcome.”
“I missed you,” Hasim replied softly. “Come, we are nearly at the centre. I have a gift for you there. You will love it.”
