chapter 4

"It's good," she reassured me. "You took pills, yes? They will help you." She applied a cooling balm over my face and body. She seemed untroubled as she applied it to my most intimate areas. I put on my robe and was taken to an adjacent room where I was put in the hands of a new beauty therapist.

My new therapist seemed to speak not a word of English and I soon wished that a translator was present as I saw her prepare a syringe. "What's it for?" I asked, panic rising in me. I knew that she could neither understand nor explain but I couldn't stop asking her questions.

She pushed my head back against the headrest of the chair and slid the fine needle into the skin of my forehead. For the next ten minutes I bore numerous jabs of the needle. The injections were mostly around my forehead and eyebrows but a few were made in cheeks and lips. My face was tingling and sore as she spoke reassuringly to me.

I was taken back to the salon area feeling shaky and nauseous. Madame Harosul smiled as she saw me. "You have a bit of colour! A bit too red, admittedly but I'm sure you'll soon ripen nicely."

Kadax took me to a sink and washed the cream from my hair and brows. My hair was dried and wrapped in a towel, then I was escorted to the styling station once more. I looked in the mirror at my ruddy face, displeased to see how much my colour was affected by the tanning bed. But I was more concerned that my face looked oddly mask-like. My emotions barely registered but I couldn't attribute my blankness to a regain of emotional control.

Madame Harosul was watching me carefully. "Botox," she said gloatingly, as if answering my unvoiced question. "She Botoxed you very thoroughly, and now your eyebrows won't twitch so horribly."

"Does Dejax know about this?" I asked.

"Nanga Dejax," she corrected. "You should use the formal address in public. And yes, of course she does. It was she who insisted you needed it."

I tried to raise my eyebrows (they appeared darker but perhaps this was an optical illusion caused by the change of my skin tone) and saw that they were paralysed. I looked at my inexpressive face and saw that my eyes were full of tears.

Kadax seemed unaware of my distress, and pulled free the towel. My hair tumbled down and I saw that it was now jet black. I gasped in surprise, then looked apologetically at Madame Harosul. I knew such impulsive responses displeased her. She spoke very calmly to Kadax who withdrew to give us a private moment.

"Nanga Xenia, your behaviour today is most unbecoming for a woman of stature. If you continue to behave so deplorably I'll be recommending to Minanna Puas [Dejax's mother] that we put an end to your engagement. And If she intervenes, Nanga Dejax will agree to her instructions."

My impulse was to complain loudly, to beg, to promise, but I remembered Dejax's words. I tried to calm myself, to give myself time to think. I remained silent, my face, I hoped, impassive. I knew that this was another test of my control. Madame Harosul continued to stare at me. After thirty seconds she nodded. "Better," she said. "Keep this demeanour for the rest of your time at the salon."

I retained my calmness as my hair was dried, smoothed over a round brush to remove the wave. As Kadax crimped my long hair I felt an enormous relief that my hair wasn't to be cut, although I was as careful to guard against showing my pleasure as my fear (the paralysis of my face made it easier). My black hair gained in volume from the crimping, and was now formed into loose braids, one at each side of my face. They looked impossibly thick.

My lips were painted a dark, matt brick red, and my eyes were thickly outlined with kohl. As my ears were hung with thick gold hoops, almost three inches across, I saw myself transformed into an exotic young woman. My darkened face and black hair made me look Mediterranean. The sense of exoticism was increased as gold ornaments were added to my braids and I had to fight hard not to show the excitement I felt at my transformation. I longed to see Dejax, to revel in the pleasure I knew she'd feel upon seeing me. It would be almost unbearable for us not to express our delight physically. Was I strong enough to resist giving in to my desires until my second wedding to Dejax could take place?

I left the salon dressed in a long black tunic, the bodice ornamented with embroidered white stitching in vertical bands. It was far too big for me, but Madame Harosul assured me it was the smallest available size. "You'll soon fill it out nicely," she assured me.

Although I still felt bloated from my extravagant breakfast, I was now taken to a restaurant for lunch. As we entered I spoke up. "Madame Harosul, I still feel full from my breakfast. Could we wait a little before I eat lunch?" I made my request as meekly as possible and tried not to let any anxiety affect my facial expression, but my control did nothing to change her plans.

"You've got to learn to eat like a lady. You've hardly eaten today. By next week you'll be eating bigger meals so how do you think it would help you to let you stick to a British diet for now?"

We were taken to a small room at the side of the restaurant where we reclined on sofas as a waitress brought in a water pipe. "This may help you to gain a good appetite," Madame Harosul informed me. "The herbs are very bitter and they will help you to relish your food. They'll relax you too."

"I don't smoke," I said sheepishly. I hated the idea of being made to smoke. "Is it tobacco?"

Madame Harosul looked at me severely. "Tobacco and other herbs. Now don't be difficult. If I tell you to smoke then you'll smoke, won't you? And reply in Jertulian!"

"Chxa, Minanna Harosul," I said. The waitress took a generous pinch of the herbal mixture and chopped it with a small knife on a polished stone. She then pushed it into a cup at the side of the cylindrical pipe and passed me a long metal tube. As I started to inhale she lit the mixture which glowed red as cloudy bubbles burbled up through the water. I took a mouthful of the smoke and pulled the tube away from my mouth as I started to cough.

My tutor stared at me with a blank expression, but it was the waitress's barely disguised embarrassment that let me know I'd transgressed the boundaries of decorous behaviour. I suppressed my cough and inhaled more smoke, though as it entered my lungs the irritation became much more severe. I exhaled the thick white smoke with some relief but immediately became aware that I was becoming light headed. As I took another breath of the bitter smoke I started to feel a heaviness in my limbs and a sleepiness overtaking me. Madame Harosul was addressing the waitress but her voice seemed slow and distant.

When I rose I felt giddy and clumsy and the waitress took my hand to steady me as I was led to a table. The table was very low and I lay beside it on a chaise longue. A large bib was spread over my chest and clipped in place with a light chain around my neck. Madame Harosul was similarly equipped.

"Feeling more hungry now?" she asked. I sensed her amusement at my intoxication.

"Chxa, Minanna Harosul," I replied. My voice seemed stretched out and the words seemed to come automatically, but paradoxically with a great effort. "That pipe is very strong. My head is spinning."

"It will help you, I think. It'll keep you relaxed and help you to maintain an appetite. When you smoke the bitter taste will make you want to eat and later, when the effects wear off you'll find you crave food to recover. Both aspects of the herbs are to be valued. Our first course is here. Don't worry about making a mess, it's expected that you'll get food on your face and on the bib. That's why you wear it. In Jertul it's considered good manners to let some food spill."

A platter was placed before me and I watched Minanna Harosul (I was trying to force myself to think of her with her Jertulian title) and copied her actions. We ate with our fingers, despite dining on wet food. I soon realised that it was impossible to avoid dribbles of oil falling from the spiced meat and cereal mixture and soon my bib was spotted and splashed with numerous stains, rather more than Minanna Harosul's bib bore, but then my intoxication made me clumsy.

The dishes were removed and the waitress cleansed my hands with a perfumed cloth. She then wiped my mouth (I found this rather too intrusive, but tried to refrain from showing my disapproval) and fitted me with a clean bib. Another course appeared minutes later, flatbreads and thinly sliced roasted meat. The bread was eaten by tearing off pieces and pinching some of the meat in a fold, then dipping it in the piquant sauce. It was too spicy for my tastes, but delicious. I realised I'd have to become more tolerant of hot spices to adjust to Jertulian cuisine.

I barely managed to complete my bread and meat, but as my hands were cleansed again Minanna Harosul informed me that two more courses would be served. "I'm really full," I said apologetically. "I'm not sure I could eat another mouthful."

I found myself being led away from the table by the waitress, dimly recalling a conversation she'd had with Minanna Harosul. I found myself back in the smoking room where she prepared another pipe for me.