 Recorded books and one-click digital present Eight Months on Gaza Street by Hilary Mantell Narrated by Sandra Duncan Part One Confidential Memorandum from Director Turaddup Williaman Sharper, Kingdor of Saudi Arabia, to all expatriate staff, dated the fifteenth day of the month of Shawwal, 3 July 1985. I need not remind any one of this week's tragic events involving Turaddup employees. In order to safeguard the company's position in these very difficult times, I must request all staff and families about to depart on leave to behave as follows. A. Refrain from talking to the press whatever your holiday destination. B. Refrain from public speculation about the recent deaths. Remember that the matter is still under investigation by the Saudi police and Her Majesty's representatives. C. Exercise the utmost caution in personal conduct between now and your departure. Dispose, carefully, of all items or substances which could attract the interest of the police, and do not leave your compound without your documents. I feel sure that if these precautions are observed, we may expect a continuance of good relations with the Saudi authorities, and a smooth passage into the next five-year plan. May I take this opportunity to wish you, on behalf of Daphne and myself, a pleasant vacation and a safe return to the kingdom after Hajj. Sincerely, Eric Parsons. September 1984. In flight. Would you like champagne? This was the beginning. An hour or so out from Heathrow. Already it felt further. Watches moved on, a day in a life condensed to a scramble at a check-in desk, a walk to a departure gate, a day cut short and eclipsed, hurtling on into advancing night. And now the steward leaned over her, putting this question. I don't think so. They had already eaten. Dinner, she supposed. So much smoked salmon is consumed on aircraft that it is a wonder there is any left to eat at ground level. The steward had just now whisked her tray from under her nose. You could give me some brandy, she said. Two to get you started. Hand hovering over the trolley, he seemed to approve her choice, as if what lay ahead was something to brace yourself for, not to celebrate. I'm one of those nice plastic glasses, Francis Shaw said, please, across the aisle. Sample complete. Ready to continue?