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Kerren Kerrish's office was even larger than Henry's. It was hardly surprising, Henry thought, but it did mean you ought to be able to get a taxi from the door to the desk. As he arrived, Kerrish emerged from what Henry took to be his own cubicon, followed a moment later by a leggy dark haired women in her late thirties, Henry guessed. She gathered her wrap around dress about her with a flourish that left Henry uncertain what if anything he had seen of her body and left the pair of them to their discussions.
At Kerren's suggestion,. Henry took a seat. “I have small project for you,” he said. “No doubt simple after your many triumphs for Bank of England” Henry thought for a moment – he didn't remember claiming that but maybe Freddie had polished Henry's CV a little. “One of our best customers has a chance for new business making. An opportunity but – as is always – it needs funding.”
“I guess that's good news for us,” said Henry.
“Indeed, indeed. With no need for money where would a bank be? But, of course, not all opportunities are as splendid as they seem. Some have greater risk than others, some require more security than others, some will generate a greater return than others. I would like you to talk to our customer, assess the opportunity, advise me on the risk, determine what interest you think we should charge.”
“Fine. I can do that.” Henry wasn't at all sure that he was qualified. Back in London whenever anyone wanted a loan they just fired up the computer and filled in the forms and the system said yes or no. Nevertheless, Henry thought, how hard could it be? It was probably some farmer looking for a loan to build a barn or something.
“You need to talk to Kushnati Koresh, he is one of our Council Elders. He is not too able to speak English but his wife is American. He has asked for her to deal with this. It is unusual but I suppose we must move with the times in some things.”
Henry didn't see what was so odd about Koresh's wife discussing a bank loan but he let Kerren continue.
“Miss Astana will provide you with the files. She will arrange a car for you. Mr Koresh and his wife will be able to see you tomorrow morning. I am sure you will be able to assess their application. Of course as a Council Member Mr Koresh has a preferred status with the Bank, he will be very happy to meet with you.”
Henry wasn't entirely happy. He felt he might be getting out of his depth in political waters. It sounded like his boss didn't want to hear that this loan wasn't a good idea and that, if it did go bad, he'd be the one carrying the can for the bank. Oh well, no change there.
Back in his office, Anch was already waiting for him with the Koresh file. “I have asked for your car to collect you from the hotel in the morning,” she said. “It is one o'clock now so you will go back there, I think. For me it is time to go back to my household too.”
Henry was disappointed, he'd been looking forward to spending some more time with Anch but there would be plenty of other opportunities he thought. “That's all right, Anch,” he said. “I'll see you when I get back from talking to Mr Koresh and his wife.”
“His wife? On bank matters? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mr Kerrish said that she was to be involved in the discussions. Why? Is that odd?”
“Very, Mr Henry, very,” An responded. “In Kushtia a woman is not able to have a bank account. Such things can only be had by a man.”
“But how do you manage? What do you do with your wages? Surely they don't pay you in cash.”
“No, of course. But I don't receive wages. The earnings from my work here go to my household. They provide my food and lodging and my clothes and for my care. That is what the properta means, I contribute to my household and they take care of me.”
“I see,” said Henry, not really seeing at all. It sounded very odd.
“Now, I must go, if that is all right, Sir. I have to be back at my household for two o'clock. There are domestic duties to take care of.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course. Well, you must tell me more of your household, Anch. I would be interested to learn more about your life.”
Anch nodded her head and walked across to her desk gathering up a few things for her handbag. She took a magazine from her desk and was about to put it into her bag when she said, “Here is another good Kushtian word for you.” She held out the magazine and pointed to the title. “Yassi!” it said.
“Yassi?” Henry responded, taking the magazine.
“Yes, good,” said Anch. “It means 'Hello' or 'Greetings'.”
Henry nodded and looked again at the magazine's cover. “Victoria Beckham is as much a celebrity here then?” he said pointing to the cover.
“Oh no. That is not Mr Beckham's wife. She does look very like her though, I agree. Also called Victoria. That is the chief wife of the son of our Kalinin, our president. She is an English girl.”
“The chief wife? I suppose his others are called Gerri, Emma and Melanie.”
“So you know them? It was very odd, first for a son to marry five wives at once and then for them all to be foreign. He was a big fan of the Spice Girls they say. His wives are all very like them.”
Henry thought the whole thing very odd. “Well, I guess the cult of celebrity extends everywhere these days,” he said. “Well she certainly looks like Posh Spice, or at least the way she looked when last I saw a picture of her. What do people in Kushtia think?”
“She is very scandalous!”
“I see. Because her face is not covered?”
“No, silly. She is a wife, once you are a wife your husband may be happy to display you, if he allows. No, there are rumours about her and other men and that her husband encourages her behaviour. But she has nice breasts, doesn't she? Should I have my breasts made like those, do you think?”
“Anch, I think your breasts are just fine.”
“Only fine?” In spite of her veil Henry could sense the sulky pout. “But I must go.” She pulled a heavy shawl around her shoulders and then, finally took out a pair of heavy brass bracelets and fastened them on to her wrists. As she stood up to leave Henry saw that the bracelets were linked by a short length of heavy brass chain.
“What are those?” Henry said.
“These?” said Anch turning towards him. “These are manuses.”
“But they're like handcuffs. Do you walk home wearing those in the street?”
“Yes, of course. Many Kushtian girls wear them. These are very grand. You see how the cuffs are broad and the chain is quite short. That is very much the way they are being worn this year. My household was very good to buy me such fashionable ones. My friend Harana is very jealous. Her's are not so wide. She tried to hide them under her shawala when she saw mine.” Anch laughed. “I will see you tomorrow Mr Henry,” she said and left him bewildered.
Henry shut up the things in his office and made his way back to the hotel along the empty streets of Kolin. The hotel lobby was deserted he grabbed his key from the rack behind the reception desk and made his way upstairs to his room.
He flicked on the TV. Three channels of TV Kushtia all showed a blank screen with words that said the same thing. “Back at 20:00” he looked at his watch. It was 20:15. There wasn't anything else. He looked out across the square. It was empty. There didn't seem much else to do except to sit down and go through the Koresh file. Oh, and maybe introduce himself to the contents of the mini-bar.
By the time it came to think about dinner he'd formed a good view of the nature of Mr. Koresh's finances. The mini bar had been a disappointment. In a country where you had to show your passport to get hold of alcohol it shouldn't have surprised him that the small fridge contained only fruit juice. He was glad to toss the file aside and go in search of food and a drink to go with it.
© Freddie Clegg 2009
All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission.
All characters fictitious
E-mail: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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