Fifty-one

For the rest of the afternoon, Ghita tried calling her friends.

Each one in turn hung up as soon as they heard her voice. It was as though an invisible enemy was conspiring to gain the perfect revenge. Confused and tearful, Ghita took a taxi back to the apartment building, and made her way up the dim stairwell.

The dirt and stink were almost too much to take. But at that moment, it seemed the one safe place, a refuge from which she could make sense of what was going on, and struggle to make a plan.

On the fourth floor Ghita poked the key into the lock, opened the door to her apartment, closed it, and peered out through the spy hole.

Only when certain the coast was clear, she pulled open the doors to the voluminous wardrobe and stepped inside.

Closing them behind her, she slid away a secret hatch at the back, and climbed through...

...into a fabulously bright apartment.

The walls were painted taupe, hung with original artwork from Japan, the furnishings upholstered in ivory white, and the floors scattered with exquisite Turkish kelims.

The sitting-room was dominated by a white leather canapé, its matching ottoman strewn with designer catalogues and magazines. Standing between it and an open kitchen area on the left, was a great wrought iron birdcage, suspended from a brass hook mounted on the ceiling. In the cage was a parrot, its lime-coloured plumage bringing out the green accents of the room.

Shuffling into a pair of Thai slippers, Ghita lay back on the sofa. She took a deep breath, kicked the magazines off the stool, and hit a speed dial on her phone.

After much ringing, a voice came on the other end.

‘Hello? Aicha, sweetie, it’s me! I’ve been trying you all day!’

Silence prevailed. Ghita assumed the call had been lost. Just before she redialled, Aicha spoke:

‘Ghita, you are never to call me again,’ she said in a low bitter tone. ‘Do you understand? We are no longer friends.’

‘Aicha, what are you saying? It’s me! I’m your best friend!’

‘Your father has betrayed us all!’

‘Darling, listen... I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s been taken away in handcuffs!’

‘So has mine, and Bouchra’s and Hamid’s as well!’

‘But why is this happening?’

‘Because your damned father began exposing people, that’s why!’

‘I’m so confused. I just don’t understand.’

Aicha’s voice was now charged with emotion, the words delivered one at a time:

‘Listen to me, Ghita! You will never call me again! In my eyes you are dead!’