Distracting him with a truce, she nodded towards the book. ‘So what’s that? More Shakespeare?’

Ricky-Rashid answered with even more genuine surprise. ‘No, it’s Byron.’ The name was very clearly written on the cover; Henna must be terribly short-sighted. ‘I brought it because there’s a poem I wanted to read to you. It reminds me of you.’ Hoping he might yet be able to salvage the evening, he opened it, and started to read,

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

He paused and looked at her expectantly.

‘Hmm, that’s pretty,’ Henna answered, hoping he wasn’t expecting her to comment any further.

‘It loses something in translation,’ admitted Ricky-Rashid. ‘Perhaps I should read it to you in English?’

‘No!’ said Henna shortly. In their brief meetings before the wedding, she had only just about been able to keep up the pretence that she had a working knowledge of English, although it had proved much harder than simply pretending to be literate. Despairing of her, her English tutor had eventually given into expediency, and had given her some set phrases to learn, and developed a subtle sign language that indicated to her which phrase to use when. This had worked fine when they were in the large sitting room, with her tutor sitting at a respectful distance, within her sight, and Henna enunciating, ‘I Think It’s Simply Wonderful’ and ‘Good Gracious, No’ and ‘Would You Like Some More?’ when prompted. However, alone with Ricky she doubted that she’d last two minutes of English conversation undetected. Aware that her response had been unnecessarily vehement, she added sweetly, ‘To be honest, I’m a bit too tired to listen to poetry readings.’

Ricky-Rashid had no more weapons in his amorous armoury - his flower was discharged and in pieces on the floor, and his book of Byron’s romantic poetry, which he was sure Henna had said was Simply Wonderful in a previous meeting, was being summarily dismissed. With nothing else coming to mind, he decided to try his luck by pressing on with the book. ‘So why don’t you read the next two lines yourself? They say everything that I think about you.’

He passed the book to Henna, who took it unwillingly. She looked at the incoherent black jumble of text for a couple of moments and knowledgeably nodded, before saying in her little-used English, ‘Ricky, I Think It’s Simply Wonderful.’

‘I knew you’d like it,’ said Ricky-Rashid triumphantly. Perhaps tonight would work out after all; he edged closer to Henna, to take the book out of her hands. But as he saw how she had been holding it, that nagging feeling came back, the feeling that he had felt on their first uncertain kiss.