Hideous Kinky (16 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

The streets of Marrakech were lined with people on the morning that we said goodbye to the Nappy Ladies and Ayesha and her grandmother and Moulay Idriss and made our way to the train station. There were rows of flags strung up above the crowd, and in the distance short, sharp volleys of gunfire rang out. Bilal carried our bags. He edged his way through the people who streamed down the avenues of orange trees towards the gates ofthe city and I held tightly on to the tail of his djellaba so as not to be swept away. ‘We’re going to miss our train,’ Mum shouted over my head.

I saw Khadija standing in a wall of people holding a flag. She ran out to us.

‘What’s going on?’ Bea shouted to her.

’It’s the birthday of the King.’ And she waved her flag and danced.

Then I noticed Khadija’s dress. She was wearing her old caftan, torn and filthy with the rip that went up above her knees.

What happened to your new dress?’ Mum bent down to her.

Khadija darted away into the crowd. We pressed our- selves against the wall of people and waited for her, but she didn’t come back.

A crack like thunder shook the air. The street where we stood cleared as if by magic and the people pressed themselves back against the buildings and craned their necks to see. Bilal lifted me on to his shoulders. A group of men with guns marched into view. They were followed by an army of horses that trotted and scampered, their tails arched and their heads held high. Their riders wore swords that curved down from their belts, and their clothes were trimmed with braid. I could feel the hearts of a thousand people stopping and starting. And then an open carriage rolled into view. It was drawn by four black horses. Inside sat the King of Morocco. The voice of the crowd burst out in a frenzy of delight. They shouted and strained and waved their arms at him, and in return the King stood up in his carriage and put his hand over his heart.

We streamed after the King’s carriage. We were squeezed through the gate of the city and emerged on the plain where once we had tried to sell Mary, Mary-Rose and Rosemary. As the King’s carriage rolled through the gates, a line of Berber horsemen, who had been waiting in a silent salute, raised their guns and at sudden speed charged the carriage. The city froze as the horses thundered down on the King. Until with a simultaneous ringing shot of their rifles they skidded to a halt. I watched spellbound from Bilal’s shoulders. The men charged and the Berber women danced. They accompanied themselves with a noise like a Red Indian whoop that made me laugh. It ended on a short shriek like a marsh bird.

We’ve missed our train, surely,’ Mum called, and we began to extricate ourselves from the crowd, to squeeze and shoulder our way back through the hustle of the celebrations to find a taxi that was not on holiday.

Our train was waiting. Bilal got on with us and found a place where we could sit beside a window. He packed our bags into the racks above the seat. I was wrong. He is coming with us, I thought, and as I thought it, Bilal was walking backwards, smiling with his smiling eyes until, without a word, he had disappeared among the last-minute passengers. Bea and I searched the length of the train and hung out of every window, willing him to reappear.

Bilal! Bilal!’ we shouted as the train began to pull away. Bilal!’ But I couldn’t pick him out among the crowd dispersing on the platform.

The train rumbled down a track banked with the first flowers of spring, with wild hollyhocks and tiny clinging roses, and entered the gloom of an avenue of eucalyptus trees. Marrakech stretched behind us in the distance.

Does this train go all the way home?’ I asked Mum, who was braiding and unbraiding her hair with quick, distracted fingers.

No,’ she said. I had to pinch her for the answer.

Bea had climbed up into an empty luggage rack and was using it as a hammock. ‘Hideous, hideous, hideous kinky, hideous, hideous kink,’ she chanted softly to the rhythm of the wheels.

I badly wanted to climb up and join her, but I thought it would be safest to stay on the seat in case Mum changed her mind about going home and decided at the last minute to jump off at one of the stations along the way.