Читать книгу: «Whispers in the Sand», страница 3
She found herself seated at one of three round tables, each of which accommodated six people. Beyond the windows she could see nothing of the land or the river she had come so far to visit. The only sign of Egypt was the appearance behind the semi-circular serving counter, piled high with fruit and cheeses in the centre of the room, of a solemn procession of waiters, dark-skinned, dressed in white – two or three per table at least.
Her companions were, to her relief, immediately friendly; the silence of strangers disappeared at once as on every side people began introducing themselves to each other. Next to her on her left she found herself shaking hands with a good-looking man perhaps her own age or slightly older. He stood up as he greeted her and she saw he was no taller than herself, but his broad shoulders and stocky frame gave the impression of size. ‘Andy Watson, from London.’ He smiled, hazel eyes bright with humour beneath dark lashes and bushy brows. ‘Unattached, available, charming, with an absolute passion for all things Egyptian, as I suspect have we all, because that’s why we’re here.’
Anna found herself laughing. A little shyly she introduced herself as a divorcée also from London, recklessly meeting his eyes for a moment before she turned to greet the tall thin man with mousy hair, almost gaunt features and the palest blue eyes who sat on her right.
‘There are five of us on the cruise.’ Andy leant across her, reclaiming her attention. ‘That’s Joe Booth next to you, he’s something in the City, and beyond him is his wife Sally, and this,’ he indicated the slim, red-headed young woman on his left, ‘is Charley, who is sharing a cabin with Serena, over there.’ He nodded at a woman seated with her back to them at the next table. The sixth person at the table, the only one there apart from her who appeared to know no one on the cruise, introduced himself as Ben Forbes, a retired doctor. He and Andy were, it appeared, sharing a cabin. He was, she guessed, in his late sixties, a large, florid man with small bright observant eyes, a wild thatch of greying hair and a rumbustious laugh which within a few minutes had proved to be both infectious and a wonderful way of drawing attention to their table. The waiters unfailingly came to them first, as did their tour guide, Omar, who introduced himself as they were waiting to be served.
‘Welcome. Tomorrow we start with our tour to the Valley of the Kings. Karnac and the Temple of Luxor itself we shall visit on the last day of the cruise. Tomorrow we get up very early. We cross the river on the ferry, and then we go on a bus. The schedule will be posted each day at the top of the stairs, outside the lounge.’ A strikingly handsome young man, who, Anna discovered later, when he was not working as a tour guide, was studying history at Cairo University, he glanced round at them and smiled the most beautiful smile, his white teeth enhanced by what looked like a fortune in gold. ‘Please, if you have any problems and questions come to me at any time.’ He bowed and moved on to the next table.
Watching him, Anna saw him bow again and introduce himself to each of them in turn, then she noticed the man next to whom he was standing. Seated with his back towards her, his arm across the back of the chair as he looked up at Omar and listened to his short speech, was the man who had sat next to her on the plane; he must have been on the bus after all. He had changed into a dark-blue open-necked shirt and pale linen trousers and she saw him make some quiet remark to Omar which had the young man blushing and the others at the table laughing uproariously. So he was still being unpleasant. Obviously it was in his nature. She suppressed a quick feeling of triumph that she was after all on the same cruise as he was!
‘Seen someone you know?’ Andy was passing her the basket of warm bread rolls.
She shook her head. ‘He sat next to me on the plane, that’s all.’
‘I see.’ Andy stared over his shoulder, then he turned back to her. ‘So. It’s brave of you to travel out here on your own. What made you decide to come to Egypt after dumping hubby?’
She winced. ‘It is as you said. I have a passion for things Egyptian. Well, perhaps that’s putting it too strongly. My great-great-grandmother was a woman called Louisa Shelley. She came out here to paint in the late 1860s –’
‘The Louisa Shelley? The watercolourist?’ She had his attention completely now. ‘But she is very well known! I sold one of her sketches not six months ago.’
‘Sold?’ Anna frowned.
‘In my shop. I deal in fine art and antiques.’ He smiled at her.
Beyond him Charley leant forward and smacked him on the wrist. ‘No shop, Andy, please. You promised.’ She surveyed Anna carefully, her eyes wary. ‘Don’t encourage him!’ There was no friendly smile as she looked Anna up and down. ‘What do you do?’ She waited, eyebrows raised.
Not giving her a chance to reply Andy leapt in for her. ‘She’s here to spend her ex-husband’s fortune, darling, what do you think? And I’ll bet I can sell her some gorgeous things when we all get home, but for now we’re going to concentrate on Egyptian goodies, and first of all, Egyptian food. Did you know this boat is famous for its food?’
Anna glanced at Andy. His open cheerfulness encouraged confidences. She noticed suddenly that Charley’s hand, resting on the table beside her plate, was touching Andy’s. So, he was not as unattached as all that. She would have to be careful. ‘If you’re interested in art and antiques perhaps I should show you my Ancient Egyptian scent bottle!’ She smiled.
Andy leant back in his chair, his head cocked on one side. ‘Genuine Ancient Egyptian?’ He waited attentively.
She shrugged. ‘I have been told not. But it came from Louisa and I think she thought it was. I have her diary with me. I’ll see if she mentions where she found it. I just thought it would be fun to bring it with me. Back to the place of its origin as it were.’
‘Indeed.’ Andy watched as a Nubian waiter approached with their soup. ‘You must show it to me some time. I know a little about ancient artefacts, and I would love to see Louisa Shelley’s diary. Are there any sketches in it, by any chance?’ He had picked up his bread roll and was crumbling it between his fingers.
Anna nodded. ‘A few, tiny thumbnail ones. She did most of her sketches in the special sketchbooks she had with her.’
She was aware suddenly that at the next table her neighbour from the plane had realised she was there. He was staring at her with such close attention that she suspected he had been listening to their conversation. She gave him a small quick smile – no more than the slightest acknowledgement – and saw him nod curtly in return.
‘Your flight companion has spotted you, I see.’ Andy’s voice in her ear was amused.
‘So it seems.’ Anna wondered why the man’s neighbour, Serena, was sitting separately and not at the table with her companions. So far she had not even turned to acknowledge them. Even as she watched the woman smiled across at her neighbour and began talking animatedly to him. He turned back towards her at once, and as his head turned Anna caught sight of the not unattractive smile.
She picked up her spoon. The soup was made of vegetables, lightly seasoned and thin but tasty. It was very welcome after the packaged food on the journey. ‘He was fascinated by the diary. I was reading it on the flight and he couldn’t keep his eyes off it.’
‘Indeed.’ Andy’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Anna, you will take care of it, won’t you? I’m sure it must be extremely valuable. It would be very tempting to anyone who guessed what it was.’ His eyes on her face were concerned, sincere.
For the first time in ages Anna felt a small rush of grateful happiness. He actually seemed genuinely interested in what she was saying. ‘You are not suggesting that he would try and steal it?’
‘No, of course not. I’m sure he was just curious. A manuscript diary is not the usual airport reading that one expects to see on a plane.’ He chuckled.
Anna glanced back towards the other table again and was disconcerted to find the man in the blue shirt still watching her. There was a look of faintly sardonic amusement on his face. She looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring and without thinking she smiled nervously at the tall Nubian standing behind the serving counter. He caught her eye and in a moment was beside her. ‘More soup, madam?’
Andy chuckled. ‘Go on. You’ll have to have it now.’
She glanced up. ‘Yes. Please. That would be lovely.’ Watching her plate disappear she shrugged helplessly. ‘They are going to think that I’m really greedy.’
‘Or just hungry.’ Andy laughed again. ‘Just to make you feel better I shall have some too. You do realise that this is a four course meal,’ he went on as her brimming plate reappeared.
‘No!’
‘Yes! And I shall order some wine to accompany it.’ He raised his hand and beckoned the waiter back.
‘I love their robes,’ Anna whispered when the man had finished serving them and returned to his watchful pose by the counter. The waiters were dressed in long striped cotton shift-like garments, fastened round the waist with red cummerbunds. ‘They look fantastically glamorous.’
Andy reached for the bottle. ‘They’re called galabiyyas.’
‘What are?’
‘The robes, as you put it, that the men here wear. Enormously comfortable. Cool.’ Turning his back on the neighbouring table he leant back in his chair and beamed first at Charley, who was beginning to scowl at him, clearly resenting the attention he was paying to her, and then back at Anna. ‘No doubt we shall have to don such apparel at some time during the voyage. Even the most salubrious and posh of vessels feel bound to humiliate their passengers with a fancy dress party of some kind, I gather.’
‘I’m beginning to suspect that this is not your first trip to Egypt.’ Anna watched as he squinted at the label on the wine bottle which had appeared.
‘My first on a cruise like this.’ He slopped a little wine into his glass and raised it to his nose speculatively. ‘This may be a mistake. One should really stick to beer in Egypt unless one wants to buy French wine. Not bad, I suppose. Want some?’ He reached for her glass.
Beyond him Charley was engaged at last in a lively conversation with Ben Forbes. Her long red hair had fallen forward over her shoulder and a few strands were trailing in her soup. She didn’t seem to notice.
‘I was a bit nervous, coming on a trip like this on my own,’ Anna went on. ‘I’ll know who to ask for advice.’
‘Indeed you will.’ He winked. ‘Now, eat that soup. I can see the hors d’oeuvres waiting to come in.’
When the meal was at last finished almost all the passengers made their way up to the lounge bar and some of them, thence, through the double doors out onto the deck. As she stepped out into the darkness, Anna shivered. She had expected the earlier balmy evening air, but a sharp breeze had sprung up. Threading her way between the tables and chairs she made her way aft and leant on the rail alone. Andy and Charley had stopped inside at the bar and she could hear their laughter through the half-open door. The river was broad at this point, though she could see little in the darkness. On the bank against which they were moored the houses, built with mud brick and clustered closely together were mostly without lights and the only sound, of distant singing, came from another boat further along the bank and from the occasional slap of water against the mud.
‘So, it appears we are on the same cruise after all.’ The voice at her elbow made her jump. ‘Forgive me for doubting your good taste.’
Turning she saw the blue shirt, the sandy hair. He was leaning over the rail, not looking at her, lost in thought. He turned and held out his hand. ‘My name is Toby. Toby Hayward.’ Now that he was standing up she realised that he was much taller than she expected, his frame lanky, slightly stooped.
‘I’m Anna Fox.’ His handshake was firm but brief.
They both stared out into the darkness for several moments. ‘You know, I am finding it hard to believe I am actually here,’ Anna went on softly. ‘On the River Nile. Somewhere out there in the darkness is Tutankhamen’s tomb, and ancient Thebes and the desert and beyond that the heart of Africa.’
There was a quiet chuckle. ‘A romantic. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.’
‘No. No, I’m not.’ Suddenly she was on the defensive. ‘It is going to be wonderful.’ Turning away from him, she made her way back between the deserted tables and ducked into the lounge.
Andy spotted her at once. ‘Anna! Come on, let me buy you a drink.’
She shook her head with a smile. ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll turn in. We’ve an early start tomorrow, and I got a bit chilled out there. I never thought it would be cold in Egypt.’
‘It’s the night wind off the desert.’ Andy caught her hand between his own. ‘My goodness, yes. It’s frozen. Are you sure a stiff drink wouldn’t thaw you out?’
‘No. Thank you.’ She was conscious that the door behind her had opened and Toby had come in, leaving the deck outside deserted. Ignoring the other passengers he walked straight through the lounge and made his way out towards the cabins.
She followed him slowly, not wanting to catch him up as he headed for the staircase, but there was no sign of him as she made her way to her door and let herself in.
She paused, looking round. The cabin no longer looked bleak and impersonal. Nor was it cold. It was warm and inviting, the bedside light on, the bed turned down, the towel she had used before supper already replaced by a dry one. Her own belongings made the place look welcoming and friendly, the little perfume bottle, in place of honour on the dressing table, reflecting in the mirror, a small almost glowing patch of colour on the brown wood. Suddenly she was very happy.
The diary was waiting for her by her bed. Perhaps, before she fell asleep, she would stay awake long enough to read a little more and find out how Louisa had first experienced the Valley of the Kings, then tomorrow she would know what to expect.
2
The things which are abominated by the gods they are wickedness and falsehood. If found wanting, what future is there for those who escape the blood grimed jaws of Ammit? He who fastens the fetters on the foes of the gods; those who slaughter in the shambles; there is no escape from their grasp. May they never stab me with their knives; may I never fall helpless into their chambers of torture. Better to return to the body in the silent heat of the death chamber and wait. I am Yesterday and Today; I have the power to be born a second time.
Thoth the god of judgement sees the human hearts and frowns as the first is laid in the balance and the beam begins to tremble.
Ammit, the eater of the dead, licks her fearsome lips as she sits beside the scale. Should this heart weigh more than the feather of Maat, hers will be the reward. These men served the gods. The one was a priest of Isis and Amun. The other the priest of Isis and her sister, Sekhmet, the bloody-jawed lioness, goddess of war and anger – and, oh strange and wonderful contradiction, of healing. They should pass the test; they should go on to eternal life with the gods they served. But there is blood on their hands and there is revenge in their hearts and there is greed in their spirit for the elixir of life. If they fail the test now, they will flee the terrors of Ammit and the tortures of the damned and they will return to the chamber of death to wait. All grows dark.
Louisa was ready at dawn. Hassan was waiting on the bank with three donkeys. Food, water and her painting equipment was loaded quickly and silently into the panniers on one and Hassan helped her onto one of the others, then, keeping a firm grip on the leading rein of both, climbed onto his own. Behind him the crew of the Ibis were busy going about their chores. Of the Forresters or Jane Treece there was no sign. Louisa hid a smile of relief. They were going to manage to escape.
The Forresters had not so far proved to be the hosts she had hoped for. In fact their regime was even more restrictive than that of Isabella and Arabella. They too could see no reason to visit the antiquities, and particularly not those which involved half a day’s ride through the blazing sun. More importantly, they seemed to feel that they were responsible for Louisa’s moral welfare. Though a dragoman had been hired for her, she was not to be with him alone. Though she had come to Egypt not only for the sake of her health, but in her own mind at least, to paint the antiquities, they did not consider that it was important or even advisable for her to do so. They were in fact due to leave for a gentle sail up the Nile as soon as the steamer had arrived at Luxor with the post from England. In near despair of ever visiting the Valley of the Tombs, Louisa had had to resort to secrecy. She had found Hassan sitting in the shade of the deck awning, writing in his own small notebook. He rose to his feet the moment she had appeared, and he listened gravely to her whispered instructions. Well aware that Lady Forrester might at the last minute insist on Jane Treece accompanying her as a chaperone, Louisa had told them that she would not leave until mid-morning. To Hassan she explained privately that they must leave at dawn.
She had awoken while it was still dark, climbing into her clothes as silently as she could. Her first brief meetings with the man who was to be her dragoman – guide, escort, servant, interpreter – had gone well. He was a quiet, refined man, grave and very conscious of his responsibility. His loyalties, he made clear immediately, were to Louisa alone. Wherever she wanted to go he would take her.
‘Does he have a name?’ Louisa patted her animal’s neck as they set off.
Hassan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I hired them for the journey.’
‘He must have a name. Perhaps I should give him one. Caesar. How does that sound?’
Hassan smiled across at her as they rode swiftly away from the river bank and turned between some square mud-brick houses out of sight of the Ibis.
‘That is a good name. I shall call mine, Antony. And this our beast of burden shall be Cleopatra.’
Louisa laughed in delight. ‘Then we shall be such an intelligent party.’ He was a good-looking man, of middle height, slim, dressed in loose blue trousers and a striped robe. He had large dark eyes, fringed with long lashes. Looking across at him surreptitiously she wondered how old he was. It was hard to tell. His hair was hidden completely by his red turban. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and laughter creases from nose to mouth, but apart from that his skin was smooth.
‘How far must we ride to the valley, Hassan?’ In spite of herself she glanced over her shoulder.
He shrugged. ‘We will know when we get there. We have all day.’ His smile was warm and without guile.
Louisa laughed. In Egypt, she had discovered, things happened when they happened. That was the will of God. With a contented sigh she settled onto the felt saddle and concentrated instead on trying to accommodate herself to her donkey’s pace.
The track through the fields of berseem and wheat and barley was cool in the dawn light beneath the eucalyptus trees and the tall graceful date palms and she relaxed, enjoying the scented air, the greetings of the fellaheen they passed making their way out to the fields. It was all too soon that they reached the edge of the cultivated land which bordered the River Nile and struck out into the desert. In front of them rose the long red shoulder of the Theban hills, so visible, and so mysteriously close that they could be seen from the deck of the boat and yet now, shrouded in the misty distance.
They stopped briefly for a breakfast of slices of watermelon and cheese and bread before the sun was too high, then they rode on. Ahead the hills at last drew closer. Louisa stared up, fanning herself beneath the shade of her broad-brimmed hat. A kite circled overhead, a dark speck against the brilliant blue of the sky.
‘Soon there. Very soon.’ Hassan reined back his little donkey. ‘You are going to draw pictures of the mountains?’
Louisa nodded. ‘I want to see the mountains and the tombs of the pharaohs.’
‘Of course. What else?’ Hassan smiled. ‘I have brought candles and flares for us to see them.’ He gestured towards the pack animal. ‘Not far. Then you can rest.’
She nodded again. Perspiration was trickling down her back and between her breasts. Her clothes felt heavy and stifling. ‘I expected to see a lot of visitors along this road,’ she called across to him. The loneliness was beginning to unnerve her.
‘There are lots of visitors.’ He shrugged. ‘The steamer has not been here for several days. When it comes they will arrive again.’
‘I see.’ She smiled uncertainly. The barely distinguishable road was empty of other riders. There were no tracks.
‘There are no footmarks, no signs of anyone else.’ She gestured nervously.
He shook his head. ‘Last night the wind blew. Poof!’ He blew out his cheeks, gesturing with his hands. ‘The sand comes and all things disappear.’
Louisa smiled. That was a phrase for her diary. She must remember it. The sand comes and all things disappear. The epitaph of a civilisation.
The road grew steeper as they made their way into the hills and eventually they turned into the hidden valley where she could clearly make out the square doorways cut in the brilliant limestone cliffs. Drawing to a standstill Hassan slid off his donkey and came to help her dismount. As she stood staring round, listening to the moan of the strange hot wind and the cries of the circling kites he unloaded her sketchbooks and paints and a Persian rug which he spread nearby on the sand. He also produced some poles over which he draped a length of green and blue striped cloth to make her a shelter, like a Bedouin tent, to give her some privacy in the barren valley. The donkeys and he remained in the sun, seemingly oblivious to the heat.
‘I expected to see people digging. Excavating. Why is it all so empty?’ She was staring round, still overwhelmed by the desolation of the valley.
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes there are a lot. Sometimes none. The money stops.’ He raised his shoulders again eloquently. ‘They have to go away to find more. Then they return. Then you will see the wadi full of people. The local men are always here. We will see them, I expect. They dig in the night. If they find a new tomb they dig in the early morning, even in the heat of the day. They are supposed to take what they find to the authorities at Boulak, but …’ Again the shrug of the shoulders she was beginning to know so well.
Digging into the donkey’s pannier he produced two candles and a small flare. Flourishing them he bowed. ‘You would like to see inside one of the tombs now?’
She nodded. The tombs would be blessedly cool after the endless sun. She reached for a bottle of water and Hassan hastened to pour some out for her. The water was warm and brackish but she drank gratefully, then she dipped her handkerchief in the cup and wiped her face with it.
When she turned to follow Hassan towards one of the square doorways in the cliff, there was a sketchbook under her arm.
‘We will start here,’ he waved at one of the entrances. ‘It is the tomb of Rameses VI. This has been open since the days of the ancients.’
‘You have brought other people here before. You know them all as well as a local guide?’ she asked as she made to follow him.
‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘I have heard the guides from the villages a thousand times. I no longer need them.’
As they entered the passageway Louisa stared into the darkness completely blinded after the brilliant light outside. Then slowly her eyes began to acclimatise. The flickering light of Hassan’s candle barely lit the walls of the long passage in which they found themselves, but from its pale glow she could see the breathtaking riot of figures and colours stretching into the distance. Then he lit the flare and in the streaming flame and smoke she could see hieroglyphs and gods and kings covering the walls and ceiling in rich colours. Standing still on the steep sandy floor of the passage she stared round in amazement and delight. ‘I had no idea,’ she gasped. ‘No idea at all that it could be so …’ she fumbled for words, ‘… so wonderful!’
‘Nice?’ Hassan was watching her.
‘Very, very nice.’ She took a few paces forward, her shoes slipping on the steeply sloping passage. ‘Hassan, it is more wonderful than I had ever dreamt.’
The intense silence of the place was overwhelming but far from being cooler in the darkness the tomb was hot and airless as an oven. She moved across to the wall and rested a hand for a moment on the paint-covered stone. ‘It would be very hard to copy this. Even to convey this wonder. This mystery. I could never do it. My sketches will have to be so impressionistic, so inadequate.’ She shrugged helplessly.
‘Your pictures are very good.’ He raised the flare higher so the light shone a little further into the darkness.
‘How do you know? You haven’t seen any,’ she retorted over her shoulder.
‘I saw. When I was loading the donkey the wind blew open the book.’ He followed her with a grin. ‘I could not help but see. Here. Be careful. There are steps now going down a long way.’
Behind them the small square of daylight at the entrance to the passage abruptly disappeared as they began to descend a long flight of roughly excavated steps. The candlelight condensed on the multi-coloured walls, then as they reached the pillared chamber at the bottom it spread and faded again, mixing and losing itself in the vast darkness. A further series of passages led deeper and deeper into the dark, then at last they reached the burial chamber at the bottom. Louisa stopped with a gasp. Soaring overhead in the flickering shadows two huge strangely elongated figures spanned the ceiling above her head.
‘Nut. Goddess of the sky.’ Hassan was standing beside her, holding the flare high and she found herself suddenly intensely aware of his closeness to her. She glanced sideways. He was gazing up at the figures, his face a silhouette in the soft light.
He turned and caught her staring at him. She blushed. ‘May I have the flare?’
‘Of course, Sitt Louisa.’ For half a second their hands touched as her fingers closed round the wooden shaft. Then abruptly she stepped away from him. ‘Tell me about the goddess of the sky.’
Anna woke with a start to find the light in her cabin still on, the diary lying open on her chest. Daylight poured through the slatted shutters, sending bright narrow wedges of light onto the floor and up the wall. Leaping out of bed she reached across to the window and slid the shutters back. Outside, the river was a brilliant blue. A Nile cruiser was making its way upstream, whilst across the broad stretch of water she could see the palm trees on the distant bank, a strip of brilliant green fields and beyond them in the distance a line of low hazy mountains, pink and ochre in the early morning sunlight.
Dressing quickly in a blue shift she made her way out between tables and chairs in the lounge onto the deserted deck and stared round in delight. It was already hot on the afterdeck, but under the awning it was shady. She walked to the rail and leant on it, staring at the palm trees on the far side of the river. The cruiser was out of sight now, and for a moment the river was empty. It was several minutes before she could bring herself to turn her back on the view and head for the dining room and breakfast. At the door she met Serena, Charley’s cabinmate, who the night before had been sitting at the next-door table. About forty-five, slim and attractive with short dark hair and huge green eyes she gave Anna a cheerful smile. ‘See you later,’ she said by way of hello and goodbye. She held the door open for Anna, then disappeared in the direction of the cabins. In the dining room only Charley was sitting at the table they had all shared the night before.
‘Good morning.’ Anna sat down near her. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Not a wink.’ Charley scowled. She was nursing a cup of black coffee. She sighed. ‘I hate flying and I hate boats.’
Anna hid an astonished smile. She resisted the temptation to ask why in that case Charley had come on such a holiday. ‘Can I get you something from the buffet?’ Behind them the serving table was laden with cereals and fruits, cheese, cold meat and eggs.
Charley shook her head. Her long hair was caught back in a ponytail this morning and she was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans ‘Just ignore me. I’ll improve when I’ve had a couple of these.’ She gestured at the coffee.
‘Have the others had breakfast?’ Anna eyed the empty places, already cleared by the waiters.
Charley nodded. ‘All early birds.’ She gave Anna a sideways glance. ‘Andy and I are an item, we’ve been together for several months.’
Anna watched while the waiter poured her coffee then she stood up ready to go to the buffet. ‘I thought perhaps you were.’ She smiled. Charley’s comment was a clear warning shot across the bows. Yet hadn’t Andy said he was unattached? Piling up fruit and cheese and a delicate crumbling croissant onto her plate she turned back to the table. Charley had gone.
Returning to her cabin to collect her sun hat, glasses and guidebook, Anna stood for a moment staring round. She had left the diary on the bedside table. Hesitating briefly she swung her suitcase down from the top of the locker where she had stowed it and put the diary inside. Locking it, she lifted it back into place. As she was collecting a hairbrush and some sun cream from the dressing table to toss into her bag her eye was caught by the scent bottle. Should she have locked that away as well? She hesitated, glancing at her watch. They had been told to meet in the boat’s reception area at six forty-five to leave at seven a.m. She did not want to miss the bus. The decision was simple. She would take it with her. Picking up the bottle she wrapped it in one of the fine silk scarves she used to knot back her hair and tucked the small scarlet bundle into her bag. Then, turning, she let herself out of the cabin.
