Peter Maxwell couldn’t stand it. I could see he liked being the centre of attention, and one or two further conversational gambits, this time mostly directed at Harriet, had gone nowhere.
Finally he said, ‘Sheikh, as you know, the prime minister is a passionate fisherman. That is to say, he would be, if he ever got the free time.’
The sheikh smiled and said, ‘I am sorry he has not the time. It must be very sad to love something so much and never do it.’
‘Well, the prime minister is a very busy man. I’m sure you understand. But, if you get the salmon project to work, he’d really love the chance to come and see it in action.’
‘Your prime minister is most welcome, if he ever finds some free time,’ said the sheikh.
‘What I really mean is,’ said Peter Maxwell, ‘that an official invitation from you some time nearer the launch date would be looked on very favourably by Number 10.’
‘Who is this Number 10?’ asked the sheikh, pretending to look puzzled.
‘I mean by the prime minister’s office.’
‘Of course, the prime minister is most welcome then or at any time. He has only to say, and we will receive him in our modest home and he can join with us and enjoy his passion for fishing for as much time as his busy life will permit him to stay. You, too, are most welcome, Mr Maxwell. Are you also a passionate fisherman?’
‘I don’t know how,’ said Mr Maxwell. ‘Never had the time to try. I’d like to come, though. May I take it that we have your invitation to attend the opening of the Yemen salmon project, whenever that might be?’
‘Of course, of course,’ said the sheikh. ‘We would be greatly honoured.’
‘And, Sheikh,’ said Peter Maxwell, ‘of course I don’t know how long Jay can stay until we can look at dates with you, but I presume if I give you some dates he currently has free, we could work the project launch timetable around that?’
‘Dr Alfred and Ms Harriet Chetwode-Talbot are the guardians of the project, Mr Maxwell, and you must speak with them about dates and arrangements of that kind.’
Peter Maxwell looked at me and said, ‘You’ll keep me in the loop, Fred.’ It was an order, not a question. Then he turned back to the sheikh and said, ‘One last thing, Sheikh. Jay-the prime minister, I mean-thinks it would be a great idea for the project if he could be photographed beside you with a rod in his hand. Maybe we could organise for him to catch a salmon, or something, while he’s there. We sort of imagine that if he can fly into Sana’a, catch a helicopter down to the site, maybe spend twenty minutes meeting the project team and getting a few handshake photos, maybe present some sort of award, then twenty minutes with you guys-I mean you, Sheikh, and some of those people we saw out on the lawn earlier today-all with fishing rods. We could get some more group photos. It would be great if everyone was wearing full tribal dress with those dagger things. Maybe Jay could do a quick change into some sort of kit, you know, like he was an honorary tribesman…’
I felt myself blushing on behalf of Peter Maxwell but the sheikh only smiled and nodded. ‘And will the prime minister be able to spare twenty minutes to catch a salmon with me?’
‘We’ll have to work up a schedule but, yes, we need a good photo of Jay catching a salmon. Maybe the first salmon ever caught in the Arabian peninsula. That would be great publicity for the project. Of course, we’d let you use the photos in all your marketing literature.’
‘Sometimes it takes a little longer to catch a fish,’ said the sheikh. ‘Even here, in Glen Tulloch, where we have many salmon, it may take hours or days before one is caught.’
‘I’ll leave that to Fred,’ said Peter Maxwell. ‘He’s the salmon expert. But, Fred, the prime minister is going to expect to hook a fish. I don’t much care how you do it, but you need to make sure that happens.’
I just stared at him, but the sheikh spoke before I could say what I felt like telling Peter Maxwell to go and do. ‘I am sure Dr Alfred will find a way of keeping your prime minister happy. If he is a passionate fisherman, as you say, then he will be happy whatever happens, and it will give me great pleasure to greet him in the Wadi Aleyn and to welcome him as our guest, and to fish with him on our new river. Perhaps Dr Alfred can find him a fish. It will be as God wills.’
‘Great,’ said Peter Maxwell. ‘We think this project is an excellent idea, Sheikh, very imaginative and innovative, and the prime minister is delighted you are using British engineers and scientists to achieve your goals. We very much want to be a part of it, so that the Yemen nation can understand that we British are a sympathetic ally, pro-democracy and pro-fishing, ready to share our technology to help aspiring Yemeni anglers fulfil their dreams.’
He looked around the table as if he had made a speech, to see what effect it had had on us. I suppose it was a sort of speech. The sheikh nodded and said, ‘I am not a political man, Mr Maxwell, just someone who wants to share the joy of salmon fishing with a few of my tribe, and show them what can be done if there is faith enough.’
‘With your faith and our technology, we will have salmon leaping all over the place,’ said Peter Maxwell, ‘and you can expect a lot of high-rolling, big-spending tourists coming in to benefit from the Yemen salmon experience, I am sure. It will repay your investment many times. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few emails I need to deal with before I go to bed.’ And he picked up his Blackberry and went upstairs.
‘I do not think Mr Maxwell quite understands us yet,’ said the sheikh when Peter Maxwell had left the room. ‘But perhaps, one day, God will reveal himself to him and help him understand.’
The three of us sat together for a while longer, the candles on the dining-room table burning low. Being with Sheikh Muhammad had a calming effect on me, especially now we were without the abrasive presence of Peter Maxwell. For a while no one spoke.
I wondered if the sheikh would say something more about Peter Maxwell, for although he had shown not the least sign of it, I was sure he disliked him. Instead he surprised me by turning his eyes upon me and saying, ‘You seem sad, Dr Alfred.’
I did not know what to say. I flushed again and was thankful that in the candlelight the change in my colour was probably not obvious. I saw Harriet look from the sheikh to me, intently.
‘Oh…nothing. A few problems at home, that’s all,’ I said.
‘You have illness in your home?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
‘Then do not tell me, for it is not my affair. But I regret to see your sadness, Dr Alfred. I would rather see you with an untroubled spirit and with your whole heart and mind bent upon our project. You need to learn to have faith, Dr Alfred. We believe that faith is the cure that heals all troubles. Without faith there is no hope and no love. Faith comes before hope, and before love.’
‘I’m not very religious, I’m afraid,’ I said.
‘You cannot know,’ said the sheikh. ‘You have not looked inside yourself, and you have never asked yourself the question. One day, perhaps, something will happen that will cause you to ask yourself that question. I think you will be surprised at the answer that comes back.’
He smiled, as if he realised the conversation was getting a little deep for the time of night, and then made a gesture with his hand. Malcolm materialised from nowhere, startling me, for I was absorbed in what the sheikh was saying, without understanding him. The butler must have been standing in the shadows of the dining room, watching, perhaps listening. He pulled back the chair as the sheikh stood up. Harriet and I both got up at the same time.
‘Good night,’ said the sheikh. ‘May your sleep bring you peace of mind.’ Then he was gone.
Harriet and I walked slowly up the staircase together without speaking. On the landing, she turned to me and said, ‘Fred, if ever there’s anything you want to talk about…talk to me. I can see things are not right with you. I hope you can count me as a friend. I don’t want you to be unhappy either.’ She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek and I smelled her warm perfume. Her hand brushed mine for a moment. Then she turned away.