heavy bag. As he went behind the counter the man grabbed hold of him by the neck and dragged him out through a back door where he began to shout at him. Having finished shouting at the boy, the man came out and walked straight towards the door.
‘Hey, what about our coffee?’
‘The boy will see to it,’ muttered the man, who paused then and took his time to look Talal over as he lit a cigarette. ‘Muhammed,’ he called, raising his voice, his eyes still on Talal, ‘hurry up, people are waiting.’ Smiling, he then turned and walked out.
‘I understand you had more important things to talk about,’ the afro bobbed up and down energetically. ‘So now you’re on the case, right? You’re working?’
‘Actually, I’m not sure how much I can do here.’
Talal looked pained. ‘I told him you were the best.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.’ Makana had already decided he would give the Blue Ibis four days, a week at the most, and if nothing came up he would quietly break it off. That would give him enough money to get to the end of the month, if he was careful. As for Talal’s chances of marriage, he didn’t want to even think about how he was going to break the news to the young man.
‘You have to solve this one, really. My life depends on it.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind. Tell me about the company. How long have you worked for them?’
‘Oh, a couple of years now. On and off. It’s all temporary. In my position I have to move around from company to company, taking any work I can find.’
‘Go on.’
‘I suppose I charge less than most interpreters. Well, I know I do. I have to. It’s the only way to have an edge. Nine times out of ten they would rather not hire a foreigner.’
‘You’re not a foreigner, your mother is from here.’
‘They take one look at your skin.’ Talal shook his head. ‘You know how it is.’
‘I get the impression business is not going too well upstairs.’ Makana lit a cigarette as the boy came out from the narrow space behind the counter to place two small glasses of coffee down on the table. As he straightened up he felt Makana’s gaze on him and his eyes darted away. Talal was still talking.
‘They live on their name, which is not bad. It still has some leverage. But you know, loyalty to hotels that had a good reputation twenty years ago doesn’t make much sense nowadays . . .’
‘Faragalla is slow to change. Who takes over when he goes? Your young lady?’
‘Bunny?’ Talal winced. ‘No, I don’t see her taking over. She hates the business.’
‘Who else is there, any sons?’
‘No sons. There is a nephew, Ramy.’
‘The one who is running the office in Luxor.’
‘Ah, you heard.’ Talal stopped stirring his coffee. ‘He’s a strange one. He didn’t tell anyone he was going, just disappeared from one day to the next. There was a story he was mixed up with some of the clients. Women. You know . . .’ The eyebrows bounced up to meet the afro. ‘I’d better be going. I have a piano lesson.’
‘Really, you’re learning to play the piano?’ It was lame, but it raised a laugh.
‘Very funny. No, I give lessons.’ The wiry young man turned his attention to the device in his shirt pocket. The wires on the earplugs had become tangled and he suddenly became interested in unravelling them, as if this was the most important task in the world. ‘Have you ever heard of the Conservatory in Vienna?’ Talal looked up to see the blank look on Makana’s face before going on. ‘Well, it’s simply the best school of its kind in the world.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
‘They invited me to audition. If they like my work I’ll get a scholarship to attend for a year.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
Vienna seemed as far away as Mars. Why he should want to go there was beyond Makana.
‘There’s only one problem. To get a visa I need to prove I have enough money to live there for a year. Can you imagine how much that is?’ Tilal waited for Makana’s response. ‘I would need to rob a bank to get that kind of money.’
‘Things work themselves out.’ Which was another way of saying that Makana had no spare cash to lend. He had barely enough to live on himself. Talal nodded solemnly, as if he never expected anything different. After a