Whispers in the Sand (27 page)

They bring more spades and crowbars to break down the door and penetrate the secret of the tomb, excited, always afraid, but driven to strength by their greed. A hole is made at the corner of the door, and the dead, empty air, baked hot by a hundred thousand suns, exhales like the breath of the underworld from the darkness.

Behind them there are eyes; watchers in the night who draw closer under the desert moon.

Betrayal brings death. It is the word of the pharaoh. If the priests stir in the inner fastness which holds them; if the ray of sunlight, only a pinpoint through that small chipped hole, touches the “ka” of either man, there is no one now to see. The hot wind blows. In a day, a week, a month, the sand has heaped once more against the door, and the hole has gone. All is dark again.

After Andy had gone, Anna stood unmoving for several seconds before going to the door and turning the key in the lock. Had he been drunk? She wasn’t sure. He had certainly been melodramatic and was increasingly beginning to annoy her. On the other hand, could he be right about Toby? She went over and took the diary out of the drawer and stood, holding it clutched against her chest, deep in thought.

Toby was an attractive man, challenging to be with. Her initial resentment had changed to one of intrigued tolerance and then even to a feeling of genuine friendship. No more than that. But his reticence and his abrupt manner meant that, in fact, she knew nothing at all about him or his background, other than that he was a talented painter. She frowned. There was an angry defensive side to Toby; it was what she had resented so passionately when they first met, and there was a dark side, easily sparked in the course of what seemed the most innocent remark. But that didn’t make him someone to be afraid of, any more than she was afraid of Andy. The idea was ridiculous.

Sitting down, she set the diary on her knee and opened it. To Toby it was, as far as she could see, a gateway into Louisa’s creative soul. He was interested in it for its content, for its pictures, for its revelations about Louisa’s relationship with Egypt. To Andy, it was no more than a valuable artefact. The name Louisa Shelley meant nothing to him beyond its monetary worth. Still flustered and upset, she looked down at the page of slanted writing in front of her. To her, it was the gateway to another world. And a world that, just at this moment, she was finding infinitely seductive, if a little frightening; certainly preferable to worrying about these men and their increasingly unpredictable behaviour. Determinedly, she put them both out of her head and set about getting ready for bed.

It was very early. A transparent wisp of mist hung over the Nile, unmoving in the dawn light, as Louisa, wrapped in a woollen shawl, climbed on deck and went to stand at the stern of the boat. She could see some of the crew swabbing down the deck in the bow, but they were concentrating on their work and seemed not to see her.

“Sitt Louisa?” Hassan appeared only moments later. His feet were bare on the cool planking, and she had not heard him approach.

She turned towards him and smiled. Her heart had leapt at the sound of his voice. Behind him two egrets flew low over the water, heading downstream. On a nearby
dahabeeyah
, the crew were making ready to raise the sail. The early night caught their colourful clothes in a patch of busy movement. At sunrise, the wind would come, blowing from the north.

“You are all right? You are not afraid, after last night?” Hassan’s voice was grave.

She shook her head. “I hope the crew is not upset about being searched. That was not my idea. I know no one on the boat would have taken my scent bottle. Especially not you!”

He gave a wry smile. “Sir John was not to know that. There was murmuring amongst the crew, but I have set it right with them, do not worry.” He held her eye for a moment. “They say there was no river pirate. There could not have been.”

“No.” She turned away from him. “As you know, the scent bottle was found safely. It was in my cabin, as I suspect it had been all along.”

“And the man?” Hassan’s voice was so quiet she barely heard it.

“Was a spirit. My hand passed through him.”

Turning to face Hassan, she saw him pale visibly. “
Allah yehannin aleik!
May God have mercy on thee!” He swallowed. “It was a djinni?”

“A priest of Ancient Egypt. And that means that the story on the paper is true. You have given me a relic protected by a servant of one of the old gods of this country.” She looked back at the river. The mist had dispersed, and in places the water was turning blue. Tell me what to do, Hassan. Do I keep it? Do I give it to Lord Carstairs as he wishes, or do I throw it into the river and allow Sobek the crocodile god to take it back into the darkness?”

“It should be at the will of God, Sitt Louisa.
Inshallah!”

“But what is the will of God, Hassan?” She pulled her shawl around her with a shiver.

His shrug was all the answer she got. Instead he adroitly changed the subject. “You wish to go to Philae today? To see the temple of Isis at the head of the cataract?”

She shook her head. “Not today. The Forresters will think that I am deserting them. Let’s go tomorrow. If we leave sufficiently early, there will be no one to suggest otherwise, and we can have the whole day there.”

He bowed. “I will arrange it, Sitt Louisa.”

He was interrupted by a shrill voice behind her which made her jump. “Louisa! What are you doing out here? Come in at once. The boy has brought us breakfast!” Augusta was standing at the door of the saloon.

Louisa turned to Hassan. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. He bowed again. “
Naharak sa’id
, Sitt Louisa. May thy day be happy.”

Augusta ushered Louisa towards the table. “I trust Hassan is ashamed of himself. Allowing anyone to reach your cabin like that!” She seemed irritated by the incident of the night before rather than sympathetic. “I hope he will see that it does not happen again!”

“Hassan is my dragoman.” Louisa put in gently. “Not my keeper. But I am sure that he, like all the crew, would die to keep us safe.” She paused a moment to allow the rebuke to sink in, then she went on. “Tomorrow I shall go out with him again. I want to make a trip to see the temple at Philae. I should like to do a series of paintings of the ruins there. I believe they are very special and truly beautiful, set as they are on an island.”

Augusta shuddered. “I know these places are much admired. But really, they are so large and so vulgar!” She sniffed. “Nasty heathen gods!” She saw Louisa’s expression and shrugged. “I am sorry, my dear. I know you don’t agree. You will have to allow me my sensitive nature.” She helped herself to a large portion of bread and cut a slice of crumbly white cheese. “Anyway, I am glad you are not proposing to go anywhere today. Sir John has sent a message for the consul to come to the boat to hear our complaint about the thief last night.”

“But Augusta!” Louisa was horrified. “We have no clues as to who they were, no evidence—”

“We have the evidence of your eyes, my dear. That is sufficient!” Augusta glanced up and raised an imperious eyebrow as Hassan appeared in the doorway. “What is it?” She put a lump of bread in her mouth.

“Lord Carstairs, Sitt Forrester. He wishes to speak with you and with Sitt Louisa.”

They could see the tall figure of their visitor behind Hassan in the doorway.

Augusta swallowed her mouthful hastily and, flustered, raised her napkin to her lips. “Oh dear! And here we are, not properly dressed to receive guests and Sir John still in bed.’” She glanced at Louisa’s shawl and then down at her own simple skirt and pale blouse.

There was no time to demur. Lord Carstairs was already bowing to them, dismissing Hassan with a gesture of his hand.

“So, I trust you enjoyed our trip to the obelisk yesterday,” he said at last to Louisa when Augusta finally drew breath after her lengthy description of Louisa’s ordeal the night before. When told that the scent bottle had been stolen then miraculously returned, Louisa had seen him frown sharply, then relax, seemingly unperturbed. He made no further mention of the matter, and when, after he had received a cup of coffee from the servant, he turned to her again, it was with a question. “Are you planning any more sightseeing, Mrs. Shelley?”

Louisa was about to deny any plans when Augusta jumped in. “Indeed she is, Lord Carstairs. She is planning to go to Philae. Perhaps you’re going there yourself?”

Louisa gritted her teeth against the retort she wanted to make. There was no point in being rude to her hostess, who no doubt meant well. Instead, she rose to her feet. “I should certainly like to go there if there is time.” She managed what she hoped was a gracious smile. “Maybe on our way back downriver after we have been to Abu Simbel? And I understand from the
reis
that he will take some two or three days to negotiate the cataract. Maybe I shall take the opportunity to leave the boat then and go on ahead. There is plenty of time to decide.” She nodded to them both. “Please, Lord Carstairs, don’t get up. Forgive me, but there are letters I have to write this morning if they are to catch the steamer before we set off.”

Leaving the saloon with perhaps more haste than decorum, she made her way to her own small cabin and threw open the door.

The knock on the door made Anna jump out of her skin. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was after midnight. Putting down the diary, she climbed out of bed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Andy. I am sorry it’s so late. I need to talk to you.”

She frowned, then reluctantly she turned the key and opened the door.

Andy eyed her thin cotton nightshirt and the long expanse of her tanned legs and grinned. “I hope you weren’t asleep.” He glanced at the bed where the bedside light and the discarded diary told their own story.

“No, I wasn’t asleep.” Anna was still holding the door. She made no move to invite him in. “I think you’ve said enough for one night, Andy. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“It’s the diary. It’s worrying me. I wanted to offer to look after it for you. I am sorry, Anna, but I really don’t trust Toby Hayward. I have a feeling he might try and either persuade you to give it to him, or he might just take it.”

“That is a ludicrous idea! How dare you suggest such a thing!” Anna took a deep breath. “Andy, it’s my diary, and what I do with it is really none of your business.”

They were talking in whispers, aware that everyone else on the boat was asleep. The corridor outside her cabin was lit only by a small lamp at the end by the staircase.

She took a deep breath. “Now please go. Leave me alone.”

He looked at her, a half-calculating expression in his eyes. In a moment it was veiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He stepped back, and as if as an afterthought he put his hand out and gently touched her bare arm. “Anna, I’m only worried because I care.” Before she realised what he was doing, he reached out and caught her to him and almost apologetically he pressed a light kiss on her lips, then he released her. With the quick boyish smile of one who is confident he will be forgiven if he looks sufficiently contrite, he blew a second kiss and turned away.