Song of the Nile

by Fielding, Hannah

  Isis addressed Naima sharply: ‘You can go now.’

  But Aida tightened her hold on the girl’s arm. ‘Stay here, please. If I’m not mistaken, this letter is addressed to me. No point in delivering it to Hathor. Since I’m here, I might as well spare you the journey.’

  Naima nodded nervously and thrust the envelope into Aida’s hand before scuttling quickly from the office.

  Undaunted, Isis’s dark eyes sparked with insolent disdain. ‘How silly of me! I didn’t know that you were going to be in this morning. That envelope is not from me, you know. Someone delivered it last night. I was just doing you a favour. I thought it might be important …’

  Aida tried to keep her voice light. ‘It’s rather a coincidence, don’t you think, that you should have a stack of similar yellow notepaper and envelopes on your desk? Also, it does appear that this is not the first time you’ve asked Naima to deliver a letter to Hathor.’

  Like a cornered rat, Isis bared her teeth, her hands tightening into fists: ‘How dare you doubt my words!’

  ‘I not only doubt your words, Isis, but I’m accusing you of writing poisonous letters to me. I believe you have embarked on a campaign designed to destroy my marriage and you’d better tell me why.’

  Isis shot her a cold stare. ‘What are you talking about? Me wanting to destroy your marriage? Why on earth would I want to do that?’

  ‘I can think of one obvious reason …’

  ‘These accusations are total madness,’ Isis sneered, stalking over to the doors that gave on to the raised terrace at the rear of the hospital. ‘Please get out of my office.’ She motioned brusquely for Aida to leave.

  Although quivering inside with fury and apprehension, Aida maintained a deceptively calm veneer. She followed Isis, who had escaped the confines of her office to the terrace outside. Leaning against the balustrade, the anaesthetist glared out over the grounds below, arms folded across her chest, refusing to acknowledge Aida’s presence.

  ‘Before I leave, let’s open this letter and read it together, shall we?’ Aida said, tearing open the envelope.

  The corner of Isis’s mouth curled in a humourless smile. ‘Why should I? It doesn’t concern me.’

  ‘Having your heart broken is the easy part – knowing when to move on is the challenge. Go, before this man ruins your life.’ Aida read out. ‘So … what do you make of that?’

  Isis glanced back over her shoulder: ‘That’s not my writing.’

  ‘Maybe not exactly. You’re too intelligent for that.’

  Aida stepped inside the office and picked up a notebook lying on the desk. She came back to stand next to Isis, who continued to stare woodenly ahead at the garden. Aida turned the first page and perused it closely.

  ‘Look, that odd curly “C” in the letter. Doesn’t it seem curiously similar to the ones in your notebook? Here, and here …’ Aida said with a deadly quietness, pointing to the page, then offering the open book for Isis to see.

  ‘You bitch!’

  Knocking the notebook from Aida’s hand, Isis whirled round and seized Aida by the neck, pushing her backwards so that she was now the one leaning against the balustrade. ‘It’s you who stole Phares from me! We were planning to marry and then you came back. You don’t belong here! Eight years ago, we thought we were rid of you … All those years I’ve been waiting patiently for Phares to establish himself, get the hospital up and running, so he could ask me to marry him … and then … and then …’ Isis was shouting now, shaking Aida by the neck. ‘We were happy… everybody was happy,’ she snarled, ‘… but you had to come back and spoil it all!’

  Taller, and with a much stronger build than Aida, Isis was bearing down on her, pushing her backwards over the balustrade. Aida struggled to prise away the anaesthetist’s strong, gripping fingers, and at the same time was trying not to lose her balance. It was a sheer drop to the gardens from the raised terrace: if she fell, she would surely break her neck.

  Aida faltered. Looking down, she was assailed by dizziness and a wave of terrible nausea but the other woman’s grip was alarmingly strong. Blood pounded in her ears, her throat felt dry, her mouth so parched that she could barely get the words out.

  ‘Let me go,’ she rasped, almost inaudibly, as she felt her vocal cords being squeezed and crushed.

  ‘You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?’ Isis whispered the words close to her face, a strange, twisted smile hovering on her usually stunning features.

  ‘Should I be scared of you?’ Aida croaked, her need to breathe fighting with an impulse to retch.

  ‘You should if you have any sense. If I push you over, people will think it’s an accident.’

  The picture in front of Aida blurred; she was vaguely conscious of Isis’s face, its beauty marred by the two ugly patches of colour darkening her cheekbones. Her fingers started to tingle, she knew she was about to pass out.

  She was dimly aware of voices behind her before blackness finally engulfed her.

  Epilogue

  In the warm evening glow of the setting sun, Aida sat on the veranda, home again at Hathor. It was strange that she called the place ‘home’ in her thoughts; it showed how very different her frame of mind was now compared to the previous night. Two hours before, she had been discharged from hospital with little damage from Isis’s assault other than a slight bruising around her neck. Nothing now – not even the shock of having been attacked – could still her singing heart. In front of her was a steak and a large salad and she found that she was properly hungry for the first time in a long while.

  It had been a traumatic day, but at least the unpleasant episode with Isis had ended with the anaesthetist having gone for good. Dr Makloof, whom she was beginning to view as a firm friend, had told her that Isis had been fired with immediate effect from both Al Amal and the Anglo-American Hospital. Apparently, fearing legal retribution, she had caught a late-afternoon flight to Switzerland, doubtless planning to stay in Europe until the storm had died down.

  Well, she can hide her head under the covers there, reflected Aida, determined not to let thoughts of the woman spoil the glow of wellbeing that spread through her body. Secure in Phares’s love, she was almost disposed to feel generous to the anaesthetist who had been so warped by the bitterest jealousy.

  She was excited in anticipation of Phares’s return tomorrow. A little earlier, soon after Aida had arrived at Hathor, Alastair Carlisle had called to tell her that the mission had been successful and her husband would be home soon. At the news, the last vestiges of fear and anxiety that had kept her muscles tense, her heart racing with disquiet, finally vanished. The consul, who of course knew of her pregnancy, told her to enjoy this special time.

  ‘Nothing,’ he insisted, ‘will fill Phares with greater joy.’

  Aida had heard that during the first weeks of pregnancy in many women the physical drive was sapped, but in her case, it was quite the reverse. Now, in this relaxed and expansive mood, bathed in the soft warmth of the evening, she found that she craved Phares more than ever; the mere thought of the way he sometimes looked at her had her melting with desire.

  Fire burned in her blood … she felt completely alive.

  Even the view spread before her eyes had taken a different aspect, as though in tune with her feelings. The west was aflame with reds and golds; against it, the ragged outline of the mountains glowed with a strange light of blended sapphire and opal. A blue mist gathered over the flat lands in the valley, out of which the palms lifted their bunched tops in silhouette against the sky. The drifting feluccas cast blurred reflections of their tall, graceful sails in the watery mirror of the Nile, which lay like a great sheet of iridescent glass. Along the riverbank, Aida could see field workers leading camels, donkeys, buffaloes and cattle – a dark, winding outline against the orange belt of the horizon. The colours of the picture were so vivid, something no painter could catch with his brush.

  Aida rested her hand over her stomach where Phares’s seed lay cocooned, the cu
lmination of their love and desire. Her heart and mind were serene as never before. When the moon and stars came out, she went back inside, had a bath and then crawled into bed, too drowsy to stay awake. And as her eyes closed, she heaved a sigh of relief and smiled.

  Phares would be home soon.

  * * *

  Phares let himself in to Hathor, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. After gulping down two large glasses of cold water in the kitchen, he made his way upstairs – he couldn’t wait to take Aida into his arms.

  He crept into the bedroom and tiptoed to the side of the bed. The night was warm and although the window and the shutters were open, Aida had thrown off the covers and was lying on her back, her beautiful honey-blonde hair spread out on the pillow, a few strands falling across one cheek. She was breathing softly. A moonbeam caressed her outstretched body, clad in a pale-blue clinging silk nightdress. He stood watching her sleeping form, his eyes drinking in her lovely feminine shape … her breasts rising and falling with each soft breath, the outline of her stomach almost a mirage under the thin material; arms flung out to the sides, she looked as though she was offering herself to him, which brought Phares’s senses into instant thrumming, blood rushing to his groin.

  Sighing, he ran his fingers through his dark hair as he moved away from the bed. First, he needed a cold shower. Quietly shrugging out of his jacket, he tore off his tie, discarding his shirt and trousers before heading for the bathroom.

  He stood under the spray of water a few long minutes; it ran down his burning, taut skin before he soaped himself. Slowly, his chaotic senses began to calm. He was still there, face lifted to the rivulets of water pouring down on him, when the shower curtain was pulled back and a naked Aida stepped in with him. When he felt her soft breasts against his back, he let out a husky groan.

  ‘Ah, chérie,’ he murmured as her arms slid round his waist, his inadequately subdued flesh already on the rise again at the brush of her hands.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Aida whispered against his back, pressing herself to him.

  Twisting round, his manhood now aching with need, he bent his head and took one hard nipple in his mouth and then the other. He felt her shiver with pleasure.

  ‘Oh, my love … I’ve been dreaming of you all night!’

  Her voice, thick with desire, was almost too much for him, and cupping the soft round cheeks of her bottom, he lifted her against the wall.

  Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her long and hard, breaking off to murmur against her lips, ‘You are my life, Aida. Nothing will ever harm you while you are with me.’ Then, with the utmost care, he allowed her to slide down on to him.

  She cried out as he entered her in one smooth, satisfying penetration, and he felt the convulsing shudder that immediately raced through her body, everything breaking within her, seconds before his own release, her flesh caught in wild spasms, her pleasure becoming instantly his pleasure. Together, they peaked in the most intense climax he’d ever had.

  Panting, holding Aida in his embrace, her legs still straddling his waist, Phares walked back to the bedroom. After throwing a bath towel over the bedcover, he placed her gently down on the bed, then collapsed beside her, spent. He lay like that for several moments before levering himself up on one elbow to gaze down at her.

  Aida’s eyes opened on a low sigh. ‘Oh, Phares, you’re back, and safe … I’ve been so worried! I’ve been so blind … so unfair …’

  ‘Shush, chérie! All is now well.’

  Her gaze clung to his, her slow smile like the emergence of a beautiful desert sunrise. ‘Alastair told me something of what you’ve been up to, my brave, wonderful husband. I know about the prince, I know about your work to catch the smugglers. I’m so proud of you … My father would have been so proud too.’

  ‘Alastair already warned me that you’d been concerned by my absences. He did me a huge service in letting you into his confidence like that. I’d been sworn to secrecy … Believe me, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.’

  She placed a hand on his smooth chest, feeling his heart beating steadily. ‘You’re a good man, my love – and honourable. It was right that you didn’t.’

  ‘But there’s more, and I will tell you, because it concerns you, chérie.’

  Aida’s eyes widened a little, unsure of what this might mean. He held a hand to her cheek. ‘It’s nothing bad, I promise you. It’s everything you have been hoping for. Your father has been exonerated. Souma came to me, and through her and her brother Atef, we finally know the truth.’ Aida took a breath to speak, but Phares put a finger to her lips to gently silence her. ‘Listen, chérie, to what I have to say first …’

  He told her everything: how the smugglers had transported the stolen archaeological finds – many of them priceless museum-quality antiquities – to a disused tomb at the foot of a precipice, some distance from the Valley of Tombs. Aida’s eyes sparkled as her husband told her a story worthy of the Arabian Nights tales.

  ‘I wish you’d seen it,’ he said, his eyes alight with the memory of discovery. ‘The way into the tomb consisted of a shaft about forty feet deep, leading to a tunnel. At the end of this underground corridor, we found it – a burial chamber in the heart of the hillside.’

  He went on to tell her how treasure upon treasure had been placed in this hidden tomb. The work was done at night and, furtively, the precious pieces of the tomb – the trinkets, the jewels and the funeral furniture – passed from one dealer to the next, transported by caravans across the desert and through the crooked streets of the Musky until they reached the admiring eyes of European collectors.

  ‘A great price was paid for these objects, Aida,’ he said, a shadow passing over his face as he thought of all that had already been lost to Egypt. His gaze refocused on her and she could see the fury spark in his eyes. ‘And it was Adly Geratly who toasted each successful sale with champagne.’

  At this, Aida’s face became a mask of shock, her mind racing furiously to make sense of it all. When she heard how Geratly had been behind everything – including framing her poor father – her jaw tightened.

  So, he had masterminded the entire business. Isis’s father …

  Now that Phares had come to the end of his account, it was Aida’s turn to tell him what had happened while he had been away. She didn’t choose to burden him with a description of her fevered jealousy, but when she came to Isis – her poisonous letters and the attack – it was his turn to feel shock and disgust.

  And now it was Aida who placed a finger to his lips. ‘Hush, I don’t want to talk about it now! She has flown to Switzerland, and with luck, she won’t return to Egypt for a good while. Let us not think of her again. Anyway, I have something that will take your mind off all these dark things … some news.’ She lifted a hand to caress his face, the look in her eyes soft with tenderness and love.

  ‘What news is that?’ His taut face relaxed into a smile, but after one long look at her excited expression, the truth started to dawn on him.

  A question unvoiced … a wild hope …

  ‘It’s true, Phares,’ she murmured, smiling tremulously. ‘We’re going to have a child.’

  For a long while, his eyes aglow, he couldn’t speak, the strong emotions he felt choking his voice. He passed his hand lightly over her bare stomach in wonder. ‘But this is incredible,’ he breathed. ‘What a gift you are giving me, chérie!’

  Aida’s eyes lit up. ‘So, you’re happy, Phares?’

  ‘How can you ask?’ Smiling, he bent his head and brushed Aida’s lips with his. He then gathered her to him and drew the covers over them both. ‘I’m the happiest man in the world, Aida.’

  She beamed. ‘I can’t wait to tell Camelia …’

  ‘And my father … He’s been longing to be a grandfather, he’ll be overjoyed.’

  Aida lifted an arm over her eyes, flooded with guilt at the mention of Kamel Pharaony. ‘Oh my God, Phares … when I think how unfair I’ve been! How I could ever ha
ve believed he’d owned that statue or had in any way been involved in framing his old friend? How am I ever going to be able to look your father in the eye? I’m so ashamed!’

  Tenderly, he took her arm, drawing it away from her face.

  ‘Don’t be, chérie,’ he insisted. ‘All is well now and besides, making him a grandfather is the best present that you could have given this family. You and that little seed growing inside you will bring laughter back into our home and our hearts again.’

  She turned to face him, a soft emotion filling her gaze.

  ‘I love you, Phares.’

  ‘And I you. More than you will ever know … Even though you agreed to be my wife, I knew that you were always wary of me. It hurt, I’ll admit, but I also knew that one day, I would prove to you how much you mean to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you. All that time, I was hurting myself even more. I guess this is the start of a whole new journey for us.’

  Phares smiled enigmatically. ‘A whole new honeymoon, chérie,’ he whispered against her lips.

  ‘Mmm …’ she murmured sensually, moving to close the small gap between their bodies and stretching against him with a happy smile. Wriggling her hips against his, she instantly aroused him once more and he felt her tremble, her heart beating in a fast rhythm. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  Phares threw back his proud, dark head and laughed with rich appreciation. ‘Whoever said that pregnancy dampened a woman’s libido …’ Then he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her breathless.

  As he lifted his head from her, a fleeting cloud passed over Aida’s face. ‘I love you, Phares. I know it now more than ever. I trust you utterly. I’ll never doubt you again … Never, till the day I die.’

  He smiled teasingly. ‘No more doubts and jealous thoughts?’

  ‘No. Those other thoughts, you know … I think they were only shadows, a kind of false dawn before the sun really rose.’

  ‘Or mirages of your imagination,’ he said gently. ‘Sometimes just before the sun rises over the desert, a mirage hovers over the sand – a sort of forerunner to the genuine sunrise. The Bedouins call it the “Mirage of the Dawn” and say it foretells a cloudless day.’