by Rosie Thomas
But not any longer. Not after this night.
She blinked, and her eyes burned with the image of Jas lying at the foot of the stumpy high-rise.
‘Um. I went to a party.’
Will looked angry, in his plump way.
‘What are you like? What sort of behaviour do you call this? It’s five to six in the morning and you’re supposed to go to college today.’
Ruby glanced away, down at the floor. She was thinking if she could just get away quickly, upstairs to her bedroom, she could keep all the spinning and churning bits of misery inside and not let Will see them.
‘I know,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry.’
He sighed. Then he came round the table and took hold of her. He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face so he could examine it. She felt too numb to break away from him, or to do anything but stand there. Will sighed again and then his hand slid over her bottom but he gently pushed her away at the same time, as if it were she who had come on to him. He was very good at making things appear the opposite of what they really were. A long time ago – yesterday – she used to think it must be one of the number of things he had a first-class degree in.
But there was no place this morning for any of those old notions. They seemed to belong to a different person.
‘Go on, then. Go upstairs and get into bed, before Fi catches you. I’ve got to get to the airport.’
He was fussing with his briefcase, snapping the locks.
Ruby went up the stairs, very slowly. Her feet felt as if they had rocks tied to them.
In her bedroom she took off her clothes and then stood holding them in a bundle against her chest, very tightly, as if she were hugging a baby. She even made a little crooning noise, out loud, and the disembodied sound made her jump. When she buried her face in the clothes she realised that they stank of sweat and smoke and sick. She had thrown up in a green-painted toilet cubicle at the police station.
She put the bundle down on the velvet-upholstered button-backed chair and covered it with a cushion. Then she crawled under the bedcovers and pulled them over her.
As soon as she closed her eyes he was lying there with the black puddle spreading round his head.
She told Ash briefly about Jas. It wasn’t right, she realised as soon as she had begun, to use it as a way of getting his sympathy. Then she gave him a flat smile. Her tears were drying up, leaving her eyes feeling sticky in the heat.
‘Anyway,’ she said, and shrugged. She stood up quickly, pulling at her clothes where they were glued to her skin. After a second he got up too, still looking at her with gentle concern.
‘That is very sad. I am sorry,’ he said. ‘What would you like to do now? Do you want to go back to your grandmother’s house?’
She didn’t want to cry again, for one thing, didn’t even want to think about crying. It was all too dangerous.
‘Can we just go on with what we were doing before?’
They walked on, under the dusty leaves, in and out of patches of shade. Ash waited for what she would do or say next.
‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
He considered carefully. ‘Of course, there are some girls I like. But it is not quite the same thing, I think.’
His solemnity made Ruby laugh. She still wanted to make him like her and the wish surprised her.
‘It was only a quick kiss, back there, you know? I just did it, I thought it would be nice. Sorry if it was totally the wrong thing. I get things wrong all the time, it’s the way I am. You’ll have to get used to it if we’re going to be friends. That was one of the good things about Jas. He kind of didn’t mind anything. He’d say things like, we are each the person we are and we should try to be that person to the full, not someone else. I liked that a lot.’
Ash stopped again. He looked over his shoulder at the traffic and at the passers-by, then he steered Ruby into an angled niche in the river wall where an ornate street lamp sprouted.
‘I would like to kiss you, now, please.’
She leaned back. The stone was hot against her ribs and spine.
‘Go on, then.’
‘Wait. To me, these things have importance. They are not just a quick this, or for nothing that. Perhaps you think to be this way is funny?’
‘No,’ Ruby said humbly. ‘I think it’s lovely.’
‘All right.’ He came nearer. Close up, there were all kinds of different textures and colours visible in the dark-brown irises.
He kissed her, an experimental meeting of mouths that seemed, to Ruby, very tentative. Then he pulled back again.
‘Good,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
Feeling rather pleasingly chaste, she resumed her walk at his side. After a little way they turned aside from the river and wandered through a quiet area of curving streets with enclosed gardens thick with greenery. It was much quieter here. The tall brown and cream buildings looked sleepy and well-protected. Some of the gates had guards in little wooden sentry boxes, or stationed in chairs on the pavement where they could watch everyone who went by. Ash and Ruby let their hands brush more often as they walked.
‘This is Garden City. Nice place, for rich people.’
‘Where do you live? Is it near here?’
Ash laughed, a little awkwardly.
‘What do you think? It is not like this, my home.’
‘I don’t know anything about Cairo.’
‘I will show you.’
Later they came out alongside the river again. An island, separated from the mainland only by a narrow channel, lay directly opposite. Ash told her it was called Rhoda, pointing out the landmarks and telling her little pieces of history. Ruby nodded dutifully. They had been walking for a long time and the sky was already fading from blue to pale grey. There were more feluccas with their sails like birds’ wings on the water.
‘It’s time I went back,’ she said.
They turned north, walking towards the Tahrir Bridge. When they reached the place where Ash had left the bike, lights were beginning to twinkle on the bridges and the buildings across the river. The sunset sky was streaked with gold and pale green.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Ruby sighed.
Ash took her arm. ‘I have an idea. A special, very special Cairo view, just for you. You have to tell a small lie, but I think you can do that?’
She gave him a warning look. ‘Maybe.’
He was marching her through the torrent of traffic and through a gateway into some gardens. A huge hotel with hundreds of balconies and lit-up windows loomed over them, and a line of shiny cars snaked up to the doors.
‘You stay in places like this?’
‘I have done,’ she admitted.
‘So you know what to do.’
As the revolving door disgorged them into a glass-and-marble lobby, a doorman in a tarboosh and white baggy trousers worn with a sash and a red waistcoat stepped in front of them.
‘I am staying in the hotel. Room 806,’ Ruby said firmly.
‘Good evening,’ he murmured and stepped back again.
Heads up, they walked past the brocade armchairs and the fountain to the lifts. Ash was chuckling.
‘Are we nicking something?’ she demanded as the lift doors closed.
‘What is that?’
‘Stealing.’
‘Of course not. A view is free, belonging to everyone.’
They swept up to the top floor and stepped out into a mirrored lobby. There was a murmur of voices, tinkling piano music and glasses.
‘Please close your eyes,’ Ash ordered.
He took her hand and led her from carpet to paving. They were outside again, with a breeze fanning Ruby’s face. A little spasm of fear ran down her spine as she wondered how close the edge was.
‘You are safe,’ Ash breathed in her ear. He steered her a few more steps, then halted. ‘Now, open.’
She looked. They were in a garden on the roof of the hotel. Below them, far below, was the dusk-blue higgledy-piggledy
mass of Cairo. Lights shone in the crowded tower blocks, chains of traffic lights blinked and neon signs flashed all the way to the western horizon. The sun had set but the sky was blazing gold and orange.
‘Do you see?’ Ash murmured. His arm was round her shoulders, she could smell his skin.
‘Yes.’ She thought he meant just the view. But then, at the exact point where the dusty glitter of the city met the fiery sky, she saw three sharp triangular cut-outs pasted against the glow. ‘Oh.’
Ruby leaned forward, hands on the rooftop rail, taking in her first glimpse of the Pyramids. They looked so close, almost part of the city itself. It made her think of how these buildings and domes and streets had crept from the banks of the Nile all the way out into the desert. She had always imagined the Pyramids surrounded by empty seas of sand, but seeing them like this made them seem even stranger and more unreal.
‘You like it?’
‘Yes. I like it very much.’
The sky was fading. The pianist in the rooftop bar played more loudly and guests in evening dress drifted out to look at the view.
‘We have to go,’ Ash muttered. A man in a black tailcoat headed briskly towards them.
‘Hello.’ Ruby grinned at him.
‘I am afraid this is a private party, Madam.’
‘Sorry. Lost our way. We’re just leaving.’
As they reached the lobby a waiter carrying a silver tray of drinks passed them and with a smooth movement, flashing him a smile at the same time, Ruby helped herself to a tall glass. In the lift, they leaned back against the padded wall. The glass was beaded with condensation, decorated with a straw and mint and rattling with chunks of ice. She handed it with a flourish to Ash. He gave it a longing stare and then the day’s thirst overcame him. He sucked down two-thirds of the Coca-Cola with a single swallow, then politely handed the glass back to Ruby.
‘No. It’s all for you,’ she told him.
Outside again, it was night-time. Darkness descended here like a curtain falling.
Hand in hand, Ruby and Ash walked back to the bike. She felt quite comfortable this time, sitting close up to Ash with her arms tight round his waist, as they swooped through the traffic on the way home.
He stopped where Nafouz had drawn up in the taxi, only forty-eight hours ago.
‘Thank you for a nice day,’ Ruby said, realising with a shock just how long she had been out.
He touched her cheek with his fingers.
‘I will come again?’
‘Yeah. I mean yes, I’d like you to.’
‘I am your Cairo boyfriend?’
When Nafouz made the same suggestion she had laughed at him. But Ash’s wanting to set out the terms in this way made Ruby feel modest, and also shy in a way that she hadn’t done since she was twelve.
‘If you want to be.’ I am blushing, she realised.
He leaned over and kissed her in the same tentative way. As if she might break.
‘How will I hear from you?’ she asked.
His eyes widened. ‘I will be here. I find you.’
‘See you, then.’
She rapped hard on the sun-blistered door of Iris’s house, and heard Ash accelerating away.
The door swung open.
At the sight of her Mamdooh moved fast. He propelled Ruby into the house and locked the door, dropping the key out of sight in the pocket of his galabiyeh.
‘Miss. You have been away many hours.’
‘Sorry. I …’
‘Sorry not good enough. You make Mum-reese worry, Auntie worry, and myself.’
He was breathless with anger.
‘I …’
‘Cairo people not bad, but you are young woman, know nothing. Some places dangerous for you.’
He didn’t know anything either, Ruby thought. She couldn’t deal with being treated as if she were ten years old. London wasn’t a safe place, but she knew how to look after herself. She was here, wasn’t she? It was Jas who had gone under, Jas who was kind and friendly to everyone, and just a bit fucked up.
Auntie came down the inner staircase and darted straight at Ruby. Ruby braced herself for another rebuke, but Auntie took her hands and lifted them, pressing the knuckles to her own mouth. Her eyes were almost hidden in the fans of wrinkles but there were tears at the corners. Awkwardly, Ruby detached one of her hands and put it on Auntie’s shoulder. She was so small, it was like comforting a child.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Ruby began.
She had said the same words often enough before, but Auntie’s tears made her feel something different. Or maybe it was remembering Jas, or all the impressions of the day piling up inside her. Without warning she started crying again herself, beginning with a dry sob and then with her face puckering and the tears breaking out as if something hard had burst inside her.
Instantly, Auntie gathered her in her arms. She held Ruby like an infant, murmuring in Arabic and patting her hands and rubbing her arms. Mamdooh put a very big, clean and folded handkerchief into her hand.
‘You have had trouble today? Someone has tried to hurt you?’
‘No, no. I made a friend. His name is Ashraf, his brother is the taxi driver, and he … he works in the Bab al-Futuh Hospital. He showed me Garden City and a view of the Pyramids from the top of a hotel. I didn’t mean to stay out so long. How is my grandmother? What did the doctor say?’
Auntie said something in Arabic and Mamdooh nodded.
‘She is resting.’
‘Can I go up and see her?’
The old people held her between them now, one on either side.
‘First you must have food. After, you can take some tea for her. It is better you are not crying.’
Ruby understood the sense of that. And the breakfast of two eggs she had eaten in Khan al-Khalili was a long time ago.
The kitchen was quite cosy in the light from a pair of oil lamps, and there was a good smell of food. Ruby noticed how Mamdooh and Auntie moved between the table and a wood-fired oven as wordlessly as if they were part of the same organism. Mamdooh laid out spoons and three brown bowls, Auntie brought out a blackened pot from the oven. Flat bread was laid on a wooden platter, and coarse salt in a smaller bowl. They must have lived and worked together for so many years they didn’t need to discuss anything, certainly not to make bargains and score points the way Lesley and Andrew or Will and Fiona endlessly did.
They all sat down together. Ruby reached for the bread at once, then realised that the two old people were watching her, waiting for something. She wondered blankly what it could be, and then it struck her. She cast about in her mind. Her first school, the first of many, had been a Church primary. ‘Forwhatweareabouttoreceive,’ she mumbled, ‘maytheLordmakeustrulythankful.’
This seemed to fit the bill. They were being respectful of her religion. Mamdooh nodded gravely, then lifted the lid off the pot.
It had been quite a day, one way and another, Ruby thought. She had been kissed as if she had been playing Spin the Bottle at a kids’ party, and she had said grace.
Mamdooh noticed the smile that transformed her. ‘That is better. Now please eat some of this very good food.’
It was good. Chick peas and tomatoes, and some thick but tender meat. In reply to Mamdooh’s questions she told them a little about Ash and where they had spent the day.
Afterwards, Ruby carried the plates to the big old sink and Auntie showed her how they were to be washed and dried, and where to put them away.
Mamdooh prepared a tray. There was the little silver teapot and a bunch of fresh mint leaves, sugar and a glass cup in a worn silver holder. There was also a medicine bottle, a glass and some pills.
‘You like to come up now, Miss, to Mum-reese?’
‘Please call me Ruby, you know? Shall I carry that?’
‘It is for me to do, thank you.’
Ruby said goodnight to Auntie, who wrapped her arms round her again and showed her few remaining teeth in a wide smile. Ruby guessed that they had both fo
rgiven her.
The lamp was on beside Iris’s bed, but the rest of the room was dim. Her eyes had been closed, but as soon as Mamdooh came in with Ruby behind him she opened them. At first, the expression was blank. If there was anything in the depths, it was bewilderment. But then Iris saw Ruby. Her lips moved and she tried to sit up against the pillows.
‘There you are,’ she said.
How long have I been ill this time?
I have had the lurid, monstrous dreams of a high fever, but not so many of them. I am sure it was only this morning that the doctor came, the young Frenchman called Nicolas Grosseteste. His senior partner was my doctor for many years, although I rarely needed his opinion. But poor Alphonse is dead now and Doctor Nicolas is capable enough, in his superior way. He thinks I am old and frail, but I am not quite as frail as he believes. I have had malaria and another bout would probably finish me off, but it is not malaria this time. My immune system is weakened from many years of living in equatorial climates and I am susceptible to fevers. But I feel better tonight. Seeing the child makes me feel better.
Mamdooh gives me a glass of tea.
‘Shall I hold it for you?’ Ruby asks.
‘I am not paralysed.’
‘I’ll just sit here, then.’
Mamdooh rattles the medicine bottle. I take it from him and read the label, and then the bottle of pills. There is a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and linctus for my chest. So Nicolas doesn’t think that I am about to die either.
‘Thank you. Ruby will sit with me, Mamdooh. She can help me to get ready for bed.’
He wishes us goodnight and goes away, closing the door. I sip my tea. Ruby looks less sulky than she did – when – yesterday?
‘Talk to me,’ I order. And then it comes over me, warm, loosening my limbs like a shot of pethidine, the luxury of it.
Talk to me. How long since I have said that to a living soul?
