She stared at the sky, head hammering in earnest now, reorienting herself. She raised her fingers to her cut cheekbone, her chest bursting with exhilaration.
Imogen dismounted and jogged towards her. Her face, as she peered down, was creased in concern. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I think so.’
Imogen looked uncertain.
‘Really, Imogen, I am.’ Olivia pulled herself up, taking Imogen’s hand.
Imogen bit her lip. ‘You’re going to draw quite a lot of attention, I’m afraid. You can see your petticoats through your skirt.’
Olivia shrugged. It wasn’t as though they had time to do anything about it. ‘Can you help me tighten Bea’s girth?’
‘I think I better had.’
They were off again within the minute. They arrived back on the main road just in time to see Edward and Tom’s departing backs going towards the city.
‘How serendipitous,’ said Olivia.
‘Keep back,’ said Imogen.
They played cat and mouse all the way to the city, holding off as Edward and Tom disappeared from view, then edging forward to catch them before they vanished entirely. They wound their way through the harbour streets, full of vendors setting up for market, stalls laden with peaches and apples, fish salty from the Mediterranean. The scent of fruit mixed with the sea and spices, wafting in the air. They carried on further; the air soured, the streets narrowed and grew darker, until, finally, they reached a maze of ramshackle alleyways reminiscent of an exotic Dickens. Olivia caught her breath on the acrid stench of sewage, livestock and heat. She batted at air thick with flies. Last night’s champagne strained her gullet.
‘Is this the Turkish Quarter?’ she asked Imogen, thinking of Amélie’s words yesterday.
Imogen confirmed it was.
‘What if they’re here to see Nailah?’
‘Time will tell,’ said Imogen. ‘Tom certainly wouldn’t last night. Come, we’ll go the rest of the way on foot.’ She dismounted and caught the shirt of an urchin with a shaved head and a belly that ballooned above his trousers. She gestured at the horses, speaking in rapid Arabic, and produced a coin. The boy’s face shone in a toothy grin.
Imogen strode away. Olivia followed, frowning as she looked back at the skinny child holding their well-fed horses, grubby hands stroking silky skin.
With every step she took further into the quarter, it was as if the sun, so free to shine in the open spaces up the coast, became grimy: sickly shards of light that beat on the slumped, limbless lepers, and dingy laundry-covered windows, deadening the desultory eyes of the dark-skinned men and veiled women. God, just to think of the decadence on the Carters’ lawn last night, and all the while these people had been existing like this. These Egyptians.
‘They must hate us,’ she said to Imogen.
Imogen opened her mouth to reply, but then stopped short and pulled Olivia backwards behind a stack of crates. ‘Look,’ she said, pointing as Edward and Tom drew to a halt.
Olivia crouched, silk skirts billowing in the rank mud. Edward and Tom led their horses to a poky house that might once have been blue but was now speckled with nothing but scabs of paint. She watched through the slats as Edward knocked on the door. Imogen clutched her arm. They waited. Edward knocked again.
No one came.
‘Damn,’ said Imogen.
Edward and Tom tethered their horses and sat down on a nearby doorstep, lighting cigarettes.
‘We’d better get comfortable too,’ said Imogen. She settled herself on a crumbling wall and produced a package of pastries from her bag.
‘A picnic, Imogen? Really?’
‘We have to eat, darling. Here, have one.’
‘No, I couldn’t.’ Olivia felt as if a jug of soured wine was swilling in her stomach, bubbling with her nerves. She sat down beside Imogen, and watched Edward. It felt strange being so close and yet not talking to him. It hurt, this deception. ‘Why do you think they’re here?’ she asked Imogen.
‘I don’t know. All Tom said was that they were coming, that I didn’t want to know the rest.’
‘Do you think it has to do with Clara’s man?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve been fishing and I’m not sure Tom even knows Clara was having an affair. I’ve been tempted to tell him, but I don’t want to betray Clara unnecessarily. The scandal…’ She frowned. ‘If Edward’s keeping it secret it must mean he doesn’t think it’s important.’
‘If he’s keeping it secret,’ said Olivia, the possibility that he wasn’t dawning on her as she spoke. ‘We still don’t know that’s what he and Clara were talking about, not for certain. He might have no idea Clara was having an affair. I should ask him, make sure.’ Now she knew it wasn’t Edward Clara had been involved with, she wasn’t afraid of doing it. ‘Shall I go and talk to him now?’ She half rose as she said it.
Imogen pulled her back down. ‘Let’s see who they’re waiting for first. Patience, darling. Speak to Edward later. I agree you should. This mystery man could be important.’
‘Not a red snapper then?’
Imogen sighed. ‘Maybe not.’
They fell into silence.
Edward said something to Tom. Tom shook his head wryly.
Olivia wished she could have heard what Edward had said.
‘Where are you off to with that half-dead child?’ Sana called from across the street. Her children were at her feet, playing with pebbles. One had snot streaming into his mouth. Sana nodded in the direction of Nailah’s house. ‘Have you forgotten, your hole lies that way?’
‘I was on my way to the docks. My mother’s taken Cleo there.’
‘How good your mother is, so caring these days. Who would have foretold it?’
‘Not you, I know that.’
‘Ha, no, not me indeed.’ Sana kicked and hissed as her boy tried to stuff a pebble into his mouth. ‘In any case, I saw her with Cleo going back to your house. They were with your uncle.’
‘My uncle?’
Sana’s eyes smiled from within her veil. ‘You sound surprised. There are other surprises waiting for you when you get back too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Such grand friends you keep these days, Miss Hoity-toity.’ Sana fanned herself with the henna swirls of her hand, lengthening the moment, clearly enjoying herself. ‘What fine soldiers.’
Nailah’s heart dropped. ‘Soldiers?’
Sana laughed humourlessly. ‘You disgust me, you know that? Playing so loose with your honour. Although I shouldn’t be surprised, the apple never falls too far from the tree, or so we’re told.’
Nailah shifted Babu’s weight. ‘Why do you hate me so much?’
‘I don’t hate you.’ Sana shrugged. ‘I don’t trust you. I don’t think you can be trusted. Come, I’ll see you home. Save your uncle the trouble of fetching you.’
The hairs on the back of Olivia’s neck stood on end as the young woman appeared at the end of the street. She was swathed in a dusty robe, holding a child in her arms, like a frightened girl with an oversized teddy bear. He seemed too long to be carried, he must be four at least, perhaps five. There was something awry too in the way he was lolling in the girl’s arms, distorted head bowed.
Edward and Tom both stood as the girl approached, hands behind their backs, officers’ poses. A veiled woman watched them all from behind the corner of the furthest building.
‘I want to go and tell them to leave her alone,’ said Olivia. ‘She doesn’t look equal to an interrogation.’
‘Don’t be fooled,’ said Imogen, ‘she’ll be stronger than she seems. It’s Nailah anyway, I saw her with Amélie once; I recognise her face.’
Even though Sana had braced her for it, Nailah faltered at the sight of the officers waiting for her. Why had they had to come, and so soon? Why had Jahi? Nailah had known the idea of escape was nothing but fantasy, but she had been hoping, desperately, to be proven wrong.
Since she had nowhere else to go, she carried on
towards the house. Her tread was slow and heavy. She looked up at the window of the family’s room, imagining Jahi’s eyes locked on her, the scraping of his finger against his stubble. The glint of his crooked tooth.
‘Good morning,’ said Captain Bertram as she drew near. ‘As-salaam.’
‘As-salaam,’ she echoed, her eyes darting from him to his colonel.
‘How is Babu?’ the captain asked. ‘Are you sure he shouldn’t still be in hospital?’ He peered down at him. ‘I hope you’re not worrying about the cost.’
‘No, I didn’t take him out because of that.’
The captain sighed, then brought his eyes back to meet Nailah’s. ‘We need to ask you some questions, Colonel Carter and I.’
Nailah’s arms burnt beneath Babu’s slumbering weight. ‘I know nothing that can help you.’
‘And how do you know what can help us?’ asked the colonel.
‘I don’t.’ She glanced up at the window. ‘I just don’t know anything at all.’
The colonel followed her eye. ‘Are you scared of something, Nailah?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘You hid who you were from us.’
She swallowed. ‘Around here you learn to keep your business to yourself.’
The colonel arched his brow.
‘Please,’ said Nailah, ‘won’t you leave me? I could get into a lot of trouble for talking to you. Women in these parts, we can’t just speak to strange men.’
‘We know that,’ the captain said kindly, ‘and we don’t want to cause any upset. But, Nailah, we think you have some information that could be of interest.’
‘What information?’
The captain hesitated, eyes appraising her, then said, ‘What do you know of your aunt’s death?’
‘It was an accident,’ she said. ‘Just an accident. Nothing else, I swear to you.’
‘I didn’t say it was anything else.’ The captain’s forehead creased, his strong face grew perplexed. Sweat broke out in Nailah’s armpits.
The colonel said, ‘Nailah, why would you think he had?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you sure?’ the colonel asked. ‘Take a moment, think if you have forgotten anything.’
‘I haven’t,’ Nailah looked again at the window, ‘really.’
For the next minute or so, the captain and the colonel asked her about her relatives, her mother, her father, Tabia’s husband. They were especially interested in Tabia’s husband, why he’d gone, where he was. Not knowing if it was the right or the wrong thing, or perhaps a balance of both, Nailah told them that the last she’d heard he was living in the village of Hasr.
‘He’s still there,’ asked the colonel, ‘this Mahmood?’
‘I think so.’ Nailah glanced up at the window, distracted by Jahi’s invisible presence. ‘I have to go now,’ she said, backing onto the front step. ‘My cousin, I need to put him down.’
‘Before you disappear,’ said the captain, ‘please, think hard about whether there’s anything else you want to tell us.’
‘There’s nothing,’ she said, even though there was, so much. Perhaps if Jahi hadn’t been upstairs, she might yet have found the courage to let it out.
She liked to think she would have.
She felt for the door handle. The captain frowned down at her, the colonel too. Babu moaned, snuffled into her collarbone. ‘I really must go,’ she said and, before they could stop her, she opened the door and darted inside.
She leant against the peeling entrance wall, chest tight, listening to the captain’s exasperated sigh, the colonel’s words that they might as well go, get on. ‘We’ll track down this Mahmood, see if he knows anything. First we’d better get to Lixori, find out what Sheldon and Wilkins are up to with that farmer, what he’s seen. We’ll need to ride like the wind if we’ve any hope of intercepting them there.’
‘We should take Nailah in first,’ said the captain. ‘She’s obviously lying. We should question her more.’
There was a pause. Nailah held her breath.
‘No,’ said the colonel at last, ‘not yet. It would ruin her. She looks like she’s been through enough.’ Another silence. Nailah pictured the captain shaking his head. ‘Come on,’ said the colonel, ‘we need to move.’
‘I want to see Olly before we go,’ said the captain. ‘She needs to know to stay at home, be on her guard. She keeps haring off.’
‘You’re not thinking of telling her what’s happened? We agreed last night.’
‘I think she has a right to know.’
‘Bertram, what good will it do?’
The captain didn’t reply.
‘Let it be,’ said the colonel, not unkindly. ‘And her too. She’s married, man, there’s nothing —’
‘Please,’ said the captain, ‘can we not?’ There were footsteps. When the captain spoke again, his voice was further away. ‘God, but Nailah’s face just then, when I mentioned Tabia’s death…’
Nailah closed her eyes. She waited for the clip-clop of hooves leaving, and then exhaled, blowing hot air over her clammy face.
She held Babu tightly as she climbed the stairs to the family’s room and let herself in. Jahi stared darkly from the window. Isa, who had Cleo cradled in her arms in the far corner, shook her head despondently.
‘What did they want?’ asked Jahi.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Nailah weakly.
Jahi opened his mouth to speak again. A knock at the door cut him off. He looked down through the window. His eyes widened in disbelief. Impulsively, Nailah moved to his side, looking too. Her knees jolted at the sight of Ma’am Sheldon below, her hair in disarray, a rip in her skirt. Was that Benjamin Pasha’s terrifying sister with her?
‘Nailah,’ said Jahi slowly, ‘what are they doing here?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I hope to God that’s the truth.’
Before Nailah could swear it was, Babu woke and puked medicine-stained vomit all down her front. In the same second, more liquid streamed from his rear.
‘Oh, Sweet Mother.’ This from Isa, who was on her feet in an instant, mopping them both up with a dishcloth.
‘That child needs to be in a hospital,’ said Jahi. ‘What in God’s name were you thinking, Nailah, bringing him back here?’
‘I thought he was mending,’ said Nailah. She looked down at Babu, unconscious again but making odd noises, the whites of his eyes visible through half-opened lids. Why had she taken him out? The nurses had told her she was a fool. Tabia would have listened to them.
How upset she’d be if she could see him, see all of them, now.
‘I suggest you get rid of your callers,’ said Jahi, ‘and then return Babu to the care he needs.’
There was another knock at the door.
‘Go,’ said Jahi. ‘I’ll ask Sana to watch Cleo until you return.’
‘Keep her hostage more like,’ said Isa, ‘to make sure Nailah doesn’t try and run away.’
Jahi said nothing.
‘I don’t want to go to Sana’s,’ said Cleo quietly. ‘She pinches.’
‘You won’t go alone,’ said Isa with a brave attempt at a smile. ‘I won’t leave your side.’
More knocking.
Nailah searched her mother’s face, desperate to see something there that promised another plan to get them all away, today, now. But Isa stared back at her hopelessly. What can we do?
Chapter Twenty-Four
As Nailah descended the stairs, her nose creased at the stink of Babu’s excrement, her own stale sweat. She tripped over her feet in her haste to somehow get past Ma’am Sheldon and Ma’am Carter – whatever it was they wanted – and then on to the hospital, its airy rooms, medicine, and space, silence, to think. ‘My little one, my little one.’ She knew Babu couldn’t hear her, she spoke to calm her own rippling breaths, not his.
Steeling herself, she eased the door open and met the stares of the women before her. Ma’am Sheldon’s eyes too
k her by surprise; she had never seen them so close before. A strange sea-like colour, they flitted from Nailah to Babu and then back to Nailah again.
‘I know you,’ said Ma’am Carter in crisp Arabic.
‘What’s this?’ asked Ma’am Sheldon.
‘I was just telling her we know who she is,’ said Ma’am Carter, in English this time.
‘Ah,’ said Ma’am Sheldon, then, ‘We’ve been looking for you, Nailah.’
The words landed a glancing blow to Nailah’s stomach. She barely wanted to ask, but, ‘Why? What do you want with me?’
‘We need your help,’ said Ma’am Sheldon.
‘What did my husband and Captain Bertram want with you just now?’ asked Ma’am Carter.
Nailah said she didn’t know.
Ma’am Carter stared, her steely gaze penetrating. ‘You were talking for rather a long time.’
Nailah squeezed Babu tighter.
Still, Ma’am Carter stared.
Nailah’s scalp prickled with foreboding. She needed to be away, before either of them asked her anything more. Her mind was a mess of confusion, her fears spinning with truths and half-truths, so fast she could no longer tell one from the other. Until she’d worked out what these women wanted of her, and how safe it was to tell them, surely it would be best to say and do nothing at all.
She mumbled that she needed to get Babu to the hospital.
‘How can you afford a hospital?’ asked Ma’am Carter.
‘I’m not sure that matters,’ said Ma’am Sheldon with an awkward frown.
Ma’am Carter glared at Nailah as though she thought it mattered a great deal.
Nailah made to leave, desperate now to be away. She thought of Jahi upstairs at the window. Walk, she could hear him ordering her, now.
‘Before you go,’ said Ma’am Sheldon, ‘just one question. We’ve come all this way.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Nailah. ‘I really am, but I don’t have time.’
‘Then let us take you to the hospital. We have horses. You can’t walk. This heat.’ Ma’am Sheldon held out her hands, like a supplication to Nailah to accept. For the first time Nailah registered the livid cut on her cheek, and wondered what had happened to her. She thought that if the captain could see her, he’d be upset, want to look after her. She remembered the way he’d used to watch her at the Pashas’ parties, as though he couldn’t help himself. Nailah had struggled to understand his adoration at the time. She’d always imagined it would take someone exceptional to steal his interest and Ma’am Sheldon had seemed too much like all the others – beautiful, yes, with those impish cheekbones that made Nailah feel so ordinary, but an empty doll in ruffles and ribbons all the same. Nailah just hadn’t been looking at her properly, she saw that now. She wondered what it would be like to inhabit Ma’am Sheldon’s cream skin, feel that beating pulse, the blood within her, wear those sculpted features and strange eyes. To know you were married to Sir Sheldon, but loved, truly loved, by a man such as the captain?
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