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"Guess she doesn't want her bills to go up!!" Mrs Aziz telling herself.She got out of her Peugeot and knocked on the front door. 2 minutes later the front door and there stood another plump headscarf-wearing dark Arab woman in her 40s (like Mrs Aziz).The 2 women smiled, shaking hands and greeting each other. Saba asked Mrs Aziz to come inside. The 2 ladies were having Kuwaiti tea in the dining hall, discussing everything that had happened since Friday, that darkest and most unfateful of all days.As Mrs Aziz was drinking her tea she was feeling more entranced by it."You know I hate the way the townspeople here hate us for being Arabs and Muslims!! I sometimes wished I can do something about it!!! Did I tell you I once had the dream that everyone here was my slave, calling me Sahib-a and kissing my feet as if I was royalty," Saba chuckled.She's been having dreams not different from nine, Mrs Aziz thought.Before Mrs Aziz knew it she started confiding in Saba about her own dreams, and Mrs. Katherine's throat was too sore and dry for her toscream. Quietly she sucked in the water until Richard did indeed duck her headunder but it was only for a second or two and the water washed away some of thetear stains from her face. She started to speak but ceased when Richard held up thegag. "We'll have a brief rest and start on. We've only a few miles to gobut we have to go the back way through the woods to avoid the main road so itwill be slow going." In fact it only took about an hour before theyarrived at the hall. Richard carried Katherine in through the servant'sentrance; Seb and Mary followed. "Cook, lock her ladyship in a room. Get a couple ofyour strongest girls to untie her and clean her up enough to make herpresentable to his lordship. She may take a little food now, seeing she hasn'teaten since this time yesterday. Tell them not to take any nonsense from her.They must not say a word to her other than what is necessary to do their job.She is not to know where she is for.
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My hand was still somewhat cold, though it had held her warm breast two hours and forty seven minutes ago. Should I dare and move it on her neck and down? What if that episode in the toilet was a rare daring by her and what if she shouted or did something of the sort if I attempted anything now? But I wanted to know her too. I was feeling somewhat self-conscious talking to her but I started.“You live in Surat?” I asked“Yes” she said shortly looking at me“What does your husband do?”“Embroidery business” she said with a certain lack of joy, I felt.“Arranged marriage na?”“Hmmm”“Vanshiqa is a nice name” I said“Just the name?” she smiled, her eyes wide.“No, no” I stammered “everything about you.”She told me she wasn’t a Gujarati but was from ….. in Bihar, at present returning from relatives in Kolkata. We were talking in whispers like young lovers but formally. But slowly we started talking more frankly and she told me of her early marriage, her unexciting life, her dull husband, dull not.

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