The minutes ticked by like a hammer slowly beating down on her nerves. Her companion answered her phone. Polly linked her hands together on her lap and wondered why they had all seemed so excited about the ring. Was it a stolen ring? Was that possible? But what sort of ring could possibly attract such immediate recognition when according to Vanessa it was not worth much money?
Another woman entered with a tray of aromatic tea. Polly’s companion stood up and offered her a cup. It smelled of mint and her hand shook as she lifted the glass up to her tense mouth to sip the fragrant brew.
‘Why am I being kept here?’ she dared to ask then.
‘We are waiting for instructions,’ she was told.
‘And the ring?’
Both women exchanged looks and neither made an answer. Polly was angry that her ring had been taken from her because she treasured it as her sole remaining link with the mother she had never known. When would her ring be returned to her? At the same time she was trying to take encouragement from the fact that she had not been strip-searched and that tea had been brought. It was a misunderstanding. What else could it be? She had done nothing wrong. But had her mother done something wrong years back in the past?
How was she supposed to answer that question? In many ways, her mother remained a complete mystery to her eldest daughter. Annabel had travelled the world in luxury to look after other people’s children while abandoning her own to the tender mercies of her own mother, who had been a most reluctant guardian. She had, however, dutifully provided financial support for Polly’s grandmother and her daughters for many years. When that support came to a sudden unannounced halt, Polly had learned a lot about how to live on a very tight budget.
The sisters had inherited nothing from their grandmother. She had left the contents of her house, all that she possessed, to her son, Polly’s uncle, complaining bitterly that her daughter had ruined her retirement by forcing her to raise her illegitimate children. It was a label Polly had always hated, a word the younger generation rarely used because it wasn’t fair to tag a child with something that they had played no active part in creating. But it was a word that had meant a great deal to her staunchly conservative and judgemental grandmother, who had been ashamed that her only grandchildren had been born out of wedlock.
*
While Polly agonised on the other side of Kashan, Hakim, who rarely moved fast, was positively racing down the main corridor of the palace in his haste to reach his King. His rounded face was beaming and flushed, his little goatee beard quivering. Rashad was in his office, working diligently as usual.
‘The ring!’ Hakim carolled out of breath, holding it high in the air like a trophy before hurrying over to lay it down reverently on the top of the desk. ‘It is found.’
Rashad frowned and sprang upright, carrying the ring in one lean brown hand to scrutinise it in the sunlight pouring through the window. ‘How was it found? Where was it?’
Hakim explained about the British woman being held at the airport.
Rashad’s dark as jet eyes hardened. ‘Why is she not in prison?’
‘This must be carefully handled,’ Hakim urged. ‘We would not want to cause a diplomatic incident—’
‘A thief is a thief and must be held accountable,’ his King assured him without hesitation.
‘The woman is young. She could not have been the thief. She has not been questioned yet. The airport police wished to first ascertain with the palace that the ring was the genuine article. There is great excitement in Kashan. Crowds are already forming at the airport.’
Rashad frowned. ‘Why? How could word of this discovery already have spread?’
‘The airport grapevine was most thoroughly aired on social media,’ his adviser told him wryly. ‘There will be no keeping a lid on this story—’
‘Crowds?’ Rashad prompted in bewilderment.
‘The woman concerned is not being viewed as a thief but as the woman who has brought the Hope of Dharia home to our King. When I add that she is young and apparently beautiful…well, if you think about how your great-grandmother came to your great-grandfather and brought the Hope with her, you can see why our people are thrilled.’
But Rashad was still frowning. A large gathering of thrilled people could translate all too easily into civil unrest. He could barely comprehend his aide’s fervent attitude to what was, after all, only a legend, polished up by the next generation to enhance and romanticise the monarchy and their alliances. ‘But that was a century ago in another age and it was a set-up to achieve exactly what it did achieve…a marriage that suited both countries at the time.’
‘It is dangerous to have crowds congregating at the airport. I would humbly suggest that you have the woman brought here to be questioned. It will keep the whole matter under wraps without causing undue comment.’
Rashad was thinking with regret of the old dungeons in the palace basement. He didn’t think Hakim wanted the British woman put in the basement. He reminded himself that the ring had come home and that the woman was apparently too young to have been responsible for its disappearance. ‘Very well. I suppose it will be interesting to hear her story.’
‘It is a complete miracle that the Hope of Dharia has been returned to us,’ Hakim declared fervently. ‘And a wonderful portent of good events yet to come.’
*
Sadly, there was nothing miraculous about Polly’s feelings as she was herded out of the airport by what looked suspiciously like a rear entrance as they emerged into a loading bay surrounded by crates. She was clammy with fright in spite of the presence of the female security guard but her rarely roused temper was also beginning to rise. She was a law-abiding, well-behaved traveller. How dared they force her to endure such treatment?
‘You are going to the palace!’ the woman told her in a voice that suggested that she expected Polly to turn cartwheels of joy at the news. ‘It is a great honour. They have even sent a car and a military escort for you.’
Polly climbed into the rear passenger seat of a shiny white four-wheel drive. She linked her hands tightly together on her lap. Over twenty years ago her mother had been employed at the palace and now she was receiving an unexpected opportunity to see the place, she told herself, striving to take a more positive view of her circumstances. If she got the chance to ask questions she might even meet someone who remembered her mother working at the palace. Of course, that could only lead to a very awkward exchange, she acknowledged reluctantly. Had her mother slept around? Had she been involved with more than one man? And how on earth was she supposed to find that out without seriously embarrassing herself and other people? For the first time, Ellie’s forecast that seeking out her father would be like looking for a needle in a haystack returned to haunt Polly and she resolved to keep her personal business strictly private until she was confident of her reception.
&nbs