Whispers in the Sand. Barbara Erskine

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      ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’ Serena was watching her face.

      She shook her head. ‘Nothing really. I keep getting this strange feeling that there’s someone out there watching me …’

      Behind them Omar took a deep breath and continued his story. Neither woman was listening.

      ‘Not someone very nice, judging by your reaction.’

      ‘No.’ Anna gave a small laugh. ‘I think Egypt is making me a bit neurotic. Perhaps we could have a drink before dinner this evening and I could tell you about it?’

      About what? A nightmare? A feeling that someone had unpacked her bag in the dark of her cabin and moved her little scent bottle? A scent bottle haunted by an evil spirit. She shook her head, aware that Serena was still watching her curiously. It might sound stupid in the cold light of day, but after all, Andrew and Toby knew about the diary. Why not someone else? And someone in whom she sensed she could confide without feeling embarrassed. Wasn’t it Toby yesterday who had suggested she speak to Serena about her strange feelings in the Valley of the Kings? He had thought she might understand.

      They were late back to the boat, exhausted and dusty and hot after their visit. Warm lemonade and scented washcloths were followed by lunch and then as the boat cast off and headed once more upstream, the passengers retired either to their cabins or to the sunbeds on the upper deck.

      It was there that Andy found Anna a couple of hours later. He was carrying two glasses. Sitting down in the chair next to her he offered her one. ‘I hope you haven’t been to sleep without your hat.’

      ‘No, as you can see.’ It was hanging from the chair-back. She pulled herself upright and sipped the fresh juice he had brought her. ‘That was lovely. Thank you.’ The deck was deserted, she realised suddenly; while she had been asleep, one by one, everyone else had disappeared. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘No such thing as time in Egypt.’ He grinned. ‘But the sun disc is getting low in the west. Which means it will soon be time for another meal.’ He patted his stomach ruefully. ‘I suspect our excursions ashore, strenuous though they are, are not going to be sufficiently energetic to make up for all the food we eat.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Would this be a good time to let me see the diary?’

      The abrupt change of subject startled her. He was, she realised, looking down at her bag, which lay on the deck beside her chair.

      ‘It’s in my cabin. Maybe later, Andy, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘Sure. No hurry.’ He leant back and closed his eyes. ‘Have you shown it to anyone else?’

      ‘On the boat, you mean?’ She glanced at him over the rim of her tumbler. It was impossible to read his expression behind his dark glasses.

      He nodded.

      ‘No. Toby is the only one who has seen it. On the plane.’

      ‘Toby Hayward?’ Andy chewed his lip for a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking, I know his name from somewhere. He’s a bit of a loner from what I gather.’

      ‘As I am,’ she pointed out gently. ‘At least on this cruise. He is a painter.’

      She did not miss the raised eyebrow. ‘Indeed. Is he well known?’

      Anna smiled. ‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps that’s why you know his name? I don’t think I’ve heard of him, but that doesn’t really mean anything.’

      Andy drained his glass. ‘Tell me to mind my own business, if you want to, but I do think you should take care of that diary, Anna. Apart from being worth a lot of money it’s a piece of real history.’

      ‘Which is why I have left it locked up.’ She spoke perhaps more firmly than she had intended, but his tone was beginning to irritate her. There were shades of Felix in his manner. And it was patronising.

      He laughed, which infuriated her even more. Putting his arms across his face he pretended to duck sideways. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. I surrender. I should have realised you are perfectly able to take care of it and of yourself. You are after all, Louisa’s great-great-granddaughter!’

      A fact she reminded herself about later when she met Serena in the bar and they settled into one of the comfortable sofas in the corner of the room. Outside it was dark. They had moored alongside a stretch of river bank which was, so they understood, within walking distance of the great temple of Kom Ombo. Around them the others were assembling a few at a time. She could see Andy perched on a stool at the bar. Charley stood near him and they were engaged in a noisy conversation with Joe and the barman.

      ‘So, tell me about these strange feelings of yours.’ Serena leant back against the cushions, her glass in her hand. She scanned Anna’s face intently for a moment then she glanced back at the bar where a particularly loud shout of laughter erupted from the group standing around Andy.

      ‘It sounds a bit silly talking about it in cold blood.’ Anna shrugged. ‘But someone mentioned you were interested in sort of psychic stuff.’

      Serena smiled. ‘Sort of? I suppose so. I gather this is to do with the man we saw at Edfu this morning?’

      ‘Not him especially. He was real. But for some reason he made me feel nervous. He was watching us, and I keep getting this feeling that I’m being watched by someone. It’s nothing specific …’ She broke off, not knowing quite how to go on.

      ‘Start at the beginning, Anna. I find things are much more clear that way.’ Serena was giving her her full attention now. ‘There is clearly something worrying you and that’s a shame on what should be a lovely carefree holiday.’

      ‘You don’t read Arabic, I suppose?’

      Serena shook her head and laughed. ‘I’m afraid not.’

      ‘I have a diary in my cabin.’

      ‘Belonging to Louisa Shelley, I know.’ She saw Anna’s face and laughed again. ‘My dear, it’s a small boat and there aren’t very many of us. You don’t surely expect it to stay a secret?’

      ‘I suppose not.’ Anna was taken aback. She was thinking suddenly of Andy’s warning. ‘Well, in this diary there is a description of how Louisa was given a little glass bottle by her dragoman as a gift. I have inherited the bottle. With it was a piece of paper, which I also have, written in Arabic, saying that the bottle, which it claims is pharaonic in date, has a sort of curse on it. The original owner, a high priest in Ancient Egypt, is following it and so is an evil spirit because a secret potion is sealed into the glass. I know it sounds ridiculous, like something out of a film, but it’s worrying me …’ Her voice trailed away in embarrassment.

      ‘You have this bottle with you, on the boat?’ Serena asked quietly. In the general hubbub Anna could hardly hear her.

      She nodded, relieved that Serena had not laughed. ‘I brought it with me. I wish I hadn’t now. I don’t really know why except it seemed right to bring it back to Egypt. I’ve had it for years. I always assumed it was a fake. An antique dealer friend of my husband’s said it was a fake. Andy thinks it is a fake.’

      ‘Andy Watson?’ Serena’s voice was sharp. ‘What does he know about it? Have you shown it to him?’

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