Free Double Danger by Margaret Thomson Davis

there’s lots of restrictions on men as well.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Well, I’ve got to remove my shoes before entering any place I’m visiting. And, most important, I’ve always to remember to eat with my right hand. Even if I was left-handed, I’d still have to use only my right hand. The left hand is considered unclean. You mustn’t even gesticulate with your left hand. Oh, and you must never show an Arab the soles of your feet. That’s considered offensive.’
    ‘Sounds a whole lot of daft nonsense to me.’
    ‘It’s their customs and while we’re living in their country, I think it’s only fair to try to respect their ways.’
    ‘OK. OK. Fair enough, but I just wish they’d respect our ways in our country.’
    ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but a traditional Saudi greeting between men is each grasping the other’s right hand, placing the left hand on the other’s right shoulder and exchanging kisses on each other’s cheek. Everything’s done closer together here, even just talking, and it can be insulting to draw back.’
    ‘I’ve noticed all right. Fancy if they acted like that in the Calton. Can you imagine? The mind boggles!’
    Brian laughed. ‘What worries me is having to keep someone from the Calton like you in the background. I don’t know how I’m going to keep you under control.’
    Jessica gave him a mock punch. ‘Don’t even try.’
    But of course they were both forced to obey the rules. Even inside the compound, despite the heat of the desert, Brian had to wear clothes that covered his body – no shorts or short-sleeved shirts were ever allowed. Jessica had to wear high necklines and sleeves reaching at least to the elbow. Hem lines had preferably to be ankle length. Soon strolling around the compound and lazing about on the veranda all day became boring. The children were at school or being supervised by the teachers in after-school recreational activities and so were away from the villa the whole day. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she could have busied herself with cooking and housework, but the Indian houseboy always rushed to do everything. He considered it an insult if she tried to do anything around the house.
    Thankfully, she managed to find a part-time job helping in one of the cafés. The café offered everything from coffee and cakes to a cooked meal. She only helped clear the tables and fill the dish-washing machine and so she had plenty of opportunity to have a chat and laugh with the others who worked in the café and with the customers as well. They all exchanged stories about where they’d come from and what they’d done before arriving in Saudi. They all agreed it was a wonderful life. Except for the terrorist raids, of course, but they had always happened at night and were quickly fought off by the Saudi guards. The raids were so infrequent that they didn’t really impinge on daily routine.
    ‘You’ll soon get used to the raids,’ they told her. It was hard to believe at first but it had worked out exactly as they’d said.
    She and Brian would be sitting watching television, or later, reading in bed when the siren would go. They would get up, lift the soundly sleeping Tommy and Fiona and go with them into the panic room, where there were beds to lie on. Eventually, they’d hear two blasts of the siren which meant everything was safely over and the steel wall of the panic room would be raised. It was an inconvenience more than anything else, and it didn’t happen all that often.
    No, the worst inconvenience was not being able to share the generous hospitality that Brian always received from his Arab friends. That is, to share it with him. Today he had been invited to the house of Faiz.
    ‘I’m treated like a king,’ Brian told her when they neared the house of Faiz. ‘Nobody in the world is as kind and hospitable as the Arabs. That room at the front of the house is a typical meeting room and has cushions all around the floor to sit on.