Aida let out an irritated sigh. ‘Anyhow, all that’s water under the bridge now.’ She needed to get off the subject of Phares, knowing only too well the effect the young doctor still had on her. Those were private feelings, not to be intruded upon by anyone, even Camelia. ‘Enough talk about me. What about you?’
‘There’s not a lot to say.’ Camelia’s large dark eyes became more serious. ‘You must have heard that I married.’
‘Yes, Dada Amina told me,’ Aida said softly.
‘So, she must have also told you that Mounir, my husband, was killed in a car accident on the desert road.’
Aida reached across the table to squeeze her hand briefly. ‘Yes. I’m so sorry for your loss, Camelia. Dada didn’t go into details, she just told me that you’re now a widow.’
Camelia sighed. ‘Thank you, habibti. Yes. And as you know, life for a widow in our narrow-minded society is even worse than a single girl’s. Wagging tongues never stop. Without her husband, a woman alone is an opportunity for a jolly good gossip.’
Aida was no stranger to such unwanted scrutiny. She had a momentary vision of that last afternoon she had spent at the Gezireh Sporting Club before leaving for England. As she sat, feeling her isolation, she could hear the none-too-discreet laughter and sneers of people who, before her father’s indictment and death, had called themselves her friends. ‘It must be very hard for you,’ she commiserated gently, feeling a wave of sympathy for Camelia.
Her friend nodded. ‘My father is always reminding me of my status. Phares is overprotective, too. He seems to forget that I’m a grown woman. Mounir used to leave me for weeks on end alone in our flat in Maadi while he travelled to his cotton mills in Mahallah, Kafr El Dawar and Damanhour. He never worried for a moment that I would get into any trouble.’ She glanced at Aida with a faint smile. ‘You’re lucky you’ve escaped all that.’
‘Did you love your husband?’
‘He was much older than me. We had a good relationship. He made me feel secure. We were good to each other and never fought. So yes, I loved him very much.’ The young woman gave a weak smile.
‘No children then?’
Camelia shook her head unhappily. ‘No, and to me that is a great sadness. I would have liked to have a child. At least my life would have more purpose to it.’
‘So, what do you do with yourself?’
‘I’m on a few charity boards and I …’ Camelia stopped suddenly as though she had been about to say something but held back.
‘And?’ Aida prompted.
‘Oh … I occupy myself with one thing or another … You know, coffee mornings and the usual wagibs, duties that arise almost every week … funerals, christenings, weddings. There’s always something.’
‘No man in your life?’
Camelia gave her friend an enigmatic smile. ‘How? When a widow is treated as a social pariah. The women are afraid for their husbands so they keep clear, and men treat you as a loose woman because they assume without a man to keep an eye on you, you’re open to any overture. As for the men, you know what it’s like here. In our circle there are few ways to meet a decent man. We are just creatures of pleasure to most of them, unless you find one who loves you. What about you, habibti? Did you marry in England?’
Aida shook her head. ‘No, I was too engrossed in my work. The war broke out before I had time to finish my training and so I was thrown in at the deep end, learning to be a nurse on the job, plus I was seconded to lots of different hospitals for a while. In a way it was both heart-wrenching and exhilarating. You lived in a surreal world where you couldn’t anticipate what tomorrow would bring. The suffering we saw was horrendous, but you didn’t have the time to think, feel, grieve … everything changed so quickly from one minute to the next.’
Camelia’s eyebrows rose. ‘Not even a fling? I understand people pretty much threw caution to the wind … kind of living for the day.’
Aida drew an inaudible sigh. ‘Not even a fling. At first, I was homesick and then I was working round the clock with the doctors and other nurses. Overtime was a way of life and I never seemed to stand still. But you’re right, I knew a few couples who married in panic during the war and were divorced by the end of it. Still, that wasn’t for me. I had more pressing things to deal with, like people who’d been badly burned in a blast or a fire, soldiers who had lost a limb or part of it …’ She shook her head, pushing away the memories. ‘It was horrendous, really. War is so wicked.’
Camelia’s large expressive eyes were full of affection. ‘You always said you wanted to be another Florence Nightingale, Aida. And with your sort of drive and dedication, I’m not surprised …’
They had worked their way through the two first courses and now the maitre d’hôtel came over to ask if they would prefer the Mont Blanc Chantilly, a dessert of puréed, sweetened chestnuts topped with whipped cream, or a basket of fresh fruit. Both women opted for the classic French snow-capped treat and a pot of coffee.
Camelia eyed her friend over her cup. ‘How long are you here for?’
‘I’m here for Princess Nazek’s ball,’ Aida answered. ‘We met on the plane from London. I’ll be going back to Luxor after that.’
Camelia’s face lit up. ‘What a marvellous coincidence! My father and I have been invited too. And Phares, but I don’t think he’ll go. You must come and stay with us.’
Aida tensed. Catching her breath, she felt the colour sweep up her face, burning into the roots of her hair. The last person she wanted to see was Kamel Pharaony.
Camelia’s perfect black brows drew together. ‘What’s wrong, Aida? You’ve gone all red.’
‘Just a headache. I get them sometimes.’
Camelia looked concerned. ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You’ll pay your bill for one night and then we’ll go home to the house in Gizeh. You remember Kasr El Ghoroub, don’t you? We spent such lovely times there.’ She smiled encouragingly.
Aida remembered all right. She had loved staying at the Pharaonys’ house, because more often than not Phares was there too, training at the hospitals in nearby Cairo during the day, and in the evening after supper he had frequently sat around with Camelia and Aida, listening to music and chatting until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes all three of them would go riding in the desert, and once or twice he had treated them to the cinema. On one very special occasion, Phares and his cousin Amir had taken the girls out to a nightclub on the pyramids’ road, where Phares had danced with Aida under the stars. She remembered it so well. She had just turned sixteen, and that evening was the first and only time he had held her in his arms. For once Aida had been forced into bewildered silence in his presence as his strong hand rested lightly on her back and she felt the nearness of his hard chest, though no doubt Phares was completely unaware of her dizzying turmoil. For years after she had left Egypt, no matter how hard she tried to bury her mind’s precious souvenirs from those carefree days, the memory of that particular warm summer night lingered like a wonderful dream. Every so often, when the atrocities she had faced day after day became too overwhelming, she would seek refuge in those cheerful memories, trying to recapture the faraway times when she had been carefree and happy.
Now, the thought of returning to Kasr El Ghoroub filled Aida with dark apprehension. For so long she had condemned Kamel Pharaony in her mind, convinced that he had betrayed her father. Even if she’d been wrong, Aida wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him again. The last time she had seen him was that terrible afternoon of her father’s arrest. Her brow furrowed under the strain of trying to push it from her mind.
‘Can we leave it for the next time I come to Cairo?’ she answered eventually. ‘I … I really wouldn’t like to impose on your father.’
Camelia looked at her curiously. ‘On the contrary, Papa would be offended if you refused … Anyway, do you have an escort for the ball?’
‘No, I must admit that I don’t.’ Aida knew this would provide another problem.
‘It w
ould be badly looked upon if you arrived without a chaperone.’
‘I’m not a debutante anymore. During the war I often left the hospital late at night or in the early hours of the morning to go home.’
The beautiful brunette was having none of it. ‘Yes, but you were in England and that was wartime.’
‘Oh, Camelia, why must we argue? We’ve just found each other again. I can’t bear your being annoyed with me,’ Aida said, embarrassed by the persistent note in her own voice.
‘Listen, it’s just that both Papa and Phares will be furious with me if they find out that I knew you were in Cairo and let you stay alone at a hotel. That’s even worse than not having an escort!’
‘You don’t need to tell them,’ she said tentatively.
‘Sooner or later they’ll find out. Look, it’s just a few days at our house, and it’ll be like old times. Unless of course …’ Camelia blinked, and something flickered across her face. She looked at her friend anxiously. ‘Unless you still harbour those horrid thoughts about my father. Surely that was just your grief speaking?’ she said tentatively. ‘I never thought you meant it seriously …’
‘Let it go, Camelia.’ Aida’s voice was quiet, although she could feel her agitation mounting.
‘You do, don’t you? You still think the statue belonged to Papa.’
‘Forgive me, Camelia, but I don’t know what to think anymore. I just know my father was framed somehow.’
‘Your head is full of unfounded notions.’
‘Maybe, but I need to find out the truth and clear my father’s name.’
Camelia’s eyes were wide. ‘I can understand that. In your place I would have wanted to do the same, but you’re going about it in the wrong way.’
Aida frowned. ‘Perhaps, but I need to handle this in my own way. There’s nothing more to be said or done about it.’ A moment of awkward silence fell before Aida’s expression softened. ‘I value your friendship, Camelia. I hope you haven’t taken umbrage at what I’ve said.’
Camelia met her friend’s gaze, her expression earnest. ‘I value your friendship too, Aida, and I will stand by you. Though I sincerely believe there has been a huge misunderstanding and that my father had nothing to do with what happened.’
‘Thank you,’ Aida murmured, and refrained from adding, That remains to be seen.
Camelia looked at her friend askance. ‘I still think that you shouldn’t be staying at the hotel alone and that we should all go together to Princess Nazek’s ball. It’ll be twice as fun preparing for a party together like we used to in the old days. I’ve missed you so much,’ she ended wistfully.
Camelia was obviously lonely and was reaching out to her, and Aida was deeply touched by the young widow’s avowal of friendship. Eight years was a long time, yet their closeness hadn’t altered and they were as comfortable with each other as they had ever been. Camelia was one of the few real friends she had in Egypt. It would be nice to take up where they had left off. Aida didn’t relish the idea of meeting Kamel Pharaony again, but sooner or later she would run into him; Cairo’s social circle was as big as a pocket handkerchief, and she might as well get this first face-to-face over and done with. Besides, now that she was back in Egypt she was beginning to question everything she thought she knew.
Aida smiled fondly at her friend. ‘You don’t give up easily, do you?’
‘Not when it’s important,’ replied Camelia resolutely. ‘Our friendship is something I take seriously and I won’t let you throw it away just because some poisonous person made accusations against my father. If you wish to clear your father’s name, I also need to rid you of the suspicion that fills your mind. Which means your meeting my father again.’
Aida looked at her warmly. She had a point. ‘I’m really touched by your friendship, Camelia.’
‘Then you will come and stay with us,’ she stated rather than asked.
Aida gave a brief capitulating laugh. ‘How can I not after such an invitation?’
After they’d finished their coffee and the plate of petit fours that accompanied it, Aida asked the maitre d’hôtel to add the bill to her account and the two women left the dining room via the front desk, where Aida cancelled her reservation for the rest of her stay.
Together, they went up to her suite, where Prince Shams Sakr El Din’s huge basket of flowers was displayed on the table in the middle of the room.
‘You haven’t read the note.’ Camelia gestured at the opulent display. ‘I noticed you put it in your pocket unopened.’
Aida stopped next to the table. ‘Ah yes! I didn’t like the way the concierge was looking at me, so I just shoved it away and then forgot about it.’
She took the note out of her pocket. The handwriting was left-slanting, small and angled. Aida had once been interested in graphology and she judged that the prince’s letters denoted a highly intelligent but rather cold nature with strong powers of concentration, an analytical, manipulative mind and an aggressive, impatient personality. An interesting character, she thought, with a wicked provocative strain that spelled danger. Intriguing, but one to beware of.
My dear Miss El Masri, she read aloud, Would you please do me the great honour of accompanying me tomorrow night to the opening ball of the season. It is given by a good friend of mine, Princess Nazek. It will take place at her palace overlooking the Nile on Gezireh Island. I was going to attend it on my own, but my pleasure will be so much greater if you agree to be my partner for the evening.
Your faithful servant,
Shams Sakr El Din
Aida laughed. ‘So, I do have an escort after all.’
‘You’re not going to accept? You’ve only met the man briefly …’ her friend protested, appalled.
‘Why shouldn’t I? This is a perfectly civil invitation.’ And a very convenient one at that, Aida admitted silently to herself.
‘I just told you about his reputation.’
‘So what? He will be escorting me to a ball, nothing more,’ Aida said cheerfully, gathering the few things she’d had time to unpack and returning them to her suitcase.
Camelia crossed to the window and looked out at the bustling Ibrahim Pasha Street below. ‘Have you forgotten the wagging tongues of Cairo society? Your name will be linked with his, and every respectable young man will look upon you as … as … well, you know what I mean.’
Aida continued folding her clothes. ‘Come on, Camelia, don’t be so narrow-minded.’
Camelia glanced over from the window. ‘I’m not narrow-minded, you know that habibti, but other people are. This ball is an opportunity to meet all the eligible young men in Cairo. That’s why my father is so keen for me to attend. He’s even cancelled his precious evening of bridge to escort me as Phares couldn’t promise to be there. He never knows if he’ll be called upon for an urgent operation …’
Aida preferred not to think about whether or not Phares would attend, so her expression remained shuttered. ‘I’m not interested in Egyptian eligible young men. They are so bigoted and set in their views.’
Camelia arched a brow. ‘That’s a sweeping statement, and a damned stupid one too.’
‘Look, it’s just that I’ve become used to much more independence than women have here. I could never live the parochial life most of these so-called prospective husbands have to offer.’
‘My father will not allow you to be taken to the ball by this man,’ Camelia declared flatly.
Aida looked up from the suitcase and her eyes hardened. ‘With all due respect, I don’t see that this matter is Uncle Kamel’s business.’
Camelia walked over to her friend, her tone conciliatory. ‘You know how it is, Aida. He will feel responsible for you, especially if you’re staying under his roof.’
‘Well then, I’ll stay at Shepheard’s as originally planned,’ she retorted in a firm voice.
Camelia gave a small sigh. ‘You’re being unreasonable.’
‘Maybe, but I won’t have anybody dictate to me.’
‘I wouldn’t like to put him in that sort of uncomfortable situation,’ Aida said coolly. ‘So, if you don’t mind, I’ll spend the next two nights at the hotel and I promise you that when I come to Cairo in the future, if you’re also here I will stay with you.’
Aida proceeded to ring reception in order to undo her cancellation, but was informed that the room was already taken and there were no other rooms available for a week.
Frustrated, she turned back to Camelia. ‘It looks as if the gods are conspiring against me,’ she said with a wry look. ‘I could of course stay at the Semiramis, or the Continental …’
Camelia rolled her eyes. ‘But you’re not, because you aren’t that insensitive. I’d really be hurt.’
Aida regarded her friend thoughtfully. She would have to meet Kamel Pharaony again at some point, she reasoned, so why not now? And when she did, she would hold her head high and look him in the eye.
Finally, a mixture of stubborn pride, curiosity and fondness for Camelia cemented her decision. ‘And also because in my heart of hearts I really would like to stay at Kasr El Ghoroub, just like in the old days,’ Aida admitted. ‘I suppose now I’d better send a note to the prince and decline his invitation.’ She sighed and looked at her friend sheepishly. ‘Of course you’re right, he would probably get the wrong idea and that would land me in trouble.’ She realised that in their disagreement she had started playing devil’s advocate, but then all too quickly had become caught up in the game.
‘Now you listen to me,’ Camelia said with mock exasperation.
‘I knew all along it would be foolish to let the prince escort me, but you know how I am. I hate being told what to do, it just brings out the worst in me,’ Aida admitted with a grin.
The two friends hugged each other fondly. Before leaving the room, Camelia rang home to tell the servants to prepare a room, and Aida called the hall porter to come and take down her luggage. She then asked Camelia if they could make a detour via the Embassy so that she could drop off her uncle’s letter for Sir Miles.
Song of the Nile Page 12