17

Ana left the Convent in some distress. She stood by the bus stop and waited as if in a dream, almost startled when a bus actually arrived to take her back to the city centre. As the bus drove along, she looked through the window at people going about their life, oblivious to all but her own musings on her love of Binta and her sympathy for Mezyana.

She disembarked at the terminus and walked aimlessly around the city centre, not at all sure where to go. She ignored the bustle of shoppers as they dashed in and out of the city stores, conscious that despite herself her steps were taking her closer to the Brothel where she had made no plans to meet Binta today. Indeed, she knew that Binta would actually be working at the moment: a thought which caused additional distress in itself. That beautiful body. Those disgusting men! How could she live with such jealousy?

“Cooee!” Ana heard, but ignored.

“Hey, Ana!” came the call again, to which this time she felt obliged to respond. The source of the cry was Zabba who was sitting in a café with another girl Ana had never seen before. Zabba was dressed in a leather jacket and looked much more like a boy than a girl. Her companion was a slim girl with a short bob, wearing a tee-shirt and a floral skirt. The two of them were smoking cigarettes and had cups of coffee in front of them. “How are you today?”

Ana strolled over to them. “Fine. Fine.”

“I must say you don’t look it! Come. Sit with Bida and me.”

Ana nodded and sat sheepishly in the vacant chair, scarcely caring that she was downwind of the tobacco fumes she normally avoided. Bida smiled at her, and Ana noticed for the first time that she was discreetly holding Zabba’s hand under the table.

“You don’t know each other do you? This is my close friend, Bida. She’s still at school. And this, Bida, is Ana, who is a secretary at the Brothel.”

“They have secretaries there!” exclaimed Bida, in a young voice.

“Secretaries. Cleaners. Accountants. Everything. But, hey, what’s the trouble, Ana? You and Binta haven’t had a tiff, have you?”

“A tiff?”

“You know. A lover’s tiff. It happens to the best of us, doesn’t it Bida dear?”

Her friend nodded her head shyly. “You’re never very honest with me, Zabba. All those other people ...”

“It comes with the job!” Zabba replied sharply. “Was it something like that?”

Ana shook her head and gazed at the ring of coffee stain left on Zabba’s saucer while she sipped from the cup. “No, it wasn’t. I’ve just been to the Convent. To see Mezyana.”

“Mezyana? Oh, Binta’s ex! That must have been quite weird for you,” remarked Zabba sympathetically. “What was it like?”

“It was horrible! She’s still very much in love with Binta.”

Zabba nodded her head. “Loyal girl. And I thought these nuns were always making love to each other. She’s not, I take it?”

Ana shook her head sadly, slightly alarmed by the suggestion. “I felt so bad. Taking Binta away from her!”

“Nonsense! It’s Binta, not you, who should feel guilty, if anyone should. I’d be very surprised if it was you, rather than she who started it.”

“But I could have said no. I could have resisted.”

“I can’t believe that’s what you’d rather have done. What do you think, Bida? Do you think Ana should feel guilty that she’s having a relationship with someone who’s got a lover imprisoned in a Convent?”

“Is that what’s happened?” mused Bida. “I don’t know. I’d hate it if you did the same to me. I’d hate it if someone took you away from me.”

Zabba looked distinctly uncomfortable and made no comment. She opened her packet of cigarettes and offered one to Bida before inserting one in her mouth. She lit them, and then addressed Ana, clearly intending to change the subject: “How do you like living in Blad? Better than the provinces, isn’t it?”

“I’m still not used to all the people,” Ana admitted. “I often long to be out in the country air again, and lead a more relaxed life.”

“Just the two of you together, I suppose. Binta’s a country girl too, isn’t she? Is she pining for the great outdoors as well?”

Ana nodded. “We’ve often thought about returning to the country when she finishes her sentence.”

“Not many jobs there, though, are there? What do you intend to do? Rear sheep? Grow crops? I’d have thought you’d both be better off staying in Blad. More opportunities for work for a start. And anyway how long do you think you could live together in the country before you both get found out again? Do you think you’d like to serve time in the Brothel like Binta? And do you think you’d be at all likely to be sharing the same Brothel? If I were you, I’d abandon the notion of living in the sticks. You’re much better off in Blad. Nobody notices anything here. Nobody really has the time or inclination to get upset by a little bit of illicit sex. And it’s not that bad in Blad. Really it isn’t.”

“I’d hate to live anywhere but here,” Bida remarked. “What’s there to do in the country? No cinemas. No night clubs. The shops are boring. Everything would be boring. It’s much better here. And anyway Zabba lives here. I’d hate to live anywhere away from her. The pain would be intolerable.”

“Ye-es,” agreed Zabba embarrassedly, inhaling on her cigarette and blowing a ring of smoke into the air. “So you can see, Ana, it really isn’t that bad here.”

“It’s still not home to me,” Ana protested. “There must be somewhere else to live.”

“Perhaps it’s working at the Brothel that brings you down. Do you still not mind working for the Pimple?”

“The Pimple? Oh! The Director. I don’t like working for him at all. He’s a horrid man. Sometimes he says dreadful things about Binta. He knows we’re good friends, and he says things like he hopes I’m better in bed than her. That I give better satisfaction to men than Binta does.”

“And do you? Give better satisfaction?”

Ana looked down at her hands. What a disgusting question! But how could she answer it? “I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”

Zabba sighed. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

Ana nodded.

Bida smiled: “See! I’m not the only one Zabba! There are others.”

“I don’t see it’s something to be especially proud of. And what else has the Pimple been saying? Has he tried to get you to sleep with him?”

“No!” gasped Ana vehemently. “At least I don’t think so. I’m not sure. He says so many things. I just don’t really take it all in. He does keep touching me. Especially on the bum. And once he grabbed me round the waist, but I slipped out pretty quickly. And he sometimes asks me questions about boys and sex and other things. I try to ignore it as much as I can.”

“I must say the Pimple sounds remarkably restrained. I can’t believe he’s such a reformed character. Perhaps he’s got more subtle plans for you. Mind you, he is a bit of a coward. He’s probably frightened of being rejected. I gather he’s never really pursued Ketaba who’d more than likely put him in his place. But I warn you, Ana, that man is poison. He’s no better, and probably worse, than any of the clients who come to the Brothel. I remember how he used to pester me when I first started working there. It worries me that he knows you’re friends with Binta. He doesn’t know the whole story, does he?”

Ana was sufficient confused without having to contemplate the awful consequences of that prospect. “I’m sure he doesn’t. At least I hope not! We try to be ever so careful.”

“He’s not a naïve man. He could very easily work out why you spend so much time with Binta.”

“We’re careful, aren’t we?” Bida remarked. “We keep it secret. Not even my mum knows about you and most of my friends think you’re my boyfriend. I don’t want to go to jail. That’d be horrible!”

Zabba squeezed her young lover’s hand affectionately, but wasn’t to be distracted. “Has the Pimple ever said anything to you that would make you think he suspects you and Binta of having more than just a normal friendship?”

Ana shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s just very nasty about her. He calls her a ‘frigid dyke’. Or a ‘waste of her client’s good money’. Or a ‘disgrace to a noble profession’. He says she ought to buck her ideas up and dress more appropriately and not pretend to be Eve in the Garden of Eden. Innocence, he says, is not one of Binta’s virtues. I always thought that was because she hasn’t let him ... you know ... hasn’t allowed him ...”

Zabba grinned. “I love a girl who can say no - as long as it’s not to me!”

“Oh, Zabba!” gasped Bida, glaring at her lover. “How can you say that? Aren’t I enough for you? Surely you don’t need anyone else?”

“Of course not, Bida sweetheart,” Zabba answered, squeezing her knee reassuringly under the table. “You’re quite enough for me!”