Free The Girl from Baghdad by Michelle Nouri Page A

returned. I felt suffocated in that house; every year seemed more cramped than the year before, and Babička more despotic. That summer, when Dad finally came to pick us up, I welcomed him as if he were my saviour.

    The trip to Thailand, on the way back to Baghdad, seemed especially promising. We were beside ourselvesas Dad had rented two suites: one for him and Mum, and the other for my sisters and me. Klara and I spent most of our time by the hotel’s big pool. We watched American television in our room at night and ate sweets and hamburgers ordered from room service.
    During that vacation, just before my twelfth birthday, I remember the walks in downtown Pattaya with my parents, the smell of the ocean, and the strong fragrance of spices in the markets, and thousands of colours exploding everywhere. Tailoring shops, one after another, with fantastically coloured fabric, lined the market streets. One could order a suit in the morning and pick it up at night. Dad ordered two suits and, while the tailor was taking his measurements, he made faces, pretending to be ticklish, just to make us laugh.
    I was amazed and challenged by everything there and I asked a lot of questions. My dad always had an answer and encouraged me to taste everything. During a boat trip, he offered me a plate of scampi.
    â€˜Gross!’ I screamed. ‘I don’t want to taste those bugs!’
    â€˜They’re shellfish, and you won’t know how good they are until you taste them. Come on, try one,’ he said, offering me a bite.
    â€˜No and no! I wouldn’t touch them even if I were dead.’
    â€˜Just do it for me. Close your eyes and open your mouth.’ His smile was warm and encouraging. Dadinsisted again and, finally, he convinced me. I had to admit, he was right; the scampi were extremely tasty.
    We went to the theatre one evening. The actors were men in women’s clothing. Their eyes were made up and their mouths were set in fierce grimaces. I was terrified. My dad squeezed my hand and told me they were going to dance for us. He held my hand for the entire show, assuring me that the men in masks weren’t going to hurt us. During one of our strolls in downtown Pattaya, I saw a beautiful pair of handmade gold-coloured shoes in a shop window. Although I was just a little girl, I had already learnt to be alluring; a feminine art that was taught at a very young age.
    Those shoes bewitched me; I wanted them.
    My mother didn’t agree. ‘Those shoes are not for a child. Can’t you see the heel?’
    â€˜But they are my size!’ I tried to convince her.
    â€˜Only because Thai women have small feet!’ my dad answered.
    â€˜Anyway, Michelle, I don’t want to hear about it anymore. We’ll get you the doll you saw yesterday if you want.’
    Even as Mum tried to distract me, I wanted those shoes more and more. I sulked all the way back to the hotel. Dad noticed and winked at me.
    After dinner, when my sisters and I went back to our room, I found a package on the table next to my bed.My name was written on the tag: ‘A gift for my little princess’. Even though there was no signature on the card, I already knew who it was from. I hastily opened the present and removed the pair of golden shoes from the box. I put them on and went out onto our balcony.
    Dad and Mum were sitting beside one another below, on the green terrace of the hotel, sipping champagne. I wanted to show him how pretty I was wearing his gift. Imagining I was Raghdde dancing in the moonlight, I watched my parents together from the balcony. There were two champagne flutes on their table, and men and women danced nearby to a small orchestra. As the music and dancers swirled around them, my father gazed at my mother without blinking an eye.
    I don’t know if it’s still common for a woman to daydream about her Prince Charming, but I dream of a man who can look at me in the same way my dad looked at my