In the Interlude

Chapter 9 - Mother and Daughter

Tom was on the Eurostar back to London. He sat with his earbuds listening to music while enjoying the mesmerising spectacle of the English countryside speeding by. The bright sun and cloudless sky brought the promise of a warm spring day.

The train had already left the Euro tunnel and Tom was very much looking forward to being back home.

He was meeting Paul and Cavill, two of his oldest friends, at a pub near Regent's Park. There wasn't anything in the world that he liked more than catching up with his mates, enjoying a drink in the beer garden and letting the sun warm his body and soul.

Paul was going to introduce his girlfriend to their little group. They had been seeing each other for almost a year. Things were getting serious for them, something Tom hadn't experienced himself for a long time now.

But he was happy with his life. He liked the freedom of meeting new people, no strings attached. He was too busy anyway to settle down and have a serious girlfriend. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. His complicated schedule made it difficult for him to maintain any kind of relationship.

Tom's thoughts wandered to Aïcha again. She was supposed to go back to Morocco yesterday. He wanted to text her, ask if she had arrived safely. He felt, unexplainably, a little conflicted about it.

Aïcha was not his usual type, she was different from any woman he had ever met. She knew he was an actor, was curious about his work, but seemed unfazed by his fame. A little bit older than him, even if she looked younger, she was smart and funny and carried herself with confidence. She radiated warmth and kindness. He had loved walking by her side in Paris, talking about everything and nothing. But she also seemed sad and vulnerable. And he wondered why.

There was something about her that made him yearn to touch her hand, her face and so much more. Damn, he was attracted to her. He was attracted to a woman who didn't seem to have any interest in him. A woman who was living roughly two-thousand miles away from him. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Tom decided to not send that text. For the moment.

And the moment turned into days and weeks.

He thought about Aïcha from time to time, especially when he met the production team and discussed the upcoming filming schedule in Morocco. But he couldn't bring himself to get in touch with her.

Not yet anyway.

In the meantime, Tom was a very busy man. He was preparing for his role while having a very active social life. He attended parties, charity events and a couple of red carpets, often with his co-star Vanessa. Their pictures were everywhere, in tabloids and on the internet. Rumours were starting to build up as usual. Tom was every single time rumoured to date his co-stars. And this time was no exception.

Sometimes the rumours were true. Not this time. Well not entirely. Tom and Vanessa had a fling two years ago on their first movie together, a passionate but brief affair. Now, they were just two colleagues reconnecting and doing some PR for the sake of the movie. There was no romance this time. At least as far as he was concerned.

Two-thousand miles from there, Aïcha was preparing a travel bag for her daughter and herself. They were spending the weekend of the 1st of May in Marrakech. The city was perfect this time of year, warm but not too hot, ideal to swim in a pool without getting sunburned. The evenings were still a bit chilly but nothing a light cardigan couldn't solve. That's how Aïcha liked her weather.

They arrived before noon, after a smooth two-and-a-half-hour drive. Leaving their bags in their air-conditioned hotel room, they headed straight to the bar by the pool for well-deserved Virgin Mojitos and lunch.

The afternoon turned into early evening when Aïcha and Mia left for Jemaa El Fna, walking and enjoying the mild weather. They arrived at the thousand-year-old square just as the muezzin called to prayer, giving the place a mystical feeling.

Jemaa El Fna had a special place in Aïcha's heart. It was in Marrakech where she spent her honeymoon with Idriss, staying in a small yet beautiful "riad" just a few steps behind the square. They had hopes and dreams and projects then. They dreamt of travelling the world, having kids and living life to the fullest. Stop, she scolded herself, don't ruin this weekend for Mia. Just don't. 

The first wafts of smoke reached their nostrils as they approached the old square. Waiters tried to steer them into their food stalls promising the best brochettes - skewers- of Marrakech, their shouts merging with the drums, chants and tunes of the musical troubadours nearby. But they only craved a snail broth and headed to a stall where they ordered a small bowl each for a few dirhams. They sat on the stools, the bowl warming their hands and happily enjoyed the thyme, chilli, lemon and pepper flavoured broth, carefully putting the snails aside.

Once they finished, Aïcha and Mia walked around, passing by the snake charmers, the street performers, the Henna tattoo artists, the fortune tellers and the trinket sellers. She was firmly holding her daughter's hand so they won't get separated by the evening crowd.

And somewhere in this evening throng of locals and tourists and street performers, Tom spotted them together, walking briskly out of the square.

"Tom, why are we stopping? The restaurant is still a fifteen-minute walk right behind the square according to this," Vanessa enquired, her finger pointing to a map in her hand.

The whole crew had arrived in the afternoon in Marrakech as filming was due to start on Monday. Tom and Vanessa were meeting the Director and other executives for dinner to go over the schedule.

He had thought about calling Aïcha on arrival but figured she would be in Casablanca. But here she was, well at least he thought it was her. He was not really sure. The woman he saw was protectively holding a young girl's hand, leading her out of the square. They looked like mother and daughter.

She never told me she had a daughter. Why wouldn't she tell me?

Tom was not in the mood for dinner anymore. He wanted to go back to his hotel room and call Aïcha.

But what would I tell her? I just saw you in Jemaa el Fna, and by the way, congratulations on becoming a mother in the past month? This is getting ridiculous.

"Tom? Are you okay? Can we go, please? I don't like staying in a crowd like this and we don't want to be late, right?"

"Sure, let's go. Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew."