Without A Song

Prelude: Casey and Nicole

In the isolated splendour of the British compound, set ten thousand feet high into the mountains of The Escarpment, Nicole and Casey were sitting in the rear garden of Casey's timber-framed bungalow. Their backs against the house, they looked out over a small but tidy garden with a concrete paved path that led to the shared community areas beyond the Asiri Hotel complex. They were sipping freshly made ice-cold, white wine and lime spritzers, under a very bright and very hot Saudi Arabian sun. Above their heads the green and white canvas shade rippled casually whenever a waft of breeze caught it, otherwise all was still. Very few birds gathered at this height, no great flocks of sheep could be heard grazing on the barren mountainsides, no unpleasantly loud or harsh music could be heard breaking open the quiet vault of peace in the peaks. Sound carried easily up here and the cries of competitive laughter from the nearby soccer pitch were distinct in their ears. A light breeze sifted its way through the dozen stumpy trees that shrouded a mottled view of the Asiri Hotel, their barks matching the light khaki earth from which they grew, the neon green veins of their leaves matching the liquid in the glassware from which Casey and Nicole were drinking. A few tasselled clouds of china-white littered one corner of the otherwise clear, pastel blue sky. It wouldn't last, the afternoon would soon grow cool as the sun rapidly descended to hide once more behind the highest peaks of The Escarpment. There was perhaps less than four hours of sunlight remaining in the day. Before long increasingly long shadows would advance quickly down the mountainsides and across the British compound threatening light with dark, applauding change until the blackness of the early Arabian night fell upon it. That would come later, for now Casey's little

garden still held the heat, the windows of the little eggshell-blue bungalow reflecting the warmth and light from the brilliant orb in the sky. In the shaded environs of the garden parasol the two women were discussing the misfortunes of a good friend of Casey's. The person in question was going through emotional turmoil and Casey knew he needed help. A little over a hundred metres away beyond the trees to where the Wasser Bar would eventually throw its long shadows over the swimming pool the same friend was playing soccer with colleagues on one of three concrete soccer pitches. To their left, almost out of vision, on the Wasser Bar's patio, Casey's husband Ben was tidying away the final remains of their lunchtime barbecue meal with his opposite number Mark Dennis.

Back at the bungalow the conversation between the two women was as serious and as it was strained.

"Casey? Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need a man."

Nicole raised her eyes and smiled at her friend of the past two years.

Casey continued. "You know what I mean. He can't be any man but one who'll look after you, love you and care for you for the rest of your life. You have a greater need than most which may come sooner rather than later and there's no one else I'd rather entrust you to."

"That's a bit dramatic, even for you. Anyway, he's married!" Nicole emphasised the male pronoun. "He's a lot older than me, he's almost your age!"

"He's exactly my age and right now he's very, very alone. He's incredibly loyal to family and friends alike but something's changed him. All of a sudden it's like his mind isn't his own anymore?"

Casey fingered her wedding ring, her friend liked his privacy but Casey worried not only for him but Nicole too.

"He talks, I listen, like I do with you but his problems started a long time ago. He guards his privacy well because he chooses it to be that way. I'm worried for him. He'll not unburden himself even to me. It's as if he's all tied up inside, he won't let go. Many of the men

here wear the mask of the family man at home, wherever that may be, yet they enjoy the single life here until their families arrive. Most of us are expat military and the lives we lead are not so different from the lives we once led. Stephen's name has reached the top of the accommodation ladder on several occasions but he's never taken up the option of bringing his wife here."