She took a step back and raised her chin. ‘I will not do this,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Fatima, but it’s your own fault – you deceived me.’ Speaking slowly and emphatically, she said: ‘So let us not have a fight.’
Fatima looked angry. ‘Are you threatening me?’
Kiah looked at the guard. ‘Of course I can’t fight against him.’ She raised her voice. ‘But I can make a terrible row in front of your customers.’
At that moment a customer looked out of another private room and called out: ‘Hey, we need more drinks in here!’
Fatima said: ‘Coming, sir!’ She seemed to relent. ‘Go to your room and sleep on it,’ she said to Kiah. ‘You will see things differently in the morning. You can try again tomorrow.’
Kiah nodded without speaking.
Fatima said: ‘And for goodness’ sake don’t let the customers see you whimpering.’
Kiah walked away immediately, before Fatima could change her mind.
She found her way to the staff door and crossed the courtyard to the girls’ house. Jadda was sitting in the entrance lobby watching television. ‘You’re back early,’ she said disapprovingly.
‘Yes,’ Kiah said, and hurried upstairs without explanation.
Naji was still fast asleep.
Kiah stripped off the uniform she now thought of as prostitutes’ clothing. She put on her shift underdress and lay down alongside Naji. It was past midnight, but she could hear the band and the roar of conversation from the club. She felt tired but she did not fall asleep.
Zariah came in at about three o’clock, her eyes sparkling, a fistful of money in her hand. ‘I’m rich!’ she said.
Kiah was too tired to tell her she was doing wrong. In fact, she was not even sure it was wrong. ‘How many men?’ she said.
‘One gave me twenty, and the other I did with my hand for ten,’ said Zariah. ‘Think how long it takes my mother to make thirty!’ She took off her clothes and headed for the bathroom.
‘Have a good wash,’ said Kiah.
Zariah returned shortly and was asleep a minute later.
Kiah lay awake until the morning light began to seep through the flimsy curtains and Naji stirred. She breastfed him to keep him quiet a little longer, then she dressed them both.
When they left the room, no one else was stirring.
They crept out of the silent house.
The Avenue Charles de Gaulle was a broad boulevard in the centre of the capital. Even at this hour there were people around. Kiah asked for directions to the fish market, the only place in N’Djamena that she knew. Every night, fishermen from Lake Chad drove through the dark to bring yesterday’s catch into the city, and Kiah had accompanied Salim a few times.
When she got there the men were unloading their trucks in the half-light. The smell of fish was overpowering, but to Kiah it seemed more breathable than the atmosphere of Bourbon Street. They were arranging silvery displays on their stalls, spraying water to keep them cool. They would sell everything by midday and drive home in the afternoon.
Kiah walked around until she spotted a face she knew. She said: ‘Do you remember me, Melhem? I’m Salim’s widow.’
‘Kiah!’ he said. ‘Of course I remember you. What are you doing here, all on your own?’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Kiah.
CHAPTER 8
Four days after the shoot-out at the N’Gueli Bridge, four nights after Tamara slept with Tab without having sex, the American ambassador threw a party for his wife’s thirtieth birthday.
Tamara wanted the party to be a success, both for Shirley’s sake, because Shirley was her best friend in Chad, and for the sake of Shirley’s husband, Nick, who was knocking himself out to organize everything. Shirley was normally in charge of parties – it was one of the duties of an ambassador’s spouse – but Nick had decreed that she could not manage her own birthday celebration, and that he would take charge.
It would be a big event. Everyone at the embassy was coming, including the CIA, who pretended to be ordinary diplomats. All the important staff of allied embassies had been invited, and many of the Chad elite. There would be a couple of hundred guests.
It would take place in the ballroom. The embassy rarely held actual dances there. The traditional European ball was now old-fashioned, with its stiff formality and bumpety-bumpety music. However, the room saw plenty of use for large receptions, and Shirley was always good at making people relax and enjoy themselves, even in formal surroundings.