The Hidden (Jo Chumas) by Jo Chumas

Author:Jo Chumas
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, International Mystery & Crime, Fiction, Historical, Thrillers, Espionage
ISBN: 9781477848197
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2012-12-19T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Aimee’s act was moments away. She hurriedly applied a little gold dust to her cheeks. Then she raised her thin arms above her head and tried to move her hips. There was no way she was going to convince Fatima. The men would laugh at her, and Fatima would get wise to her in seconds.

She had surely lost her mind. She removed her clothes and slipped into the red stocking sheath. It clung to her body like a glove. She pulled the long black gloves off the table and slipped them on. They reached past her elbows, with little ivory buttons holding them in place.

She scanned the room, taking in the cracked ceilings, the rough wooden floors, the antique armoires, the heavy velvet drapes. As she tiptoed barefoot out of the room, a plump old woman sidled up to her and took her hand.

“If you are Amina Khalil, then come with me,” the woman said. Her hand felt rough and cold like parchment. Beyond the long corridor, she saw the lights of the stage and the sequinned curtains. Aimee watched a young girl, probably no more than thirteen, swirling, entranced, on the platform. She was wearing a jewelled bodice and loose trousers, and her arms were decorated with silver bracelets.

In the wings on the other side of the stage, Aimee spotted another woman whom she was certain she had seen somewhere before. She peered out at the audience, sizing up the faces of the men through the cigarette haze.

“You’re on next,” the old woman said, sliding onto a small stool as the music faded out.

Aimee held her breath. The sound of a flute was heard, and then a hush came over the room. She could not think. She thought she would faint. She didn’t know what she was doing. The sound of tablas started up, followed by lutes, then pipes.

The old woman gave her a shove onto the stage. She was overwhelmed by that same unpleasant oily smell, which reminded her of the caravansarais and kiosks in the seedier parts of town, places she’d walked past with Azi when they’d explored the city together She was fairly certain it was opium, an odour so strange her head started to swim.

She moved slowly at first. Then gradually, swaying in time to the music, her movements became more vigorous. She tried to remember the steps of the flamenco dancers who had fascinated her as a young girl. She stamped her bare feet and stretched her arms high over her head, arching her body as she danced. Then a face loomed out of the cigarette haze. It was a good-looking face, the face of a man she knew. Farouk!

She kept dancing. She danced and danced, her body tightening with each breath, the thick, heavy scent sending her reeling. She saw Sophie and Sebastian. Sophie was staring at her in horror, her mouth open. Aimee continued, unable to stop. The face of Sophie’s friend dissolved into the blur, and she saw Farouk again.

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