Chapter 1

You get used to being locked in a cupboard. Alright, it wasn't like being in the aquarium, but I didn't know about being in an aquarium then. All I knew was that I was coming to look forward to it, to the peace and quiet, the darkness, the security. Like a tortoise in its shell. Or a snail.

That's one of the names they used to call me at school, Snail, because I was always late for everything. They never locked me in a cupboard, though. That happened for the first time in Casablanca (in Morocco) when I was grown up, before Leila and I ever came to Spain and opened the school together and she started putting me in the cupboard as a regular thing, whenever she wanted me out of the way.

That first time though, in Casablanca, it happened like this. We were at her place. The bell rang. 'Quick!' she hissed. 'Hide!' and opened a cupboard door. I squeezed in, she closed it, I heard her lock it, heard voices and laughter ... Then after a while, all was silent.

Had they gone out? Had only he gone? Was she was still there, alone? Were they both there – sleeping, perhaps? I had no way of knowing, and I didn't dare hammer on the door of the cupboard.

I waited. I must have slept.

When I woke it seemed I had only been asleep for an hour or so? But everything was so silent. Was it now the middle of the night? It had been about seven in the evening when she put me in the cupboard.

When I woke again, I knew I had been in there a long time. Perhaps a very long time. Perhaps it was next morning. Next day, sometime ... I desperately needed a pee.

Once more I slept, and this time was woken by the cupboard door being opened.

Where was I? What was happening? Oh, yes...

'You can come out now, ' Leila said. 'It's safe.'

'But it's been so long! Where were you?'

'Not so long. An hour.'

'No!'

'Are you calling me a liar, darling?'

'No!'

'Because if you are, I'll lock the door again, and – '

'No! Please!'

'Then you'd better get out quick before I change my mind.'

I eased myself out and stood up, groaning.

'You are clearly not used to being shut away in a cupboard.'

'No.'

'You will have to get used to it, if you stay with me.'

What did she mean?

'What time did I put you in there?'

'At seven?'

'Look at the clocks.'

I did. Ten past eight. I looked at the light outside the window. Evening. The sun going down. She was right. What was happening to me?

'You are right.'

'Of course I am. Get yourself ready and we'll go out for a meal. I suppose you still haven't got any money?'

'There was no cashpoint inside the cupboard.'

'Would it have helped if there had been?'

I blushed. 'No.'

'I'm teasing you. Money's not a problem.'

'It is! Kate will have told Mr Borman by now, and there's no way he'll put up with that sort of thing, not from me anyway.' I gazed at her, hoping and praying Kate hadn't told him. 'But even if she hasn't, even if I still have a job, the police may be looking for me.'

She laughed. 'She has, and you don't. And they are. But why do you say "not from me", like that? It always seemed to me you were a good teacher and he thought very highly of you. Go and wash – and leave the door open so we can go on talking.'

I had a long, long pee – knew she was listening and wondered again whether she was telling the truth. Could that all have been from one hour? But I was thinking, too, about what she had told me.

When I'd washed, I said: 'He doesn't judge you by how you teach. He judges you by your qualifications and by the kind of person you are. Like Kate and me have each taught a year in Spain and two years, nearly, here – exactly the same – and he pays her more than twice what he pays me.'

'What? I can't hear you. Tell me after you come out.'

I finished and came back out and told her again.

She didn't find it strange. 'He pays me twice what he pays you, too. I made a point of finding out.'

'Really? Well, you, yes. You're different. You're special.'

'I am?' She was amused rather than flattered.

'Yes! You're beautiful, you're rich, you're Moroccan. And you're older.'

'I'll forget the "older", and I'm half Moroccan, half Spanish. As for the rest, Kate is beautiful, too – gorgeous, in a sort of skinny, leggy, catwalk-model way. And her family is at least as rich as mine.'

She was right. I knew Kate's family had money. But Kate wasn't special like Leila was. Leila was a famous belly-dancer.

'Ready?'

I nodded. 'Kate's not a belly-dancer.'

'We're not talking about what I earn as a dancer. Come on. I'm hungry.'

'And the police?'

'You'll be alright where we're going – as long as you're with me.'

'So you think you should be paid the same as Kate and me.' She patted her lips with a tissue and watched while I gulped down the half-chewed mutton in my mouth.

'Not you, no. No, of course not. But Kate, yes. Why not? We do the same job, have the same amount of experience.'

'First of all, she's rich. She wouldn't work for what he pays you – and nor would I. It's that simple. Market forces. And then again, she's beautiful. She doesn't have to work as a teacher. No more do I. You, on the other hand, do.'

'I don't have to.'

'No? What else could you be doing?'

Good question. Fortunately, I didn't have to answer it because she went straight on: 'And what alternatives do you have right now apart from accepting my offer and coming and working for me in Spain?'

'None.'

'And now, given the situation, I don't know if I'll even be able to get you out of Morocco. You won't be able to just walk out through passport-control. No. You'll have to leave as a bond-servant. Indentured to me.'

'A bond-servant? But – '

'Una sierva, actually. A bond-maid.'

'A woman?'

'I can get papers for you as a man or a woman, and I will, I'll get both. But as a man you'll be distinctive. They may ask questions. No one is interested in a female slave.'

'But I can't – '

'Of course you can. That's what all this is about. That's why you need to be smuggled out in the first place.'

'I meant I can't speak Arabic. Specially not women's Arabic.'

'You keep your mouth shut, pretend you're stupid.'

I laughed. 'Pretend.'

She didn't laugh. 'But no one will speak to you.'

'Not even going into Spain?'

'No. They've learnt the hard way not to harrass veiled Moroccan women, only to speak to those responsible for them – a man if there is one, of course, and if not, an unveiled woman.'

'Veiled women never travel without an escort?'

'Never.'

'Wow. And once I get into Spain?'

'You heave a great sigh of relief.' She laughed. 'I can't imagine why you ever left.'

'I – I wanted to stay with Kate. We'd been working at the same school in Spain, and – '

'And Kate wanted a change of scenery and you tagged along, I know. Well, you can forget Kate now. You'll arrive as una sierva, so you'll have to stay as one the first day or two, in Algeciras. As soon as possible, though, I'll let you go back to being a man.'

'Right ... And – and money?'

'Ah, yes. Money. While we're on the subject of how much you should be paid compared to Kate and me, have you considered how much a degree is worth?'

'Kate? She got into Oxford because of who she was not what she knew.'

'Are you sure?' Leila waited for me to answer.

'No, ' I admitted, blushing. Why did I always have to blush?

She smiled. 'Anyway, that's beside the point. She must have been there four years altogether at least, doing her degree and her PGCE.'

'She did the PGCE in London.'

Leila shrugged. 'That makes no difference. Four years at about £9,000 a year, plus the say £18,000 a year she could have been earning if she hadn't been studying – that adds up to over £100,000.'

I was going to say it was her parents who paid, etc, etc, but I knew Leila would think me even stupider – and more ungracious – than she already did. So instead, I blushed again and said, 'I didn't think of that.' Which was true, I hadn't, and it certainly made a difference.

'No. And have you thought how much un siervo would earn teaching English? How much does a bondsman earn in England?'

'Nothing. If he's working for his owner, he'll get his keep, that's all.'

'No money.'

'No. And if he works for someone else, his wages will be paid to his owner, not to him.'

'Of course. But you'll be working for me.'

I stared at her. 'But I thought you said I was to be your Director of Studies and – '