Whispers in the Sand (42 page)

Anna sat back and closed her eyes wearily. “Why did I do it? Why did I bring it here? It was so needless. Just a stupid romantic gesture.”

“You weren’t to know. Besides, you probably couldn’t help it. Anhotep might have put the idea in your head.”

Anna shuddered. “Thanks. So now he’s not only sucking my energy, he’s inside my skull as well!” She pummelled her temples with her fists.

Serena stood up. “Let’s do it now. While Charley and the others are here. Then we can move it quietly, take it to my cabin and say the first prayers before anyone knows anything about it.” They both knew that by anyone she meant Andy. “I’ll do the rest later, when Charley is sleeping it off on deck.” She cast a look over her shoulder at Charley, whose giggles were growing increasingly shrill.

Anna nodded. Climbing to her feet, she followed Serena from the room.

Andy glanced at them as they disappeared through the swing door and frowned.

Fishing out her key, Anna opened the cabin door. Then she paused. “Someone has been in here.”

She moved cautiously into the small room and looked round. The bed had been made and clean towels left on the counterpane, but that happened every morning. This was different. She looked round, feeling the hairs on her forearms stir. “Is it Anhotep?” she whispered.

She moved over to the bathroom and pushed open the door. It was empty.

Serena had followed her in. She looked round too and then shook her head. “I can’t sense Anhotep. I don’t think he’s here.”

“Then what is it?” Anna stepped over to the dressing table and pulled open the drawer. The bottle lay where she had left it, wrapped in the scarf. She lifted it out with reluctant fingers and handed it to Serena. “All yours.”

Serena nodded. “Come with me to my cabin. We want to make sure that Anhotep follows.” She paused. “What is it?”

Anna was staring at her bedside table. With a little gasp of dismay, she lunged forward and pulled open the drawer. It was empty. The diary was gone.

10

I have made myself whole and complete; I have renewed my youth;

I am Osiris, the lord of eternity…

In the mud-brick house at the edge of the village, a woman sweeps the floor, keeping the sand always at bay. Under her son’s sleeping mat, she finds a cloth and in it, still encrusted with the desert sand from which it came, a little bottle. She holds it for a moment, curious, angry at him for his deceit in hiding it for himself. In her hands she feels it tingle and grow hot, and she shivers suddenly, rewraps it, and hides it beneath the mat once more.

When he returns to the hut from the fields, he is happy. He has made a decision. The bottle is worthless—so his father says—so he will give it as a gift to his mother and win blessings from her for his generosity. He unwraps it and takes it to the river, where he washes it in the muddy waters at the edge of the fields. The glass is shiny now and bright and clean, but its age is written in the imperfections of its surface.

His mother takes the gift and smiles. She hides the new shiver of revulsion as it lies in her hands, and she tucks it into a corner out of sight. Now each time she passes that spot, she will shudder and make the sign against the evil eye. She senses the shadows which guard it, and she is afraid.

The boy is young and strong, as is his brother. The priests can gorge on their life force and, at each morning’s rebirth of the sun god, they grow more powerful.

The children grow weaker.

“What’s happened?” Serena was clutching the bottle against her chest.

“The diary. Someone has taken it!”

“Oh, Anna! Surely not. I know it’s valuable, but no one on the boat would take it, not even Charley. Are you sure you haven’t put it somewhere else? In your bag? You were carrying it everywhere with you. Or in another drawer, or a suitcase or something.”

“No. It’s gone.” Anna tightened her lips grimly. Her hands were shaking as she began systematically to search the small cabin. It wasn’t the value of the diary she was thinking about, it was the story. How could she bear not to know what had happened to Louisa and Hassan!

She knew it was pointless taking down the suitcase from the top of the cupboard, undoing it, searching through discarded tissue paper, but she did it just the same. It was as she was relocking it and swinging it back into place that there was a knock at the door and it was pushed open.

Andy peered into the room. “Everything all right, ladies?”

“No, it isn’t.” Anna faced him, distraught. “The diary has gone!”

“Louisa Shelley’s diary?” he frowned.

“What other diary is there?”

“Anna, I did tell you to take care of it! You knew how valuable it was.” He stepped into the room. “Are you quite sure it hasn’t fallen behind the cupboard or under the bed or something?”

“I’m quite sure.” She stood stock still in the centre of the cabin. “Someone has taken it.”

“In which case I think we can all guess who that someone is.” Andy shrugged. “I did warn you, Anna.”

“If you mean Toby, it can’t have been him. I went sailing with him this morning.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “And were you with him every second of the time?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “Well, I suppose not every second.”

He had left her sitting in the boat before they set sail. What had been his excuse? To fetch his sketchbook. She frowned bleakly. As if he was ever without it. And then he had gone off again, to fetch some cans of juice from the dining room. And again, on their return, he had left her in the bar. Where had he gone so quickly? At the time, she had thought nothing of it, given his antipathy to Andy, but now…

Seeing her frown, Andy smiled. “Exactly. Would you like me to speak to him?”

“No!” Her response was instantaneous. “No, don’t say anything. If anyone does, it’ll be me.”

She didn’t believe it was Toby. How could it be? And yet, she had to admit, he had certainly had the opportunity to take the diary several times over.

“Anna,” Serena put in quietly. “You don’t know it was Toby. It could easily have been one of the crew. Or a stranger—someone who came on board while we were all sailing this morning.”

“But how would they know about the diary?” Anna said bleakly. “If it was a thief, they would have taken my lapis beads and my silver bangle. I left them lying on the dressing table. They must be worth something.” She shook her head. “No, it was someone who wanted just that one thing. Thank God he didn’t take the bottle. What an irony that would have been!”

Andy, following her gaze, looked at the silk-wrapped bundle in Serena’s hands. “Is that it?” he asked sharply. “Why has Serena got it?”

“Because I have given it to her to look after,” Anna replied firmly.

“I don’t think so.” Andy stepped forward and, with calm authority, took it out of Serena’s hand. “I think I’ll look after this, if you don’t mind. It’s not genuine, but it has a certain curiosity value, and it will be safer with me under the circumstances. Besides, I’m not having Serena getting involved in any more of her mumbo jumbo and unsettling Charley. This whole boat is heaving with superstition and hysteria already, as far as I can see.” Wrapping the bottle even more firmly in the scarf, he tucked it into his pocket, then he turned towards the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep it safe.”

“Andy! Bring that back!” Anna found her voice at last. “Bring it back this instant!”

But he had gone, striding down the corridor and round the corner, out of sight.

“I don’t believe he did that!” Anna turned back to Serena, who had slumped on the bed. “Did you see what he did? He just took it!”

“I saw. I’m sorry, Anna.”

“He’s a complete bastard!” Anna actually found that she had stamped her foot in her anger. “And he’s so pleased with himself. Did you see? Because Toby turned out to be a thief.” She paused. “Or at least…”

“Exactly.” Serena looked up at her. “Don’t jump to conclusions on Andy’s say so, Anna, please. Use your own judgement about the diary. Or speak to Omar and ask him what you should do.” She hesitated. “I suppose the police ought to be called, really, if it’s as valuable as all that.”

Anna sat down beside her. “I’ll go and talk to Toby and I’ll ask him outright. If he’s taken it, it’s to read, that’s all. He was looking at it, and we both got very involved with the story. He would never steal it. Never.”

“And the bottle?” Serena’s eyes were suspiciously bright.

“Oh, don’t you worry about the bottle. I’ll get that back.” Anna folded her arms. “If Andy really thought that by buying me the odd drink he’d lull me into quiet acquiescence, he’s got another think coming. How dare he speak to you—to us—like that!”

“That’s Andy for you.” Serena gave a rueful smile. “He’d do anything to spite me. You’re getting to know him at last.”

Anna stood up. “Why does he do it?”

Serena shrugged. “I think he’s afraid of me, or perhaps more accurately what I represent. A woman with power.” She shook her head self-deprecatingly. “I see through him. I’m not won over by his charm. I have—or had—influence over Charley. Ergo, I’m an enemy, to be put down and humiliated.”

“That’s horrible.”

Serena nodded. “But he was right about one thing. Word is getting round the boat that something odd is going on, and we do have to be careful not to let superstition and hysteria, as he calls it, cloud our judgement.”

With a rueful nod, Anna headed for the door. “Point taken. Listen, I’m going to go and see Toby now, before lunch. Don’t worry about the bottle.” She smiled. “Let’s see what Anhotep does about it. I’m more than happy not to have it for the time being, and it may be that Andy is a good person to leave it with!”

Serena levered herself off the bed and shook her head. “I doubt it. I’ll leave you to go and see Toby—unless you want me to come?” She paused. “No. Then I’ll see you later. I do hope he’s not a thief. To tell you the truth, I rather like him.”

So do I. Anna pushed away the thought as she made her way to Toby’s cabin. She clenched her fists. Who else could have taken the diary? Who else knew about it? Who else would have any interest at all?

She knew which was his cabin; she had seen him coming out of it when she had visited Serena’s. Standing outside his door, she took a deep breath. The boat was totally silent save for the subdued wave of conversation from the bar in the distance. Lifting her hand, she knocked quietly. There was no reply. She knocked more loudly. There was still no response, so, glancing left and right along the deserted corridor, she gently tried the handle. The door opened; he hadn’t locked it.

She peered inside and caught her breath. The cabin itself was identical to hers in layout; the only other single cabin on the boat, and like hers, which must be directly above it, tucked into a forward corner of the boat. But the resemblance ended with the basic furniture. He had turned his into a studio. In the middle of the floor was a folding easel, on it a large sketchbook, clipped back to reveal a sketch of the waterfront outside the window. On every wall, he had stuck sketches and paintings. On the dressing table and bedside cabinet were paintboxes and charcoal and pencils. The open door of the bathroom showed a wet sketch apparently pinned up to drip into the shower. She stared round in astonishment and took a step inside. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of colour. For a moment she forgot why she had come. When had he done all these? How had he had time? He must have been painting all night and every free second between their trips ashore.