SULTAN IS waiting for me at the gate at two the following day. The trip to the palace is far too short. I kick my shoes off as I enter the villa. The staff heard every word the princess shouted at me the day before and respectfully avoid eye contact. They seem gentler than before.
“Madam, we kept you some cake,” says Maria as I walk into the kitchen. My fondness and respect for these women grows with each day. Here I am, much older, supposedly wiser, yet they seem to handle the princess better than I do. They are so sweet and accepting of the almost daily abuse,. Because of this, I feel protective of them and this fuels my resentment towards the princess. I understand that she is hurting but how do I show her that relief does not come this way?
She eventually calls for me. I am not invited to sit. “Good afternoon, Princess,” I greet her softly. “You will call me Your Highness!” she responds sharply, glaring at me. Without hesitation, I repeat, “Yes, Your Highness.” She is scowling. For the first time ever, I feel a strong dislike for this slip of a girl who believes she is superior to the rest of mankind – by accident of birth.
She does absolutely nothing all day except shout down – rather than phoning – to the basement whenever she wants something. Whenever she wants me, she shouts for one of the girls, who rush upstairs, only to be told to call Mrs C.
As I stand in front of her, I have had about as much as I can take.
Anger has replaced the overwhelming fear I have felt over the last 24 hours, knowing this confrontation was looming. I’ve reached the point of not caring what happens, which is dangerous for me. For now, I am still going along with protocol and just basic good manners. It doesn’t last long.
“What is wrong with you?” she shouts. “Your Highness, if you feel that there is so much wrong with me, I suggest I phone Mr Lewis to send a replacement.” My reply leaves her looking at me in disbelief as I have never spoken back to her. “Mr Lewis!” she screams. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you!” Did the princess who is perfection herself, in her eyes at least, just use the word “fuck”? I almost want to laugh, the tension is so thick.
“I beg to differ, Your Highness,” I respond rebelliously.
She takes a deep breath before continuing in a harsh voice, “The only time Mr Lewis contacted me was via email on the second day after you arrived for full payment. Not once have they phoned to see how you are doing and still you protect them?!” I keep quiet. What can I say to that? Although Mona has warned me on many occasions that the princess lies incessantly, I don’t know what to believe. And I don’t trust what Mona tells me either.
She changes topic. “The doctor told me everything you said to him. How dare you discuss your work conditions, how dare you!” she screams. I know the doctor spoke to the princess but I also know that he could not have told her everything otherwise I would have been in shackles by now. “Who am I supposed to speak to if I cannot speak to a doctor, Your Highness?” I am still bristling at how little doctor patient confidentiality means here.
“You have attitude, and Mrs M thinks so as well!” she shouts. I could see this coming. All those evenings behind closed doors, Mona was trying to integrate herself into our villa. Mona’s job is not secure and her contract is about to come to an end. She has often come home in tears, complaining that her staff won’t listen to her. Lately, she has taken to buying my staff little gifts – chocolates and useless trinkets.
“You are a butler! You shouldn’t have any emotions!” the princess rants.
By now, it is obvious to her that I am angry. Though protocol demands that my hands remain behind my back, I am waving them around in emphasis as I try to make my point. I shoot back, “Yes, that is true, but I am a human being first, Your Highness.”
Before I can carry on, she screams, “I have watched Downton Abbey and you are nothing like that butler!” Did I just hear her correctly? I want to tell her that if she was anything like those employers, I could also serenely go about my daily tasks without any emotion but I know the thought would be wasted on her so I say nothing.
“No one has EVER spoken to me the way you speak to me,” she screams. Without hesitation, I shoot back, “Well, Your Highness, then we have something in common. No one has ever spoken to me the way you speak to me either!”
I know I have just sealed my fate, but I feel it had to be said. Not that I planned it; it was out of my mouth before I could give it any thought. And I had pointed at her when I said it. A grave mistake.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” she screams. I turn around on the spot and walk out.
Thirty minutes later, switchboard calls to tell me the driver is waiting for me. The princess’ door is closed but I text her goodnight anyway. Surprisingly, she replies with a curt goodnight.
I ditch the abaya as soon as I get home and join the guys at the pool. I need the distraction tonight as my mind is racing. Mona arrives home an hour later and joins us outside. Quite clearly she knows what went down at the villa. The conversation turns to work.
“I am highly respected by my staff,” Mona lies blatantly, without blinking. I just look at her. Dislike for her grows by the minute. I came outside to get away from the turmoil at the palace, not to listen to Mona polishing her own marble.
Serge listens to this as he is the only one at the table who knows what is going on. As we make eye contact, I give a slight nod that only he sees and he knows it means it is time to go. He winks at me in understanding.
I say goodnight to everyone and get up to leave. Mona has not finished her coffee and looks at me in surprise as if she expects me to wait for her. This is one evening I cannot stand the sight of her. I don’t even look in her direction as I walk away from the table and am out of the flat before she has a chance to return.