Farid ran to the stairs. Sana did not reply to his hastily murmured, “Goodbye.” She knew as well as he did that this was his first and last visit to her.
Farid was drinking tea on the terrace of the club late that evening when Michel the joiner came in. He seemed to be looking for someone among those present, and finally came over to their table.
“The bet’s on,” whispered Josef, who thought Farid’s entire story about his cousin and her lover was the old lady’s fantasy.
“A friend of mine,” began the joiner, “tells me you said today you didn’t know me, although we’ve known each other for years.” As he finished this remark he wondered why the two of them were suddenly roaring and choking with laughter. “Pay up!” Farid told Josef.
“And you’re a fool,” Josef said to the joiner accusingly. “My clever friend here set a trap and you fell right into it. So it’s true. You’re screwing his cousin Sana and now I’m paying for his tea.” Josef and Farid left Michel standing there and set off for home.
It was just before midnight. Two men were running down the street. They stopped for a moment, looking up at the rooftops. The smaller of the two was holding a pistol.
“He went over the roofs and escaped down Jews’ Alley,” said the smaller man breathlessly. He put the pistol back in his jacket pocket.
175. The Prayer
He had already been waiting quarter of an hour for the bus in vain when a taxi drove up. The driver got out, saying, “The bus driver’s had a heart attack. At this moment they’re treating him, he can’t drive any more today. The next bus will be along in an hour.”
Farid didn’t think about it for long, but got into the shared taxi. The driver seemed to be trying to pick up everyone he saw at the roadside today, and even stopped when a man who only wanted a match to light his cigarette waved to him. At his leisure, he gave the man his booklet of matches and asked at least ten times if he was sure he didn’t want to go anywhere. “Times are bad,” he said apologetically to the passengers he already had. “You have to be patient.” At the next bus stop he told a different story about the bus driver, who this time had allegedly murdered his conductor, so that was why he couldn’t drive any more that day. There was still plenty of room in the taxi. But no one got in, and the taxi driver made for the next bus stop. It didn’t bother him at all when, at the fifth or sixth stop, the bus came up right behind him and its driver hooted the horn.
Farid was slightly late at the church. Rana was standing deep in thought under the picture of St. Barbara. He went quietly up to her, and looked around before he touched her, dropping a quick kiss on her neck. Rana started, and then smiled.
They sat in a corner near the confessionals right at the back of the church and held hands. The service was just beginning, and there were only a few worshippers, sitting in the three front rows.
“For once my father was wonderful. My mother’s been wanting me to marry my cousin Rami, her brother’s son, as soon as I’d taken my high school diploma and left school. He’s a first lieutenant in the army. But Papa said I was to study at the university first and then we’d see.”
“Well, that’s good news. If you’re studying we’ll have four years’ respite, and we’re sure to have thought of something by then.”
“Yes, but my mother isn’t letting it go at that. She keeps looking out for any opportunity to say bad things about me to my father. And you know how hopeless Jack is at school. Even with private tutors he only just got his middle school diploma. Now he’s sick of studying and wants to work and earn money. It’s a bitter defeat for my mother, and she can’t come to terms with the idea that I might succeed at university too. Yesterday she and my brother were saying it would only make me more rebellious, and guess what, they simply decided to marry me off to Rami in a hurry.”
Farid shook his head. “Can’t you tell your father?”
“I did. He thinks I’m imagining things.”
“Listen, if it gets to be a real threat we’ll run away again. Don’t worry, I’m always there for you, and Claire will back us up too. After all, I’m the result of an elopement myself.”
“Believe it or not, when I heard what the two of them were saying I packed my bag at once. You’ll remember it: the one I had in Beirut. But then I unpacked it again, because I didn’t want to show that I know their plans. If the worst comes to the worst, I can run away without a bag,” she said.
Farid kissed her ear. “And I’ll love you even without clothes and a toothbrush,” he whispered. His breath tickled Rana. She laughed nervously, and moved a little way off.
“I have more than enough money hidden away,” she said firmly.
The service ended too quickly for Farid. Rana left the church on her own. At first he just sat there, looking at the pictures. When he was alone he went up to a statue of Christ and began talking to Jesus. “Can you hear me?” he whispered. “This is your friend Farid. I know I haven’t spoken to you for years, the monastery spoiled all that for me. And yes, I’m a communist now, but I still believe in you, it’s just the Church I don’t believe in. Please help Rana and protect her. She’s so brave in a cowardly world, and her mother is a viper. Can you hear me? Help her. You don’t have to help me too. I can manage on my own.”
Farid spoke to the statue for a long time. Finally, when he noticed a young priest standing behind him, keeping at a courteous distance and waiting, he smiled awkwardly, crossed himself, and left the church, walking fast.
176. Hunter and Hunted
“You’d better watch out for Suleiman,” said Josef, looking concerned. “I discovered yesterday that he’s an informer. Since when I don’t know, but he certainly is one.” He was speaking very fast, as if anxious to get the words off his chest.
Farid looked at him and said nothing.
“Yes, of course he’s working for the state, and yes, I think our President is the saviour of the Arabs, but I despise informers. And you may be idiot enough to go running around with communists, but you’re still my best friend. Yesterday he was making up to you just too obviously in the club. What did he want?”
“He was inviting me out hunting,” said Farid. “His father’s given him a gun that the Spanish consul got from France, but he didn’t want it, so he gave it to his chauffeur. Do you think I should go?”
“Yes, of course, and either act as if you didn’t know anything or tell him what you suspect straight out. Only you mustn’t show any fear, or he’ll finish you off.”
“Me, afraid of him? Are you joking?”
“No, you stupid Kamikaze. Informers are cowards, but once they taste blood they get amazingly greedy.”
“I can’t get my head around this. Why would he try it with me?”
“How do I know what you get up to at night? I suppose his bunch just want to know more about you.”
Farid sat perfectly still. Grief overcame him. He had liked the lively and mischievous Suleiman. After getting his middle school diploma Suleiman had left school, worked for a while as a taxi driver, and now, at nineteen, he already owned half a taxi. That seemed to Farid too soon for someone earning an honest living. Some said that Suleiman had been involved in smuggling for a while, and invested the money cleverly. Others spread the rumour that the clever young man had, appropriately enough, taken all the taxi owners who employed him for a ride.
But why would he be an informer? Why would he give away people who had never done him any harm? Could he be behind the arrest of Marwan, the new maths teacher, who had suddenly disappeared? No one knew if he was still alive. And who had reported Nadim the barber to the police?