An evening or two later, she overheard her mother and father talking. “As always, I bow to your wisdom and judgment,” Jihan said, her tone that peculiar combination of wheedling, flattery, and insistence she used when she wanted something from Omar. “But while I agree with you that Bahia is an excellent servant, she is, after all, only a servant. I only bring this matter up because I know that a man of your position and stature would want his children—both his children—to be well prepared for the future.

“I know you are aware that times are changing. Girls are to be educated now, at least to some extent. You yourself told me that the government plans to open a school for them—in less than two years, I believe you said. I know that if you were not so busy, you would have considered the matter of a proper nanny yourself. So I hope you will not take it amiss if I urge you to do so now.”

A moment later, Amira heard her father’s rumble: “I have made a good living all these years, thanks be to God, by being aware of changing times, although I haven’t always liked them. I dislike what you tell me, too, but there is something in it. Let it be done.”

That was how Miss Vanderbeek, Nanny Karin, came into Amira’s life.

5. Nanny Karin

Nanny Karin

“What’s she like, your blond nanny?”

Amira had heard the question a hundred times in the years since Miss Vanderbeek had joined the Badir household. Nannies were a staple of talk among her peers, all of whom had one. But no one else had a nanny like Miss Vanderbeek. Amira always tried to find a complaint to make about her—she was too strict, too serious, too foreign—because, as everyone knew, it was bad luck to praise those you loved.

“Oh, she’s all right, I suppose.” She shrugged now, making a small con- cession to approval because the person asking was Laila, and it was hard to hide the truth from the girl—the young woman, really—who had become Amira’s closest friend, now that Malik was so far away.

“Come on, now. Do you think she’s pretty?”

Amira thought that Miss Vanderbeek, with her milky skin and eyes the color of the clear noon sky, was beautiful. “I don’t know,” she said. “She doesn’t think so. And she is awfully thin.” That was true. By Remali stan- dards, Nanny Karin was almost emaciated. Everyone said that she would never find a man. But she had found one once.

“European women are thin. Look at Brigitte Bardot.” “Who?”

“The French movie star.” It was the kind of worldly information Laila always seemed to have at her fingertips. Amira had never heard of Brigitte Bardot.

“Skinny as a snake,” Laila continued. “But European men think it’s sexy.

Is Miss Vanderbeek sexy?”