Whispers in the Sand (43 page)

She took another step inside, and the door swung shut behind her.

The paintings were beautiful. Vibrant. She stood in front of the easel and stared at the busy waterfront with its array of huge cruisers, their own little paddle steamer moored alongside a vast gin palace of a floating hotel.

It was several minutes before she remembered what she was looking for and turned her attention from his paintings to his personal belongings. The drawers under the dressing table were filled with a jumble of shirts, a couple of sweaters, and some underwear. The bag nearby held more pencils. She pulled open the wardrobe. A couple of pairs of trousers and some jeans and a jacket. The drawer of the bedside table held a torch, some notepaper and postcards, and a fountain pen. That was all. A couple of paperback books, both unopened as far as she could see, completed his belongings, with a thumbed guidebook to Egypt, and his shaving gear and toiletries on the glass shelf in the shower room.

She pulled back the counterpane and looked under his pillows, then she bent and ran her hand along beneath the mattress. Nothing. With a sigh she stood up again, pushing her hair back from her face.

Where else could he have hidden it? She was turning to survey the cabin again when a slight sound from the door made her swing round to face it. Toby was standing in the doorway, one arm propped against the doorjamb, the other in the pocket of his jeans, watching her. He looked as though he had been there for some time. His face was hard, his eyes cold.

“Have you quite finished your inspection?”

“Toby!” Any further words died in her throat as he took a step into the cabin and, closing the door behind him, drew the bolt.

“Why have you done that?” Her mouth had gone dry. “Because I want the chance to speak to you without Andrew Watson poking his nose in. You have a reason, presumably, for being here?”

She hesitated. A wave of real panic had swept over her. “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for the trip. I wondered where you were.”

“And you thought I might be hiding in a drawer inside the dressing table.” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Or under the mattress, perhaps.”

With an effort she steadied herself. “Toby, I’m sorry. I came to find you. I knocked. The door opened. I saw the pictures and—” She paused with a shrug. “I came in to see them.”

“And thought you’d have a quick pry while you were in here.” His voice was still hard.

“I wasn’t prying!” She was stung. “If you want to know, I was looking for my diary.”

“Your diary?” he echoed.

“My diary has disappeared from the drawer in my bedside table. You were the only person who knew it was there.”

“So you thought you’d look in the drawer beside
my
bed! In other words, you thought I’d stolen it!” There was disbelief in his voice.

“No.” She had answered too quickly, and she knew it. “No, I didn’t think that.”

“Then who did?” he asked softly. “Don’t tell me. It was Watson.”

She shrugged.

“And you believed him.” He folded his arms.

“It was a possibility,” she flared. “You might have borrowed it. You might have wanted to study it.”

“Without asking you?” She could hear indignation as well as anger in his voice now.

“Yes! What else was I supposed to think? You and I were looking at it. We were discussing it. You helped me into the felucca, then you left me there, remember? And you came back to the cabins. How do I know you didn’t do that so you could go to my cabin, tell me that!”

“You tell me something first,” he put in sharply. “Why on earth didn’t you lock your cabin door, if you mistrust everyone so much?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” she flashed back. “I did trust everyone!”

“Everyone except me.” His voice dropped. “So, tell me, why do you not trust me any more? Why does Andrew Watson not trust me? What have I done to deserve all this suspicion?”

He looked her in the eye suddenly, and she found herself colouring. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Or you don’t intend to say. My guess is Watson has been poking his nose in where it’s not wanted and poisoning the well.” He rubbed his chin, still scrutinising her face. “I see I’m right. You didn’t think to ask me the truth? You didn’t doubt him, just a little bit? I thought we had a friendship of sorts. I was obviously wrong.”

He sat down heavily on the bed after grabbing an armful of his belongings and hurling them to the floor to make room.

Anna bit her lip. Her fear had evaporated. “All right, I’ll tell you what happened! I didn’t believe him, I didn’t believe him for a single second! Until this happened. And then…I’m sorry.” She hung her head. “I was so frantic about the diary that I wasn’t thinking clearly.” She straightened her shoulders. “If I’m honest, I was hoping you did have it. If you haven’t, who has?”

He considered for a moment. “Do you really want my opinion?”

She nodded, but her wry smile was wasted on him. He was staring at the picture on his easel. “I’m prepared to bet fairly large odds on Watson himself.”

Anna shook her head. “He wouldn’t. Besides, he was there—” She broke off.

“He was there. He sympathised, and he pointed the finger at me. I can see the scenario, Anna. I can see it clearly.” He sat forward suddenly. “Why would I want the diary, tell me that? He’s the wheeler dealer. He’s the man who has the contacts.” He looked up at her. “Well? I asked you a question. Why would I want it?”

She shrugged. “It’s desirable. It’s a historical artefact. It has Louisa’s sketches. It’s worth a lot…” Her voice trailed away.

“It’s worth a lot of money!” He echoed. “I don’t need money, Anna. And I don’t want Louisa’s diary. Is that clear?” He glanced at the cabin window. “Now, you’d better go.”

“Toby, I’m sorry.”

“Go!” The implacable coldness was back in his eyes.

She grimaced and turned towards the door. As she opened it, she turned back to him. “I am sorry,” she repeated.

“So am I.”

“Can we still be friends?”

There was a moment’s silence then he shook his head. “I don’t think so, Anna.”

Outside in the passage, she stopped and took a deep breath; to her chagrin, she was near to tears. Turning, she fled down the corridor.

Behind her, Toby’s cabin door reopened. He stepped out and looked after her. “Anna!” he called.

Ignoring the shout, she ran up the stairs and headed back towards her own cabin.

Throwing open the door, she ran in, hurling it back on its hinges so that it slammed against the wall, rebounded, and closed behind her. With a sudden frantic gasp, she stopped dead.

The cabin wasn’t empty. The air was heavy with the sickly smell of resin and myrrh.

Standing in the middle of the floor was a shadowy figure, tall, insubstantial, but unmistakable in its bearing. Anhotep half turned towards her, and she felt his eyes searching for hers as slowly he began to raise a thin wispy hand towards her.

Anna screamed. Her whole body had gone cold. She couldn’t breathe. Desperately she tried to turn back to the door, to move, to tear her eyes away from his, but she couldn’t. Something held her where she was. She could feel her legs beginning to buckle, strange red lights beginning to flicker behind her eyes.

As she started to fall, the door was pushed open as Toby flung himself into the cabin behind her. “What is it? What’s wrong? I heard you scream.” He stared round frantically as he caught her hand and swung her towards him. “Anna, what is it? Was there someone here?”

Behind her the cabin was empty.

“Is it Watson?” He pushed her away, more gently now and, stepping across the cabin, pushed open the shower room door. There was no one there and nowhere that anyone else could be hiding.

“No, it’s not Andy. It’s Anhotep the priest.” She was trembling violently. “You read about him in the diary. The priest who haunts my little scent bottle. He was in here. Standing here!” She indicated a spot on the floor about two feet in front of her. “But the bottle has gone. Andy took it away with him.”

She was shaking so violently that her teeth were chattering. Slowly she collapsed onto the bed and sat looking up at him.

There was a long pause, and she wondered suddenly if he was going to laugh; to ridicule her every word.

He pursed his lips. “Andy Watson’s name seems to crop up rather a lot in our conversations, doesn’t it?” He stared round the small room again. “Have you seen this apparition before? Didn’t you see something on the boat this morning? Is that what you saw? The priest?”

Relief flooded through her. He believed her! He didn’t think she was insane. She nodded.

“You told me the bottle was cursed. But you never told me how or why. Why didn’t you mention all this when we read about it in the diary?”

“And have you think I’m mad? What do you think would happen if a story like this got round the boat? ‘Woman passenger sees Ancient Egyptian priest!’ Either everyone would panic and go home, or they’d have me sectioned, or at the very least I’d become a laughing stock.” She put her head in her hands. “I can’t take much more of this.”

“Does anyone else know about it?”

She nodded. “Serena.”

“And what does she think?”

“She believes it. She knows quite a bit about Ancient Egypt. She’s studied its religion and rituals. She knows what to do. She was going to take the bottle and bless it or something, but then Andy took it away.”

“Why on earth did you let him?”

She shrugged. “He just walked off with it. I suppose I was taken by surprise. I could hardly wrestle him for it. He said he was going to keep it safely for me.”

Toby sat down beside her. “I think it’s more likely he plans to flog it,” he said cynically.

“He’d have to buy it off me first.” Anna shook her head and gave a watery smile. “And as he thinks it’s a fake, he wouldn’t offer very much!”

“Unless he sold it as genuine.” Toby sighed. “And in the meantime we haven’t solved the problem of the whereabouts of the diary.” He glanced at his watch. “It is almost lunchtime. Can I suggest that a meal in a crowded dining room would be a good thing for both of us? Very grounding. And no ghost would show himself there. We can cool off and rethink the situation and study Watson’s behaviour. No harm is going to come to your scent bottle or to the diary, wherever they are. Not as long as they are potential money earners. My guess is he has them both and he’ll take care of them.” He paused, waiting for her nod. “And then we have an afternoon free before we all go to Abu Simbel tomorrow. So during the afternoon I suggest we talk to Serena. If your ghost is genuine, and I have no reason to suspect otherwise, we need to consult her, obviously, about what steps can be taken to keep you safe from any paranormal repercussions. Perhaps at the same time we could have a council of war about recovering the diary and thereby—” he paused and gave her a wry grin—“clear my name, once and for all.”

Anna and Toby and Serena held their council of war at the Old Cataract Hotel, sitting on the terrace over a pot of Earl Grey tea. Only when they were settled in their chairs, facing out across the Nile, did anyone mention the reason they had left the boat.

“Did you see Andy’s face when the three of us went ashore together?” Serena was absentmindedly stirring her tea. “He lost his famous sang-froid. To me he looked distinctly worried.”

“As well he might.” Toby sat forward and studied Serena’s face for a few moments, then he nodded. “Anna tells me you know about the old Egyptian ritual. By that I take it you have studied modern spiritual techniques and magic based on Egyptian texts?”

Serena met his eye steadily. “I’ve studied with Anna Maria Kelim, if you’ve heard of her.”

Toby shrugged. “I took a bit of an interest in these things when I was younger. I’m not an expert, but the name certainly rings a bell. The important thing is that you know what you are doing. I suspect Anna’s ghost or ghosts are not going to be deflected by a bit of New Age chanting.” He leant back in the chair. “Anna says you’re good. Do you think so, too?”

Serena didn’t say anything for a moment, clearly taken aback by his direct approach. Her instant initial indignation subsided as swiftly as it had come. After a few seconds, thought, she nodded slowly. “As long as Andy’s not around. He is very good at disempowering me. I’ve never worked in Egypt before. Never even been here. All I can say is that I have a little experience of rescue work back home—you know what rescue work is, don’t you?” She glanced up at Toby as he picked up his cup and was in time to see him give a curt nod.

“He may, but I don’t,” Anna put in quietly.

“It means someone who works with earthbound spirits and helps them move on. Most ‘ghosts,’ if you like to use that word, are lost. Trapped. Unhappy. They don’t want to be here. Some of them, if they died violently, suddenly, don’t even realise they are dead. Nobody came to collect them or look after them. I have worked with one or two cases like that and helped them move on.” Serena sounded more confident now she saw she had an audience who respected what she had to say. “I have never worked with a spirit, however, who has chosen to remain earth-bound because it has unresolved business here. They are the scary ones. Out for revenge. Out to do mischief. Still involved with the world they have left. Unable to let go. Anhotep and his colleague are like that. And they are not just ordinary ghosts. They were trained priests, with knowledge of one of the most powerful occult systems ever known. They probably chose not to die.”