Seriously. We’re on week three now. Fingers—and toes—crossed he’ll be back next week. And so much for his promise of phone sex, though I know he’s been incredibly busy. But knowing him, this is part of the tease.It’s always on his time.
‘Oui, je suis d’accord avec vous.’ This from Lena, who holds out her hand to help me down from the raised platform.
‘She’s just going to show you a few veils. I’ve told her chapel length or shorter.’ Perhaps sensing my reluctant expression, she adds, ‘It does no harm to try.’
I’m not keen. In truth, there doesn’t seem like much of a point. I’m not getting married in church, so I don’t really care about a veil. But as Lena escorts me to an equally plush ante-room, lifting a sparkling tray onto another gold desk, I’m dazzled by its contents: tiaras, diamanté hair slides and all manner of hair baubles. Like a magpie on crack and dazzled by the pretty, I’m not really paying attention to the voices from the outer-room. Until a particular voice freezes the blood in my veins.
‘Mishael, my dear. What a pleasant surprise.’
‘Sofia.’
My stomach churns and my fingers begin to shake, though I can tell Mishael isn’t enthused by her presence.
‘You do not mind if I just use the changing room, do you? The girl on the desk seemed to think that this would be a problem.’ The assistant begins to apologize and explain, cut dead by Sofia as she powers on. ‘But when I hear your voice, I think to myself, ah! This is Mishael! She will not mind. I need only one moment to check the length of my alteration.’
Smarmy bitch. Fucking whore. My hands are clutching the desk as Lena asks me in heavily accented English what the problem is. I can’t answer. And I can’t face going out there. I’ll... I’ll... Christ, I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to go out there.
I hear heels clicking on the marbled floor before they stop abruptly as Mishael speaks.
‘Actually, Sofia, I don’t think that’s appropriate. I’m here with my future daughter-in-law for a dress fitting. Herweddingdressfitting.’
Silence. And then, ‘Oh, Faris finally settled him on the girl?’ Her voice is pitched just a touch too high and I hear the clicking of heels again. ‘The girl from Saudi Arabia.’ Her pronunciation takes on a regional twang, rendering the wordsa-owdi arabeeya.‘Why not dress shopping in Paris or Rome, or with her own family?’
‘Faris?’ Mishael questions with a tinkling laugh, ignoring her further questions. ‘My goodness, no! He had no part in this. Kai’s marrying for love. A delightful Australian girl.’ Again with the silence. Until Mishael fills it with a sort of malicious sounding glee. ‘I’d ask you to stay and meet her, but I’m sure Kai would prefer to save those sorts of introductions for himself. He’s quite smitten, you see. And why wouldn’t he be? She’s such a lovely,wholesomesort of girl.’
It’s funny how a few moments can flip things. My hands unclench as Sofia murmurs some half-hearted congratulations before I hear her heels hurrying her out of the room.
‘She’s a nasty little trollop.’ Mishael fumes, her arms and legs crossed as she sits bolt upright in her chair. ‘Ah, there you are, my dear. Find anything you like?’
‘What? Oh, no. I’ll... I’ll look another time. Was that Sofia I just heard?’ My voice falters on her name, cracking as the image of her kneeling and naked flashes through my head.
‘You’ve met, have you?’ The small collection of words is delivered with a tightening of her mouth. It’s a look I’ve seen before on Kai, her mouth nothing more than a thin line. She stands, coming towards me, taking my hands in hers.
‘She’s nothing, my dear. Nothing but a very bad idea.’
‘You know?’ My voice is barely more than a whisper; one treacherous tear rolling down the side of my nose.
‘That’s her?’ Niamh exclaims, shooting out of her chair. ‘That’s the lying blow job girl!’ Her gaze flicks to my future mother-in-law. ‘Sorry about that there, Mishael.’
‘No apologies necessary. The woman is nothing but a slut.’ My mouth is now open and Niamh is sniggering. A lot. ‘But I sense something else, something not very... palatable regarding that...’ Her hands tighten on mine before she leans in and dabs at my rogue tear.
‘It’s nothing.’ Nothing I want to repeat anyway.
‘I understand,’ she replies, her face settling into a more neutral expression. ‘But I want you to know, you have nothing to fear. Kai loves you, and is well aware of how toxic she is. I’ve no idea why he married her,’ she adds.
‘Kai married that slut?’ interjects Niamh as my heart falls to my ivory platform heels.
‘No, of course not. François married her. But why, I don’t know. Anyone would think it was 1902!’
‘She’s very beautiful,’ I demur.
‘Seriously hot,’ Niamh kicks in. ‘It’s like Milla Jovovich and Enrique Iglesias gave birth to a grown-up supermodel baby!’
‘I think she’s as appealing as Engelbert, myself.’
‘Who?’ we both chorus.
‘Never mind. The point is, she’s a very unappealing sort.’
