Whispers in the Sand (26 page)

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Authors: Barbara Erskine

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: Whispers in the Sand
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She realised suddenly that she was trembling all over.

“It’s all right, Anna.” Serena hauled herself up out of her chair and perched on the edge of Anna’s to put her arm round her shoulders. “You’re safe. There’s no one there now.”

“What’s wrong?” Andy was suddenly standing beside them. Obviously he had been watching them and heard her cry out. “Isn’t she well? Can I do anything?” His voice was sharp with concern.

Serena looked up. “Thanks. She’s fine. Just a touch of the sun and too much walking.” She glanced round and found a dozen pairs of curious eyes fixed on them. Most people looked away at once when they saw she had noticed them, but Ben had levered himself upright and was coming over.

Anna rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. “It’s OK. Please, don’t fuss.”

Andy squatted down beside the chair. He smelt gently but not unpleasantly of beer. “You don’t look OK. You’re white as a sheet. Do you want me to help you to your cabin?”

“No. No, thank you.” She glanced down to where he had put a gentle hand over the back of hers. She didn’t shake it off. “I’m fine, Andy. Honestly.”

“It’s very easy to get too much sun without realising it. Why not go down on the afterdeck under the awning? It’s cooler there, and I’ll get you a nice cold drink.”

Suddenly it seemed easier not to argue, and the offer anyway was tempting. With a furtive backward glance towards the bows, she stood up and let Andy and Ben lead her towards the shade. Serena gathered up their belongings and followed.

If anyone noticed a slight shadow hovering for a moment over the display of potted plants on the deck, they might have thought it came from one of the men who were ushering her towards the steps.

Once she was comfortably ensconced at one of the shaded tables, Andy disappeared to find her a drink. Serena sat down opposite her. “It could be imagination.” She shrugged.

Anna gave a small laugh. “Perhaps they’re right, and I have had too much sun.” Looking up, she gave a small grimace. “I just want to be a tourist, Serena.”

“I know.”

“I could leave it there, in the earth. Or throw it in the Nile.”

“You could.”

“But it’s part of my heritage! My great-aunt would never forgive me if I went home without it.”

“I’m sure she would if she knew what had happened.”

“How could I tell her? ‘By the way, Aunty Phyl, that lovely little scent bottle you gave me when I was a small child turned out to be cursed.’” She closed her eyes and shook her head miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ve told you, give it to Omar to lock up. We’ve got some exciting trips over the next few days. We won’t be on the boat much. We don’t start the return cruise until we come back from the two days in Abu Simbel. Relax. Be a tourist.” She smiled. “And enjoy being the centre of attention!” She had glanced over Anna’s head and spotted Andy approaching with a tray of drinks.

Anna followed her gaze and nodded ruefully. “I’m not sure even that is without its complications. I can’t believe your flatmate has hung up her duelling pistols yet!”

Serena snorted. “Probably not. But at least there is something very earthy about Charley. You don’t have to worry that she might dematerialise or suddenly appear as a wraith in your shower.”

When Andy put his tray down, they were laughing. He smiled. “Feeling better?”

Anna nodded. “You were right. Too much sun. All I needed was some shade.”

It was after supper, as she was sitting with Serena in the lounge, that Toby came over. Andy was sitting at the bar. She suspected he had already had several drinks.

Toby perched on the edge of a sofa near them. “I think I owe you an apology, Anna. Sorry if I trod on any toes this afternoon.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t. Not really.”

“No, you were right. It was none of my business.”

Serena stood up. Anna frowned. “Are you going?” Serena nodded. “Forgive me. I’m so tired. I don’t think I have ever been so exhausted or slept so well on a holiday before. Their policy seems to be to wear you out and then feed you until you can’t move. Combine that with the heat, and it works.” She chuckled. “I’ll say goodnight to you both. Don’t forget we have another long day tomorrow.”

They watched her walk slowly towards the door. “Nice woman.” Toby beckoned over one of the Nubian waiters. “Can I get you a drink, Anna? Another peace offering.” He smiled.

She sat back on the sofa and nodded. “Thanks. A beer would be nice.” Anna glanced at him sideways. She studied him with a quizzical smile. How could one man irritate so much one minute and intrigue her so much the next?

They sat in silence for a while, watching the others. It was she who spoke first. “What do you do with all your sketches?” she asked curiously, as Ali put down the glasses on the table. “Do you work them up in your cabin or something, or will they all wait until you get home?”

“Most will wait.” He signed the chit and tossed it back onto the tray. “I have been working on one or two. I need to do some of it quickly to keep the colour, the heat, the light, in my head.” He waved his arms as he spoke, drawing outlines in the air in front of him. “One thinks one won’t forget; the images are so vivid, so intense, but half an hour back in Blighty with its soft greens and mists and cloudy skies, and that intensity will begin to blur.” He picked up his glass and rolled it thoughtfully between his palms. “Painters are greedy. They want to capture ideas and keep them imprisoned on the paper or canvas. They gloat over them. They pin them down like butterflies, wanting to trap the living essence of everything they see.”

Anna smiled. She suspected he did not often reveal his inner thoughts like this, even perhaps to himself, and she was flattered that he trusted her enough to reveal his enthusiasm. “I envy you your creativity.”

“Why?” Again the acerbic tone, the sudden direct look, which she found so disconcerting. “Anna, remember, you are a photographer. It is the same for you, your medium is different, that’s all.”

“No. No, it’s not the same at all. You have genuine passion. Commitment. And you do it professionally. Felix was right. I just play at it.”

“Art as a hobby can be just as passionate as you put it, just as all-encompassing as when you do it as a profession. After all, how do you know you won’t want to do it professionally one day? You are good and you have proved it, and you have that depth of understanding, that sense of rapport as you focus on your subjects which I suspect could make you more than good. It could make you first class.”

He raised his eyes to hers. She could feel the colour coming to her cheeks under the intensity of his gaze.

Toby buried his face in his glass, and she had the feeling that he was as embarrassed by his revelations as she was. When he looked up, he was calm again. “Louisa felt it, of course. The all-embracing intensity of this country. You can tell from her work. It must show in her diary too.” He was changing the subject, and they both knew it. He put his head on one side. “Would this be a good time to be allowed to look at it?”

Anna laughed. “You’re not going to give up till I show it to you, are you?”

“Nope.” Toby shook his head.

“OK.” She stood up.

She hadn’t really intended him to follow her. She meant to go back to her cabin, collect the diary, and bring it back to their corner of the lounge. She pictured them continuing to sit together in companionable silence over another drink or a cup of coffee while he leafed slowly through the book. But he stood up with her, draining his glass as he did so, and when she tried to stop him with deprecating gestures of hands and shoulders, he merely smiled and kept moving.

As she threaded her way past the knots of other drinkers, she felt Andy’s eyes on her. She didn’t look at him.

She left the cabin door open. “Let’s take it and go back to the lounge,” she said as firmly as she could. She didn’t feel threatened or unsafe with him, just a little overcrowded; as though she needed to hold her breath or there wouldn’t be enough air for them both in the small space.

The diary was on the bedside table. He spotted it instantly and, sitting down on the bed, picked it up. Immediately he opened it, holding it gently on his opened palms with a reverence she found suddenly very touching.

“Toby?”

There was no reply. She doubted if he had heard her. She stood leaning against the cupboard, watching fascinated as he slowly turned the pages, devouring the book.

Neither of them heard the step in the corridor outside. Only as the door was pushed back against the wall did Anna see Andy standing there looking at them.

“I want a word, Anna!” He sounded inexplicably angry. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

She frowned as the restrained violence in his voice finally got through to Toby, who glanced up, resting the diary on his knee, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Perhaps you could excuse us, Toby.” Andy stepped into the cabin. I’ll put this away, I think.” Before Toby had a chance to react Andy had taken the diary off his knees. He pulled open the drawer in the bedside table and put the diary inside, then he slammed the drawer shut.

“Andy! What are you doing?” Anna said angrily. “How dare you barge in here like this!”

Toby stood up. His face had darkened. “What the hell is this all about?”

“A private matter.” Andy reached out as though to take his arm.

Toby flinched. “Don’t touch me, Watson. What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Nothing at all.” Andy moved back a little. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it is important I talk to Anna. Alone. If you’ll excuse us.”

“Anna?” Toby looked at her. “Are you happy with this?”

Anna was furious. She glared at Andy. “No, I’m not! Get out, Andy! I don’t know what this is all about! And I don’t care!”

“I’ll tell you what it’s about as soon as we’re alone.” Andy stepped back to the door and stood by it, very obviously ready to usher Toby outside.

Anna saw Toby hesitate. She could feel his rage and resentment. “Perhaps you’d better go, Toby. We’ll look at the diary another time,” she said. “I’ll deal with this.”

Toby hesitated, and she saw him look at Andy through narrowed eyes. For a moment she thought they were going to hit each other. Then abruptly Toby stepped past them out of the cabin. He did not look back.

Andy shut the door. She could smell the beer on his breath. “This is important, Anna.”

“Is something wrong? Whatever it is, it had better be good after that performance.”

Andy sighed. “You mustn’t trust him, you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“Toby? This is about Toby?” She was bemused.

He sat down on the bed, almost exactly where Toby had sat only minutes before, and for a moment his eyes rested on the closed drawer. “That is a very valuable item, Anna, and you are too trusting.” He slumped back against the pillows. “How much do you actually know about Toby Hayward?” There was a moment’s silence as he scrutinised her face. “I thought not.” He scowled. He stood up and made for the door. “I won’t say any more now. Not without checking, but don’t be alone with him. Ever. And don’t let that diary out of your sight.”

6

The doors of heaven are opened for me; the doors of earth are opened for me.

If the dead who lie here know the words of passage

they shall come forth by day and they shall be

in a position to journey about over the earth among the living.

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