‘Well, she got Françoisto marry her, so she can’t be that unappealing.’ Probably does tricks. And, hello, I have eyes.
‘Oh my dear, no. He’s not interested in her. He’s a friend of Dorothy,’ she says, her tone heavy with implication.
‘Well, Kai said he was bisexual.’
‘No, no, no! The man is as gay as a maypole—I’ve known him for years! He married, like lots of gay men did a number of years ago, for appearances sake. Although what he gets out of it, I’ll never know.
‘Maybe he gets to convert a few of thehoorsharem along the way. Or at least gets to watch.’
‘Niamh!’ I chastise, but Mishael is laughing.
‘Good point,’ she says, walking me towards the changing room again. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘So he did an Elton?’ Niamh says.
‘Exactly, my dear. Some men feel forced into marriage for appearances sake, especially in conservative countries such as this, sadly. Being gay is still a huge taboo. And punishable.’
‘That is sad.’
‘It is, isn’t it? One of Faris’ cousins—a quite distant cousin—has been married five times, each one ending in a divorce before the year is out. He sends them back virgins. Well, at least the first three, as far as I know. The last two have been a little knowing, shall we say. Yes, divorced and virgins, but quite rich you see? From themahr. You can’t blame him, it’s his family. They’re either blind or seeking a cure, sadly.’
‘That’s awful,’ Niamh answers. ‘I can’t imagine having to hide who I am. Who I want to be with.’
‘You couldn’t hidethatbloke,’ I answer, hoping to lighten the tone. ‘All six foot four of him. And what is he? Like a hundred and ten kilos or something?’
‘All muscle.’ Niamh laughs. ‘It’s a pity a couple of those kilos weren’t between his ears.’
And with that, the pair pull the door to the changing room closed.
‘I’ll send someone in to attend to your buttons, darling.’
From beyond the door I hear Niamh snigger as she adds, ‘Well, at least he doesn’t need any help withmy buttons.’
‘Then he’s a keeper,’ Mishael adds, the rest of her sentence lost in the distance as they draw away.
We eat lunch in downtown Dubai, Mishael ordering mimosas to go along with our salads. Yep, I’m eating a salad. Blame Kai’s boxer shorts. Afterwards, Niamh heads off to do some shopping while Mishael and I have an appointment with the wedding planner, the fabulous Phillippe.
‘Meesiiiiss Meeshaaael!’
We enter a plush set of offices set in a fancy looking strip mall, and I’ve barely closed the door before he begins to screech. I don’t know aboutfabulous.I’d say he was more screamin’ myself.
Phillippe turns out to be Asian, and unusual in lots of ways, though the first oddity that hits me is his height. He’s as tall as Kai, though that’s including his jet-black quiff, which is pretty impressive. The second thing I notice is that he’s immaculately and very nattily dressed. Grey flat-fronted slacks and slim electric blue belt, a pale blue tailored button-down, and hipster specs. Add designer loafers below slightly too short pants, and no socks, and I’m not sure if he’s fashion forward or fashion enslaved.
‘Darling, you look gorgeous,’ he says, stalking towards Mishael, albeit with a little camp added to those loafered steps. ‘That colour looks so well on you.’
Turns out his effusive greeting was some kind of act, his accent now very English and proper.
The pair do the Dubai double-air-kiss thing, complementing each other on various items of clothing and general health, even mentioning Botox treatments in hushed tones.
‘I get migraines,’ he says with a wink.
‘You do not!’ Mishael chastises, slapping one hand against his chest. ‘You’re just as vain as Narcissus.’
‘Well, yes,’ he admits, his hand unconsciously touching his hair. ‘But when I look in the mirror in the morning, if I see lines, my head does ache.’
‘Phillippe, you’re incorrigible! Come now, enough about you. Let me introduce you to someone very special—’
‘Be still my aching heart!’ he exclaims, adding one fake sob.
