Strangers. Danuta Reah

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СКАЧАТЬ the last case and had taken another shower to get rid of the sticky dust that seemed to settle over everything.

      There was a bottle of wine in the fridge, some homebrew that a neighbour had given her. It was to have accompanied the chicken that was now cold and congealing in the pan. As the hands on the clock dragged from nine to ten, she got the bottle out and poured herself a glass.

      She was lying on the settee, trying to concentrate on her book, when she heard his key in the door. It was almost twenty past ten, the latest he’d ever been. She sat up wearily and put her glass on the table.

      He looked tired. He’d loosened his tie and his shirt collar was open. His face was pale under his tan and he had shadows of fatigue under his eyes. ‘Roisin.’

      ‘You look exhausted.’ She kept her voice neutral. ‘Have you eaten?’

      ‘What? No. No, I didn’t have time. I’m not hungry anyway.’

      ‘You’ve got to have something.’ She stood up. ‘Joe, where have you been?’

      He frowned slightly, studying her face. ‘I’ve been working.’

      ‘Mike phoned. He wanted you to call back.’

      ‘When? I haven’t seen him. I’ve been in the library.’

      ‘The library?’

      He shook his head. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I should have come home like I said, but I’m getting behind with my own work. If I don’t keep up with that, I’m not going to get a decent job when we leave.’

      And he hadn’t felt able to tell her. You hardly know him, Rosie. And he hardly knew her. ‘You should have said.’

      He was looking at her with half-amused doubt. ‘What did you think? That I was out hitting the fleshpots of Riyadh? Because there aren’t any.’

      ‘Of course not. I just thought we’d agreed to spend this evening together.’ She saw his face start to set in the cold, distant look. ‘Mike said you’d left, and I was worried.’

      He seemed to pull himself back from somewhere. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’ve been on your own. I should have thought.’ He put his arms round her. ‘We could start the evening now. I didn’t mean to make you worry. You look beautiful.’ His smile was deliberately hangdog.

      She knew what he was doing, but she couldn’t resist smiling back. ‘And you look shattered. Go and have a shower, and I’ll get us something to eat. Here—’ She gave him the glass of wine she’d barely touched.

      He leaned forward and kissed her lightly.

      He came downstairs in jeans and a T-shirt, looking more relaxed. She made a quick salad using some of the cold chicken. She poured them each a large glass of the homebrew and they sat on the settee and ate with fingers rather than forks.

      When they’d finished, he lay down with his head in her lap. ‘I thought today would never end. But it kept the best bit to the end.’

      She played with his hair. ‘Listen, next weekend it will be the end of my first week at work. Let’s go into the desert again.’

      ‘If I can.’ He looked at her. ‘I don’t want to promise something and let you down again.’

      She nodded, not completely happy. ‘I unpacked that last case of stuff that was in the study.’

      ‘You shouldn’t have done that. I would have…’

      ‘When? I nearly broke my leg on it twice today.’

      ‘Right. Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to leave it for you. It’s just been…’

      ‘It’s OK. It didn’t take long.’ She trailed her fingers across his face. He hadn’t shaved and she could feel the roughness of stubble. ‘I found an article. About this place.’

      She felt him stiffen. ‘What article?’

      ‘The one about the guy who was executed. I put it with your papers. Is it important?’

      ‘No. I don’t know why I kept it.’

      ‘Was it someone you knew?’

      ‘I said…’ His voice was sharp, then he stopped himself. ‘Sorry. I told you, I don’t know why I kept it.’ He pushed himself upright. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m still on UK time.’

      Later, lying in bed, she was the one who couldn’t sleep. She told herself it was because she was starting her classes soon, stepping out of the security of the compound and into the strangeness of the Saudi world.

      As she floated somewhere between an uneasy sleep and wakefulness, words on a screen scrolled down in front of her eyes:…died of thirst in the desert…executed…never to come back…and she was in the square where they had stood the day they first arrived. It was empty and silent. Her feet were on the patterned stones that vanished into the distance. She was moving forward, reluctant step by reluctant step, to the ornate centre of the mosaic. The shadow from the minaret lay across it like a warning finger. It’s time.

      And under the pillars, in the shadows, someone was watching.

9

      Damien watched the shadows playing through the closed shutters as he lay on the bed. Beside him, Amy was lying with her eyes closed, asleep, or lost in her own thoughts. The heat in the city this summer was extreme–he’d recorded forty-four degrees at noon. Even the Saudis were slowed down by it; the old men were absent from the street cafés and the souk had been somnolent in the blaze of the sun.

      The temperature was dropping now and against the dampness of his skin the air felt cool. He pulled the sheet up to cover them, and Amy stirred. ‘Damien,’ she said.

      He leaned over and kissed her lightly. ‘Who else would it be? No, don’t answer that.’ Her body was outlined against the sheets, long slim arms and legs, a smooth, flat stomach. Her skin was a pale glimmer in the half-light and her mouth was the delicate pink of rosebuds. He could picture her face half an hour before, flushed and warm, her lips the colour of crushed raspberries, and he could still hear her gasps of pleasure as she’d dug her nails into his skin.

      She laughed softly and rolled over towards him. ‘Nobody else but you.’ She reached across him to where a bottle of wine was cooling in a terracotta jar, and poured them each a glass.

      ‘So tell me,’ he said. ‘Why are you here?’ It was rare for them to meet spontaneously like this. The Saudi system made meetings between unmarried couples difficult. Damien preferred it that way. He had his own issues with commitment–his marriage had been enough to warn him away from those deep waters and Amy seemed happy enough with the status quo.

      She ran her fingers lightly over him. He could feel himself responding to her and took hold of her wrist. ‘Do you need to ask?’ she said.

      ‘Amy, I know I need to ask. What’s wrong?’ Amy always kept her own counsel, revealing only as СКАЧАТЬ