The Castle by Sophia Bennett

Author:Sophia Bennett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicken House

THIRTY-ONE

One thing about the Wahools – they knew how to party. In the dawn light, the castle terrace looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. Broken plant pots and statues littered the area. Colourful silk cushions floated on the surface of the pool. Two wooden sun loungers lay in the shallow end, like shipwrecks. Half a dozen servants in uniform were moving quietly through the gloom with brushes and rubbish sacks, careful not to wake the family in their bedrooms above.

There were four grown-up slaves too, thin and ragged in other people’s mismatched clothes, scouring the lawns looking for litter on the perfect grass. They were all bent over, concentrating, but I still turned my face away and made sure to keep my ‘brother’ between me and them. If they looked up, they would notice instantly that I wasn’t the little girl they knew so well.

A butler explained to a lesser servant, who explained to us, that Karim and I were to work in the spa complex, which was the building still covered in scaffolding. Inside, it was bizarre, with its golden floor, central golden hot tub and ancient-looking arched roof. There were two stained glass windows at either end, which reminded me a little of the windows in Winchelsea Church, except those had pictures of knights and saints, and these had mermaids in shell bikinis.

Apparently Omar Wahool had made the servants fill the hot tub last night so he could impress his friends. It had been drained overnight, but the drainage system wasn’t working properly yet and the bottom was still covered with wet shards of broken champagne glasses. The servant told Karim that we were expected to clear the glass up with brushes, then go over the gold mosaic floor with our bare fingers, which were more sensitive to finding the almost-invisible shards.

‘Can you do this?’ Karim asked me, once we were alone.

‘Of course.’

He got to work, moving carefully and efficiently across the damp golden floor. I copied him.

‘This reminds me of another party, in England,’ he said. ‘There was a competition to drop champagne bottles from the windows. It took many days to clean up the green glass.’

‘Wait – you were in England? But England doesn’t have . . .’ I struggled to get the word out. ‘. . . slaves.’

Karim looked sideways at me. ‘Do you think so?’

I gulped. Frankly, up to a week ago I didn’t think anywhere had slaves any more. But then, if they were kept in hidden-away places, how would I know?

‘You were in London? In the house on Eaton Square?’

He shrugged. ‘A big white house. I do not know the address. We were there for a few months, while the castle was made ready.’

‘How did you get there?’

‘By boat, like you.’

‘And before that? I mean, how did you even get to be a . . .?’ I gave up. I couldn’t say the word again.

‘I was born this way. It is not a good story. You don’t want to know.’

‘I do. Really.

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