Song of the Nile

by Fielding, Hannah

  Illogically, Aida’s pulse quickened. ‘Well, we’d better be going,’ she said, an imperial lilt to her voice as she moved past him, heading for the ballroom.

  ‘Whoever said mastery was primarily a masculine trait …’ Phares mused in a low voice. The words stroked across her shoulder in a soft hypnotic drawl as his hand enclosed her elbow in a light grip, sending a shiver across her bare skin, but she pulled free, quickening her step to get away from him.

  The crowd had thinned and they joined the queue silently, paid their respects to their hostess and walked slowly down to the car park. The air was warm and sweet with the overpowering scent of plants, the tangle of shrubbery starred with the cream blossom of jasmine. Something odd and compelling stretched between them so that Aida had the strongest premonition that she must not touch him.

  In silence they walked to his cream roadster. Its top was down. He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. ‘Will the breeze spoil your hair?’

  She stood awkwardly by the car door. ‘Don’t worry about my hair.’

  ‘It’s beautiful. This new long hairstyle suits you.’ Phares’s hand lifted, and afraid that he was going to touch a tendril, Aida drew back sharply. He saw the movement but made no comment as he opened the car door for her.

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming to the ball,’ she said once they were driving out of Gezireh.

  ‘As it turned out, the only operation scheduled for today was cancelled, and I finished my rounds early. I dressed at the hospital, which is on the island anyhow, and was able to make it on time.’

  ‘I didn’t see you all evening, nor Camelia or your father. I did look for them.’

  Phares’s jaw tightened, making the muscle flex. ‘It would surprise me if you were aware of anyone except that Bedouin prince who was all over you.’

  ‘What doesn’t surprise me, however, is that you are as overbearing as ever.’

  ‘Claws out again, tigress?’ Phares’s voice was idly amused, his eyes slightly mocking as he turned to look at Aida. He grinned, his gaze flitting over her, and she shook her head as if warding off the devilry that flared in his coal-black irises: that mysterious force which seemed to leap forth at her.

  It was a blue night. The two-seater, open to the cool air, sped along the silent, empty road. The stars burned hazily ahead. A cool wind whipped at Aida’s hair as she rested her elbow on the edge of the door, her chin on her fist. She inhaled deeply. This was what she had missed: the fresh and invigorating smell of the desert, and that special lightness in the atmosphere which the bombs in London, the fires and the city’s perpetual traffic turned to the smell of fumes.

  Still, the atmosphere inside the car was pregnant, filled with a heavy pulsating throb that had nothing to do with the sound of its racing engine. The miles of slumbering Cairo flew by. The jet-black stare of the driver seemed focused on nothing in particular, yet Aida was aware that he saw everything to right and left, strong hands on the wheel, relaxed yet alert like a steel spring. His coiled strength, only inches away from her, made her aware of him in a more disturbing way.

  Had she thought that nothing had changed? She was wrong. The slow heat building between them was something new and unmistakable. Something she would have longed for as the foolish, besotted teenager all those years back but that now left her confused and wanting to deny its existence.

  The cream roadster breasted a steep hill, and the canal and palm groves that bordered the wall of Kasr El Shorouk came into view, but instead of turning left where he should have, Phares drove on, past Mena House, the luxury hotel and competitor of Shepheard’s, then up an even steeper hill, beyond which Aida knew nothing lay but the site of the pyramids and the limitless stretch of rolling dunes, home to small colonies of Bedouins and matareed, outlaws.

  Unnerved by his silence and the prospect beckoning of being alone with him in the desert, she questioned sharply, ‘Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the house.’

  ‘Why are you sounding so panic-stricken, Goldilocks? This isn’t the first time we’ve driven into the desert together. I seem to remember you welcomed those little jaunts.’ He flashed a grin at her. ‘Is the thought of being alone with me so appalling, habibti?’

  When she met this observation with contemptuous silence, he continued, slightly regretful, ‘Now that you’ve returned, I’d planned – had looked forward – to spending some time alone with you. It’s such a fabulous night, don’t you think?’

  She gazed out at the dark canopy of night above them, the spicy warmth of the air caressing her face. Yes, she silently admitted, she had forgotten how wonderful it was at night-time here.

  ‘You used to accompany your father on his desert trips, as I recall,’ he murmured.

  ‘Only a couple of times. I don’t feel I know it well,’ she replied, surprised that her emotions didn’t contort at his mentioning Ayoub.

  ‘Nothing compares to desert nights,’ he continued, ‘when the stars hang low like big silver flowers in the sky, so close to earth. Almost as though a man might stretch up his hand and pluck one to offer his beloved, and the moon steals from behind some chain of dunes to add her gold magic to the scene. It’s been ages since I’ve ventured into these solitary parts.’

  Aida shifted in her seat, puzzled by the dreamy overtone that had developed in Phares’s voice. It was almost as if … but she couldn’t make it out. This was so out of character … ‘You never struck me as a poet,’ she couldn’t help but remark.

  He deserted his poetry to flash her a derisory look. ‘Habibti, your head was always full of preconceived notions. You’re still rather good at jumping to conclusions, aren’t you?’

  They had reached the top of the hill where the imposing three pyramids appeared, like mysterious giants, mute witnesses to centuries of history, presiding over the graceful shadowy sand hillocks of the Arabian Desert and dark clusters of palm trees, towering up into the clear sky.

  Phares pulled up at the side of the road. ‘Just look at that! Isn’t it fabulous? It never ceases to amaze me.’

  Aida said nothing, but gazed in awe upon this handiwork of a bygone age. Its spell was indeed irresistible.

  They got out of the car, and Phares walked a few steps away from her, loosening his tie, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt, which gleamed snow-white against his tawny-skinned throat. There was a remoteness about him now, more than simply the physical distance between them. He was splendid in his dinner suit, standing tall and lithe, his strong, proud profile almost like a son of Ancient Egypt masquerading in the clothes of a less ominous civilisation. Phares had always reminded Aida of the awesome figures carved upon those kingly tombs four thousand years ago. And tonight, as he stood looking out over the vast space of sand in the indigo atmosphere of the slumbering desert, he seemed more than ever in tune with the mystery and emptiness which lay for miles beyond. She felt that she could have been in the presence of King Mena himself, come to life. What thoughts were going through his head? Why had he brought her here? Was he trying to revive old memories. If so, to what end?

  Despite their frequent differences of opinion, Aida had always known that Phares held some affection for her, but she had also been aware that he didn’t love her or desire her as a man would a woman. She had been his younger sister’s best friend and a good catch – one who would help grow the Pharaony family wealth. In those days she hadn’t cared about that, her secret whole desire being to spend the rest of her life with him; and while eight years ago she had been prepared to compromise, today she was not. Even if there hadn’t been the contentious issue of her father’s death between them, her pride would never allow her to agree to a loveless marriage and where Phares was concerned, not only her pride, but her heart. No, it would be too hard to live with him, knowing his feelings for her were no more than those of an elder brother.

  The dry night air nipped shrewdly, and lifting her eyes to the sky, Aida saw a slim virgin of a moon glide through the firmament, trailing a ve
il of light among the glowing Southern stars. The desert was a place of enchantment: silent, mysterious, illimitable. Aida felt the mystery of it more than ever … how wonderful it would be to be out here alone with someone you loved and who returned the feeling. She sighed internally.

  ‘Have you come back to stay?’ Phares’s tone was casual; he wasn’t looking at her, but she gave a start.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she answered brusquely, startled by his deep voice resonating in the silence. His question sent a flood of thoughts into her mind, of why she had returned to Egypt, of what she had set out to do … of her father.

  He turned and walked back to stand beside her. He seemed so tall when he came as close as this.

  ‘Why the defences, Goldilocks?’

  ‘Defences?’ she repeated, as the meaning of the word drifted slowly into her consciousness. ‘What do you imply by that?’

  ‘You’re so touchy …’ Phares smiled, hitching up a trouser leg and resting his foot on a heap of stones. ‘You’re so transparent. Even after eight years, you can’t deceive me so easily … but we have much to discuss, don’t you think?’

  She knew what he was alluding to … So Uncle Naguib was right: the Pharaonys were still hoping that she would tie the knot with Phares and hand over her land to her husband like a good little Egyptian wife. Still, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It might be a little early to bring this subject up, but sooner or later we would have to talk about it … clear the air. There’s too much at stake here.’

  Her heart was beating. Had Camelia told him that she was still brooding on the past? Was he going to propose to her there and then?

  ‘Please stop talking in riddles and come to the point.’

  He gave an impatient intake of breath. ‘Never look back,’ he chided her. ‘All the yesterdays are gone as though snuffed out like candles. A little of their smoke might linger to fog the mind and cloud the heart, but it is always better to look forward.’

  She crossed her arms and half turned away. ‘You’ve not only become a poet, but a philosopher now …’

  ‘Don’t mock, Aida. I’m being serious.’ He sighed. ‘I hope you can believe me when I tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened with your father.’

  ‘Sorry!’ Aida turned on him, all her pent-up rage unleashing blindly and the youthful prettiness wiped from her face as if by some profaning hand. ‘Sorry! My God, what good is your sympathy to me? My father was an innocent man who was blamed for something he would never have done! Our families were close friends. My father was even thinking of tightening this bond by a further alliance – our marriage. And all I know is that our maid swore on her child’s life that your father brought the Nefertari statue to our house!’

  For a moment Phares said nothing, though a shadow passed over his jet-black pupils. Then he spoke slowly in a low voice: ‘So you really still think that of my father, Aida?’

  ‘What else should I think, Phares?’ she returned sharply. Seeing Kamel Pharaony again had made her faintly uneasy about her long-held hatred for him, but now all that uncertainty was swept away by the old rawness of anger. ‘It’s the only evidence I have of my father’s innocence, and nothing else makes sense.’

  ‘So you judge my father, who you’ve known your entire life, without having all the facts and because of the word of your maid?’ His tone was still quiet, but his gaze had hardened, his eyes fixed on Aida’s face.

  Not wanting to hear his denials and criticism, the young woman shook her head without answering.

  Phares leaned closer to her, his voice low and steady. ‘Listen to me, Aida. Your father was a great man. I respected him as much as if he were my own family. I miss him too. Do you think my father believes he was guilty of stealing that statue? Do you think I believe it? If your maid accused my father falsely, there was a reason.’

  ‘And what reason would Souma have for that?’

  He paused and scanned her face intensely. ‘You want to know the truth?’

  ‘Yes.’ Aida lifted her chin haughtily, anger lending a defiant sparkle to her eyes. ‘Or what you consider the truth.’

  ‘So why don’t you take my hand and we can look for it together? Marry me, Aida, and I promise you that I will do my best to seek out the person who caused our two families such grief.’

  Suddenly she burst into laughter, which though a trifle theatrical was still genuine. How painfully ridiculous her situation now seemed. The son of the man she had blamed for her father’s death was now offering to help her – and marry her.

  Phares started slightly and looked sternly at her. ‘I am asking you to become my wife … offering to help you … and your only response is to laugh? Where has this harshness come from, Aida?’

  She didn’t answer. There was such anguish in his face that she averted her gaze, and for a while both stood silently, looking into the peaceful night that was so at odds with the crackling atmosphere of their stormy exchange.

  An owl hooted, the long-drawn, melancholy cry sounding indescribably forlorn in the stillness.

  ‘Marry me, Aida … I’ll make you happy. We’ll have a wonderful life together.’

  A little breeze wandered fitfully over the dunes, whispering faint promises of the joy of a life at Phares’s side … with him standing there proud and powerful like an Egyptian god. The temptation was overwhelming. The still night, the beauty of the starlit desert, the silence, and the ominous presence of those great mute giants had all stirred strange emotions in Aida’s heart. It was as if the devastating resolve to avenge her father, the hatred she had nurtured for so long towards Kamel Pharaony, and by extension his son, was duelling with a warm compassion, so instinctive to her, which had once been nearly extinguished.

  Aida felt her judgement misting over, her resolution fading. ‘It’s all very well for you … you have nothing to lose.’

  ‘Neither have you.’

  ‘I would have everything to lose. My land for one, which would be amalgamated with the Pharaony riches and over which I would lose all control. Besides, contrary to what you might think, I have changed. I am no more the naïve little girl in plaits that you once knew, who would be content with what you call un mariage de convenance.’

  ‘You would be cared for and treated like a queen, instead of toiling alone, as you will have to if you decide to look after your affairs yourself.’

  ‘I have estate managers, lawyers and accountants for that, thank you,’ she threw at him.

  Phares raked a hand through his hair. ‘Look, Aida. You’re not in England here, you come from Luxor. We’re not even talking about Cairo or Alexandria. You’re in the Said, in Upper Egypt, where women are—’

  ‘Considered second-class citizens? Don’t say it,’ she cut in as she felt the burning heat rise to her cheeks.

  He shook his head. ‘No fellah, lawyer or manager would respect the orders of a woman alone. Like it or not, that’s the way here. If we married, all of those problems would be solved.’

  ‘Though I might have been happy to go ahead with the plans my father and yours had arranged eight years ago, it is quite different today. I’ve seen things that have changed me. The world has changed, Phares. I want much more out of life.’

  He looked at her impatiently. ‘Still the same rebellious, stubborn girl. You haven’t changed that much. I would have thought that England, the war, would have subdued you, but it seems to have had the reverse effect.’

  Aida’s shock at his insulting arrogance gave in to an almost uncontrollable burst of wrath. ‘What do you know about the war?’ she said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. ‘There was no war here, no real restrictions, only hollow indulgence. Most people sat at grand hotel terraces indulging in careless enjoyment, drinking, gossiping and fornicating.’

  Phares’s jaw stiffened but he merely gave her a hard stare and shook his head, chastening her because now she remembered how involved he’d been a
t the hospitals for the wounded at Alexandria.

  ‘Again, you jump to conclusions without knowing all the facts. I can see that you have been badly scarred by the war. But now, everything a woman could ever need or want is within your reach and you insist on pushing it away. I don’t understand you.’

  She took a step back. ‘I don’t expect you to understand me, or understand anything about what this woman needs or wants. Egyptian men … bah!’ Aida shrugged with contempt. ‘You’re all the same. Calculating, chauvinistic and emotionless.’

  At this his eyes became so narrowed that it was impossible for her to read their expression. ‘Emotionless, eh?’ His voice, though still quiet, contained a strange vibrancy that caused a tingle to run up Aida’s spine. He took a step towards her. ‘That is a very dangerous thing to say to a man who has any self-respect at all.’

  ‘Oh, is it?’ she taunted. ‘And why is that?’

  He took another step. ‘Because, you see, he will in all probability have the urge to disprove your statement.’

  ‘And you see yourself playing such a role?’ Aida forced a peal of incredulous laughter, seeing that she had finally succeeded in riling him. ‘I always knew you were arrogant, but I didn’t understand the extent of your conceit.’

  Her heart leapt to meet the sudden dangerous flare that ignited in the depths of those fathomless eyes. How magnificent he looked … seductive … irresistible! Something stirred in her loins – a need she had never felt before.

  ‘Must I prove to you how well I understand you?’

  Phares had drawn very near her, his dark face almost against her own. Then, pressing his hard body deliberately close to hers, he bent her head back with surprising force and kissed her full on the lips. He kissed her long and vigorously, his mouth sensuous and demanding, rendering her completely insensible.

  Dazed and confused, she thrust him from her. ‘Why did you do that?’ she demanded breathlessly.

  He was still gazing mercilessly into her startled eyes. ‘That’s a foolish question, Aida,’ he said. ‘You ought to know the answer.’