The SS Hatshepsut was white, with blue trim, a white-and-blue smokestack and curving white paddles. It had cabin windows studded along two long, low decks, and a third covered roof deck with little white basket chairs and tables dotted about on it. Its white was lit almost gold by the morning sun, and I could see uniformed figures waiting for us at each end of the long, thin gangway.
I could smell the river, as thick and rich as the green soup we had been served in Cairo – or perhaps that was the laden donkeys, the horses pulling carriages like ours, the dust kicked up by hooves and bare feet.
Our carriages stopped, and my father jumped out and offered me his hand. I stepped down, followed by Amina, Miss Beauvais, Daisy (she took my father’s hand like a queen, her chin lifted high and her golden hair blowing back in the breeze), Pik An, Rose and May. Suddenly we were surrounded by a group of helpful men, all reaching for our cases.
‘So many daughters!’ said one of them to my father admiringly. ‘The fair one, is she married?’
The glare my father turned on him made him step backwards, his hands raised.
‘I shall never marry!’ said Daisy haughtily.
‘I thought you were going to marry a lord?’ I asked.
Daisy glared at me. ‘Hazel, I told you I have reconsidered. I shall be far too busy to marry anyone.’
‘Oh, what a pity,’ said Amina, and she winked at Daisy.
I rarely saw Daisy at a loss for words, but at this she opened her mouth several times and closed it again. Her nose wrinkled, and a flush appeared at the tops of her cheeks. And I was certain, then, of what I had guessed before. Daisy was not in Egypt for adventure at all, no matter what she had said to me.
She was here for Amina.
‘Humph,’ she said at last. ‘Hurry up and get on the boat, someone!’
I was desperate to talk to her, to ask her how she felt – but I knew perfectly well that you cannot ask Daisy Wells something like that. I had to wait for her to admit it to me.
My father was already halfway up the gangplank, May skittering round him excitedly. As I watched, she bobbed dangerously close to the edge, and my father reached out a hand and grabbed her by her pigtail.
‘You aren’t a tightrope walker, Mei,’ he said to her as she grumbled, and passed her over to Pik An, who held her tightly.
I followed them, the thin tongue of the gangplank bouncing and teetering under me in a way that brought the taste of breakfast back up in my mouth. I had not really thought of it, but this of course was a boat – and I do not do well on boats.
At last, either a moment or an eternity later, I stepped onto the polished wooden deck of the Hatshepsut, helped by a dark-skinned man with tightly curling hair who was wearing a smart uniform that matched the Hatshepsut’s blue-and-white trim.
‘Good morning, miss!’ he said to me, and turned to say the same to Daisy.
‘I am an Honourable!’ said Daisy proudly. I made a face at her. Daisy is so funny about her title.
I could see the man hesitate at the sight of all of us together. We were an odd group – May, Rose, Pik An, Father and I like no one else I had seen in Egypt, the golden blue-eyed Daisy, tired Miss Beauvais and finally Amina, quite clearly not a tourist. But he smiled politely at us and said, ‘You are Mr Wong’s party, I presume? Welcome, honoured guests!’
Another man in livery put a drink into my hand, something dark red and sweet. It looked a little like blood, I thought to myself, and then told myself how silly I was being.
‘They are not all my daughters,’ said Father, and the curly-haired man laughed in relief – and then tried to pretend he had not.
‘I am Mr Mansour,’ he said, nodding his head to Father. ‘I am the manager of the Hatshepsut, and my crew and I will be attending to all your needs while you are onboard. Anything you require, anything at all, you must ask for immediately. Please do not hesitate! Our porters will now carry your bags to your cabins, which are all on the starboard side of our saloon deck. Mr Wong, sir, you are in cabin eight, a room with a bathroom ensuite. Miss Rose Wong and Miss May Wong are in cabin six, Miss El Maghrabi and Miss Beauvais are in cabin ten and Miss Hazel Wong and Miss Daisy Wells are in cabin twelve, as agreed. The maid is in cabin twenty-four, on the lower deck.’
‘Good,’ said my father. ‘Now, Hazel—’
But then he paused, staring over my head at some more passengers who had just begun to climb the gangplank.
‘Goodness,’ he said. ‘I think – I think I know that boy. Hazel, wasn’t he on the train with us last year? I could have sworn … but it can’t be, can it?’
Suddenly I was barely able to breathe, tingling from head to toe with excitement and dread, all at once. I wanted to look, but I couldn’t.
Daisy, though, was looking. ‘Oh heavens,’ she said, and her face was alight with mingled amusement and annoyance. ‘I do believe you’re right. We know him.’
9
I turned round – and there was a tall blond boy next to a dark one, walking up the gangplank in front of a harassed, sunburnt man who was carrying a pile of books and luggage.
‘Hazel Wong!’ hissed Daisy in my ear, and I knew I was in the most dreadful trouble. I also knew, as the blond boy caught my eye and beamed at me, that I did not care.
My letter had worked.
Alexander raised his arm and waved, and I waved back.
‘Wong Fung Ying, what on earth is this?’ said my father.
I felt myself blushing red to the very tips of my fingers.
‘What a coincidence,’ I said stiffly. ‘It’s the boy from the Orient Express – Alexander Arcady. He seems to be here with his friend George.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ said George to Mr Mansour politely. ‘We are here for the Nile cruise. We are George Mukherjee and Alexander Arcady, and this is our tutor, Mr Young.’
‘Good morning, sirs,’ said Mr Mansour. ‘Welcome to our honoured guests, Mr Mukherjee, Mr Arcady and Mr Young! Mr Mukherjee and Mr Arcady, you have room two, and Mr Young has room four, both on the starboard side.’
‘Starboard!’ cried Mr Young, his face flushed with the heat. ‘But I have been told never to accept a starboard cabin on the way to Aswan. It gets the afternoon sun – it’s no good for learning! As you can see, I do not – I do not do well in the heat. I must be in a condition to impart knowledge to these boys. I am their tutor, you see, introducing them to the sights of Egypt. Their parents have entrusted me with their care, and they expect them to come back full of learning, not heatstroke.’
‘I’m afraid these were the last available cabins on the saloon deck,’ said Mr Mansour. ‘I do apologize – you see, there has been quite a lot of interest in this cruise. There is another party – they booked the port side months ago, whereas your booking was quite last-minute. I was only able to accommodate you because of a late cancellation – a lady novelist and her companion were booked into your rooms, but she changed the reservation to February next year.’
‘This is simply not good enough,’ said Mr Young. ‘I shall be making a complaint, mark my words.’ Then he noticed us all staring and coughed awkwardly. ‘Good morning,’ he said loudly and slowly. ‘How do you do?’
I could tell that he expected us not to be able to understand English. My father glared at him. ‘Good morning, sir. I must confess that I am surprised to see your party here,’ he snapped. ‘I know one of your charges – Mr Arcady. Mr Arcady, can you explain yourself? Why are you here on this ship today? Or, even better, perhaps my daughter can illuminate this curious occurrence. Wong Fung Ying, explain.’
I suddenly found myself very short of breath. I twisted my hands together and tried desperately not to look at Alexander, who was uncomfortably red. Daisy was digging her fingers into my arm in suppressed glee.
‘Mr Wong, sir, I think I can explain what happened,’ said George unexpectedly.
I jerked my head up to look at him in shock. Was he about to ruin everything?
But then George glanced at me – o
ne quick flicker of his eyes – and I knew that everything would be all right.
‘You see,’ George went on, smooth and smiling, ‘we all met last Christmas, in Cambridge. My brother’s at St John’s College – my father went there, and I’m expected to go as well. We became friendly, and while we were in London in the spring we spent some time together at the British Museum. We were all quite fascinated by the Egyptian collection, and the mummies in particular—’
(I flinched, Alexander coughed and Daisy looked quite unconcerned – she is as good at pretending as George.)
‘— and, after that, all we could talk of was seeing Egypt itself one day. So Hazel must have spoken to you, sir, and Alexander and I to our parents – and the result is that we’re all here at once! It’s the most incredible coincidence.’
‘Coincidence,’ said my father slowly, looking from me, to Alexander, to Daisy, and finally back to George. ‘Aren’t you the boys – Hazel, aren’t these boys the ones who were there at that mur—’
‘They were there,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Just like us, but that’s all. Everything just happened, Father, really – you know I’ve told you that sometimes things just happen to us—’
‘Hum!’ said my father. ‘WELL! The thing is done, the ship has been booked and it is about to sail. I can’t exactly get off it with five girls in tow. BUT, Wong Fung Ying, I am saying this now. Things had better not just happen to you on this holiday.’
‘Of course not, Father,’ I said – and, for a moment, I almost believed myself.
10
The boat’s horn sounded, a long-drawn-out howl that made us all jump.
‘Almost time to set sail,’ said Mr Young to Mr Mansour. ‘I do not see any sign of that other party, so I shall be asking for the portside cabins, if you please.’
‘I wish I could, sir,’ said Mr Mansour unhappily. ‘But I believe that is them now.’
He pointed – and there, to my amazement, were the carriages commandeered by Theodora Miller and her group, pulling up in a cloud of dust. I could hear Mrs Miller bellowing at her driver, a man with an absolutely desperate look on his face.
‘YOU’VE TAKEN US THE LONG WAY ROUND! YOU HAVE! WELL, I SHAN’T BE PAYING YOU! HEPPY, GET OUT! NO, NOT LIKE THAT! MORE REFINEMENT! DANIEL, HELP HER!’
The young man – Daniel – jumped easily out of the second carriage and reached up his hand to the struggling Heppy, her curly hair spilling awkwardly out of its plait down around her face, and her legs quite tangled up in her dress. For a moment, Heppy glanced up at the ship, and us, her expression just as lost and frightened as our friend Beanie’s when she is being told off. She caught my eye, and she must have seen the horror on my face for she ducked her head again quickly.
The group approached the gangplank. Theodora Miller sailed up it like a ship herself, and came face to face with Mr Mansour.
‘I am THEODORA MILLER,’ she told him. ‘I am here with my party to connect with ancient Egypt. You see, we are originally from this country. In our first lives.’
‘Greetings, honoured guests,’ said Mr Mansour, rather weakly, glancing from Theodora Miller’s firm face to his clipboard and back again. ‘You are welcome onboard. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask us. Now let me see. Your party—’
‘I take it I am in one of the cabins with a bathroom?’ Theodora asked. ‘Hurry up, man – tell us!’
‘Yes, er, madam, of course,’ said Mr Mansour, now thoroughly thrown. ‘You are in the ensuite cabin on the port side, number seven. Your daughter, Miss Hephzibah Miller, is in cabin one, your son Mr Daniel Miller is in cabin three, Miss Ida Doggett is in ensuite cabin five, Mr Narcissus DeWitt is in cabin nine and Miss Rhiannon Bartleby is in cabin eleven.’
‘But I require an ensuite bathroom as well,’ said wrinkly old Narcissus DeWitt. ‘This is simply not good enough, man!’
Up close, I realized that Mr DeWitt’s gold hair was so shiny because it was dyed. It was an odd, almost greenish colour, and it clung to his head like a helmet. It was hard not to stare at it, and at his wrinkles – he was even older than I had assumed.
‘But one was not booked,’ said Mr Mansour soothingly. ‘I am sorry—’
‘Theodora!’ cried Mr DeWitt. ‘How can you do this to your Thutmose?’
‘Narcissus, do be quiet,’ said Theodora Miller. ‘You were only confirmed as Thutmose last week, far too late to have booked you a bathroom.’
‘Um,’ said Mr Mansour. He dabbed at his temples with a handkerchief. ‘Forgive me, I’m not sure I understand—’
But now Heppy was speaking, brushing her hair out of her face and blinking up at Mr Mansour.
‘You see, Mr Mansour,’ she said breathlessly, glancing at Theodora Miller as she spoke, as though she was looking for approval, ‘these are all very important people. Mr DeWitt was Thutmose the Third in his past life, Miss Bartleby was Nefertiti and Miss Doggett was Cleopatra. They are all here to learn more about themselves, so you must help them in every way you can. And M— Mrs Miller is the most important of all. She is the reincarnation of the pharaoh Hatshepsut; the daughter of Amun Ra. She is a god on earth.’
11
As we changed for lunch in our wood-panelled cabin, the door firmly shut and the two neat little white beds tidily made, I was still full of what we had seen on deck. We were on the Nile with the Breath of Life Society – I felt that something astonishing and mysterious was about to happen.
‘It’s just like the Orient Express!’ I said to Daisy. She was brushing her hair, staring into the mirrored panels along one wall and pursing her lips thoughtfully. ‘It really feels like the beginning of that adventure. Only George is here too, and Amina – and Pik An, May and Rose.’
Daisy was silent for a moment. Then she put down the brush, swung round and fixed me with her blue stare.
‘Hazel Wong, did you write to Alexander?’ she asked.
I should have known that this would be on her mind, just as much as Theodora Miller and her followers. I wriggled uncomfortably – but I cannot lie to Daisy the way I can to my father. She is too close to me. Sometimes I forget that we are really two people instead of one.
‘I never thought he’d actually come!’ I protested, feeling myself flush again. ‘But yes. I wrote a letter saying we’d be here.’
‘And he did come!’ said Daisy. ‘Which says something, doesn’t it, Hazel? And I don’t quite like it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know precisely what I mean. He crossed a continent – and I don’t think he did it for me. He barely looked at me, up on deck. I started to think so in the summer, and I’m sure of it now – he’s quite done with me. On the one hand, how lucky that he’s finally got that idea out of his head! I was quite tired of telling him to go away. But, on the other, Hazel, I must say one more time that he is simply not good enough for you. His arms are too—’
‘Too long, I know!’ I snapped at her. Daisy really has used that argument far too often, and it’s not even true. When we met Alexander the summer before last, he happened to have grown out of his shirts, and he stood at an awkward angle because of that, but these days he wears perfectly nicely fitting clothes and is hardly awkward at all. ‘I wish you wouldn’t say that. And he isn’t not good enough for me. He’s nice and I like him. Why shouldn’t I? Anyway, I don’t ever tell you that people aren’t good enough for you. I wouldn’t say a single bad thing about Amina! I think she’s lovely.’
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I froze, staring at Daisy, who was frozen, staring back at me, as though we were mirror images of each other.
‘What are you talking about?’ gasped Daisy. ‘I am NOT in love with Amina! I – I – why would you say that, Hazel?’
Her trembling fingers clamped round my wrist so tight my bones clicked.
‘I didn’t mean to!’ I protested. ‘I’m sorry, Daisy. It’s only that – well, she didn’t invite us to Egypt because of me. That’s obvious.’
; Daisy shook her head, her cheeks pink with emotion. ‘Hazel, I – I will not be drawn into this conversation. It’s not relevant or important and – I don’t want to hear you mention it again. Can’t we talk about something more interesting, such as the fact that we’re on a boat with at least four pharaohs, one of whom thinks she is also a god?’
‘They’re not really pharaohs, or gods,’ I said. ‘They’re just ordinary people.’ I was glad to be moving away from the awkwardness of our talk about Amina and Alexander. The Breath of Life felt easy in comparison.
‘Of course they are. As if the pharaohs would decide to come back as them! As, um, Amina says’ – here Daisy blushed again – ‘they’re not even Egyptian. It makes no sense. But isn’t it fascinating? We’re on a ship with a cult! Oh, Hazel, how delicious! Do you think they’ll do dark rituals with human sacrifices, and summon Satan, and things?’
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘The ancient Egyptians didn’t do human sacrifices, Daisy, and they didn’t believe in Satan.’
‘Oh, all right, Osiris, then,’ said Daisy.
I opened my mouth to say that I was sure Amina would have some cutting things to say about the way Daisy was inventing facts about ancient Egypt, but reconsidered.
‘Isn’t Egypt wonderful!’ said Daisy, sitting down on her bed and bouncing happily on it. ‘All the rules have gone out of the window!’
‘They haven’t! It’s still a country, just like England. It’s like being in Hong Kong, Daisy: there are still rules, even if they aren’t the ones you’re used to. That’s what Mrs Miller and the Breath of Life don’t understand.’
‘I know,’ said Daisy, sighing. ‘I was teasing. But it is thrilling. Strange things will happen on this trip, you’ll see!’
Her eyes were sparkling – but, all the same, I don’t think she had even an inkling of how strange things were about to get. I certainly did not. I remember that moment now – before anything had happened at all – when we were still happy, and with our friends, and bowling beautifully along the bright-coloured river under the sun, and my heart aches.
Death Sets Sail Page 4
