Refuge by N G Osborne Page B

people like Charlie Matthews?”
    “If he recommends you, they will at least give you serious consideration.”
    Aamir Khan grabs a hold of Noor’s hands.
    “I have a feeling about him. He’s not a bad man.”
    “Forgive me for not sharing your confidence.”
    “Please, my love.”
    Noor bites her lip.
    To think I’d forgotten all about him.
    “Alright,” she says, “just for you.”
    They walk through the camp, and Noor can’t help but feel a new spring in her father’s step. They take a bus to University Town, and head on foot into a part of the city Noor’s had no reason to visit before. Ancient Sheesham trees provide shade from the scorching sun, and on both sides of the street grand colonial mansions loom, their ground floors hidden by walls covered in all shades of bougainvillea.
    Everything’s so different here. Kacha Gari might as well be on another planet.
    Aamir Khan reads off the numbers of the houses and stops in front of a large, ornate gate.
    “Ah, here we are,” he says.
    He pushes the gate open, and they walk up the gravel driveway. In front of them stands what Noor considers a palace.
    “This can’t be right,” she says.
    “This is the address he gave me.”
    They climb the steps, and Aamir Khan rings the doorbell. Noor prays her father has made a mistake. Moments later Charlie opens the door, his hair still damp from showering.
    Oh no.
    “Great to see you guys,” he grins.
    “And it is a delight to see you,” Aamir Khan says.
    “Come in, come in.”
    Noor follows her father into a vast vaulted hall. She stares up at the skylight fifty feet above her.
    “Can I take your jacket, Aamir?” Charlie says.
    “That would be most kind.”
    Aamir Khan hands Charlie his blazer. Charlie opens a closet door and hangs it up.
    “And you, Noor?”
    Charlie gives her an eager smile.
    Is he really attempting to undress me this early into our visit?
    “How about your headscarf, my dear,” Aamir Khan says. “I have always believed the veil or worse the burqa, Charlie, to be affectations of the ignorant, and if there is ever an opportunity where Noor is free not to wear one she should seize it with gusto.”
    “Won’t get any argument from me,” Charlie says.
    Noor decides that now Charlie’s in league with her father she despises him all the more. She unties her headscarf, and her long, black hair unfurls. Charlie steps forward to take the scarf, and she recoils at the strong odor of aftershave and cigarettes.
    “So I hope you guys are hungry?” Charlie says.
    “Oh, you shouldn’t have troubled yourself, we had more than a sufficient breakfast,” Aamir Khan says.
    Half a piece of naan split between the two of us.
    “Hate for it go to waste,” Charlie says.
    “Well if you insist,” Aamir Khan says.
    “I insist.”
    Charlie leads them through the hall and down a corridor into a gargantuan room whose four sides are lined with overladen bookshelves. In the center of the room is a neat arrangement of faded sofas, worn leather chairs and lamps. For all intents and purposes it could be a college library.
    “I believe I have just died and gone to paradise,” Aamir Khan says.
    “Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Charlie says.
    Aamir Khan scans one of the shelves.
    “Walter Scott, William Thackeray, ah even some Joyce.”
    Aamir Khan moves on to the next shelf. Noor feels an uncomfortable sensation and turns to discover Charlie gaping at her. She twists her head away.
    “Well take as many as you want,” Charlie says.
    “Oh, I could not,” Aamir Khan says.
    “I insist.”
    “You are an insistent man today, Mr. Matthews.”
    “Please you’ve got to call me Charlie.”
    “Then Charlie it is.”
    Noor makes a promise to never call him by that name.
    Charlie leads them outside and down a white railed verandah. At the far end is a wrought-iron table. Table settings have been laid out and in the center sit three covered bowls and a dish of homemade yogurt. Noor’s nostrils twitch at the