“Breakfast!” greeted Ketaba cheerfully, announcing her presence in the bedroom where Ana was sleeping. Ana cautiously opened her eyes and looked at her naked friend towering above carrying a tray adorned with fruit juice, muesli and toast. “I thought you might appreciate some breakfast, Ana!”

Ana smiled shyly. Nobody had ever brought her breakfast in bed before, so she gratefully sat up and put the tray on her lap. She picked up the glass of fruit juice which tasted slightly sour to her sleep-encrusted taste buds, but appreciated the way it brought gradual clarity to her thoughts. She looked up at Ketaba who was hovering nervously over her and smelt distinctly of the freshness of soap and shampoo. She had her long hair tied back in a white towel.

“Thanks very much,” Ana said, putting down the fruit juice and picking up the spoon to tackle the muesli. “I had a very refreshing night’s sleep.”

“And you don’t feel at all sick or unwell after the wine?”

Ana frowned, thinking back to the night before. Wasn’t she supposed to experience something called a ‘hangover’ after drinking? She didn’t feel at all bad, although she remembered a slight giddiness when she first went to bed. “No, I feel all right.”

“I felt slightly ill when I woke up,” sighed Ketaba. “I didn’t sleep at all well. I was tossing and turning all night. I suppose it serves me right...”

“Oh yes,” commented Ana, remembering more about the previous night. She caught a glance at Ketaba’s eyes which looked slyly at Ana’s chest. She glanced down idly and noticed for the first time that her breasts were on full display. She had become so accustomed to sleeping naked next to Binta, she at first thought nothing of it. Then she recalled Ketaba’s late night kiss, and with embarrassment hoisted up the cotton sheet to cover her chest.

Ketaba sighed, in recognition of Ana’s discomfort. “I’m sorry about last night,” she remarked sadly. “I’m very very sorry! I don’t know what came over me! I’ve never behaved like that before with a woman. It must have been the wine. I must have drunk far more than I should.”

Ana smiled reassuringly, but still rearranged herself so she could eat with no risk of the sheet falling down to her lap. “Don’t worry, Ketaba. It must have been the wine. It’s supposed to make people behave very strangely. You probably just weren’t aware of what you were doing.”

Ana wasn’t convinced however that Ketaba’s behaviour wasn’t symptomatic of deeper repressed feelings. She’d once been told that the really bad thing about alcohol was that it released people’s inhibitions and let them behave in ways that were more honest but also more socially unacceptable.

“I’m not a lesbian, you know. I don’t ‘fancy’ women at all. It was just me getting upset after all that alcohol,” Ketaba continued, sitting nervously on the side of the bed. “But don’t tell anyone about it, will you? Not even Binta or Zabba. I don’t want them to think I’m a dyke like them. I don’t want them to try seducing me. And I don’t want people to think I’d ever behave illegally.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Ana said. She felt slightly offended at the suggestion that her lover would attempt to seduce Ketaba just because she might think she was a lesbian too. Binta was surely not the sort. She also realised that keeping news of the incident secret from Binta wasn’t going to be that easy. Questions would be bound to be asked about her night at Ketaba’s flat, and Binta might already suspect that her colleague had designs on her lover. She had after all been peculiarly unforthcoming about why she was so unenthusiastic about Ana’s visit.

“I’d be so grateful if you don’t, Ana. I’d be so very embarrassed if anyone knew. I’d feel humiliated. What would people think? I couldn’t live for shame!”

“It was nothing, Ketaba. Nothing at all. Don’t mention it, and I’ll probably just forget it altogether anyway.”

Ketaba smiled with an expression of relief. “Yes, you’re right. It was nothing! After all, we didn’t actually do anything, did we? There was no lovemaking or anything, was there? I’m probably just worrying about nothing at all! It’s all in my mind, isn’t it? Well, we won’t say anything more about it!”

Ana finished her breakfast and waited until Ketaba had left the room with the empty tray before she ventured out of bed and into her clothes. She declined Ketaba’s offer of a shower before venturing out and sat in the living room while Ketaba put some clothes on. Ketaba’s choice of a tracksuit and trainers suggested more a woman who enjoyed sports than one who worked in a brothel.

“Shall we go for a walk? You’re not in a hurry to get anywhere are you? It is Saturday after all.”

“No, I’d love to see more of Honey,” Ana agreed, leading the way out of Ketaba’s flat into the streets beyond. She was still impressed by the general affluence and splendour of the district. It made her own suburb seem very mundane.

“Do you enjoy working at the Brothel?” wondered Ketaba as they strode past the ornate railings of the impressive homes, large cars parked in their wide drives. “Or do you still have reservations about it?”

Ana mused for a moment. “It’s not too bad as a job, and I’m getting used to the idea of working with all the prostitutes around,” she admitted thinking particularly of how it had made it possible to meet Binta. “I don’t like the Director, though. He’s fairly objectionable even when he doesn’t touch my bottom or make coarse comments about what boyfriends he thinks I’ve slept with. Everything he says has an obscene second meaning and he smokes an awful lot.”

“That must be terrible. I’d hate to have to put up with all that smoke. I don’t like the Director either, and I don’t think he likes me. When I started working at the Brothel he was always trying to get me to sleep with him, but I just didn’t fancy it. The smell of smoke on his clothes! Some of my clients smoke, but somehow it’s different when it’s a client. You can tell them not to smoke, which you can’t do so easily with your boss.”

“You enjoy working at the Brothel, don’t you?”

“Enjoy isn’t quite the right word. It’s a job, like yours, and I hope I take a proper professional attitude towards it. I think though that it’s rather devalued when people like Binta and Ferhana work there. It shouldn’t be used as a prison. But the Brothel treats its staff pretty well: much better than it would do if it were not a government enterprise. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to break the law and freelance, like some girls do. You’re not so well protected, and there’s no pension to look forward to. Although I’m sure I’d earn a lot more if I did. The government wouldn’t take its percentage of my earnings!”

“Is that the only thing that’s wrong about working freelance? You don’t think it’d be better if it were as it used to be, where individual brothels competed against each other? Zabba always says she wished she could set up her own business.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” sniffed Ketaba disparagingly, running her fingers idly against the wall of one of the houses. She pointed towards a track running through some grass between tall trees on the other side of the road. “That’s where I often go jogging. I usually spend at least an hour each day running. It’s an excellent way to stay fit. Though I wouldn’t say it was as effective as working.” She turned her head towards Ana, and resumed her subject. “If you remember, the reason why the government first institutionalised Brothels all those generations ago was to prevent the spread of venereal disease. It was decided that suppressing prostitution by making it illegal would only make the situation worse. Nowadays, sexually transmitted diseases are almost totally unknown in Alif. We’re given regular checkups once a month and it’s very rare that a girl has caught something. That’s a lot better than many countries, where all visitors returning from holidays there have to be screened for anything they’ve caught.”

“Is that true of Agdal?”

“Strangely, no. But the Agdal government has its own ways of discouraging the spread of disease. And the other thing that institutionalised prostitution has done is stop the exploitation of prostitutes by their pimps. Apparently, working girls hardly saw anything of their earnings when it was under private control. It all went to their pimps who went around covered in jewels and expensive clothes, while the prostitutes had nothing at all. Some of these pimps even beat up their girls if they thought they hadn’t made enough money and would push them out to work even when they were feeling ill or had had more clients than they were happy with. It’s much better at the Brothel. However bad the Director is, he’s not nearly as bad as these pimps used to be. At least that’s what the history books say.”

“Zabba says that it’s now President Marmeluke’s government that’s the pimp. She says that the government gets it both ways by getting an initial cut from a prostitute’s clients and then by taxing her earnings.”

“Well, it’s undeniably a good way for the government to ensure that prostitutes pay taxes. In countries where it’s illegal there must be an awful lot of revenue that never gets collected. It must be better for the country if prostitutes pay taxes just like other workers. It’s unfair on those who work legally.”

“I suppose that’s true,” remarked Ana. “But there must be some bad things about the government running Brothels. Isn’t it inconsistent for the government to be organising and profiting from something it so often says it disapproves of?”

“I have no idea why they would disapprove of it. It’s a perfectly natural and harmless activity. It’s good for the clients who in many cases would never have sex with such beautiful or attractive girls providing professional services to those who can afford it. It must be good for prostitutes like me who want to provide those sorts of services. Though I suppose there are those who’d argue that it sets the prices artificially high. They say that if prostitution were privatised, there would be a lot more competition and prices would just drop. They also say that as prostitutes wouldn’t have to lose such a large percentage of their earnings they’d also be better off. But I can’t believe that. What guarantees are there that the brothel you’d work at would be one of the better paying ones? And I’m sure that if a group of privately run brothels teamed together they could fix the prices just as high as they are in the State Brothel. If not higher!”

“Perhaps there’d be less prostitution if the government weren’t seen to be encouraging it?”

“Well, the government doesn’t exactly advertise the Brothels. There are no commercials on television or the radio, are there? And anyway, I don’t think there’d be any less if it were private. Though, I suppose there might be more variety. They wouldn’t all look the same as they do now. Clients with different interests could go where they liked. But I think they probably do now. If they have particular tastes which the State Brothels don’t provide, there are clandestine brothels which cater for them.”

“Do you think so?” Ana asked, imagining an underworld of characters like Mr Madir and Zabba setting up business in semidetached houses in the outer suburbs of Blad.

“There are always cases mentioned in the newspapers about illegal vice rings being closed down - and I’m sure that some of these vice rings trade in sexual services as well as pornography, drugs and alcohol.”

Ana admired a monument they passed that commemorated people who had died in a previous war. At the top of it was a statue of the man who had been president at that time, long before President Marmeluke but looking much the same, particularly with regard to the heroic pose in which he was sculpted. Around the monument were some railings and a faded brass plaque. Along the road from the monument were houses of quite modern construction and a dark figure walking towards them. The figure came closer and Ana could make out whom it was wearing the long black gown with a cross dangling over her chest.

“Good morning, Ana. Good morning, Ketaba,” greeted Chadora drawing up to them. “How strange seeing you here. You live nearby, don’t you Ketaba?”

“Yes,” admitted Ketaba, amiably but looking slightly annoyed at losing her exclusive rights to conversation with Ana. “What are you doing here? You don’t live in Honey, do you?”

“Noohh!” laughed Chadora. “I couldn’t possibly afford to live here. Not unless I were in a sheltered church property. No, I’ve been visiting one of your colleagues. She felt in need of the succour and advice that only the church can provide.” She smiled at Ana. “I believe I have an appointment with you later this week, isn’t that right?”

“Appointment?” Ana couldn’t recall any such. She’d been too ecstatically happy in her love affair to think of seeking guidance in religion.

“You asked to see Binta’s lesbian lover, Mezyana, I believe. I’ve been detailed to accompany you. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“No, not at all. I just didn’t know I had to be accompanied by anyone.”

“It’s regulations, I’m afraid Ana dear. It isn’t considered advisable for anyone to visit people in penal institutions without some official representation. And I’m delighted to say that I am the one who has that privilege. Don’t worry. I won’t be eavesdropping on your conversation and it will be exactly as private as you may wish. My rôle in the matter is finished as soon as I have escorted you to the unfortunate girl.” Chadora smiled at Ketaba who appeared somewhat puzzled by the exchange. “Ana’s put in an application to see Mezyana: Binta’s partner who was convicted with her for criminal sexual conduct. Mezyana had proved to the court the sincerity of her religious conviction and was excused prison or the Brothel on condition she serve time at the Blad Convent.”

Ketaba nodded. “It’s lucky for her that she was religious. I’m not religious at all. I don’t believe in anything. If I were to commit a crime I’d probably opt for the sentence that Binta has.”

“You may not have the option,” frowned Chadora. “However, I find it strange when you say you don’t believe in anything. It appears to me that you believe in rather a few things: they’re just not encompassed by the teachings and practices of the church.”

“Are you saying that I ought to be religious?” challenged Ketaba.

“Not at all!” laughed Chadora. “Your faith in God is between you and your conscience. I am merely saying that you have beliefs.”

“I most certainly don’t believe in God. And I think those prostitutes who do, do so simply to absolve themselves of guilt and remorse. They are just unable to accept what they do for what it is, and see the virtues of it. I really don’t see why they feel that way. What could possibly be wrong with making a living out of doing what one does best? And if that is the provision of sexual services, so be it!”

“Perhaps they feel that it debases conduct the church believes is best spent between husband and wife?”

Ketaba sniffed. “That rather makes it seem as if sex was purely and simply for procreation and not for recreation.”

“Some may also feel that it is the most fulfilling expression of sincerely felt emotions,” Chadora remarked.

“Hmmm! Anyway, many prostitutes who turn to the church are criminals like Ferhana or sexual perverts. You can’t say that it is because they attach great importance to ethics or morality, can you?”

“You certainly like to argue, Ketaba!” Chadora exclaimed, smiling amiably at Ana. “I would respond to that by saying that the individual’s relationship with God is a personal one, and that although one may seek guidance from the church, one can still dispute the ethical codes based on interpretation of the Gospels and the word of the Lord.”

“They just want to be able to do whatever they like and be absolved of their sins. They don’t have enough self-confidence and belief in themselves, so the church becomes a useful crutch.”

“It is not for me to criticise anyone’s reasons for turning to the church, Ketaba. I think if you were only to look at it from a less sceptical perspective you would see all it has to offer and perhaps you could come to love God.”

“You won’t see me becoming a churchgoer!” Ketaba affirmed. She looked across the road at a small ornamental tower in which a clock was inlaid. “Is that the time? I don’t have a watch. Too much ornamentation! I really didn’t realise it was that late in the morning. I’ve got to go to work this afternoon. It’s all work work work for a busy working girl.” She turned to face Ana and looked at her with an abashed expression. “It was very nice having you to visit. I do hope you can come again.” She almost guiltily and quite perfunctorily kissed Ana on the cheek and dashed off almost immediately.

Ana and Chadora watched Ketaba walk off in a stride that very soon broke into a jog and carried her off the main road and along a rough track by the edge of the woodland opposite.

“I hope I didn’t frighten Ketaba off,” Chadora remarked apologetically. “I know she doesn’t like religion and I probably remind her too much of it. Or was it that she just didn’t want me to intervene in her chat to you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” commented Ana, sure that that was much more likely to be so. Perhaps Ketaba would have liked to have spoken more about her failed love affairs, and found Chadora’s attitudes too opposite her own to feel comfortable voicing her views.

Chadora watched Ketaba’s statuesque figure disappear in the shadows of the trees. She glanced back momentarily, dodged past the small lap dogs an old woman was escorting and was gone. “Ketaba is a sad figure in many ways. She so much wants to believe in something, but she is also adamant that it must not be in religion or politics. She is always looking for something and I don’t think she’ll ever find it.” Chadora returned her gaze to Ana and firmly took a hand in one of hers. “So, next week you’ll be seeing Mezyana in the Convent. It is just a social call, isn’t it?”

“Binta wants to know how Mezyana is, but of course she can’t visit herself. I’m just visiting as Binta’s proxy, if you like.”

“And I daresay you’d like to see what Binta’s former lover is like as well, I imagine. Isn’t that right?”

Ana nodded shyly. Chadora squeezed Ana’s hand affectionately, and then linked her arm inside Ana’s and the two walked along the peaceful Honey boulevards towards the bus stop for the Brothel. She didn’t ask why Ana should want to visit the Brothel on her day off, and her conversation became much more desultory. She talked about the private gardens of Honey, the large estates and the great wealth of many of the inhabitants. She chatted about Rif and Jebel, and listened with apparent interest to Ana’s accounts of her home and its great wheat fields. She made no more comment at all about either Mezyana or Binta, but it seemed to Ana that there was an understanding between the two of them, and that Chadora was subtly expressing her approval of a relationship based on love.