The Girl from Baghdad Read Online Free PDF Page B

apartment to ourselves for a few years now. We’re settled. We’re happy.’
    â€˜And this little girl who’s hiding behind you? She wouldn’t by any chance be your daughter?’
    â€˜Yes, my eldest. I have three.’ Mum pushed me gently towards the woman. ‘Go ahead, Michelle, say hello to my friend Irena.’
    Very shy, I murmured a hello. Irena smiled and bowed down to give me a kiss.
    â€˜You’re a very pretty little girl, Michelle. How old are you?’
    I showed five fingers on one hand and a thumb on the other.
    â€˜Six? And where are your little sisters?’
    Mum answered for me. ‘They’re at home. They’re still too little to come with us. Klara is three years old, and Linda, just a few months.’
    â€˜I can’t wait to see them! You have no idea how happy I am now that we’re neighbours again.’ Irena turned to me. ‘You know, Michelle, your Mum and I worked together at the airport, where she met your dad.’
    â€˜Gosh, it seems like ages ago! And I’ve missed you a lot. It’s as if I’ve been reunited with a sister. You don’t know how easy it is to feel alone, in a foreign city …’
    â€˜It won’t happen again, now that I’m here. We’ll stay together and you’ll teach me everything about Baghdad.’
    â€˜To tell the truth, I don’t get out much. As you’ll notice, women without a chaperone aren’t viewed well here. But with a little caution, one can do many things. I, for example, now go shopping or to the hairdresser alone.’
    â€˜Well, my dear, from today I will come with you, just like old times!’ concluded Irena, also taking a flute of champagne from the tray passing by.
    â€˜Cheers! Who would have ever thought that destiny would have a tale of Arabian Nights in store for both of us?’
    â€˜May I join you?’ my father asked, approaching closer. He tilted his glass towards the two women then greeted Irena, glad to see her again. He lovingly drew himself to my mother and embraced her in a way he was never able to in front of his family. I heard him whisper in her ear, ‘You’re beautiful. I love you.’
    She returned his gaze with the eyes of a woman in love.

    We moved to a new house after Linda was born. It was in the same neighbourhood, Al Mansùr, but unlike our previous apartment, it was much larger. I had fun running around on the big terrace. From there you could see and hear everything that took place on the main street of Baghdad, Arba’taash Ramadàn.
    In the mornings, our driver waited for Mum and me in front of the house. Mum accompanied me to school and said goodbye, giving me a kiss on the forehead. After school I played with the other kids on our street. As Al Mansùr was a calm neighbourhood, we were allowed to stay out until dusk and to go as far as the kiosk at the end of the street where they made delicious ice-cream.
    Bàn and Otůr were my best friends. We were inseparable. Bàn was Muslim, like me. She was blonde with big blue eyes, which were always looking around. She had two brothers who followed her everywhere. When we tired of racing our bicycles, we went to play dolls or ‘school’ in Otůr’s big yard, which also had a swing. There was a big pomegranate tree near the jasmine bushes that released clouds of perfume in spring. At the end of summer the pomegranates swelled with ruby-red seeds. We ripped them from their branches, careful not to prick ourselves with the thorns, and husked the kernels. Then we stuffed them in our mouths, laughing and enjoying the tart flavour. The chant of the muezzin from the minarets nearby told us when it was time to goback home. Only then did I think of the scolding Mum would give me when she saw my shirt horribly marked with red.
    I loved my little friend Otůr, who lived next door. She was thin, with an elfin face and a crown of brown curls. When