‘Katherine?’ Kai calls as I step away. ‘I look forward to further thong discourse.’
I’m left with the impression of his smirk as the valet closes the dark-tinted door.
Niamh is waiting for me just inside the entrance, which is just as well because the mall appears to be massive. I don’t think a month of Sundays would be time enough for me to find my way around. Maybe that would be a month of Fridays in Dubai? Lounged over the railings and peering at the floor below, my arrival goes unnoticed as she chats on her phone.
‘Does it have a happy ending? Loads. I especially like the one where he says, all commanding, like,roll over Arabella, I’m going to come in your bum.’ Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she spots me, wiggling her fingers in a wave. ‘Listen, I’ve gotta go. Talk later, yeah?’
Open-mouthed, I glance around the not empty mall as she simultaneously slides the phone into her oversized purse and an arm around my shoulder. ‘You, my girl, are late but being the bestest friend that I am, I’ll still give you the choice: a spot of lunch or shopping first?’
‘Am not. And what in the name ofarsewas that all about?’
‘What?’ she asks pulling away. ‘The phone? I was just havin’ a laugh, winding up one of the silly cows from my book club. You wouldn’t believe some people are such prudes. Hypocrites, too. The stink she’s kicked up about our latest read, but you can bet she’s off looking for the dirty pages right now. Not that it’s strictly one-handed reading material, if you know what I mean.’ I frown because I’m not sure I do. ‘You know,Sixty Shags? For feck’s sakes woman, have you been living in a cave?’
‘Not really my thing,’ I mumble, recognising the title from its media furore. Mummy porn, wasn’t that what it was dubbed? I like my smut best with a historical slant.
‘Sex is everybody’s thing, Kitty. I’ll loan it to you, but it better not come back with stains.’
‘Er, thanks?’
‘Where to, then?’
‘Coffeedefo, and a muffin. I overslept and I’m so hungry now that my bum’s eating my undies.’ With a furtive look over my shoulder, I adjust the elastic creeping across one cheek. ‘Maybe on the way, a shoe shop? Isoneed to buy thongs.’
Niamh’s gaze flicks down—she gets it, she knows what I mean—before scanning the rest of my appearance, aching toes up.
‘Katherine Louise Saunders,’ she says with a mockingly-stern slow shake of her head. ‘You haven’t been home, have you?’
‘Well, no...’ I feel my face redden under her scrutiny and come back on the defence. ‘But that’s hardly my fault.’
‘You hoower!’ she exclaims, clapping her hands in glee. The round of applause does nothing to ease my embarrassment. Am I being congratulated for being a dirty stop-out?
‘A bit louder, yeah? There’s a bloke on the top floor that didn’t quite hear.’
‘I want details, dirty great ones. Coffee’s on me!’ With a death-grip on my arm, she pulls me toward an escalator.
‘Shoes first,’ I whine, shuffling behind.
‘I dare say by the look of you, your feet aren’t the only things that hurt,’ she trills as we step onto the first tread.
Golden fittings, marble floors, and huge domed ceilings give the mall a very luxurious air. Add to that, a ski slopeandan aquarium, and you’ve got not only a spot of shopping but a full day out as well. People of all sorts and designs fill the mall. Families trailing kids, some trailing uniformed maids to boot. Women dressed more for dinner than shopping and guys looking like they’ve just stepped off yachts. Then there are Emiratis: women exotically glamorous in their black flowing cloaks, designer handbags dangling, their husbands and sons pristine in gleaming white robes.
I blanch passing the stores—Chloe, Armani, Louis Vuitton. Alexander McQueen! I’m going to need a mortgage to afford shoes here.
‘There are chain stores further along,’ Niamh says, as though reading my mind. ‘They don’t call this placedo-buyfor nothing.’
Eventually, we arrive at Nine West where I buy a perfectly comfortable pair of jewelled thongs, my feet grateful and, what’s more, they were in the sale! At a coffee shop, a Gloria Jean’s, for the love of all things Australian, Niamh steers me to a comfortable chair before heading off to order our drinks. The décor is very familiar and comforting, so recognizable it could be home, save for its customers. My local GJ’s is more likely to be filled with the daggy than the debonair. Mums on their way back from the school run—sometimes still in their pyjamas—and tradies, bricklayers and plumbers, dressed in work boots and short shorts.Thisparticular GJ’s, however, has a very different vibe.A group of teenagers worthy of their ownH&Mad titter over cell phones and frappés, while at nearby tables Emirati ladies sip espresso, elegance compressed into their kohl-lined lids.
Dubai is a city that seems to take its appearances very seriously.
Niamh interrupts my people watching with a bucket-sized frothy coffee and a muffin almost as big as my head.
‘You’re a legend!’ I rip off the paper, so hungry I could probably eat dust. I think I’m going to have to complain next time I’m in my local store, though. Size definitely does matter I decide as I take a bite.Wonder if everything is bigger in Dubai?
Throwing herself into the armchair opposite, Niamh shoots me a quizzical look before drawing in for the kill. ‘Come one, dish!’
‘What?’ She gives me a faint but unimpressed, lift of her brow. ‘I had a great time. He’s a little intense but really... cute?’
‘Feck off! Gorgeous, maybe. Hot, for sure. But cute?’ She shakes her head. ‘Come on now, tell Auntie Niamh what the bad kitty did.’
