Ninety-six

On the outskirts of Marrakech, Blaine steered the Silver Ghost off the main road and eased on the brakes. He got out, and walked round to the passenger’s side.

‘Climb over and adjust the seat,’ he said. ‘Now, when you’re ready, turn on the engine.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘Press that button.’

Ghita pushed a thumb to the starter and the seven-litre engine fired up.

‘Look down at your feet and you’ll see three pedals. The one on the far left is the clutch. That’s for engaging the gears. Then there’s the brake in the middle, and the accelerator on the right.’

‘Which one do I press first?’

‘It depends what you want to do. We want to move off. So, you push down the clutch, and shift this lever into first, like this. Then, slowly, you release the clutch and press down the accelerator.’

Ghita thrust her right foot down and the car shot off, slamming hard into a sand bank, where it came to an abrupt halt.

‘Why’s it so complicated?’

‘Because it’s an old car.’

Ghita burst into tears.

‘I’m never going to be able to learn so quickly,’ she lamented. ‘There’s only three hours until I have to be at the rendezvous point. I feel so helpless.’

Blaine got out and walked around the car again.

‘I’m not gonna spring your dad,’ he said. ‘So don’t even think of asking me. I will drive you up there though, but...’

‘But?’

‘But if you give me any grief, I’m swinging round and heading for home.’

A few minutes later the crimson Silver Ghost was heading across the plateau in the direction of the snow-capped Atlas. On either side of the road there were olive groves, the gnarled trees throwing shadows on the dust.

After the frenetic pace of Marrakech, the countryside was soothing to the senses, as though they were travelling back in time.

As they neared the foothills of the Atlas, the groves gave way to rugged little fields planted with maize and wheat. The road forded rivulets and streams as it climbed gently upwards, against a backdrop of adobe villages, each of them sprinkled with laughing children, donkeys and with mud-brick homes.

By early afternoon they had passed the great waterfall of Ouzoud, reached Azilal, and found themselves on the narrowest of tracks.

‘Check the road map with the one the goldsmith sketched,’ Blaine called out, as the Rolls-Royce careened through the dust.

‘There should be a right turn!’ Ghita shouted. ‘A few miles from here. Then after the lake it’s a zigzag all the way down to the meeting point.’

When the dust subsided they stopped to buy pomegranates from a farmer. Crouched in the shade of a walnut tree, he took their money, blessed them, and pointed a wiry old arm in the direction of the lake.

As they picked up speed, Ghita broke open one of the fruit and burst into laughter as she did so.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘What about me?’

‘That you sold drain-cleaner to old people!’

‘What’s wrong with that? At least it was a job.’

‘Well, you must have been so...’

‘So...?’

‘So embarrassed.’

‘At what?’

‘At having such a lousy career.’

Feeding the steering wheel through his fingers, Blaine felt his back warm with anger.

‘I’ve had to pay my own way since I was seventeen years old,’ he said. ‘Unlike some people... I put myself through college, worked three jobs and went to night school – all at the same time.’

‘And after all that studying, the best job you could get was to sell bleach to geriatrics?’

Blaine steered the Rolls round a steep bend to the left, his expression souring.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, clouds of dust billowing out all around.

‘Get out!’ he said in a quiet, even voice.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Get out!’

Incensed, Ghita swung the door open, and climbed down in silence onto the dirt. As soon as she was gone, Blaine swung the car around and accelerated fast into the distance.

He had rounded three more bends before he stopped.

Slamming the brakes on again, he smacked his hands together in anger, swore as loudly as he could.

Then he did another U-turn.

Gliding up to where Ghita was still standing all covered in dust, he leaned over, and opened the passenger door.

She got in without a sound. And they sat there without speaking, without moving.

After a full minute of silence, they looked at each other, their eyes locked onto the other in frozen hatred.

Then, both at once, they threw themselves at one another in a passionate kiss.