The Ambassador was not a tall man. His wife was a flower. The country he came from was small and new. Its government had not briefed him on his duties because it didn’t know what his duties were. He was to learn, make notes, write reports.

In his previous life he had been a pharmacist. His government had told him to keep that information to himself or all the junkies in the great sprawling country to which he was accredited would be after him. So, if he happened to be asked what he had done, he was to reply as vaguely as he could, that he had taught chemistry. But he was seldom asked what he had done. He was seldom asked anything. There were days when he thought of his apothecary’s shop with nostalgia. The coloured glass bottles, the neatly wrapped packages, the smell . . .

The new country was a dreadful country. Where his country was a green jewel, this was a gravel pit. Nature here wore grey and brown. Its inhabitants were ignorant and uncouth. They spoke one language only – Inglish, they called it – and with an accent he could not understand. The women in his country were small-boned, dark-eyed, honey-coloured. Here, they were ham-boned, blonde, and turned lobster-red in the sun. He was a fastidious man and their ways were not his ways. He wanted to wash his mouth after eating. They sat with their dirty mouths forever.

• • •

Before he was even settled, something called Protocol decreed that he visit all the other ambassadors, and his wife their wives. He didn’t understand what it signified. He misunderstood, got the schedules mixed, arrived late, stayed longer than the prescribed twenty minutes.

So sorry, he said. So sorry, so sorry. He smiled and smiled.

Then the calls were returned. The ambassadors came to his embassy – a modest room in their darkened house.

Their ladies called on his wife. One by one.

She served little cakes. O what are these? the wives inquired. They took tiny bites. She served sugary drinks. They took tiny sips. Goodbye. Goodbye.

She made no friends. She wanted a baby.

Day after day, day after day, the sun beat down on their house. Hammered it like a golden hammer on a metal drum.

• • •

They had brought two servants – one a cook. He wrung his hands, poor man. He shook his head. He could find nothing fit to eat at the markets. Great sides of meat, hung black with flies. They wrote home for spices, for coconut milk. For advice.

His wife cried and cried. The Ambassador wished he had never come.

• • •

She looks like a fish, the ladies said. All flimsy fins. Or feathers in wind. They found her beautiful and unique. Her bones were slender as knitting needles. Her hair like a twist of satin rope.

An objet d’art, the ladies said. The gentlemen had other thoughts.

Had she been able to say alas alack she would have expressed her deepest feelings.

• • •

And just when she thought her crying would never cease, a new Ambassador came to town. His wife was a small and delicate flower. A twin.

I have coconut milk. I have lichee nuts.

She clapped her delicate hands.

• • •

The loudest lady – a kind of giant – with hair on fire and tremendous thighs, invited the ladies to come at ten. An Eating, she said.

What means this word, Eating? Is for small cakes and tea?

Little by little she was learning Inglish. A terrible tongue. Her language was smooth, like stones under water. But Ing-glish!

She went with her friend to the large white house. They sat side by side at a long table. No little cakes. Only paper and pens.

The ladies came. She had met them all. They nodded and smiled. She and her friend sat side by side. They talked and talked like a pair of birds. Like love birds talking.

Order! the Giant said. She stared at them.

What means this order? They didn’t know, so they went on talking.

Order! the Giant said in a louder voice. The Eating will come to order. They barely heard.

The Giant picked up a hammer of wood and hit the table. Bang. Bang.

Was the table broken?

The Giant was talking. Her Royal Majesty was to pay a visit and they would have a ball.

Here, here. Here, here, all the ladies cried, delighted to have a plan. Something to do. They were all so bored.

What kind of a ball? And where? And who? And what time would it start? And the invitations? The orchestra?

The ladies argued and talked. Interrupted each other. The Giant took up her hammer once more.

A masked ball, one lady said. And they all agreed. What fun. What fun. What enormous fun!

• • •