Whispers in the Sand. Barbara Erskine

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СКАЧАТЬ pot over to the table as Anna sat down. ‘You look tired. Did the Valley of the Kings prove too much of an exciting start?’

      She shook her head. ‘I didn’t sleep well.’

      ‘Not sea sick, I trust!’

      She laughed. ‘No, though I must admit I noticed the movement. It did feel odd.’ She reached for the cup.

      ‘I expect it disturbed you when we went through the lock at Esna. It must have been some time in the early hours. It certainly woke me, but not enough to make me want to go up on deck and watch.’

      She shrugged. ‘Would you believe, I missed that. No, actually I was reading Louisa’s diary until late and I think it gave me nightmares. I kept waking up after that.’

      ‘What on earth was she describing?’

      ‘She was talking about a scent bottle which her dragoman bought for her in a bazaar. It had the reputation for being haunted.’

      ‘The scent bottle or the bazaar?’ His eyes crinkled rather pleasantly at the corners, she realised, although he kept all traces of laughter out of his voice.

      ‘The bottle. I know it sounds strange. A haunted scent bottle!’

      ‘What haunted it? A genie, presumably. They seem to favour living in bottles.’

      ‘She called it a djinn. Is that the same thing?’ She smiled, hoping that would show she didn’t believe it herself, that she could laugh it off as he had.

      ‘Indeed it is the same. How intriguing. Well, you mustn’t let such imaginings disturb your sleep again. Perhaps you’d better not read such sensational stuff at bedtime.’ He stood up, pushing back his chair. ‘What can I get you from the buffet?’

      She watched as he made his way across the dining room and picked up two plates. She saw him carefully select two of the largest croissants from the basket on the counter, then he was on his way back. ‘We’ve arrived. Do you see?’ Putting down the plates he gestured towards the windows. ‘Just time to eat, then we’d better go and claim our places in a suitable calèche. We drive to the temple of Edfu in style.’

      A line of four-wheeled open carriages, drawn by an array of painfully thin horses was drawn up on the quayside waiting for them, each driven by an Egyptian in a colourful galabiyya and turban. Beside each driver a long, formidable whip rested against the footrail. Every so often one was cracked loudly as the horses milled about, jostling for position. The shouting was deafening, as around the calèches and between the horses’ feet a dozen little boys shouted for baksheesh, and urged the tourists towards their own particular choice of vehicle.

      As they assembled on the quayside, Anna found herself standing next to Serena and it was with some relief she saw that they were both bound for the same calèche. She became aware that she had been scanning the crowds for Andy and Charley almost without realising it, but there was no sign of either of them; with them when they were finally settled into their seats were Joe and Sally Booth. Their driver, whose name, so he informed them, was Abdullah, could have been any age between seventy and one hundred and fifty, she decided as she quailed beneath his toothless grin. His skin was especially dark, gauntly drawn into deep creases and his missing teeth rendered his smile particularly piratical. Anna settled beside Serena with a fervent prayer that they were not going to be whisked off into the desert and never seen again. They set off at a canter, passing the other vehicles and heading into the centre of town where the horses challenged lorries and cars with no fear at all. Holding frantically to the side of the carriage Anna wished she had a hand free to take out her camera. There was something deeply primitive in this mode of transport which appealed to her greatly.

      The calèche lurched into a pothole and Anna fell sideways against her companion. Serena laughed. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? I am so looking forward to seeing Edfu Temple. It’s very special you know. It’s not nearly as old as somewhere like Karnac which we shall see next week. It was built in the Ptolomaic period, but it is famous for its inscriptions and carvings and they were faithful still to the old Egyptian gods even in Roman times.’

      Anna found herself wishing suddenly she had spent less time reading up about the scent bottle and more on Louisa’s diary entry on her visit here. As the calèche hurtled up the main street and over a crossroads she pictured Louisa and Hassan together in just such a conveyance. There was a shout from behind them. She turned in time to see another vehicle, drawn by a grey horse with hips that stood out like coat racks draw level with them. Its driver cracked his whip in the air above the horse’s head and gave a shout of triumph as Andy leant forward to wave at them. ‘Last one there pays for the beer!’ His call rang in their ears as his calèche drew ahead.

      Serena laughed uncomfortably. ‘He’s like a child, isn’t he?’

      Anna raised an eyebrow. ‘I suppose you see a lot of him if he and Charley are together.’

      Serena shrugged. ‘Not that much. Not as much as Charley would like.’ She broke off and they both watched anxiously as a woman crossed the road in front of them, a watermelon balanced on her head. Abdullah cracked his whip just behind her with a malicious grin, clearly hoping to make her jump and she turned, melon still firmly in place, to shout and swear at him without losing an iota of poise and grace. It was impressive to watch.

      ‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ Serena glanced at the camera which had finally appeared in Anna’s hands now that they were in the thick of the crowds and the pace was less breakneck. She watched as Anna focused and pointed it at the departing woman. ‘I wonder why we don’t carry things on our heads. I don’t know that it’s ever been a western tradition, has it?’

      ‘Perhaps it’s the damp. Our belongings would get wet in the rain and we’d all develop arthritic necks.’ Anna laughed. ‘It could be a sign that global warming is with us for real – when all the people at the bus stop one morning put their briefcases and bags on their heads.’

      Both women laughed. They fell silent again as a small boy passed them, a trussed turkey tucked beneath his arm. The bird’s eyes were crazed. It was panting with fear. Anna raised her camera as Serena shook her head. ‘I find it hard to cope with, the cruelty. That bird. These horses …’

      ‘They don’t seem to actually hit them,’ Anna put in. ‘Most of the whip cracking is for our benefit. I’ve been watching. My guess is that they know jolly well it would upset the effete western tourists if they hit the horses.’

      ‘While we are here, perhaps not, but what happens when we’ve gone?’ Serena did not sound convinced.

      ‘At least they feed them.’ Bags of bright green fodder were hung from every vehicle.

      They left the calèches in the shade at the back of the temple and walked the final distance, its full length, towards the entrance. Anna stared up in awe. The temple was huge, a vast squat building, rectangular behind the enormous pylon or monumental gateway, forty metres high, carved with pictures of Ptolemy defeating his enemies. They stopped in front of it, their group forming obediently around Omar, as they listened to his summary of two thousand years’ history and the temple’s place in it.

      A white robed figure stood near the entrance, beside the statue of the god Horus as a huge hawk and Anna found herself watching him. A black line of shadow cut across the dazzling white cotton of his galabiyya as he leant silently against the wall with his arms folded. She had the sense that he was watching them and she felt a sudden tremor of nervousness.

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ