Whispers in the Sand (32 page)

“Andy!” She raised her hand. “Stop right there. I am not a fool. Please, don’t patronise me. I know what I saw.”

He shrugged. His smile was, as ever, charming. “In that case, I apologise.”

“I saw the second priest just now,” she went on. “Here. Almost where you were standing. He wasn’t dressed in a
galabiyya
, he was dressed in a lion’s skin. That was why I wanted to throw the bottle away. I was afraid.”

He shook his head. “The whole thing sounds very strange, and perhaps I see why you were tempted to throw the bottle away. But there must be some other solution, surely.”

“I thought Serena had the answer.”

He shook his head forcefully. “Please, don’t get involved with her over this stuff. I suggest you put that away,” he glanced at the bottle, “and forget it. Concentrate on enjoying your holiday. Why didn’t you go with the others this morning? Serena and Charley were all revved up to learn how to haggle in the bazaar and spend lots of money on exotic things.”

She smiled faintly. What was the use of trying to explain her feelings? “I overslept.”

“Ah. Too much reading into the small hours!” His grin broadened. Neither of them had mentioned the previous night’s activities, but suddenly the memory of his kiss hung in the air between them. He leant forward and patted the chair next to him. “Listen, you look so poised for flight, standing there. Why don’t you sit down for a bit, and I’ll go down and get us both a drink. The others will be back before long, and after lunch there is a coach coming to take us to see the high dam. That will be worth visiting. And your genie of the bottle won’t be able to get you there.” His tone was conciliatory.

She frowned. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“Anna, my dear—”

Her irritation was mounting. “No. Excuse me, Andy, but I have things to do in my cabin. I’ll see you at lunch.” Picking up her bag, she tucked the bottle into it and began to walk away.

“Anna! Don’t be cross. I’m sorry, I really am. I’m sure you do think you’ve seen something. Perhaps you have.” His voice followed her across the deck. Then its tone changed. “Anna, listen to me. Before you go, there is something important I must tell you. I was thinking last night. About Toby—”

She stopped. Slowly, she turned round. He had levered himself out of the chair and was following her. When he saw her pause, he halted in his tracks. “There is something in his past. I was right. It’s something serious. I don’t gossip, but this is a small boat, and you have clearly caught his attention and I think you should know, I’m fairly sure where I remember seeing his name now. And his face. It was in the papers. He was indicted for something very serious.” He paused. Anna waited, her bag on her shoulder, half of her wanting to leave, half wanting to stay and hear what he had to say.

“I think he was accused of killing his wife, Anna.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I don’t believe you!”

“I hope I’m wrong. But I had to tell you. Just to make sure you’re careful.”

“I will be.” She was stunned. And very angry. Angry at Toby and angry at Andy. “That is gossip, Andy. You don’t know for sure, and anyway, whatever it was, it is clearly in the past, or he would not be here now!” She spun on her heel and made for the steps. She didn’t wait to see if he followed.

Letting herself into her cabin, she threw the bag on the bed. All thoughts of the bottle had vanished. She was thinking about Toby.

“Shit!” She stared at herself in the dressing table mirror for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed, but whether with anger or from standing on deck in the sun she wasn’t sure. Her eyes filled with tears. It was all too much. The sleepless night, the bottle, the ghostly apparition on deck and now this. She was, she realised suddenly, desperately hoping that Andy was wrong. That Toby was not the man he thought. And she was also certain that she had had enough of them both and their insatiable desire to get their hands on her scent bottle or the diary.

Turning furiously towards the bed, she took the bottle out of her bag. Glancing round the cabin, she held it out. “OK, Anhotep or Hatsek, whoever you are! Where are you? If you’re there, why don’t you take the damn thing?” Her voice was shaking. “If it’s so special and precious, why didn’t you take it a long time ago? Why wait till now?” She paused. “Or did you have to wait for me to bring it back to Egypt? Is that it? Nothing happened as long as we were in cold old England! But now we’re here, you want it for yourself. Fine. Take it. Have it!” She held it out, turning slowly round in a circle. “No? No takers? Well then, leave me alone! If I so much as glimpse you once more it’s going over the side, and it will never be seen again. Never!” Pulling open the drawer in the dressing table, she tossed the bottle in and slammed it shut.

At almost the same second, there was a knock on the door. She swung round to face it, her heart hammering with fright. “Who is it?” she swallowed nervously.

“It’s me, Andy. I want to apologise.”

“There’s no need.” She made no move to open the door.

“Please, Anna, let me in.” The handle turned. She hadn’t locked the door, and it swung open. “I am truly sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to. I just thought you should know.”

“You didn’t upset me, and I wish you wouldn’t keep barging into my cabin uninvited! For your information, I couldn’t care less about Toby or his past, and I don’t care whether or not you believe me about the bottle, either!”

“Are you sure?” He gave a rueful little grimace. “You could try convincing me.”

She hesitated, glaring at him. Then she shrugged. “All right. Let me show you something.” She stepped over to the bedside table. “You think I’m imagining Anhotep? Look at what Louisa says about him. See if you believe her.”

“It’s not that I disbelieve you, Anna—”

“Yes, it is. You think I’m a neurotic fool. After all, that’s what you think of Serena, and if we believe the same things, you must think it of me, too.” She pulled the diary out of the drawer and, sitting on the bed, flipped it open.

Andy came over and sat down on the bed beside her. His eyes were fixed greedily on the book. “Show me,” he said quietly. “Show me what Louisa says about all this.”

She glanced up at him, then, quickly looking away again, she began to leaf through the pages. “OK. Look. Here: ‘I reached out to ward him off, and my hand passed through him as though he were mist.’ And here: ‘The figure was watching me…he began to move towards me, drifting over the rough paving slabs. His arms were crossed over his chest, but as he moved closer, he unfolded them and reached out towards me. I screamed…’ And look at this. And this. And look how keen Lord Carstairs was to get his hands on the bottle. Why would he be interested if it were not genuine?”

Andy made as though to take the book from her. Changing his mind at the last moment, he let his hand fall between them on the coverlet. His eyes were riveted to the open page lying on her knee. Between the blocks of close-written, slanted writing, there was a small watercolour sketch some two or three inches high. It showed a handsome Egyptian staring into the middle ground against a background of desert dunes. “Is that your ghost, Anhotep?” he asked meekly.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t say, but I think it must be Hassan, her lover.”

“Her lover!” He tore his eyes away from the diary to look at her.

She nodded. “Her dragoman. She fell in love with him as they visited the sites together. It was he who gave her the bottle as a gift.”

“Good God! That was a bit daring, wasn’t it? That crossed every sort of Victorian taboo. Class, race, and religion all in one go! Good for Louisa!”

Anna nodded. “It strikes me she was a very brave woman. There, look. There’s another description of the spirits.” Her finger traced the words across the page. “Do you believe me now?” She glanced up at him.

He rubbed his chin. “I really am not into spirits and things, Anna. Whatever it says here. I’m sorry. I always look for a more down-to-earth explanation when unusual things happen. After all, there must have been as many good-looking Egyptians floating around in white robes behaving shiftily in her day as there are in ours!” He paused, obviously aching to see what happened next. “So, leaving aside these spirits for a minute, and assuming they didn’t actually do anything beyond drifting about at Philae in the shadows, what happened when she got back to the boat? Did Carstairs pursue the bottle?”

She turned over the page. There were two sketches there, one of a felucca swooping across the Nile as the sun set behind a sand cliff and the other of a woman in Nubian costume, a veil draped over her head and part of her face, a jar balanced on her head. Beneath them the writing flew across the page, growing more and more cramped as it approached the bottom.

“‘It was nearly dark when we drew alongside the
dahabeeyah
, and Hassan threw a rope up to the
reis
, who was waiting for us. As I climbed aboard once more, uncomfortable in my respectable shoes and gown, the
reis
shook his head in some perturbation. ‘Sitt Louisa, there is big trouble! You must go at once to the saloon.’ This was followed by a tirade of Arabic directed at my poor Hassan.’”

Anna looked up. “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

Andy nodded vehemently. “I certainly do. Go on. What happened next?”

Louisa saw at once that Lord Carstairs was sitting at the table in the saloon. Near him were the two Fielding ladies and Augusta. Sir John was waiting for her by the door.

“Thank God you are safe, Louisa, my dear. Thank God!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. “We have been sick with worry!”

She frowned. “You knew where I was, surely?”

“Oh, I knew where you were, but when Roger told us some of what has happened to you, we were distraught, my dear. What a disaster! What a scandal!”

Louisa stared first at him, then at Carstairs. “What disaster, what scandal? I don’t understand.” She was suddenly suspicious. Carstairs, having stood up briefly to acknowledge her entry into the saloon, had sat down again at once and was now studying his hands, clasped on the table in front of him. He did not look up.

“Please, Lord Carstairs, what scandal is this you feel you have to report to my friends?” A sudden wave of anger gave strength to her voice, and he looked up at last to meet her eyes. She quailed slightly. The extraordinary depth of his gaze was without expression. For a moment, her mind went completely blank. Desperately she grabbed at her composure, and as she did so, he smiled. It was a smile of extraordinary warmth and radiance.

“Mrs. Shelley, forgive me. I am so sorry. It was my desperate and sincere concern for your safety which made me speak to the Forresters in the way I have. I had no intention of breaching confidences; I would never knowingly have spoken of anything which might in any way harm your good name.”

“Nor could you, my lord!” She persisted in holding his gaze and was relieved when finally he looked away. “I have done nothing which could possibly incur such an accusation. How dare you imply that I have!”

She was aware suddenly of the eyes of the others in the saloon all fixed on her face. Katherine had placed one hand gently over the swell of her stomach as though to protect her unborn child from the unspoken horrors which surrounded it. On Venetia’s face there was an expression of strange, excited, awe. Augusta looked merely embarrassed, Sir John angry, and David Fielding obviously wished himself heartily anywhere else on earth.

It was the latter who broke the silence. He had remained standing after Louisa’s arrival in the saloon and now stood, his hands clasped behind him, as though addressing a meeting. “I think, my dears, it is time we returned to our vessel. It has been a tiring day for all of us, and I am sure Mrs. Shelley would like a little time to rest and compose herself without us all here, too. Katherine?” He held out his hand to his wife, who stared at him for a moment, her face registering naked disappointment at being denied the spectacle of the first-class quarrel which seemed in the offing. Venetia, clearly also aggrieved, turned on her brother in fury. “We cannot go without Roger! We were all to spend the evening together, surely?”

David pursed his lips. “I am sure Roger will forgive us on this occasion. We can always meet once more tomorrow.”

His mild-mannered politeness belied the determined note which had entered his voice. In seconds, Katherine had levered herself to her feet, and shortly after that, Venetia found herself with no option but to stand up as well.

Watching them make their farewells and troop up on deck to call their boatman, Louisa at last sat down. With Sir John and Lord Carstairs gone after their guests to bid them farewell, she found herself alone with Augusta.

“What is this nonsense?” she asked briskly. “What has he accused me of? That man is a perfect nuisance. He followed me uninvited, interrupted my visit, and generally spoilt the day for me entirely. And now I return to find he has been making some kind of accusations behind my back? What exactly has it pleased him to say about me?”

Augusta settled herself into one of the chairs and clasped her hands in her lap. “He told us about Hassan, my dear, and his totally inappropriate behaviour. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. He was so highly recommended.” She shook her head. “But alas, I suppose you are an attractive woman,” she made it clear by her tone that this was a criticism, “and you and he have spent so much time alone together. He could not restrain himself. And there was something else.” She frowned, not taking her eyes from Louisa’s face. “Roger informed me, discreetly, of course, that you were,” she hesitated for the first time, looking suddenly very uncomfortable, “that you were not properly dressed! In fact, you were wearing some kind of native attire which was both provocative and totally unacceptable in a decent woman!” Her face had begun to glow quite pink, and she reached into her sleeve for a lace handkerchief to dab her upper lip.