Zarif's Convenient Queen

Hamid was already on the phone muttering fervent apologies, regretful eyes locked to Zarif, who was already racing for the stairs and the fastest means of transport he possessed.

* * *

Ella was relieved that the army escort stayed well back from her. Two cars loaded with teenagers, however, overtook the Ferrari. They waved and honked horns noisily, poked their heads through their sun roofs to take photos of her and, even though she was deliberately driving slowly to be safe, Ella was childishly affronted at being overtaken in Zarif’s high-performance car.

On her first loop of the city walls, she glimpsed a police car parked at the entrance to the old city with its roof light flashing and it was at that point that two other cars fell in behind her. She peered in the rear-view mirror, registering that the nearest car definitely had a female driver at the wheel, and she grinned. Without warning, the police car appeared on the road behind her, travelling at great speed to overtake her, and she was about to pull off the road feeling that she had made her point when the police car simply moved into the lane in front of her, slowing her down but taking up pole position.

Hamid was on the phone to Zarif, who was airborne. ‘Women are pouring out of the shops and the offices and getting behind car wheels all over the city to follow the Queen’s car. It’s turning into a mass demonstration on the desert highway and the police and the army say there is a danger of public disorder and they want to arrest everybody involved.’

‘No woman is to be stopped or arrested,’ Zarif decreed. ‘Interference would only raise the risk of an accident occurring.’

‘My wife is out there in a car too,’ Hamid confided in a small voice.

‘We married gutsy women, Hamid. They have a good side and a bad side, or should I call it an exciting side?’ Zarif sighed, trying to work out how best to get Ella off the road safely.

He could not phone her. He would not risk phoning her. Azel had been on the phone when she crashed.

The noise of hundreds of car horns blaring made Ella look in the rear-view mirror and she almost jumped on the brakes because there was a whole procession of cars following her. Overhead she could hear more than one helicopter hovering. Swallowing hard, she drove on behind the leading police car, wishing they would step on it a bit. She was ready to head back to the palace. She had made her statement but she had not intended to cause traffic chaos or involve other women in her protest.

It was a stupid sexist law and it ought to be changed but she didn’t want to get anyone else into trouble. She looked on in disbelief as a pickup truck with a large film camera mounted on the back overtook the police and what she assumed to be the news crew proceeded to film the parade of cars. It was a very dangerous manoeuvre, which convinced Ella that it was time for her to wind down the tension by quietly bowing out.

Ella pulled off the road onto the stony, sandy desert plain. Her army escort followed. Before she could even climb out of the Ferrari a ring of soldiers surrounded the vehicle and there was the truly deafening noise of a helicopter landing nearby. The car horns were still going like mad. Barely a minute later, the ring of soldiers parted and Zarif strode towards her, his lean, breathtakingly beautiful face taut and informative.

Anxiety exploded inside Ella. She had done what she had done. It was a senseless law and she had made a mockery of it but she had not realised that she might inspire other women into staging a massive demonstration alongside her. That made her feel guilty. That was more of a lesson than she had intended to teach and, although she had known her protest would embarrass Zarif, she was suddenly not proud of what she had evidently achieved. In fact the huge fuss and the pull on resources that her simple drive had created suddenly made her feel ashamed and about one inch tall.

‘Zarif...’ she began hesitantly.

Without a word he bent down and scooped her bodily up into his strong arms and carted her back to the helicopter he had evidently landed in. He settled her into the passenger seat and did up the safety belt in a series of silent determined movements.

‘You’re furious with me,’ she breathed shakily.

‘No, I was more afraid for your safety in the mood you were in,’ Zarif contradicted. ‘I’m a natural worrier... Azel and my son died on that same stretch of road.’

Ella turned pale. ‘I’m so sorry...I didn’t think.’

His strong jaw line clenched. ‘She was a new driver. I told her that she needed more practice before she took to the road but she was determined to meet me at the airport. She was on the phone, something may have distracted her...possibly the baby. We’ll never know. She crashed head-on into a truck. And because of a tragedy that could have been foreseen, Halim drew up an unjust law forbidding women from driving. It was the only law he put forward in all his years as Regent and, in the light of what had happened to his daughter and grandson, nobody had the heart to say no to him,’ he proffered heavily as he vaulted back out of the helicopter and stood by the door talking to her. ‘But I should’ve had the strength to oppose him. When I saw all those women driving behind you, determined to show solidarity with you, I finally realised what a huge source of resentment that law has become. Regardless of how Halim feels about it, the law will be removed from the statute books as soon as possible. The taxi drivers will be furious but there are always losers in every scenario.’

Slamming the door on her, Zarif strode round the nose of the helicopter and climbed into the pilot’s seat.

‘You’re flying us?’ she prompted in surprise.

‘I’ve been flying for many years,’ Zarif told her gently.

‘I didn’t know,’ she said as he fiddled with the controls and spoke into the radio.

‘Changing the law is the right thing to do,’ she told him as the whine of the whirling rotor blades began. ‘But it wasn’t fair for me to do something like that in public to embarrass you.’

‘I wasn

’t embarrassed. I was surprisingly proud of you for standing up for what you believed in,’ Zarif admitted with a sidelong glance at her from black-fringed dark eyes. ‘Why did you pull off the road and stop it?’

‘When that film crew thrust their vehicle in front of us, I realised it was getting dangerous and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. How the heck did people find out about what I was doing so fast?’

‘It was plastered all over Facebook and Twitter within minutes of you leaving the palace. You’re a heroine now. Why did you do it?’ he shot at her loudly and abruptly when they were airborne.

‘I thought it would make you divorce me and that that would be for the best.’

‘Never!’ he rebutted succinctly and that was the last word exchanged for some time.