‘I’m her great-great-granddaughter, yes.’
‘She was one of the few Victorians who empathised with the Egyptian soul.’ He had narrowed his eyes, still studying the rock formations above their heads.
‘How do you know that’s how she felt?’ Anna stared at him curiously.
‘From her painting. They have a set of watercolours at the Travellers’ Club.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
He nodded abruptly. ‘On the staircase. I’ve often studied them. She lingers over details. She’s not embarrassed by form or feature. And she’s never patronising. She uses a wonderful depth of colour unlike Roberts. He sees all this –’ he waved his arm at the cliffs – ‘as one tonal range. She sees the shadows, the wonderful textures.’
Anna looked at him with a new interest. ‘You talk like an artist.’
‘Artist!’ He snorted. ‘Stupid word. If you mean a painter, yes, I’m a painter.’ He was still staring up at the cliff and she took the opportunity of looking at him for a moment, surreptitiously, taking in the rugged features, the thatch of unruly greying-blond hair beneath the faded blue sun hat.
‘Louisa loved Egypt. I’m reading her diary, and it’s apparent on every page.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘I almost envy those Victorian women. They had so much to contend with and yet they persevered. They followed their dreams. They worked so hard for them –’ She broke off in mid-sentence, aware suddenly that he had turned his attention from the cliff and was watching her intently. She met his gaze and held it for a minute, but it was she who looked away first.
‘It sounds to me as though you wished you too had had to work hard for a dream,’ he said quietly.
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But I’m not the intrepid type, sadly.’ How could she be when she had remained so meekly in her marriage and at home?
‘No?’ He was still looking at her thoughtfully.
‘No.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Or not until today. Breaking away from the group and coming up here was pretty intrepid for me.’
He laughed and suddenly his face looked much younger. ‘Then we must encourage your intrepidness. Which tombs did your great-great-grandmother visit? Not young King Tut, obviously.’
‘No.’ Anna’s smile died.
Watching her, he raised an eyebrow. ‘So, what have I said now?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Something about Tutankhamen’s tomb?’
She shook her head. He was intuitive, she would grant him that. ‘I was in there. A little while ago. Something strange happened.’
‘Strange?’
She shook her head. ‘Claustrophobia, I suppose. Nothing really. Only it made me need to get away from everyone and come up here.’
‘And I spoilt your solitude. I’m sorry.’
‘No. No. I didn’t mean that.’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘The trouble is, it didn’t work. The feeling, whatever it was, followed me up here.’
Again he gave her that long, disconcertingly direct look. There was no judgement in it. He wasn’t laughing at her. On the contrary he was considering her words, mulling them over, scanning her face for clues. ‘I think this whole valley could have that effect on people,’ he said at last. ‘In spite of the numbers of tourists who come here, the atmosphere is extraordinary. It is uncomfortable. Have you met Serena Canfield yet? She was sitting next to me at dinner last night. You should talk to her if you’re a sensitive. She is into Ancient Egyptian magic and stuff which might appeal to you. She has read all the books about star gates and Orion and Sirius.’
Anna raised an eyebrow. Was he being dismissive of her, gently taking the mickey or was he making the suggestion in good faith? It was hard to tell. Those steadfast eyes, the colour as clear as water, were impossible to read.
‘I might just do that,’ she said with a small touch of defiance. ‘There is room for so much that is strange and out of the ordinary in Egypt.’
He shrugged, but the angling of his head could have been a nod of agreement. ‘What I do hope is that she doesn’t go too near our revered guide, who is a devout Muslim and will not hear a word about all that stuff on his ship. He has enough trouble with the “legends” of the pharaohs. Did you notice that? He will not allow them even to be history.’
Anna shook her head, laughing. ‘I had no idea there was so much ideological conflict going on on the boat. It will make for an extraordinarily interesting trip. I have spoken to Serena. She sat next to me on the bus, but we didn’t talk about Sirius. That aspect of Egypt’s history seems to have passed me by. My interest stems from travel books, people like Lawrence Durrell, my mother’s books about archaeology, even school where we had a teacher who was passionate about pyramids.’
‘And Louisa.’
‘And Louisa.’
‘Can I see her diary one day?’ He held her gaze once more with that disconcerting directness which seemed to be his trademark.
She looked away first. ‘Of course you can.’
‘Now?’ He raised an eyebrow hopefully.
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t bring it with me. It’s on the boat.’
‘Of course. Silly me.’ He swung his bag back onto his shoulder. ‘OK, I think I’m heading back down to the valley to see another tomb or two before we leave. I’ll go and find Omar and plague him with some deep philosophical questions! Will you be all right on your own?’
She wasn’t sure whether the question was posed out of real concern or was a subtle way of telling her that he did not expect her to walk back with him and indeed, no sooner had he spoken than he turned and began to lope back down the path. In seconds he had disappeared behind the rocks.
The silence and the heat flowed back over her in a heavy curtain. Standing stock still she found she wanted to call him back. The loneliness in the valley was intense. Shading her eyes, she stared round for a moment scanning the cliff face then she turned and looked after him. At her feet a few pieces of shale rattled down the path. The sound emphasised the quiet. She was trying to recall the diary, the picture of the valley as Louisa had seen it, trying to visualise the rug, the shelter, the simple companionship of the man and the woman as Louisa laid out her painting things, but she couldn’t bring the picture into focus. The shadowy image of Louisa and her parasol, the click of the donkeys’ hoofs on the stone, the tap of the paintbrush against the rim of the water pot had all faded into the silence. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to run after Toby. This was ridiculous. What was there to be afraid of? The silence? The emptiness after the crowds in the valley bottom? She cast one last look over her shoulder up at the sun-baked cliffs and then she began to retrace her steps, hoping at every moment to catch sight of Toby ahead of her on the path. Twice she glanced over her shoulder again and then suddenly panic overwhelmed her. She lengthened her stride and before she knew it she was running back down towards the valley as fast as she could, slipping and sliding in her anxiety to catch up with Toby. It didn’t matter what he had said, she didn’t want to be alone in that spot for one second longer.
But the path was empty. There was no sign of him. Arriving at last in the valley bottom once more amongst the crowds and the shouting guides she made her way panting to the shaded resting place where groups of other tourists were sitting, exhausted by the intense heat which seemed to pool in the valley. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, trying to steady the thudding of her heart under her ribs. There was no sign of Toby anywhere.
It was Andy who found her. Sitting down heavily on the bench next to her he took off his hat and fanned his face with it. ‘Hot enough for you?’
She nodded, struggling to steady her voice. ‘I thought the tombs would be cool. In the darkness.’
‘More like tandoori ovens.’ He grinned. ‘Are you enjoying yourself? You look lonely sitting here. I thought Ben was taking care of you.’
‘I don’t need taking care of, thank you!’ Her indignation was only half feigned. ‘But he was with me, yes. He’s a nice man.’
/>
‘And so am I.’ Andy raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I escort you into another hell hole? We gather for our picnic in about an hour.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Then this afternoon it’s off to the Ramasseum and Hatchepsut’s temple. There’s no slacking on this trip!’
A shadow fell across his face. Charley was standing there looking down at him. ‘I am sure Anna doesn’t need an escort. If she needs someone to hold her hand in the dark, Omar can do it. That’s his job, after all.’ Her voice was acid.
Anna stood up hastily. ‘I don’t actually need an escort of any sort. Please, don’t worry.’ She grabbed her bag and slung it on her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you back on the bus, no doubt.’ She did not wait to see their reaction, plunging back into the sunlight to make her way across the sandy path towards the shadow of another tomb entrance.
It was only when she was standing in the queue, her guidebook in her hand that she realised Andy had followed her.
‘I’m sorry. That was embarrassing.’
‘Not at all. Charley is right. I don’t need an escort.’ She glanced behind them. ‘Where is she?’
‘Still over there in the shade.’ The queue shuffled a few steps closer to the entrance. ‘Egyptology is not her thing. She feels she has seen enough for one day.’
‘I see.’ Anna glanced at him sideways, unsure whether she should feel triumphant or sorry for the other woman. She liked Andy. His good-natured friendliness had done much to put her at her ease amongst so many strangers. Not that they seemed like strangers now. It was her first day in Egypt and yet she felt as though she had known them for a very long time.
‘Hello there.’ As though to confirm her thought Ben emerged from the entrance in front of them. His face was pink with heat, a marked contrast to the whiteness of his hair. As the sun hit him he smacked his hat back onto his head and grinned at them hugely. ‘One of the best tombs, this. Magnificent! The mind just boggles at the thought of how much work has gone into it all, and how many men it took to do it.’ His face sobered a little. ‘Charley! Are you going in too?’
Charley was suddenly beside them. Her face was tense, her eyes smouldering with anger. ‘Yes, I’m going in too. Stupid thick Charley is actually interested.’
‘Stay here!’ Andy’s hand on Anna’s wrist was like an iron clamp as she turned to move away. Startled, she frowned. ‘Andy, please –’
‘No. I asked you to visit this tomb with me. I meant it. If Charley wants to come too, then that’s up to her. She has a ticket, the same as the rest of us.’
Charley’s face was red with fury. ‘That’s right. And I’m coming in.’
‘Please do.’ Andy’s smile was, at least on the surface, as affable as ever.
When Anna glanced round for Ben, he had gone.
As they walked down into the darkness Anna spotted Omar ahead of them with some half-dozen of the other passengers from their boat who had elected to stay with him for the tour. With relief she hurried to catch up with him, aware that Andy was still at her side. Over the next twenty minutes or so as Omar talked to them about burial chambers and cartouches, The Book of the Dead and The Book of Gates, slave labour and the gods of death and retribution she slowly managed to distance herself from Andy and Charley in the darkness. By the time they had reached the inner pillared hall she had lost sight of them entirely.
It was as she was walking back, her concentration on the ceiling with its wonderful paintings that her arm was seized. ‘What do you think you are playing at? You hardly know him!’ Charley’s hiss in her ear was full of venom. ‘Why? Why are you doing it?’
Anna turned in astonishment. ‘Doing what? Look, Charley, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m not trying to do anything, I promise.’
‘You’re encouraging him!’
‘I’m not. Andy is a kind man. He has seen that I’m on my own and he is trying to make me feel welcome. So is Ben.’ She paused for a fraction of a second. ‘And Toby. And your friend, Serena. That is all it is. They are nice people and I appreciate their kindness.’
She glanced round hoping to see Andy nearby, but there was no sign of him. A long queue of people was shuffling past them as they stood at the centre of the corridor leading from the depths of the tomb back towards the light. Someone jostled her slightly and she stepped back. ‘We’re in the way, Charley. We have to move on with the others.’
‘I’ll move on. As for you, you can get lost!’ The viciousness of Charley’s remark left her speechless. For a moment she didn’t react and Charley, hurrying swiftly ahead was soon out of sight behind a sea of slowly processing backs. Anna shivered. The attack had been so swift and unexpectedly unpleasant that she wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to run after her, to argue, to defend herself, but at the same time some defiant corner of her mind was telling her to take no notice, to talk to Andy and, as long as she found him attractive, and she realised suddenly she did find him extremely attractive, to give Charley a run for her money. It was only a small corner of her mind though. A far larger portion was all for keeping the peace.
3
O keep not captive my soul. O keep not ward over my shade but let a way be opened for my soul and for my shade and let them see the great God in the shrine on the day of judgement …
Rejected by their gods, and fleeing retribution the two priests sleep in the darkness of the tomb. The scent of oil of cedar and myrrh and cinnamon hangs in the hot dry air. There is still no sound. Far above them the cliff is the haunt of kite and vulture. The call of the jackal rends the night sky as the stars fade and the sun disc returns from its voyage beneath the earth to rise again over the eastern desert. In the darkness time is without meaning or form.
On the shelf between the pillar and the wall the small bottle sealed with blood lies hidden. Inside, the life-giving potion, dedicated to the gods, made sacred by the sun, thickens and grows black.
Tired and dusty they returned to the boat late in the evening to be greeted by fragrant hot towels, handed out at the door to the reception area by one of the crewmen from a steaming metal platter. Next they were given fruit juice and then at last their cabin keys. Anna made her way to her cabin without glancing round to see if Andy and Charley were nearby. On the coach she had sat at the back with Joe, relieved to be excused from talking by his instant somnolence. In her cabin she threw her bag on the bed, and as exhausted as Joe had been, she kicked off her shoes and began to pull off her dress.
Abruptly she stopped. Her skin was prickling. The cabin had grown cold and for a split second she had the feeling that there was someone in there close to her; watching her.
‘This is stupid.’ She said the words out loud, staring at herself in the mirror. The cabin was a scant ten feet by eight. The tiny shower had room for barely one person. There couldn’t be anyone there. She pushed the door open with her foot and it swung back to reveal basin and shower, fresh towels ready on the rail.
She glanced up suddenly at her case on top of the cupboard. Had it been moved? She didn’t think so. With a sigh she shook her head. She was just very tired. She had imagined it. It wasn’t cold at all. On the contrary, she felt as hot and sticky as she had on the bus, after her day in the sun. Peeling off her dress she shook it to remove the creases and dust and hung it on the door, then shaking her hair free and sweeping it back off her face she stepped into the shower and turned on the blissfully cool water.
The only empty chair at her table when she arrived at dinner was between Ben and Joe. Slipping into it with a sympathetic smile at the now wakeful Joe, Anna saw Charley link her arm through Andy’s and give it a proprietorial squeeze.
‘So, how did you enjoy day one?’ Ben said quietly in her ear as he poured her a glass of wine.
‘Wonderful.’ She smiled at him and caught his wink. ‘I could get used to all this very easily.’
‘And so you shall. But today is not over yet. Did you see the noticeboard outside the dining room? Omar is going to give us a talk in the lounge after dinner, then the b
oat leaves at about eleven, so when we wake up in the morning we shall be well on our way up the Nile.’
There was a sudden roar of laughter from one of the other tables and Anna turned. Glancing up Toby caught her eye. With a sardonic wink he raised his glass and mouthed a toast at her, but in the general noise of conversation and laughter she couldn’t hear it. She raised her own glass back and saw Andy turn quickly to see who it was she was smiling at. He frowned. ‘So how did your visit today compare with Louisa Shelley’s?’ He leant across his plate, raising his voice so that it reached her across the table. ‘Has the valley changed a great deal?’
‘Out of all recognition in some ways.’ She glanced from him to Charley and back. ‘In others not at all. There really is a timelessness, isn’t there?’
‘As there is all over Egypt,’ Ben put in.
‘Louisa had the valley all to herself, of course. It must still be wonderful when all the tourists go and it’s empty. That’s a problem all over the world nowadays, I suppose. There are so few places left where one can get away from other people.’
‘The cry of a true misanthrope.’ Andy grinned at her.
She felt herself blushing. ‘No, I like people, but I like to be able to get away from them too, especially when it’s somewhere where atmosphere is part of the attraction. It’s the same in great cathedrals. It should be possible to get away from parties of noisy tourists and uninterested school children who are just ticking the place off their list of trophy visits, or being dragged around by desperate teachers without the slightest genuine interest.’
‘Hear, hear! Well said.’ Andy clapped solemnly. ‘A great speech.’
‘And a sensible one.’ Ben smiled at her. ‘Which I think we would all agree with deep down in our heart of hearts.’
There was a moment’s silence. At the table next door Anna noticed that Toby had turned to listen. She looked down at her soup in confusion. It was a novelty, she suddenly realised, to be listened to!
Whispers in the Sand Page 7
