He phoned Kirsty and her voice again raised his doubts about leaving. Later while he chatted to Andrew and Farik in the lounge bar, an attractive dark-haired woman in her late twenties joined them. She introduced herself as Dr. Dorothy Williams, and suggested that they call her “Dot.” From the conversation that followed Alan gathered she was highly qualified and knew a lot about Iraq and the topography of the region they were going to. She seemed to him to be somewhat aggressive and reminded him of a former girlfriend who’d been on an assertiveness course and had made his life a misery for a while afterwards, jumping down his throat at every sexist remark he made. Seemingly he made “sexist” comments far too frequently. The assertiveness had worn off after a while. With Dot however it was more, subtle. it wasn’t that she said anything, but she gave the perpetrator a look that left him desperately trying to think what remark of his had might offended her.
The men steered the conversation into safe channels and plied Dot with questions about Iraq and the area they would be visiting. Later, during dinner they discussed the Marsh Arabs and their way of life.
Alan excused himself early. In bed his thoughts returned to Kirsty. And he fell asleep thinking about her. He woke the next morning feeling fresher. After breakfast the party took a taxi to a large store in north London specialising in clothing and equipment for travellers going abroad. They arrived back at the hotel laden down. He sorted through the equipment. He liked the kit bag which was the rolling up kind, with transparent zipped compartments so he could see almost right away where everything was stored. He tried on the wide floppy hat, intended to keep the glare of the sun from his eyes, as with the sun almost directly overhead he’d been warned that sunglasses didn’t give full protection.
Before dinner, he phoned Kirsty and told her about the members of the party. “What’s the woman like?” she asked.
“She seems to know a lot about the region and is highly qualified,” he replied.
“But, what is she like?” persisted Kirsty.
Alan hesitated. “She’s a bit aggressive, she’s got dark hair.”
“Is she nice looking?”
She could almost feel his shrug, “I suppose so.”
“What age is she?”
“About the same age as Claire. How is Claire?”
“Fine, she’s out with Frank tonight. Is she married?”
“Who? Oh! you mean Dot. I don’t know. It was strange waking up in bed by myself.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll phone tomorrow about the same time?”
“I’ll be waiting Alan.”
“I love you Kirsty.”
“I love you too Alan.” After he hung up, Alan felt how unsatisfactory it had been, he missed Kirsty more than ever.
In the evening the Home Office expert, one Peter Seagrave, arrived. During his lecture he informed them that Iraq was politically stable, and Britain was friendly with the regime, despite the seizure of tubes supposedly intended to be used to make an Iraqi supergun and the recent Bazoft affair, where Bazoft, an “Observer” journalist had been executed for alleged spying and a British nurse, Daphne Parish, jailed for fifteen years. He told them that he could envisage few problems so long as they didn’t do anything stupid, such as photographing secret military equipment. He checked their documents and found everything in order. He agreed to stay for dinner when they had a less formal chat, during which he divulged that the American members had pulled out of the expedition on the advice of their government, due to some disagreement over arms sales. He assured them again that there was no possibility of political instability in the country. Reassured, they thanked him and retired to their rooms to get an early night.
Alan woke the next morning feeling less tired than he’d felt for days. After breakfast they packed and caught the tube to the airport where they registered and had their luggage thoroughly searched.
Since their flight was scheduled for late evening, they had almost a whole day to themselves. Alan watched Andrew and Farik amble off together talking seriously about the politics of the Middle East. He and Dot gravitated to each other, more from necessity than inclination, but after a while he was surprised to find that he liked her, as her aggressiveness only seemed to surface when she was with a group of males. Alone with Alan, she seemed to relax more. When he mentioned, he was going to visit the British museum, she asked if she could come along and Alan readily agreed.
They spent the rest of the afternoon looking around the museum then treated themselves to a slap-up dinner, realising it would be their last British meal for a long time. During the evening Alan excused himself when the time came to call Kirsty.
After endearments Kirsty told him she’d made out a chart to tick off the days until he came back.
“I’ll be back in time for Christmas,” he assured her.
“Have you found out any more about Dot?” she queried.
Alan considered. “Well she looks as if she’s married.”
He heard her sigh then she said she was getting on a lot better with Claire, and something made him suggest that he wished she would tell Claire about them meeting before. There was a pause. He could almost feel Kirsty reviewing her memories.
“I’ll think about it,” she replied eventually. He felt the negation in her voice, but something inside told him this was important.
“I think that it would make, a big difference to her attitude,” he argued, but Kirsty changed the subject. After many endearments Alan rang off after promising to try his best to phone from Baghdad.
When he returned, feeling sombre he noticed Dot eyeing him. “Something wrong?” she inquired.
He told her about Kirsty. “I hate leaving her,” he confided. Dot sympathised.
They caught the tube back to the airport to meet up with Andrew and Farik. At last their flight was called and again there was strict security and they were searched before being allowed to board the plane where Alan and Dot found they had seats side by side. There was a long wait and at last the boarding ladder was raised, the engines fired, the plane taxied and without knowing the exact moment, they were airborne.
Dot relaxed. She’d watched the way Alan’s face changed when he spoke of Kirsty. She wormed out of him the story of Kirsty and Claire, and feeling the warmth of her personality, he responded. He gave her his full attention and Dot in turn confided to him why she had really joined the trip to get over a love affair. For five years she’d been living with a man, who’d suddenly decided to up and leave her. Alan sympathised.
They were served a snack, and over drinks afterwards, talked about their lives and their loves, then finally tipped their seats back and settled down to sleep, lulled by the steady drone of the engines. Alan woke from a dream about Kirsty, which faded so quickly he couldn’t grasp even a faint memory of it. Dot was already awake. She excused herself and he realised she’d been thoughtful enough to wait so she could get past without waking him. When she returned he took his own toilet bag to shave and wash in the tiny toilet compartment.
They landed in Ankara soon afterwards. Where some passengers left, and others boarded. After refuelling, they took off, and were served breakfast as they were passing over Eastern Turkey with the sun rising. Dot pointed out areas of interest and alerted him when she thought they were flying over Iraq.
“There’s Baghdad.” Dot pointed.
Alan leaned over and watched as the haze in the distance solidified into buildings. As the plane descended He examined the vast sprawling city with interest. Modern concrete hotels competed with tall graceful minarets, and acres of grey, white or ochre houses. The city flashed by as they came down, then with a bump they landed. With growing excitement, he realised he was about to set foot in the land, known in the Bible as Sumeria, successively conquered by the Assyrians The Persians, Alexander the Great and the Mongols. A country with a written history going back to four thousand years before Christ, with towns such as Babylon and Nineveh. mentioned in the old testament.
A
s they alighted, the first thing he was aware of, was a blast of dry stifling heat that even in the early morning, seemed to be trying to suck all the moisture from his body. He grimaced at Dot. She grinned.
“This is cool, wait until noon, the temperature can soar well over the hundred degree-mark!”
Alan wished that he was wearing his light tropical clothes already as he crossed the tarmac, his jacket over his arm and blinking, trying to adjust his eyes to the glare of the sun. After collecting their luggage, they were met by an official from the university who expedited their passage through customs. He helped them load their luggage into the huge waiting car then they set off. When they reached the city. the official, in surprisingly good English, pointed out various landmarks and buildings of interest. They reached Baghdad university a short time later.
The official told them there were three universities in Baghdad, and the one before them was the oldest. When they were shown inside, Alan was amazed at the sheer spaciousness and opulence, and the elaborately carved arches and glazed floors.
They were met and welcomed by Professor Suleman who was the expeditions leader, head of the earth sciences faculty and dean of Basra university. He spoke perfect English.
Afterwards, with servants carrying their luggage, they were taken to the residential wing where Alan was flabbergasted at the sheer luxury of his room, with ornate furniture and a huge bathroom. He found they were to stay in Baghdad University for two nights while other members of the party were collected. They would then travel south to Basra University which was to be their main base. Meanwhile, they were free to explore the university.
Alan had a shower and changed into lighter clothing. Dot knocked on his door and they set off to find Andrew and Farik, but learned that they were helping Professor Suleman with the arrangements, so they wandered around the university. They had a short reconnoitre outside, exploring the streets, but not daring to go too far, as although Dot was dressed quite modestly in a high-necked blouse with an ankle length skirt and a head scarf, they still noticed men eyeing her askance and Alan felt her hand slip nervously into his. After a quick look around, they returned to the university for lunch.
They were shown to the staff dining room which was magnificently furnished with servants waiting at each table. They decided not to be too adventurous, especially when they saw exotic dishes being served at other tables, so with the help of Farik, who had joined them, they chose a chicken dish which they were assured would not upset their delicate palates. The university was quiet at this time of the year since it was the summer recess, and only staff and advanced students doing research were present. Alan considered phoning Kirsty but hadn’t worked out the time difference or what coins to use, and he didn’t have enough confidence in his Arabic to speak to the operator.
In the afternoon, Alan visited the university swimming pool, while Dot to her indignation, had to use a smaller pool, strictly segregated from that of the men, in another part of the building. Feeling cooler, he dressed and returned to his room.
Before long, Dot knocked and entered, venting her feelings, about “The stupid male rules in this sexist country.”
Alan tried to hide his amusement, but she caught the hint of a smile and flounced out complaining.
“You’re just as bad as the rest of your sex.” She’d obviously recovered by the time they gathered for dinner for she gave him a wry grin as she took a seat next to him. They were placed at a large table with the rest of the party who’d arrived.
After a speech of welcome from Professor Suleman they stood and introduced themselves in turn. Bruno a slightly balding Italian in his thirties, a Doctor Di Folco an older Italian with grey hair. Sven a Norwegian – a tall fair haired thoughtful looking man of about forty, and the French team – Paul and Irene Moreau, a man and wife in their thirties.
As they chatted. Alan became aware of the speculative look Bruno was giving Dot, and was amused by her reaction. She moved her chair closer to him, reached over to remove an imaginary speck of dust from his shirt, then chatted to him, smiling and touching his hand. Professor Suleman rose to address them again. He explained that the members from Basra were already at the base camp, an old fort on the shore of the marshes, getting it ready for their occupancy, and told them with a smile that they would have to “rough it,” since there wouldn’t be many of the modern conveniences they were used to.
After dinner they split into small groups, and since everyone spoke English well, it became the lingua franca of them all. Alan and Dot gravitated to the French couple and since Dot was fluent in French, and seemed to be striking up an acquaintance with Irene, he circulated around the other members of the party. He liked Sven, who spoke good English and was always smiling, even when talking or eating. He didn’t like the two Italians, though they smiled a good deal. He felt their smiles were ingratiating. and when he shook Bruno’s hand he had to stop himself wiping his own hand afterwards. The older Italian gave the impression he was doing Alan a favour, just listening to him. He chatted to them, nonetheless realising they would be together for a long time and would have to try to be affable.
Bruno asked, “Are you good friends with doctor Williams?”
Anxious to protect her from Bruno’s attentions, he replied, “We are very good friends”, at the same time giving Bruno a wink, and hoping he wasn’t damaging Dot’s reputation.
He talked to Professor Suleman who was a small birdlike man, and took an immediate liking to him. There was a tranquillity about him, and his eyes were those of a man who’d seen all the frailties of humanity and had come to terms with it, reminding Alan of his own father. Alan and Dot eventually gravitated back together and discussed their impressions of their colleagues. When Alan told her about his conversation with Bruno, she giggled and assured him that he’d done the right thing.
He woke early in the morning and had a swim. Breakfast consisted of little hard rolls with honey, and thick coffee in tiny cups. The tour disappointed him as he found much of the architecture dated from after the second world war and except for the smell and the heat he felt he might have been in any large British city. When they returned in the afternoon, Alan, with Professor Suleman’s help, booked a call to Kirsty for that evening.
After dinner, Alan, Dot, Paul and Irene, in the company of a guide, strolled around a part of Baghdad they hadn’t seen before. Alan drank in the smells, tobacco, spices, cooking odours and coffee all mixed into what he felt was an intoxicating melange, although he saw Dot wrinkling her nose. He was surprised to see many men dressed in what looked like western style pyjamas, some with dressing gowns over them. The men, everyone sporting a moustache, stood chatting on street corners or sat in the cafes, drinking the dark sweet coffee or playing dominoes.
He felt this was not the restraint he was used to in Britain, and that love, hate and passion were much closer to the surface in this country. Back in his room, Alan sat counting the minutes. Eventually the phone rang, and the operator told him in Arabic that his call was through. He thanked her without even thinking, in Arabic. His heart gave a leap when he heard Kirsty’s voice. They spent a long time in endearments before he even started to describe Baghdad and the university. She told him Frank had stayed a few nights and that Claire was much more pleasant. Alan eventually rang off, promising to write, but conscious of her disappointment when he told her he didn’t think he would be able to phone again. He began his letter right away, describing in detail the other members of the party, the university, his room, and the tour of Baghdad.
The next morning after breakfast, they collected their belongings and left for Basra. The coach was modern, and after stowing their luggage, they settled in comfortable seats for the long journey down the six-lane highway that went all the way to Basra and beyond. Professor Suleman and an assistant accompanied them and promised to comment on any places of interest. Just outside Baghdad they passed Ctesiphon, where the ancient palace of Sapor, built by Chosroes, a Persian ruler, was pointed out to them
. They learned that Chosroes had founded a school of poetry and philosophy and introduced the game of chess to the western world. They stopped for lunch in Amara, a small modern city, then continued through Qurna where the two great rivers the Tigris and the Euphrates join, and become the Shatt al-Arab waterway. A short time later they reached Basra, were taken to the university and settled into their rooms, which were more like the rooms Alan was used to in Britain.
They were then given a tour of the city which Alan found much more interesting than Baghdad. It was not a large town, about a quarter of a million people, and it was ancient, as one would expect, being the home port of Sinbad the Sailor. It had many houses which dated back centuries and were mostly expertly renovated with beautiful ornately carved wooden doors. The town was criss-crossed by canals and waterways, with a great variety of craft of all sizes going about their business, to the accompaniment of shrill cries, greetings, and curses, as smaller craft were forced to give way to larger vessels. The lanes and streets were clogged with honking cars, bicycles and pedestrians, and vendors in tightly crammed stalls sold everything from live chickens to carpets. Pungent smoke from food vendors, spicy smells and noise were ever present. They visited some of the old bazaars, some of which had been in existence in the same location for hundreds of years. Alan got the impression that it would not have looked much different a thousand years ago. Industry, mostly oil related, was situated in satellite towns in the suburbs.
Love Patterns Page 29
