‘Aiywah.The roads,’ she answers with a surprisingly sympathetic nod of her head.
Late for something in Dubai? Blame the traffic; everyone becomes understanding then, it seems.
‘Kate, could I have a word with you, please?’
Arwa’s voice calls from the door opposite. Despite her friendly tone, my heart sinks.So much for Kai’s cloak and dagger routine.I follow her into the room, heart further dipping into my shoes.
‘Close the door, please.’ I lower myself into the chair she indicates on the opposite side of the desk. ‘How did this morning go, was everything in order?’
‘Yeah, it seemed to go well.’ I examine the Band-Aid covering the pin-prick from a blood test.
‘And your driving license?’ She begins to draw out the contents of a file from her desk.
‘I was surprised it wasn’t really a test, not like I’d expected, but yes, I have my license now.’ After a blood test and a chest x-ray, as requirements of my work visa, I’d also been taken to the bank. Presumably she’s familiar with the process for new employees.
‘That’s good. You’ll need it, the licence. One isn’t any good without the other.’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘I have the paperwork here for your new car.’ Lifting a sheaf of papers, she holds them out with an encouraging smile.
‘A car?’ I squeak, my mind scanning possibilities.A bonus, a mistake?It takes me a minute to make sense of what she’s saying as I slowly decide this stinks of Kai.Because I take taxis? Nah, can’t be.
‘Yes, it’s being offered as part of your contract. You’ve certainly impressed someone.’ Muscles in my shoulders tighten, despite the lack of irony in her tone. ‘Or else you drove a very hard bargain during your interview. Good for you, taking the initiative but I’d advise you against mentioning the car to your colleagues. I’m sure you’re aware of how... unusual this is. You’ll appreciate it could cause difficulties. For both of us.’
I nod, despite not really listening. All I can think isreally, Kai?
‘Teacher!’
I’m greeted by the cry from at least a dozen little girls as I open the classroom door. I really must try to get them to address me by my actual name. Any would do, Miss Saunders, Miss Kate; this screechy-teacher business sets my teeth on edge.
‘Good morning girls,’ I reply, though less manically.
Sadia claps her hands together and, amazingly, the class falls silent.
‘Good Morning, Miss-us Kate.’ Twenty little voices chant in a sing-song tone, it’s so unexpected, it leaves me smiling like a loon.
The morning passes without event, the afternoon bringing my class lessons in both Arabic and Islamic studies from another teacher. This leaves me at a loose end, and without a classroom, so I head to the staff room with my marking pile.
The room set aside for staff is large and airy, dotted with groups of low-slung armchairs and tabled workspaces. It’s pretty busy today. The school runs from kindergarten to the end of high school, all on the same campus. Despite the space available, that’s a lot of teachers to accommodate, so I lay my things on a table, staking my claim.
‘Hi, how are you?’ The young teacher from the staff meeting throws herself into the adjacent chair. Hala, I think she said her name was.
‘I’m good, thanks, and you?’ I move my detritus, making space for the bundle of similar she has in her arms.
‘Alhamdulillah.I’ll be even better when this week is over, this humidity iskillingme,’ she complains in a London accent as thick as fog. Not that I’ve ever been there, but... I watch TV.
‘It is pretty hot.’
I’m not surprised she’s warm considering the full coverage of her clothing; long sleeves, an ankle-brushing skirt and a loose abaya on top. But her clothing doesn’t detract from how pretty she is. She has the most beautiful hazel eyes.
‘Mm,’ she nods, ‘just wait ‘til the end of the school year when the heat drives us all mad. Plus, the kids have that pre-holiday fever and most of the teachers are ready to quit.’ She laughs shortly, her shoulders rising and falling quickly. ‘Or maybe that’s just me.’
‘That doesnotsound fun. I’d best start working on my Zen now.’
‘You’re Buddhist?’ she asks eagerly, leaning forward in her chair.
‘No, just your garden variety Catholic.’ No need to ask her religion. In addition to her clothing, her hair is covered by a scarf orshayla, I think it’s called.
