Page 12 of The Sun Sister

‘Your skin is so beautiful,’ sighed Mariam. ‘It literally glows. Now, I am convinced that you will not be bothered by anyone tonight.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so, but test out your disguise downstairs when we walk through reception. Ready to go?’

‘Yeah, why not?’ I made to pick up my Louis Vuitton shopper, but Mariam stopped me.

‘Put whatever you need into my bag,’ she said as she proffered her cheap faux-leather brown shoulder bag. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’

In the elevator, even though three people got in with us, no one batted an eyelid at me. We walked through the lobby and the concierge glanced at us, then turned his attention back to his computer.

‘Wow, Christophe has known me for years,’ I whispered as we walked outside and Mariam called over the doorman.

‘We need a cab to Montmartre,’ she told him in very passable French.

‘D’accord, mademoiselle, but there is a queue so it may be as long as ten minutes.’

‘Okay, we can wait.’

‘I haven’t queued for a cab in years,’ I muttered.

‘Welcome to the real world, Electra,’ Mariam smiled. ‘Look, here we go.’

Twenty minutes later, we settled ourselves at a table in the café I used to work in. It wasn’t a very good table – we were squashed tightly between two others and I could hear every word of our neighbours’ conversations. I kept looking up at George, who’d given me the job as a waitress ten years ago, standing behind the bar, but his head never turned towards me.

‘So, how does it feel to be invisible again?’ Mariam asked me after I’d ordered half a carafe of house wine.

‘I’m not sure. Weird, definitely.’

‘But freeing?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I enjoyed walking down the street unnoticed, but there are pros and cons to everything, aren’t there?’

‘There are, yes, but I imagine that even before you became famous, you used to get stared at.’

‘I suppose I did, yeah, but I could never work out whether it was friendly staring or more because, well, I resemble a black giraffe!’

‘I’d guess it was because you are very beautiful, Electra. Whereas for me, especially since 9/11, I get treated with a degree of suspicion everywhere I go. Every Muslim is a terrorist, you know.’ She smiled sadly as she sipped her water.

‘Of course, it must be difficult for you.’

‘It is. In any political or religious regime, all therealpeople on the streets just want to live in peace. Sadly, I’m often judged before I’ve even opened my mouth because of my style of dress.’

‘Do you ever go out without it?’

‘No, although my father said I should remove my hijab when I was looking for work. He thought it might hinder my chances.’

‘Maybe you should try it, become someone else for a few hours, just like I have tonight. It might be freeing for you too.’

‘It might, but I’m happy as I am. Now, shall we order?’

Mariam proceeded to do so in French.

‘So many hidden skills,’ I teased her. ‘Where did you learn to speak French so well?’

‘I learnt it at school, then picked up more when I was working for Bardin – I find it is a necessity in the high-fashion world. And I suppose I have an ear for languages. I noticed that you sound quite different in French than you do in English, almost like another person.’