Death by Perfume Read online

  I made no response. If I’d said what I was thinking, she’d have called it sour grapes. But had that diamond belonged to me, I’d have felt so worried about losing it, it wouldn’t have brought me much pleasure.

  After more time had passed, she finally tugged at my arm and said, somewhat unwillingly, “Come on, let’s go.”

  Strange to say, Gloria was surpassingly patient when it came to jewellery shopping, slowly going through each shop, examining each article, taking her time with the whole process. My poor legs were soft as cotton, but Gloria seemed full of energy and ready to keep going.

  When I grew too exhausted to take another step, I couldn’t resist asking, “Gloria, what on earth are you looking for?”

  She giggled, “I’m just window shopping today. When I’ve made my pick, I’ll get Steven to come and pay the bill.” She spoke without her eyes leaving the display for even a second. “You see that sapphire ring? What do you think? Will it go with my lake-blue evening dress?”

  Her eye was good. The stone on that ring was well-cut and clear, definitely a superior specimen. As for the price—ah! That was “superior” too.

  I knew that as the manager of the company, Steven’s salary would be fairly high—but wasn’t he anxiously trying to raise funds for Gloria’s boutique at the moment? What was she thinking? Buying jewellery at this time would only add to his burden.

  When I put this to her, Gloria glanced at me as if dismissing a country bumpkin. “What strange ideas you have! Men earn money, and women spend it. If you see something you like or think of something you want, just open your mouth and ask for it. Just buy it! As for where the money comes from, how he earns it, that’s his business. You shouldn’t need to worry about that.”

  A slight shiver passed through me. I’d known Gloria was materialistic, but this went beyond my expectations. According to her, the one thing holding a couple together wasn’t love, but money. It looked like the buffalo was destined to labour his whole life! I sighed deeply, and said nothing further.

  • • •

  A sandstorm raged for two or three days before slowly calming down.

  That evening, the night sky was unusually clear, and after dinner, the three of us strolled around our spacious backyard. Recently, I’d bought little Danny a tricycle, and now he always leapt out the door like a bird freed from its cage, eager to pedal round the garden on his metal horse. James and I sat on a stone bench, idly chatting. Our home life was mundane, uneventful, but filled with contentment.

  A knock on the front door broke the calm. Steven and Gloria were outside.

  The second Gloria stepped in, the whole house grew fragrant. She had taken special care with her appearance that night. Pale blue eye shadow, an ocean-blue silk trouser-and-tunic suit, a face full of smiles. Before I could say anything, she’d shoved me gently and urged, “Quick, go get changed, we’re taking you to a movie.”

  Knowing that there wasn’t a cinema in the whole of Jeddah, I stayed where I was and asked suspiciously, “What movie? Where?”

  “It’s like this.” Now it was Steven who spoke. “Gloria’s been complaining of boredom, so I said I’d take her to see a film. It seems there’s an underground movie theatre here, and she said we should ask you two along, so…”

  I looked at Danny, only two years old. What would happen to him if we brought him along and got caught!

  “I think we’d better not,” I said hesitantly. “We have to put the child to bed…”

  “Come on, don’t be a spoilsport! We’ve come specially to invite you, and you’re turning us down.” There was no trace of empathy in Gloria’s voice.

  “We can get Mr and Mrs Ali to look after Danny,” James offered.

  It seemed rude to keep refusing, so I went to get changed. James followed, and I grumbled at him, “Why do we have to follow them to this sort of illegal place?”

  He chuckled. “Aren’t you always talking about getting material for your writing? This looks like a great opportunity to me.”

  “And what if we get sent to prison? What happens to our little boy then?” I refused to be jollied along.

  “Aiyah, you’re worrying too much. It’s just a movie, not that much of a risk. I’ve been to this place once before, there are people keeping watch inside and out, it’s perfectly safe.”

  Seeing me silent, he continued, “They’re so excited about it, don’t bring them down! If we refuse to go, it’ll be awkward for Steven.”

  Back in the living room, Steven was bouncing Danny on his knee. Gloria sat idly, her soft white arms on the sofa rest.

  “A drink before we go?” I offered.

  She waved away my words, a streak of blue light passing before my eyes. I looked closely. On her ring finger was that gorgeous sapphire ring we’d admired.

  She really had gone back to buy it. No wonder she was in such high spirits.

  The underground cinema was outside the city—just an ordinary house, surrounded by a high wall with people standing watch around it.

  It was a windless night, and the surroundings were completely still. The moon behind the date-palm trees threw long shadows along the ground, like demons lying in wait for us. In this spooky atmosphere, my heart couldn’t help beating faster.

  This illicit cinema screened films from Europe and America, mainstream pictures we could have seen almost anywhere else in the world—an ordinary pleasure except in Saudi Arabia, where the theocratic government had banned all entertainment. Now we were having to sneak our way into what had been commonplace before. Thinking about it now, I’m still not sure whether to laugh or sigh.

  The space wasn’t large, seating perhaps three hundred people. There were perhaps a hundred there that night, to see what turned out to be a rather lacklustre detective film, its shallow plot a tangle of gambling, violence, beautiful women and alcohol.

  Worried about Danny, I didn’t pay much attention, and wasn’t aware how long the film had been running when it suddenly stopped and the room snapped into total darkness. A rustle passed through the audience, but no one spoke, and James whispered in my ear, “There may be police outside.”

  I instinctively jumped up and tried to make for the exit, but he gripped my arm hard. “Stop it, you need to stay calm. If someone comes in with a torch, then we’ll sneak out the back way.”

  Before he’d finished speaking, the film flickered into life again. False alarm! I let out a shaky breath.

  Afterwards, we picked up Danny from the Ali family. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet, and his eyes were so swollen from crying they looked like little walnuts. Grabbing my neck with his chubby arms, he howled, “Mama, I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

  “Darling.” I covered his face with kisses, my heart aching. “Mama is never going to abandon you again for some boring old film.”

  • • •

  After that night, Gloria didn’t contact me for more than a week. She didn’t get on well with the rest of the Jeddah expat wives, yet was a person who couldn’t stand being alone. I conjectured that she must have found a better way to occupy her time, if she wasn’t coming to visit me. Soon enough, my guess was proven correct.

  That day, I heard a new supermarket had opened in the city centre, and so when James came home for lunch, I asked him to give me a lift there. He’d pick me up on his way home after work, and we’d have dinner together.

  It was there that I bumped into Gloria. She spotted me first. I was standing by the meat counter pondering what to get, when a pair of soft, fragrant hands clapped my shoulders. Looking back, I saw Gloria’s face blossoming into a smile.

  “Hi!”

  “Hi,” I answered.

  Her trolley was laden with fresh and canned food, as well as tinned and bottled drinks.

  “Wow, are you hoarding provisions?” I joked.

  “Oh, we’re having a party. You should come—eight o’clock tomorrow night.” She looked left and right, then continued distractedly, “Have you met my friend Albert? It’s a gathering to welcome him.”

  Who was this Albert? I had no idea, and could think of nothing to say in response. Not noticing, she went on, “You know how it is, Steven’s such a workaholic, I’m almost bored to death stuck at home. Thank god Albert’s arrived, we’ve gone sightseeing everywhere together, so it hasn’t been too dull.”

  Abruptly, she raised her arm and waved enthusiastically. Looking in the same direction, I saw a tall, broad-shouldered man striding towards us. His curly golden hair reached his shoulders, and his face was like a doll’s. He looked younger than Gloria, and I detected a lack of substance in the way he moved.

  Gloria introduced us quickly, then slotted her arm familiarly into the crook of his elbow and smiled at me. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening. Don’t come too late!”

  Watching them push the trolley towards the cashier, I felt a wave of confusion, followed by sadness. But the next moment, I shook my head and thought: why disturb these still waters—what business is it of yours?

  I bought half a kilogramme of offal, then pushed my trolley up the escalator to the kitchenware department on the second floor, where I hoped to find a blender. Saudi Arabia imported fruits cheaply and plentifully all year round from the various Mediterranean countries, and we bought them by the crate, often getting so much that some rotted before we could eat it, which felt like an awful waste. Hopefully a blender would help use the fruit up faster.

  The kitchenware department was crammed with every possible variety of machine. There were seven or eight different brands of blender alone, and although I tried to compare the models and prices, my eyes grew blurry and I simply couldn’t choose between them. As I dithered, a familiar face appeared between the shelves, and I called out in pleased surprise, “Jennifer!”

 
Jennifer was the first American friend I’d made since coming here. She was a warm-hearted, straight-shooting middle-aged woman. There was nothing indirect about her at all—she always told you exactly what was on her mind, one of those people who wouldn’t have a smile on their face if they weren’t genuinely happy. With Jennifer, what you saw on the surface precisely mirrored what was going on underneath. When I first arrived in the desert, knowing no one at all, I grew lonely and bored. She made the time to visit me often, cheering me up, and I was grateful to her for that.

  “Hey, sweetheart, you’re here too!” She swooped around the shelf and trotted towards me. “You’ve put on weight, and your complexion is better. How’s it going? Got used to life here?”

  “Things are going well,” I answered happily. Seizing the opportunity, I begged her to help me choose a blender. Without hesitation, she pointed at the one with the greatest number of functions, saying, “This one. It’s a bit more expensive, but you’ll get more use out of it.”

  As she enumerated its many capabilities, I started to relax now that a decision had been made, and we stood by the shelf unit chatting away. Somehow the conversation turned to Gloria. Jennifer’s expression grew sour, and she said, “I saw her just now, with her new boyfriend. Such a shameless couple, canoodling in public like that. She was bare-faced enough to invite me to her party tomorrow. Bah!”

  “I saw them downstairs too,” I admitted.

  “Oh? And did you see the man?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you know how they met?” She raised her eyebrows. Before

  I could answer, she plunged ahead, “Last Saturday, Peter had some people round. I was there, and so were Steven and Gloria. And that man—” She rapped her forehead. “I’ve forgotten his name.”

  “Albert,” I supplied.

  “Right, Albert, he was the guest-of-honour. He’s Peter’s cousin, just flown in from Seattle to start a job here. Gloria flung herself at him as soon as they were introduced, that slut. I don’t know how Steven can stand it!”

  From what I’d seen earlier, Jennifer wasn’t exaggerating at all. Ah, Gloria. How could she not understand what love was? How could she neglect a man who truly loved her, and play with fire in this way? And Steven, why did he condone her behaviour? Didn’t he understand the danger, the possible consequences? What about the dignity of a man, the rights of a husband? Where had they gone?

  I was silent for a while. Jennifer glanced at her watch and cried, “Oh no, look at me, chatting away like this when my kids are almost home from school. I’ll call you another day.”

  She waved quickly and hurried off. After a few steps, she turned and called, “Are you going to this party tomorrow night?”

  “Um, I haven’t decided. You?”

  She shook her head and said icily, “Definitely not. There’s no way I’m setting foot there.”

  • • •

  The next morning, I was woken by wave after wave of moist heat rolling into the bedroom from outside. Sitting up, I found my back slick with sweat, and an unfamiliar stillness filling the room. It took me a moment to realise what was wrong—the air-conditioning had stopped!

  The little white house was fitted with six air-con units, but that day, the electricity supply was disrupted, turning the whole house into a searing hot oven. I perspired freely, finding it hard to stay still. Several times I opened the front door with the intention of getting some fresh air, only to find that outdoors was a larger, hotter oven, filled with vicious sunlight that could blister a person’s skin. Like a trapped animal, I spun in circles around the sweltering room, struggling fruitlessly, unable to read or write, running out of towels to mop up my sweat, longing for James to come home early to take me away from this furnace. In a strange way, this began making me look forward to Gloria’s party that evening.

  Finally, it was half past seven. I changed into my outfit so we could leave as soon as James got home. Annoyingly, he was late, although at least the temperature dropped as the sky darkened. It was nine by the time the doorbell finally rang.

  James mopped his brow as he apologised—there’d been some unforeseen problems on the work site, and he’d had to stay behind to sort them out.

  “How about it? Still want to go to this party?” he asked.

  “Of course! I’ve been trapped in a house with no air-con all day; I’ve been almost smothered to death,” I pouted.

  We stopped at a fast food restaurant for some fried chicken, and it was past ten by the time we finally arrived at Gloria’s. The place was dimly lit and noisy, smoke circling in the air and music shaking the rafters. The overhead lamps in the living room had all been extinguished, leaving only a few wall lights to provide a weak glow. The sofa and other furniture in the living room had been pushed against a wall, leaving an empty space in which human figures flickered. When we got there, they were swaying in time to the music, their movements so fervent and energetic that it seemed they hoped to dance their troubles and unhappiness right out of their bodies.

  In the middle of the dance floor, drawing every eye, was Gloria. She was in a gauzy lake-blue gown with a startlingly low neckline, revealing cleavage plunging down her proudly lifted snow-white chest, seductive and flamboyant. Her dance partner was doll-faced Albert. It was a fast number and they were dancing separately, but their eyes were glued to each other. We didn’t know most of the other people on the dance floor, which made us think Gloria must have been responsible for the guest list. It was breathtaking how many new friends she’d made after just a short stay in Saudi Arabia.

  We found Steven tucked away in the kitchen, a cigarette in his hand. Clouds of smoke billowed from his mouth but no words, and his face was expressionless. When he saw us, a corner of his mouth lifted a little, the closest thing to a greeting we would get.

  Such a cold welcome. I felt awkward, but my silence simply made the atmosphere worse. James gamely tried to lighten the mood. “The place is full of guests, but the host is hiding here enjoying his cigarettes and booze. Where’s the fun in that?”

  He mashed out the half-finished cigarette in the ashtray and smiled coolly. “Tonight is for the young.”

  His tone was unhappy. Ah, he must have been sulking about Gloria. Gesturing at the chairs around the table, he said, “Come on, have a seat.”

  A bottle of whiskey stood on the table, along with two or three more types of clear spirits. He reached out and plucked two more glasses from the rack, and began pouring us drinks. James hurriedly stopped him. “I don’t normally drink in the evening. A glass of cold water is fine for me.”

  As he opened the fridge to get his water, I slipped alone into the living room to see what was going on.

  The music was slower now, and the couples were stuck to each other like strands of pulled candy. I swept my eyes over the crowd looking for Albert and Gloria, and there they were in one corner, Gloria’s long arm circling Albert’s neck like a snake, while his hairy hand stroked her smooth bare back over and over. Their bodies looked like hundred-year-old trees, so closely entwined that a strong wind couldn’t move them.

  And just like that, I couldn’t breathe. Quietly, I opened the glass door and stepped onto the balcony. It was less hot outside than I’d expected—this deep in the night, cooling breezes had arrived. Pulling up a stool, I sat and slid the door closed, shutting out the crazed world behind me.

  I don’t know how much time passed before Latin music begin seeping in from the living room, the guests clapping and hooting along with the wild drumbeat.

  Driven by curiosity, I returned to the living room to find everyone had stopped dancing. They were standing in a big circle instead, clapping away and cheering. Squeezing my way into the ring of people, I saw Gloria and Albert standing in its centre.

  Albert held up a bottle of white wine so a cataract flowed from its neck. He poured in time with the beat, fast or slow, and the resulting twist of liquid was a golden dragon twisting in mid-air, beautiful at first glance. As for Gloria, her eyes were half shut, her mouth wide open to gulp down the fountain of wine. Around them, the crowd shouted and laughed at this arresting spectacle. The drumbeat sped up and the wine flowed faster. Unable to swallow fast enough, Gloria allowed the wine to trickle from her mouth, like rivulets branching off from a stream, gushing down her chin and onto her neck, and then her pure white bosom. Moving quickly, Albert thrust the bottle at a bystander and lowered his head to lap at the amber liquid on her breasts in the most lascivious manner. I stood frozen, but the tipsy folk around me laughed even louder and shrieked with more enthusiasm.