Victoria stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then buried her face in her hands. John heard her stifled sobs, saw her shoulders trembling. She had become thin, and the misery of having to live in Mogador was written all over her.
“It’s easy for you,” his mother had said. “You were born and raised here. Mogador is your home. Your wife comes from another world. She made a big sacrifice for you and Selwyn in leaving everything that was dear and familiar to her. Never forget that!”
John hesitated. Then he placed his portfolio on the desk, sat next to Victoria on the couch, and clumsily stroked her back. He himself would not have traded his life here for huge, loud, damp London for anything in the world.
Victoria rested her head against his shoulder. “Oh, John! I am so sorry that I lost my temper again. It’s just that I feel so alone here. I imagined Mogador would be completely different.”
“How, dear?” John asked although he had already heard the answer a dozen times. Victoria felt like a prisoner in tiny Mogador. Excursions were not an option because of the recent ambushes on travelers by bands of robbers driven from their villages by hunger. Life inside the city walls was safe but boring and monotonous. There were no diversions, no theater, no exhibits, no sporting events. The house in which they lived was old-fashioned and small compared to Victoria’s villa in elegant Mayfair. There was no gas lighting, the rooms were cramped, and the servants did not follow her directions because they considered her mother-in-law their only mistress. Sibylla had assigned Firyal as her chambermaid, but the woman did not even know how to tie a bodice correctly.
And besides, Victoria was afraid of Firyal’s dark, inscrutable face and, ever since an Arab merchant had charged her triple the usual price because she did not know that she was expected to bargain, she was convinced they were all crooks.
“The streets are so filthy!” Victoria wailed. “There are beggars in front of every home and they try to latch onto you. I have never seen so many disfigured and crippled people. Oh, it’s simply horrible!”
“There are plenty of disfigured and crippled people in the East End as well, as my brother will confirm,” John tried, but she stubbornly shook her head.
“Such wretched conditions just don’t exist in England. We have clinics, orphanages, and relief organizations. I myself was on the committee of the Home for Orphaned Daughters of Soldiers.”
John took Victoria’s hands in his own. “Now look at me for a moment, dear. Don’t you think that in all your woe you have forgotten something very important? Have you not noticed how much better Selwyn is? He hasn’t coughed in months. I believe his lungs have been healed here. Is that worth nothing to you?”
“Of course!” she professed. “Selwyn’s health is the only thing that makes life bearable for me here.”
John again pulled out his pocket watch. “I’m sorry, dear, but I really must go now. I’m already late.”
She gave a resigned nod. “What is your meeting about?”
“The harbor basin, yet again. Consul Willshire and I want to persuade the qaid to expand it so that steamships might finally come to Mogador.”
“Steamships? Are the shipping companies really going to stop using sailing ships?”
“No, but I’m convinced that steamships shall replace them eventually. Even now, there are steam-powered ships traveling between Europe and America. There is no stopping this development. The future of all of us here in Mogador depends on our being prepared for the future.” He kissed Victoria on the head and got up. “I’ll see you this evening, darling.”
“Good-bye, and, John—”
“Yes?” He turned around, his hand already on the door handle.
“I’m staying here not just for Selwyn’s sake, but also for yours.”
“Really, dear? You are so good to me.” He waved absentmindedly. Seconds later, the door was closed.
Victoria followed him with her eyes, a crooked smile plastered on her face. The ticking of the grandfather clock she had brought from England was more audible in the stillness. It was almost twelve o’clock. This afternoon, her neighbor Sara Willshire was hosting her weekly ladies’ tea for wives of expatriate merchants and consuls. Her mother-in-law never attended these get-togethers, which, according to her, were no more than a pretext for exchanging the latest gossip. If Sibylla did go to tea, it was in the harem with the qaid’s wives and, even then, she managed to do business. She had repeatedly invited Victoria along, but she had steadfastly refused. It was bad enough that the cook, the gatekeeper, and the gardener in this house were all Arabs, but to socialize with them was really going too far.
She could hear Charlotte’s and Selwyn’s muffled laughter through the closed door. Victoria felt a longing to be with the children. I shall take them to the beach, she decided. They could hunt for shells there.
The muezzin’s midday call to prayer blared from the nearby mosque. Victoria would never have thought she would miss the ringing of church bells so much.
Charlotte was sitting on a blanket on the ground next to Nadira. The sun created magical little sparkles in her blonde curls. She was rocking her doll in her arms, trilling a little song with her squeaky voice. She beamed with happiness when she saw her mother.
Victoria kissed her and looked around for Selwyn. He was sitting on the swing that John had hung from a solid branch on the gnarly old olive tree. Sibylla was gently pushing him and he squealed with pleasure. Gone was the pale, coughing little boy. Selwyn had grown, his cheeks were round and rosy, and he was stronger and more self-assured with each passing day.
Although Victoria knew well that she ought to be happy that her little boy was thriving, she was jealous. Why did her son smile so at Sibylla and not her, his mother?
She pulled him from the swing more roughly than she had intended, and he promptly began to cry.
“No!” he squealed and kicked furiously.
Tears flooded Victoria’s eyes and all her disappointment erupted in Sibylla’s direction. “Why do you have to push him so high? He could have fallen off and hurt himself!”
“I’ll see that that doesn’t happen,” Sibylla answered calmly. “Let him have his fun.”
“Don’t tell me what’s right or wrong for my children!” Victoria held Selwyn even more tightly. But he pressed both his fists against her shoulders, leaned back, and bawled so loudly that she had no choice but to put him down. He ran to Sibylla and buried his face in her legs.
“Just look at him!” Victoria screamed. “You have stolen him from me!” She ran into the house, sobbing.