‘OK,’ Sylvie mouthed and tentatively went to sit on the banquette, lowering her hands first; it certainly seemed steady. As she sat she saw there was a little Moroccan tea set next toher, full of a steaming liquid. She picked up the jug and could see and smell the mint stems through the glass. Lifting the lid she inhaled deeply and could pick up not just mint but the sweetness of sugar as well as the tang of green tea. This was heavenly. She reached out to lift one of the coloured glasses also on the tray but Rafe came bustling over and insisted on serving it for her. As she sat there, having been presented with the ornate glass adorned with gold patterning, and took a sip of the steaming liquid, she caught a jangle on the air. Hmm, OK. This could prove interesting. What on earth did they have planned? This was followed by the very light strains of music starting up. Her trained ear immediately picked up the lute-like sounds of the Gimbri, the strings of a rabab, with the unmistakable beat of bendir drums, several of them, and a riq, or maybe two, the North African and Arabic equivalent to the tambourine. What on earth were they going to do next? She took another sip of tea as the three Marksharp boys lined up in front of her and all made a deep bow before walking out backwards.
‘Twit, you nearly knocked me over,’ she heard Rafe hiss at Rupert as soon as they were around the corner. They were quite cute, those boys, once you got to know them. And made sure there were no matches nearby.
Then she heard a thwack, and another and another, which presumably meant they had started hitting each other.
The music suddenly got louder and from a dark corner of the garden she saw Ellie and Marion shimmer out to the front of the tent and start to perform a belly dance. Ellie, dressed in traditional belly-dancing costume with dark pink harem pants, top and matching veil, had a natural ease and didn’t put a foot wrong. Marion, clad in an identical outfit, was slightly more awkward.
The very angular nature of her meant she lacked the grace of a natural dancer – she jutted where she should glide – butSylvie had to give the woman credit for her sheer determination. Marion clearly assumed she had the grace of a gazelle as she flailed about looking distinctly unsteady on her feet. Although to be fair, hissing, ‘Boys, stop it, stop it right now,’ out of the corner of her mouth, as she kept her eyes determinedly to the front and her smile as fixed as she could, wasn’t really helping her achieve the vision of elegance that she was aiming for.
It seemed almost unfair that Ellie next to her was achieving it effortlessly. The girl had a flair for dance that Sylvie had noticed in class but that now, with an audience present, and the contrast of the heavily made-up woman next to her, made her appear more graceful. The music faded and it was possible to hear the small silver bells attached to their outfits whispering through the air as they started to move gently to the side of the garden.
Sylvie started to clap; this was all too much. A whole Arabian tent erected for her, furniture made for it and a North African feast presumably for her to eat after the girls’ dance. She could feel the emotion choking in her throat but before she could thank them, or say anything, the music changed and she realized that now Alex and Sam were moving towards her wearing… oh my goodness, they looked rather like old white sheets that had been cut up and sewn together, presumably to resemble the traditional dress that Berber men wore to dance.
They began to shuffle in unison, stomping and clapping. Sam’s face lit up as he followed Alex’s moves, throwing himself into the dance, exaggerating all the movements, a real joy on his face, his little eyes shining. He was clapping his torso to save his poorly wrist and it was hard to tear her eyes away from his face, so lit as it was by the moment. But then she caught sight of the expression on Alex’s face and had to fight the urge not to laugh out loud.
For a man so good-looking, normally so completely at ease with himself that it was slightly irritating for everyone else, tolook so hideously uncomfortable was the funniest thing she had seen in years. Finally, it would appear that there was something this man didn’t excel at, and it was dancing.
Alex caught her eye and raised his brows, acknowledging that he recognized how much joy she was getting from his discomfort, and then he put a little bit more life into his stomping and clapping, bringing his feet down heavier and clapping with more force. However, even with the extra effort, her four-year-old still outshone him. As much as she tried to get her grin under control she just couldn’t help herself; it must be spread across her face literally, as the cliché stated, from ear to ear. She could feel it.
Then, out of nowhere, and completely dominating the music, came the sound of a woman ululating. Alex looked completely startled and missed his footing, clambering to get back into step, whereas Sam just smiled even wider and got faster as the sound continued.
The noise instantly transported Sylvie to a world of sandstorms and bright blue robes. Was that Marion? How? When did the woman learn to do that? That took some power. She really was a constant surprise. Rufus, Rafe and Rupert, just on the edge of the shadows, were jumping up and down as she carried on, the younger two joining in with cockcrows as if they were all Peter Pan.
‘Go, Mum, go!’ Rafe shouted, pride writ large.
The music wound up and the boys shuffled back off and then Sam, Alex, Ellie and Marion came back into the light and took a bow.
‘Right, now that hell is over let’s eat.’ Alex grinned
‘No! Let’s dance again!’ Ellie squeaked. ‘Do that thing again, Mrs Marksharp, that was so cool. I want to try.’
‘That was pretty impressive, Marion. Was that really you?’
‘Oh yes, I learnt to do it decades ago when we were all in uni and went to stay at…’ Sylvie watched her flick a quick look at Alex. ‘When we all went on holiday. Years ago.’
More secrets, but then seeing that the secrets from before were clearly about setting up this evening, an evening dedicated to her and making her feel like the most spoilt princess in the world, she could let it slide. As much as Sylvie had loved her parents, even they had never done anything this jaw-droppingly gorgeous just for her.
‘And the costumes, they were so cute. You must have been up for hours at the sewing machine creating these, Marion. I really appreciate all of this.’
‘Oh no! That wasn’t me, that was Alex. He did everything really, just called me in for the finishing touches. That man can sew, not so good at draping.’ Marion winked at Alex and he winked back.
‘Trust me, there are places in the world where knowing how to sew is a must. If I want to keep myself intact, safe from scorpion stings and all other sorts of nasties, I need to be able to sew in a hurry.’
‘You are the most masculine seamstress I have ever met.’ Sylvie grinned at him and they shared another of those looks, the looks that since her resolution about grabbing life meant she no longer worried so much about what the children thought, just how quickly she could whisk her knickers off. Although not here and now, obviously. But a girl could daydream.
‘Right, let’s eat.’
‘I want to dance again,’ Ellie interrupted.
‘Yes, let’s do more dancing.’ Sam nodded in agreement.
‘I’d love to but I have to get back and take the dog for a walk, such a sweet thing. Only a puppy, you know! Richard bought him for me quite recently. He misses me desperately in the day. I really should get home.’
‘A puppy! I want to see the puppy.’ Ellie’s loyalty to dancing was suddenly fickle.
‘A puppy? It’s huge!’ Sam wasn’t quite as convinced.
‘You’ve worked so hard, stay and have some food, even if it’s only quickly, and then shoot off and rescue Darcy. Please, stay and eat with us, Marion.’ Alex was quick to invite her and there was no mistaking the genuine nature of his words.
