Postcards From Paris. Sarah Mayberry

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СКАЧАТЬ Or, worse still, some sort of prima donna who expected her every whim instantly to be obeyed?

      If so, he couldn’t be more wrong. She might have been raised in a palace but it had been as echoing and draughty as it was ancient, with crumbling walls, peeling paintwork and plumbing that only worked when it felt like it. And, as for expecting her every need to be catered for, well, she had been brought up to have no needs, no special treatment. Since her mother’s death a succession of nannies—each one more severe, more cold-hearted than the last—had been at pains to point that out to her. Whether it was because they’d been handpicked by her father for that very reason—King Gustav believed his daughter needed a firm hand—or because the chilly conditions of the palace somehow had rubbed off on them, Anna didn’t know.

      She did know that she had never found anyone who had been able to replicate the warm feeling of her mother’s arms around her, or the soft cushion of her breast, or the light touch of her fingers as she’d swept Annalina’s unruly hair from her eyes. Which was why she held on to those feelings as firmly as her seven-year-old’s grip would allow, keeping them alive by remembering everything she could about her beloved mother, refusing to let the memories fade.

      A fleet of limousines was there to whisk Zahir and Anna, plus Rashid and assorted members of staff who had accompanied them on the plane, on the final leg of their journey to the palace. Once inside the palace, they were greeted by more deferential staff and Anna was shown to her suite of rooms, the bedroom dominated by an enormous gilded bed that was surmounted by a coronet and swathes of luxurious, deep-red silk.

      It looked incredibly inviting. Finally giving way to her tiredness, Anna headed for the bathroom for a quick shower, taking in the huge, sunken marble bath with its flashy gold fittings and the veined marble walls. Then, climbing into the bed, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into deep, dream-filled sleep.

      She was awoken by a tap on the door. Two dark-haired young women appeared, each bearing a tray laden with fruit, cheese, eggs, hummus, pitta bread and olives. She sat forward as they silently plumped up the pillows behind her, then one started to pour a cup of coffee whilst the other one held a plate and a pair of tongs, presumably waiting for Anna to make her selection.

      ‘Oh, thank you.’ Pushing the hair out of her eyes, Anna smiled at them, wondering how on earth she was ever going to do justice to this feast. What time was it anyway? A gilded clock on the wall opposite showed it to be just past one o’clock. So, that would be one in the afternoon? She looked back at the food. She was going to have to choose something. Judging by the earnest look on the young girls’ faces, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they had offered to feed her themselves. ‘I think I’ll try the eggs—they look delicious.’

      Immediately an omelette was set before her and two pairs of eyes watched as she tentatively dug in her fork.

      ‘Do you speak English?’ Anna took a mouthful of omelette followed by a mouthful of coffee. The latter was strong, dark and utterly delicious.

      ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

      ‘Does everyone in Nabatean speak English?’

      ‘Yes, Your Highness, it is our second language. You will find everyone can speak it.’

      ‘It’s the second language in my country too, so that’s handy.’ Anna smiled at these two pretty young women. ‘And please, call me Annalina. “Your Highness” sounds far too stuffy.’

      The women nodded but something told Anna that they would struggle with such informality. ‘Can I ask your names?’

      ‘I am Lena and this is Layla.’

      ‘What pretty names. I’m guessing you are sisters?’ She tried another forkful of omelette.

      ‘We are. Layla is my younger sister by two years.’

      ‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Have you worked here in the palace long?’ If she couldn’t manage to eat much, at least she could distract them with conversation.

      ‘Yes, for nearly two years. Ever since the palace was built. We are very lucky. After our parents died we were given a home in return for serving the King and Prince Zahir.’

      So their parents were dead. Anna suspected there were going to be many tales of death and destruction in this country once ravaged by war. She wanted to ask more but Lena’s lowered eyes suggested to pry further would be insensitive. Layla, however, had edged closer to the bed, staring at her as if she had been dropped down from another planet.

      ‘I like your hair.’

      ‘Layla!’ Her sister admonished her with a sharp rebuke.

      ‘That’s okay.’ Anna laughed, looking down at the blonde locks that were tumbling in disarray over her shoulders. ‘Thank you for the compliment. It takes a lot of brushing in the morning, though, to get the tangles out.’

      ‘I can do that for you,’ Layla replied earnestly.

      ‘Well, that’s very kind of you but...’

      ‘We are honoured to be able to serve you, Your Royal Highness,’ Lena said. ‘Prince Zahir has instructed us to attend to your every need.’

      He had? Anna found it hard to believe that he would concern himself with such trivialities as her every need. ‘Well, in that case, I will take you up on your kind offer. Prince Zahir...’ Anna hesitated. She wanted to ask what sort of an employer he was, what sort of a man they thought he was, but suspected that they wouldn’t be at liberty to tell her and it would be unfair to ask. ‘Do you see very much of him?’

      ‘No. He is away from the palace a lot. And, even when he is here, his needs are very few.’

      ‘Do you have many visitors, here in the palace?’

      ‘Not so many. Mostly foreign businessmen and politicians.’

      ‘We’ve never had a visitor as pretty as you before,’ Layla offered conversationally. ‘Do all the women in your country look like you?’

      ‘Well, the women of Dorrada tend to be fair-skinned and blue-eyed. The men too, come to that. Your dark beauty would be much prized in my country. As I’m sure it is here.’

      ‘So, Prince Zahir...’ Layla continued. ‘You think him handsome?’

      ‘Layla!’

      ‘I am only asking.’ Layla stuck out her bottom lip.

      ‘Obviously she thinks him handsome. She wouldn’t be marrying him otherwise.’

      Anna suppressed a smile as the two sisters set about one another in their own language, waiting for them to finish before speaking again.

      ‘The answer to your question is yes—I do think him handsome.’

      The sisters exchanged an excited glance.

      ‘And it is true that you will be marrying and coming to live here in the palace?’ This time Lena asked the question, her curiosity overcoming her sense of decorum.

      ‘Yes, that is true.’ Saying it out loud didn’t make it seem any the less astonishing.

      Lena’s and Layla’s СКАЧАТЬ