Birds of the Nile

by N E. David

  Later, on the journey back to the ship, they sat next to each other on the coach, her head resting against his shoulder. Further along the Corniche, the Winter Palace Hotel slipped by, a pale ghost behind the trees, and before long she’d fallen asleep, lolling awkwardly in her seat. Blake remained awake and sat rigidly to attention. If by any chance Lee Yong was wavering and needed his support, then he would be the rock against which she might secure herself.

  They arrived back on the quayside to be greeted by a deputation from the management. Mr Mohammed, anxious to make amends after the partial desertion of his crew and the debacle of the last two days, had turned out to welcome them. Supported by his trusted lieutenants, the chef and the chief engineer, he’d brought a number of porters with him, each equipped with a torch to light the way across the gangplank onto the ship. Despite his recent setbacks, his face was locked in a rictus-like smile and he nodded continually as if to convince them all of their on-going satisfaction.

  “Very good, very nice, much enjoyment…”

  Given the chance, he’d have shaken every guest by the hand – he could not afford any more disasters – but settled for seeking out David.

  Toward the back of the bus, Lee Yong had stirred awake and was looking out of the window. If she retained any doubts about what she must do, then they were dispelled by the sight of the waiting line. Sitting up straight, she calmly brushed her hair and checked the remains of her make-up, tidying up where she could. Then, when it was her turn to descend onto the tarmac, she walked resolutely by, staring straight ahead and going directly on board.

  Blake escorted her as far as her room.

  “Are you going to be alright?”

  She was much recovered but he felt obliged to ask nevertheless.

  “Thank you, Mr Blake, but I’ll be fine.” She produced her key and turned it in the lock. Then, in her only reference to the evening’s events, “I’ve learnt how to look after myself.”

  Blake wished her goodnight. She was not in the mood to talk and there was nothing to be gained by debating the point. He waited until she’d shut her door, then took himself off to bed.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was not often that Blake slept badly and he’d usually drop off within five minutes of his head touching the pillow. But that night he was still awake at twelve, and 2am found him sitting in the chair in front of the dressing table sipping a cup of herbal tea to try and soothe himself.

  The scene at the temple had disturbed him and he couldn’t shake it off. That Reda and Lee Yong should arrange to meet had not surprised him – he’d have been disappointed if they hadn’t. Her calm demeanour following Reda’s disappearance and the knowledge that she could always contact him had given him every confidence. After her persistence concerning the young Egyptian’s imprisonment, it was unthinkable that she would simply walk away now – there would always be a reunion. Under a starry sky and the influence of the moon, Mut and Amun in perfect conjunction…

  So it wasn’t their meeting that had shocked him but rather the manner of their parting. Contrary to his normal disposition, Reda had seemed callous and uncaring. He’d made a sign to say he meant no harm – but whatever his intentions, the effect had been quite the opposite. Lee Yong had been upset, distraught even, to the point where Blake had barely been able to calm her.

  But that alone was not enough to cause Blake a sleepless night. As much as he treasured her and couldn’t bear to see her hurt, it might have been bearable had he not felt himself partly responsible. And it was this feeling of guilt that had kept him awake.

  She’d asked him for help again and this time he’d failed to give it. The first time, it had been comparatively easy – a couple of phone calls, a visit to the police station, an interview with a high-ranking official. And yes, he’d baulked at it – but once he’d grasped the nettle, he’d found it wasn’t as daunting as he’d feared. Then she’d asked him to intercede with Reda and that had been far more problematical. He’d struggled to address it and when Reda had gone missing, he’d felt relieved and had used his absence as an excuse to give up. His lack of moral courage disgusted him. Why hadn’t he persevered? Whether it would have made any difference and whether the young Egyptian would have heeded his words, was open to question. Blake doubted it. His instincts told him that Reda had already made up his mind some while ago and that nothing would have persuaded him otherwise. But that wasn’t the point – Lee Yong had needed his support. He’d failed her and it was that more than anything which had kept him awake.

  Later, around three, once the calming effect of the tea had kicked in, he managed to doze off – only to be rudely reawakened at six-thirty by the jangling call of his alarm. He desperately wanted to press the snooze button and go back to sleep, but with his packing to be done and a flight to catch there was no choice but get up. He had to fight to stay awake and his need was for the stimulus of coffee, so having gathered his things together as best he could, he went down to the dining room to find some.

  Yet again, he was first to arrive at the breakfast table and sat there patiently with his drink. He was fervently hoping that Lee Yong would come down and join him, although experience spoke against it. He was anxious to see if she was alright, to speak to her and express his regret that things hadn’t worked out and above all, to apologise. He thought of going to her cabin but decided against it – she’d made it clear she needed time alone and it didn’t seem right. He poured himself another coffee and continued to wait as one by one the others drifted in.

  Keith arrived in a buoyant mood. He’d already visited reception to confirm the day’s arrangements and had found everything was in order. Suitcases were to be placed outside rooms by eight-thirty when they would be collected, duly locked and labelled, ready for departure at nine. The coach was parked on the Corniche with the doors open and the driver in attendance (Keith had walked up there to check), and his latest call to the airport had confirmed that the flights were on time. Nothing, it seemed, stood in the way of their journey home. It all conspired to make him unbearably cheery.

  “Well, I can’t see any problems.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “And I’m sure I speak for us all when I say I’ll be glad to get home. Ever since that do in Aswan I’ve been a bit on edge, I don’t mind telling you. This is one holiday I won’t forget in a hurry.”

  He turned to look at Janet who nodded and smiled back. Blake had the impression that had it been left up to her they might never have come in the first place.

  David might well have shared her sentiment, although at the moment it was hard to tell. He was suffering from his second hangover of the week and with his head lowered to its customary position on these occasions i.e. below the level of the tablecloth, it was impossible to discern either his facial expressions or any of his disjointed mumblings.

  “Looking forward to the flight home?”

  Blake’s question was loaded with mischievous intent. It was like poking a stick into a wasp’s nest – something was sure to come buzzing out. Although in his current condition, all David could manage was a muted response.

  “Go away…”

  Joan was equally unresponsive. After the incident with the glass of Buck’s Fizz and her new Egyptian dress, she was not on speaking terms with her husband and sat quietly smouldering with her mouth firmly shut, facing in the other direction. With her arms folded tight across her chest, her body language spoke volumes. She was deliberately holding it all in, but it only wanted the slightest provocation and it would all come bursting out.

  In Lee Yong’s absence Blake turned to Mrs Biltmore for inspiration. He wondered whether she knew what had happened and whether she and the young Malaysian had found time to talk. He raised an enquiring eyebrow in her direction but received nothing in return other than her disarming Cheshire cat-like smile. Sitting next to her and oblivious to everything else, Ira was intent on devouring his third piece of toast.

  Blake gave a sigh of frustration. Soon, they wou
ld all congregate in the foyer for the last time. Herded together like sheep, they would pay their bills at reception and make their final arrangements. A series of prolonged goodbyes would follow and somewhere amongst the handshakes, hugs and kisses, contact details would be exchanged and promises made to visit, most of which would never be fulfilled.

  It’s been so nice meeting you. We must do this again sometime. You know where to find us. If you’re ever in the area, do come and look us up…

  It was this kind of scene Blake hoped to avoid and with the firm intention of avoiding it, he’d hide away in a corner until all the fuss had died down. Eventually, when the bags had been loaded on board, the bus would gather them up and whisk them off to the airport where they’d go their separate ways – he to Cairo, Mrs Biltmore and Ira to Baltimore, the others presumably back to Britain. Although as for Lee Yong, it seemed her destination had yet to be decided.

  The airport was frantically busy, a Saturday morning rush of comings and goings. Their coach had been delayed (another problem with porters and the loading of luggage) and the party of Germans, booked on an early flight to Frankfurt, had begun to panic. They arrived no more than half an hour before their scheduled departure and insisted on being dealt with first, dismounting prematurely from the coach and pulling their cases out themselves before rushing off toward the terminal. Their agitated state was unsettling and soon infected everyone else. Before long, they were all caught up in a headlong dash to the airport building. And in the melee that followed, Blake completely lost track of Lee Yong.

  He’d waited patiently for her in the foyer of the ship, watching the others make their way out onto the Corniche until finally, left alone, he checked his watch for the last time and felt obliged to join them. Clambering on board, he briefly saw her sitting at the back and realised she’d gone straight to the coach from her room. It was not until the Germans had left, escorted to their gate by a smartly dressed official with a ‘priority’ badge, and things had settled down that he was able to catch up with her again.

  She was standing not far from the entrance, talking to Mrs Biltmore and Ira. It was a long and involved conversation at the end of which the large American folded her tiny figure up in a bear-like embrace before releasing her for a handshake with her thin stick of a husband. It did not take much for Blake to lip-read the parting words that dropped from Mrs Biltmore’s mouth.

  Now, honey, you look after yourself. Don’t forget to call and maybe we’ll see you soon…

  Blake kept an eye on her at the check-in and after a tedious passage through security, they found themselves side by side under an information board confirming their departures. London, Paris, Rome – they were all inviting locations but where she was going next? Had she changed her plans or was she sticking to her original schedule? If so, it would be somewhere in the Middle East. Was it Israel she was headed for? Or Jordan? Blake couldn’t remember. But whatever her destination, it was not in her nature to hang around. She might dally for a while with Mrs Biltmore but there would be no long goodbye for him.

  “I see everything’s on time,” he began.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Just remind me – where are you off to?”

  “Petra.”

  “Ah yes, of course – the rock-cut city. You’ll enjoy it – it’s well worth the visit.”

  “I hope so…”

  He turned toward her and looked at her face. It was the first time that morning he’d been close to her and he could see that she’d once more changed her appearance. The tiredness and worry that had accumulated during the week had been painted over and the girl that stood next to him now was the girl that had stood behind him at the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut – the same carefully styled hair, the long dangly earrings and beneath the make-up, the severest of expressions. It was as if after a week of close companionship she needed to re-assert her independence and accustom herself to the idea of being single once again. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would have to contend with them alone – and what better time to start than now? In the hour that he’d been at breakfast, she’d spent her time in the company of her bottles and creams. She had fortified herself against the world and had literally put on a brave face. The result appeared unforgiving, but for Blake it was enough to break the hardest of hearts. He stumbled into his pre-prepared speech.

  “Look – I’m sorry…”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I let you down. You asked me to talk to him and I didn’t. I feel responsible and it’s been playing on my mind.”

  “Don’t be silly! You needn’t be sorry – you have nothing to reproach yourself for. You did everything you could, Mr Blake. None of us knew he was going to go off like that.”

  “Really?”

  Blake expressed his surprise. Ever since her unflustered reaction to Reda’s disappearance, he’d harboured a suspicion it had all been planned in advance.

  “No, really…And anyway, if it hadn’t been for you, he’d still be cooped up in prison with that horrid policeman.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right…”

  That at least was true. He’d already saved Reda the once – this time the young Egyptian had been given the chance to save himself and had declined to take it. He could hardly be held responsible for that.

  “Personally,” continued Lee Yong, “I don’t think it would have changed anything even if you had spoken to him. It seems to me that he never intended to go.”

  “D’you think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  There was a certainty in her voice that bordered on the cynical. For the first time in her life she’d placed her future in someone else’s hands and had been brutally betrayed. Now they were going their separate ways and there was no chance of reconciliation.

  Blake wanted reasons. If he could find them, perhaps there was a way he could try and salve her wound – but this was neither the time nor the place to pry and he decided it was best to move on.

  “So what will you do now?”

  “As I said to you, Mr Blake – Jordan, Petra, I’ve an itinerary planned.”

  “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  He thought she might have deliberately misunderstood him and he was not prepared to let it pass. His comment seemed to catch her on the hop and she took a moment before giving a considered response.

  “I must seem very naive to you, Mr Blake – but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt about this world, it’s that you mustn’t look back. You have to move forward in life and that’s exactly what I’m doing – it’s the only way you make progress. I’ve no regrets, Mr Blake, if that’s what you mean – none at all.”

  It was a bold statement, accompanied by a defiant upward tilt of the chin and a sense of bravado that went with the make-up.

  It was a view she could afford to take. She was young and there were more opportunities in front of her than there were mistakes behind. For Blake it was different – he had a lifetime of regrets and nothing to look forward to. The envy he’d felt toward her when they first met re-surfaced.

  “I see…Well that’s good then.”

  Above their heads the information board refreshed in a cascade of blue, then a number started flashing red. She stiffened and came to attention.

  “Look, my flight’s been called. I’ll have to go.”

  “Yes, of course…”

  There was something on the tip of his tongue and he forced it out, knowing there would not be another possibility – although, when he eventually managed it, it sounded incredibly trite.

  “Well, it’s been lovely meeting you.”

  “And you.”

  “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”

  It was the same banal conversation he’d heard a dozen times in the foyer that morning – and a dozen more at the airport – but in his case the feelings were sincere. If there was the remotest chance…

  Lee Yong didn’t seem to think so.

  “Perhaps…” She pulled u
p the handle of her cabin luggage and prepared herself to leave. “Well, goodbye, Mr Blake – and thank you.”

  He waited, wondering whether he might enjoy the close embrace she’d given Mrs Biltmore or the handshake accorded to Ira. In the event it was neither and suddenly she was gone, hoisting up her shoulder bag and trailing her little suitcase toward the exit, the clump of her Cuban heels drowned out by the buzz of an announcement from the PA system. She stopped briefly at the barrier and he thought she might turn and wave – but his hope turned to disappointment as it was only to show her papers. Without looking back she moved quickly on and then the tunnel had swallowed her up.

  It would be over a year before he was to see her again.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  It was a very different Cairo that Blake returned to compared to the one he’d left some eight days before – although viewed from the air, there were no obvious signs of change. That muddy old river, the Nile, still flowed peacefully between its banks, the Pyramids at Giza continued to point skywards and the blanket of smog which had enveloped the city prior to his departure remained, turning the horizon to the west a delicate shade of pink in the early evening sun. In the half-light, even his trained eyes struggled to pick out the thin plumes of smoke rising from the smouldering ruins of burnt-out buildings.

  As the plane approached the city centre, he tried to identify the glowing mass of Tahrir Square – but he couldn’t locate it, hidden as it was beneath the smog. The tanks guarding the perimeter fence at the airport were easier to spot – in situations like this the manoeuvre would be standard practice. Buried deep in the basement at the Embassy, there’d be an entry in a Foreign Office manual –In the event of a coup or civil unrest, be sure to secure certain strategic locations…

  He was prepared for changes, having spent the whole of his journey from Luxor devouring the contents of the newspaper. He’d fallen behind with the progress of the revolution but now he could catch up with events, and he needed something active to fill his in-flight hour rather than brood on his unsatisfactory parting from Lee Yong. The main headline of the Saturday edition of Daily News Egypt provided more than sufficient distraction. CAIRO ERUPTS, it proclaimed, which together with a series of lurid photographs depicting scenes of devastation and destruction gave the impression that the capital had been struck by a volcano instead of a potential coup. The city had indeed boiled over, but it had been mankind’s rather than nature’s doing.