‘Ah, I thought perhaps you were surprised that she isn’t worked to the bone.’ The humorous gleam in her eye is decidedly like Kai’s, or maybe that should be the other way around. Whatever, I recognise she’s winding me up.
‘I don’t believe everything I read.’ Tales of domestic staff sleeping on kitchen floors, working seven days a week for sporadic pay. Newspaper articles recounting tragic stories of maids being beaten. Once or twice, to death. ‘I’m sure for every heartbreaking story of abuse, there’s another of—’
‘Yes, yes, but has he proposed?’
Subtle. Like a sledgehammer. My mouth works soundlessly. Should I tell her the truth? Turns out, thankfully, there’s no need as Kai strides into the room, looking deliciously sweaty in black running shorts and a muscle shirt.
‘My two favourite girls.’ Leaning over the sofa, he kisses my cheek, moving to his mother to do the same as she stands.
‘Well, child?’ She clasps his forearm as he turns to move away.
‘Parent?’ One eyebrow arches, and though his tone is almost bland, I can see he’s struggling to keep a straight face.
‘Have you something to say?’
‘That Martha is sorry?’ He glances at me, his smile threatening to escape a little more.
‘Sod Martha. Out with it, Kais, or I won’t be held responsible!’
‘Driven to profanity?’ he says, now half laughing. ‘We can’t have that.’ Pulling back, his hands curl around her shoulders and he asks, ‘Have you met my wife?’
‘Wife?’ she repeats, almost dazed. Blinking rapidly, she stares up into his face, struggling to keep hurt from her voice and face. ‘You’ve... you’re already married?’ Her head turns to mine, seeking a denial, perhaps, or confirmation of a joke.
My heart aches at the mixture of hurt and confusion that threatens her tone. I know it’s not that she doesn’t want us to be married, but rather that she’d prefer us not to have already done so.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak for a beat before adding another tangle of words. ‘But we’ve come back to do it properly. Here.’
Kai is embraced again in the midst of muttered congratulations and, ‘Oh, my lovely dears!’ Then she lifts her head and asks, ‘When?’
‘One month.’
‘A month!’ We repeat at the same time, Mishael’s gaze making a darting triangle between my face and my waistline, darting back to Kai’s.
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ he answers, amused. ‘History isn’t repeating itself.’
‘I didn’tmean...’ Her words trail off, her face still pink, her expression now discomforted. ‘But so soon,’ she says, her voice gaining strength. ‘It’s very short notice.’
‘Does that mean you aren’t up to the challenge?’
This time she swats his shoulder, telling him she’d have done better throttling him at birth. She leaves him then and I stand as she approaches the sofa, stepping into her open arms.
She envelops me in her embrace with words of love and congratulations before pulling back and looking over her shoulder. She exclaims, ‘Kai! You must call Phillippe, beg him to help.’ He groans, bringing a hand to his head as she adds, ‘Of course, he’ll be heartbroken not to be the bride. He always did promise you he’d look exquisite in white.’
My bare legs and I make it home unmolested, at least by the gardening team’s gaze, catching a ride with Mishael’s driver with a sweaty Kai accompanying me in the backseat.
Our conversation is bland, and when I venture to bring up last night’s visa issues, Kai quietens me with a light squeeze of my hand. I try to bring up the topic again once we’re out of the car and away from the ears of the driver, but before the front door is even closed, we’re met in the hallway by Martha.
This should be interesting.
Kai introduces me, in English, don’t you know, as his wife. And Martha looks like she’s just swallowed a great bitter pill. One approximately the size of a goose egg.
‘Most sorry, madam, for brush.’ Her words are halting and disjointed and I hope she’s also sorry for spitting, but I leave it at that. A vain hope, because the look on her face isn’t one of contrition. Nope. She looks decidedly pissed off. ‘But I am seeing you with my own eyes and I am fearing in my heart!’ At this, she pounds the corresponding muscle with her fist. ‘Paining most hurtfully!’
It will if you thump it, drama llama. ‘Oh.’ It’s all I can think of to say that isn’t inflammatory. Like piss off. ‘I gave you a shock?’ Not quite as bad as the one she gave me, I’ll bet. Did I come at her with a broom and a demonic gleam? No, just an armful of dirty laundry.
‘Yes, madam,’ she continues, her voice gaining in force and volume. ‘You are paining my heart. Also my foot-finger!’ And at this, she thrusts out a massively bandaged foot.
‘I’m sorry?’ My bemused gaze catches Kai’s amused one before sliding to, what must be, by the amount of bandages, a partially severed foot. ‘What happened to your... foot?’
