Chapter 17: Cardiff

The day after arriving back in Oxford Nicola received a phone call from her mother, Gwenllian. “Oh darling, I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry about what I said about your friend. It was wrong of me. Please forgive me,” begged Gwenllian.

The conversation almost brought tears to Nicola’s eyes and she willingly forgave her. She also promised to travel home to see her the next weekend. She had also decided to give her mother the golden harem gown as a peace offering.

“Nicola!” cried Gwenllian when she saw her daughter step down from the coach. She ran and hugged her daughter. After retrieving her luggage Nicola and her mother took a bus that dropped them at the bus stop that was just around the corner from their council house.

With memories still fresh of her weekend trip to Kobekistan the surroundings of the house felt quite cramped. Nicola hadn’t spoken to her mother about her trip but was eager to do so, but knew she would have to be careful what she should reveal. After depositing her bag in her room Nicola returned to the kitchen where Gwenllian had just made tea. They sat down and Gwenllian poured the tea.

“Oh mam, I had such a wonderful time last weekend. We, that is, Sharifa and I travelled to Kobekistan.”

Gwenllian almost choked on her tea. “Kobekistan? In the Middle East. But your passport is here. How did you get to go there?”

Nicola chose her words carefully. “That’s the fun part. Sharifa’s da is something important in the country. She can come and go as she pleases and she brought me along with her.”

Gwenllian was stunned. She struggled for something to say. “Did you have to wear one of those cover up things.

“An abaya.”

“What?”

“It’s called an abaya, mam and no I wore ordinary clothes while I was there. It was wonderful. Her da has this huge house, like a palace really,” responded Nicola.

Nicola’s mother remained silent so Nicola went on, “I stayed in a huge suite that, according to Sharifa and her grandma, was reserved for special guests. The suite alone was bigger than this house,”

“Well, you really did have a good time.” Gwenllian stroked her chin before asking the next question. “Do the men have huge harems like they say?”

“Yes. At least some of them. Sharifa’s da has about sixty women in his.”

“Sixty?”

“That’s right. All of them seem happy being there. There are women of different nationalities and races. There are even some English women there too,” responded Nicola.

“Kidnapped?”

Nicola laughed. “No, mam. His mam is English. She married Sharifa’s granda. Her da also married an English woman.” Nicola stopped short of saying he had married her daughter as well. “I’ve got a present for you,” she said and dashed excitedly upstairs to rummage through her bag to retrieve the golden harem gown.

Nicola laid the gown on her bed to straighten the creases before returning to the kitchen.

“It’s only got one button. Why aren’t there any buttons down the front?” was the reaction of the practical, down to earth Welsh housewife.

“It’s a hot country, they don’t need to button it.” Nicola hoped her mother would believe her.

“Is it real satin, made from silk thread?”

“I expect so – he’s very rich, and I can’t imagine them not having real satin.”

“Hmm,” snorted her mother, examining it closely, “I doubt it is – there’s no maker’s label or wash instructions.”

Nicola opened her mouth to explain why she knew it would be real satin. The ramifications of explaining to her mother not only that her friend’s father was a king, but that the golden gown was worn with nothing underneath by his most cherished concubines worried her, so she wisely closed her mouth.