The World Unseen by Shamim Sarif Read Free Book Online Page A

Miriam took care of the wives herself. In the kitchen, Robert kept a careful eye on the sponge cakes that were rising gently in the great range oven.
     
    The car pulled up smoothly, and all they had heard of its approach was the slow crunch of the dust and stones beneath the solid tyres – a delicate advance, far removed from the rumble and grind of the farmers’ trucks. Miriam sipped from a glass of soda water, trying quickly to overcome the light-headedness and nausea that she had felt in passing waves throughout the day. She looked out at the car, long and black and gleaming. She had no idea what make of car it was - Omar had told her once, as they watched it pull away, but she had forgotten. It was beautiful, though, redolent of a world which Miriam could hardly fathom, and she could only imagine what it must be like to sit ensconced in that shiny casing, sinking into the leather seats, and listening to dance music on the little radio that was fitted into the wooden dashboard.
     
    The men jumped out with alacrity, relieved to stretch their legs, and looked around smiling, content, shrugging on well-fitted jackets before they held open the back doors for the women. The driver remained in the car, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the windows rolled down, where in due course he would receive his own mug of tea and slice of cake from Robert. The women alighted, stockinged legs emerging first, followed by the swirling dresses of light flowery prints, and Miriam felt nervous suddenly as she stood at the top of the porch steps with her husband. Omar had donned a tie for the occasion, because the Kaplan brothers always wore one. The called hello, and came bounding up the porch stairs, followed by their wives - well-dressed, cologned and glamorous, like four players in a Hollywood musical.
     
    They all shook hands, and exchanged pleasantries about the weather, the drive, the shop. From habit, the men gravitated towards the back room, and Miriam watched her husband lead them through - he was tall, Omar, taller than either of the others, and his clothes, though not tailored like theirs, looked smart. She felt a brief flicker of pride, pride that he held his own amongst them, and then she turned her full attention to the ladies who rattled on, their conversation as light and frothy as a milkshake.
     
    “And the children?” Martha Kaplan asked, as she sat down. “How are your gorgeous children? Such beautiful eyes they have - and so well-behaved.”
     
    “They are fine, both fine,” said Miriam. “Getting to be more of a handful every day.”
     
    “How old are they now?”
     
    “Sam is five and Alisha is nearly four.”
     
    Martha Kaplan looked delighted. “So she’s here?” she asked, looking about, but Miriam shook her head.
     
    “She goes with Sam to Springs. They have a playgroup attached to the school. It’s good for her. I think she needs to see and do different things everyday. She is so curious; she’s into everything.”
     
    “Oh, I know, don’t even talk to me about it!” This came from Joyce, always the more dramatic of the two.
     
    Martha Kaplan looked at her sister-in-law, amused. “Joyce, you know you dote on those children of yours.” She looked at Miriam. “She can’t wait to be occupied with them - I think she wakes up earlier than they do. I, on the other hand, am more than happy to let Jennifer dress them and feed them in the mornings – it’s always such a rush before school. I’m not fit to be seen before noon most days.”
     
    They continued in this way for some time, and Miriam looked with genuine interest at the photographs of their children which they produced from their handbags. They had, between them, three boys and a girl; the boys stood together, casual and blond and confident, laughing at the camera; the girl darker-haired and pretty, posed in her school uniform.
     
    “David Junior is the image of his father, I think,” said Martha. “I know he’s only ten,