Free The Heat of Betrayal by Douglas Kennedy Page B

when I was fifteen.’
    I told her about having first learned French in Canada, and how I was here with my artist husband this summer, very determined to rejuvenate my French in four weeks.
    â€˜But you speak it well already,’ she said.
    â€˜You’re being far too kind.’
    â€˜I’m being accurate – though a foreign language is one you must continue to work at, otherwise it does fade from memory.’
    She asked me how I’d found my way to Essaouira. She was interested to know about Paul’s time in Morocco over thirty years ago, and where we lived in the States, and might Buffalo be a place that she would like?
    â€˜Buffalo is not what one would call a particularly cosmopolitan or elegant city.’
    â€˜But you live there.’
    Now it was my turn to blush.
    â€˜Where you end up may not be where you want to live,’ I said.
    Shutting her eyes for a moment she bowed her head and nodded agreement.
    â€˜So if I wanted to regain fluency in French in a month, how many hours a week would I need?’ I asked.
    â€˜That depends on your schedule.’
    â€˜I have no schedule here. No obligations, no commitments, no pressing engagements. And you?’
    â€˜I teach at what you would call “lower school”. Children between the ages of six and nine. But I am free from five o’clock onwards every afternoon.’
    â€˜If I was to suggest two hours a day . . .’
    â€˜Could you afford three hours?’ she asked.
    â€˜What would you charge?’
    Now she turned an even greater shade of crimson.
    â€˜You don’t have to be shy about this,’ I said. ‘It’s just money – and it’s best to get these things settled at the beginning.’
    God, how American I sounded. Cards on the table. Name your price and let’s talk.
    After a moment or two she said:
    â€˜Would seventy-five dirhams per hour be too much?’
    Seventy-five dirhams was a little under nine dollars. Immediately I said:
    â€˜I think that’s too little.’
    â€˜But I don’t want to ask for more.’
    â€˜But I want to offer more. Would you accept one hundred and five dirhams per hour?’
    She looked shocked.
    â€˜That’s a huge amount per week.’
    â€˜Trust me, if it was not affordable for me I would tell you.’
    â€˜OK then,’ she said, looking away but now with a small smile on her face. ‘Where shall we do the lessons?’
    â€˜I have a suite upstairs. I’ll have to check with my husband – but I think that should be fine.’
    â€˜And if I may ask . . . what do you do professionally?’
    â€˜Nothing very interesting.’ When I told her about my work as an accountant I could see her maintaining a neutral pose about it. I could also sense that she was wondering if I had children, and where were they right now? Or was this just me projecting my own concerns and insecurities onto this shy but observant young woman?
    â€˜I’m sure your work is very interesting,’ she said.
    â€˜When it comes to money, you do get to know a great deal about how other people function. Anyway . . . can you start tomorrow?’
    â€˜I see no problem with that.’
    â€˜Brilliant – and can you get me all the books I’ll need?’
    I handed her 300 dirhams, telling her that if they cost more, I’d reimburse her after our first lesson.
    â€˜Three hundred dirhams will buy them all,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring them tomorrow.’
    â€˜Do you want payment every day or once a week?’
    Again she looked away.
    â€˜Whatever is easier for you. If you pay me on Friday the bank here is open until nine in the evening so I can deposit most of it then.’
    Ah, a saver.
    â€˜Payment every Friday it is then. One last thing – how do you know Monsieur Picard?’
    â€˜My mother is a cleaner here.’
    I considered my response for a moment before saying:
    â€˜I’m