‘Dexter may not have realized that.’
‘Well, perhaps that’s all it was,’ said Karim, somewhat mollified.
‘When will the General deliver his speech, do you think?’
‘Very soon.’
‘Good. That should put a stop to the mutterings.’
‘Oh, it will, you’ll see.’
Tamara was desperate to see a draft, but she could not ask, after Dexter had caused offence by making the same request. Could she pick up a hint? She said: ‘What has delayed the speech, I wonder?’
‘We are still making final preparations.’
‘Preparations?’
‘Yes.’
Tamara was genuinely mystified. ‘What preparations?’
‘Ah,’ said Karim with an enigmatic smile.
Tamara said ruefully: ‘I’m trying to imagine what preparations you could need that would be so elaborate they would delay a speech for more than two weeks.’
‘I can’t say,’ said Karim. ‘I mustn’t reveal state secrets.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Tamara. ‘Heaven forbid.’
*
That evening, before going to meet Tab for dinner, Tamara phoned her ex-husband Jonathan. He was wise and loving, and he was still her best friend. It was time she told him about Tab.
San Francisco was nine hours behind N’Djamena, so he would probably be having breakfast. He picked up right away. ‘Tamara, sweetheart, how nice to hear your voice! Where are you? Still in Africa?’
‘Still in Chad. How about you? Is this a good time to talk?’
‘I have to go to work in a few minutes, but I have time for you, always. What’s happening? Are you in love?’
His intuition was good. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Congratulations! Tell me all about him. Or her, but if I know you, it’s a boy.’
‘You know me.’ Tamara described Tab in glowing terms and recounted their trip to Marrakech.
‘You lucky girl,’ was Jonathan’s comment. ‘You’re crazy about him, I can tell.’
‘But it’s been less than a month. And you have to admit that in the past I’ve fallen for men who weren’t right for me.’
‘So have I, darling, so have I, but you have to keep trying.’
‘I’m not sure what to do next.’
‘I know what you should do, if he’s anything like your description,’ said Jonathan. ‘Lock him in the cellar and keep him there as a sex slave. I would.’
She laughed. ‘Seriously, though.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right, I’ll tell you, and I’m as serious as a heart attack.’
‘Go on.’
‘Marry him, you fool,’ said Jonathan.
*
An hour later Tab said: ‘How would you like to meet my father?’
‘I’d love to,’ Tamara said immediately.
They were in a quiet Arab restaurant called al-Quds, which meant Jerusalem. The place had become their favourite haunt. They were not worried about being spotted: it did not serve alcohol, so Europeans and Americans did not go there.
‘My father comes to Chad on business occasionally. The Total oil company is Chad’s biggest customer.’
‘When will he be here?’
‘In a couple of weeks.’
She glanced at a reflective window and touched her head. ‘I need to get my hair cut.’
Tab laughed. ‘Papa’s going to love you, don’t worry.’
She wondered whether his parents met all his girlfriends. Before she could stop herself she blurted out: ‘Did your father meet Léonie?’
Tab winced.
‘I’m sorry, what a rude question,’ Tamara said, embarrassed.
‘I don’t really mind. That’s you, you’re direct. No, Papa never met Léonie.’
Tamara moved on hastily. ‘What’s he like?’ She was genuinely curious. Tab’s father was Algerian French, the child of a shopkeeper, now a high-powered executive.
‘I adore him, and I think you will too,’ Tab said. ‘He’s smart and interesting and kind.’
‘Just like you.’
‘Not quite. But you’ll see.’
‘Will he stay in your apartment?’
‘Oh, no. A hotel is more convenient for him. He’ll be at the Lamy.’
‘I hope he likes me.’
‘How could he not? You make a stunning first impression: you’re absolutely gorgeous, plus you have the kind of simple chic style that French people prize.’ He made a gesture towards her outfit: she was wearing a mid-grey shift dress with a red belt, and she knew it looked great. ‘And then he’ll love you for speaking French. Of course he speaks English, but French people hate having to do so all the time.’