by N E. David
The dancer soon left the stage and began a tour of the room, twirling around in front of each group, her long skirt flaring. Occasionally she stopped to wind a flimsy scarf around the neck of an unsuspecting tourist and blow provocatively in his ear. As she approached their table, David stood up and leaned forward to volunteer, stretching out a hand – but the dancer effortlessly evaded his grasp and he fell awkwardly forward while she twirled on to the next group. Some of the crowd burst out laughing.
“Stupid old fool,” muttered Joan, delving into her handbag for her packet of cigarettes.
Meanwhile, the dancer had found herself a partner at the next table but one. Reaching into the shadows, she pulled someone to their feet and led them out into the light. To Blake’s surprise, it was Reda.
Later, Blake was to ask himself whether it had been a deliberate choice and rather than risk the antics of some unsuspecting tourist, it had been decided to use the talents of a member of the management. Reda had certainly identified himself as such. Instead of fancy dress, he was smartly attired in suit, shirt and tie and the peasant clothing he’d worn late on that first night had been left in his room.
And he certainly had talent – perhaps a little too much of it, as it transpired. Emerging onto the dance floor, he slid comfortably across it, and with an ease of movement that belied his bulky figure, he readily supported his partner. When she jerked her hips, he jerked his. When she rotated her torso, he responded. Circle left, circle right – he knew the steps. And it wasn’t something he’d been taught, it was something he’d inherited, he was a natural.
His performance delighted the crowd, and before long they were clapping encouragement. The tempo of the music increased and, whipped up by the band, the pair danced ever faster, the belly dancer’s finger cymbals clashing furiously while Reda kept pace. Blake began to wonder where it all might end – and he’d no sooner asked himself the question than it was answered in no uncertain fashion.
Lee Yong and Reda must have been sitting together at the same table from which he’d been pulled out earlier. Blake had either walked past them on the way in or they’d slipped in afterwards, unnoticed. But now she too had come out into the light and was walking determinedly toward the dance floor. It was the first time he’d seen her that evening.
Her appearance took his breath away. She was dressed in much the same outfit as Janet, i.e. as a woman of the harem, but rather than plain white her costume was of a deep blue with a gold waistband hung about with trinkets. Her head and face were covered but her midriff was bare, and whereas Janet’s figure was somewhat matronly, Lee Yong’s was lithe and supple. She looked stunning. Seated just a few feet away, Joan stiffened. She had elected to deck herself out as a queen – but Lee Yong was truly a princess.
It was not just her looks that caused Blake to take notice – it was also her manner. Her walk was determined and resolute – this was no casual stroll to join Reda, this was a mission to rescue him. The young Egyptian was in danger of falling into the clutches of a seductive Siren and needed to be recovered. To the audience that watched it, the scene must have appeared scripted and they might have thought it part of the act.
She arrived on the dance floor to another “ooh!” from the crowd and at once began a dance of her own. The band, thrown into confusion by her appearance, abruptly stopped playing. Reda and the belly-dancer stopped too, and for a moment Lee Yong continued alone.
Her dance came from much further east than that of her rival and was altogether more subtle, the wild gyration of hips replaced by graceful twists and turns. Abhorrent of a vacuum, the band soon picked up her rhythm and began a wistful tune of the kind that would charm a snake. The crowd hushed, and in the space of a few seconds the atmosphere had completely changed.
Reda stood transfixed. In this strange ménage à trios, he literally did not know which way to turn. The belly-dancer, deprived of both her music and the attention of her partner, stood to one side with her hands on her flabby hips and looked distinctly put out. Seemingly unperturbed, Lee Yong danced serenely on.
Two’s company – three’s a crowd, thought Blake, and was wondering how this might resolve itself when there was a movement to his left. Suddenly David was up from his seat and halfway across the dance floor. Swaying gently under the influence of his third gin and tonic, he stumbled forward, confronted the belly-dancer and began to contort himself to the music, inviting her to join him. The crowd welcomed him with a great “Hooray!” and although his action had been entirely selfish, it freed Reda from his predicament and allowed him to dance with Lee Yong.
This seemed like the ideal solution – but it did not satisfy everyone. Now there was a movement to Blake’s right and it was Joan’s turn to be up and halfway across the dance floor. Incensed by David’s performance and with a face like thunder, she marched straight toward her husband who, unaware of her impending arrival, continued making a fool of himself. The crowd burst out laughing once more and the situation was on the verge of descending into farce.
Then a strange thing happened – Blake felt compelled to intervene and without a second thought, he sprang up and followed after the queen. His immediate intention was to persuade her to dance with him. The delicate balance that David had created was about to be destroyed and a voice deep within him said he did not want that to happen.
But whatever his reasons, he was soon overtaken by events. Janet and Keith were right behind him and in a matter of moments they were all on the dance floor together – a queen, an emperor, a sheikh, a belly-dancer, two ladies of the harem and himself dressed as an Egyptian peasant. If there was any one of the party who looked out of place, it was Reda.
The crowd took their intervention as the general signal to join in. Soon the scene was one of utter chaos as they all flooded forward and in the melee that followed, Blake found himself in the one position he did not want, i.e. face to face with the belly-dancer. Relieved that she had finally found a reliable partner, she resumed her act and he was forced to submit to the indignity of mimicking her movements. He’d set out that evening with the intention of remaining unnoticed, but he could hardly have felt more exposed.
He soldiered on, acutely aware of himself and the spectacle he was creating. In the morning he could expect a few ribald comments –I saw you last night, you sly old devil. You seemed to be doing alright for yourself – but he was not finding it enjoyable. The task he was undertaking was a duty rather than a pleasure and he would seek to relieve himself of it at the first available opportunity.
Whatever his original intentions, his intervention had an effect. David and Joan were reunited, albeit reluctantly, Janet and Keith were next to each other and from time to time, Ira’s slender form would appear from behind Mrs Biltmore’s swirling garments. And buried in the crowd just a few feet away, Reda and Lee Yong were dancing together, seemingly without a care in the world.
Blake began to relax. Soon his dancing partner would tire of him and withdraw to the comfort of her dressing room where she could reflect on what had been an eventful evening. If there were no more alarms, he would shortly follow suit and take himself off to bed. Tomorrow was another early start and he needed his sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
He woke, as usual, some time in the hour before dawn. But rather than go out on deck to greet the new day, he chose to lie in bed and think about the events of the previous evening. It had sounded innocuous at the time, but the music which had filled the Forward Lounge was running insistently through his head like a dripping tap he couldn’t turn off and for the moment, any idea of going out to watch birds had been banished. His boat trip the day before had sated his desire and even the prospect of Glossy Ibis and their early morning flight across the rising sun (a sight he was still yet to witness) was not enough to move him.
Something had ‘happened’ at the Egyptian Evening but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it and yet he was convinced it was important. Contrary to his principles, he had contrived to interfere
in something that was none of his business. The outcome was that he’d succeeded in ending up in the arms of an overweight middle-aged belly-dancer and he wanted to understand why. He tried to reconstruct the chain of events which had led up to it, but it had all happened so quickly that it was difficult to piece it together. Had he been trying to save them all from embarrassment? He doubted it – he was far more used to letting people struggle on alone. All he could think of was that he’d done it for the sake of Lee Yong, but in the chaos that had followed David’s charge he’d missed her. Had he gone out there to claim her? Or to save her? He was confused as to his motives and he needed time to think. He turned over to face the wall and away from the distractions of the window.
Down in the kitchen below, the breakfast chef had started singing again. This time it was a slow, doleful tune of the kind intended to lull you to sleep and he soon found himself drifting back.
Then his reverie was broken by the jagged call of his alarm, jerking him into to the present. The bedside clock showed 6.30 am. If he didn’t get his skates on, he was going to miss the bus.
For once he was the last down to breakfast. After the frenetic action of the night before, it was a subdued atmosphere that greeted him at the table. As expected, Lee Yong was absent while the others were quietly going about their business – all except David who had his elbows on the table, his head in his hands and was moaning softly to himself.
“Morning.”
“Morning…”
David’s response was barely more than a grunt and for a change it was Janet who started the conversation off.
“Didn’t we all have a good time yesterday evening?”
“Yes, I think we did actually.” Despite his personal misgivings, Blake had to concur. “Although David looks as though he’s suffering a bit today.”
“Don’t remind me.”
David’s reply seemed to emanate from somewhere in the region of the tablecloth.
“Oh dear.” Blake smirked, rather self-righteously. “A bit too much alcohol last night?”
“You could say that,” groaned the distant voice.
“It’s his own fault,” said Joan. “I’ve told him not to mix his drinks but he doesn’t take a blind bit of notice. Two large glasses of wine with his dinner, followed by a string of gin and tonics. What do you expect? He’s only got himself to blame.”
“Thanks for the sympathy!”
“Well, you don’t deserve any. You never listen to a word I’m saying. Perhaps if you’d paid more attention to me than chasing after that…Anyway, I don’t know why you don’t stay in the cabin this morning and sleep it off. You’d feel an awful lot better for it.”
“We discussed that. We’re going to Philae. I can’t miss it.”
(Philae boasted a temple which was the object of their morning’s visit.)
He clipped his words, as if the act of speaking were painful in itself.
“Well maybe you should have thought of that last night before you decided to get tanked up. Give yourself a break, David, for God’s sake – it’s only another pile of stones.”
“It’s not just another pile of stones,” David protested. “It’s important. You don’t understand the history. Just get me another cup of coffee. I’ll be fine.”
Keith hailed a passing waiter and guided him in David’s direction.
They took the opportunity for a refill and after the waiter had gone, Blake pointed casually at the inevitably empty place.
“Any sign of Lee Yong?”
It was a question he soon wished he hadn’t asked.
“No, I don’t think anyone’s seen her this morning,” reported Keith.
“She seemed to be enjoying herself last night though,” added Janet.
“Did you see her outfit?” said Joan, raising an eyebrow.
“I certainly did,” said Keith. “I don’t see how you could miss it – absolutely stunning. I was impressed, I don’t mind telling you.”
“So was Reda by the look of him,” said Joan.
It was this chance remark that caused Blake to become concerned.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice!”
“I didn’t notice what?”
“Are you kidding?” Joan gave him a knowing look. “The way they were cosying up to each other on the dance floor, that’s what. If you ask me, I think they’re an item. And all I can say is, if you can’t see it you must be blind.”
“Who?”
“Reda and Lee Yong.”
“Do you know, I thought that too,” agreed Keith. “They certainly seemed to spend a lot of time together. You don’t suppose there’s something going on there do you?”
This last comment prompted Janet to interject.
“Keith! I’m surprised at you! That’s an entirely inappropriate thing to say. You shouldn’t be speaking about people like that.”
Joan, on the other hand, had no such scruples.
“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me…”
This form of random speculation filled Blake with horror. How could they be so casual about something so personal? What business was it of theirs! For that matter, what business was it of his and why should he feel so precious about it? And yet, in the girl’s case, he was filled with a protective desire…
Suddenly, he found himself blurting out without thinking: “Well, I for one don’t believe we should be talking about them behind their backs.”
Joan instantly took offence.
“Sorry, I’m sure…” And as if to cover up her embarrassment, she changed the focus of the conversation by deliberately consulting her watch. “Good God, look at the time. We’ve got to go. Come on, David, get yourself together.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” moaned the dislocated voice and the head to which it belonged gradually raised itself up and grimaced.
David forced himself to his feet, a hand held over his eyes. They all rose to leave, and as Blake folded his napkin, Janet whispered an aside.
“You’re quite right, it’s none of our business what these young people get up to. I’ll have a word with Keith about it – he shouldn’t be talking like that.”
Something in her voice suggested a sensible and motherly instinct was at work. Given the right subject perhaps Janet wasn’t always the mouse that she seemed. Blake breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was someone on his side and with Janet’s help, the speculation might be kept under control. Left solely in Joan’s hands, there was no telling where it might lead.
So the suggestion was that Lee Yong and Reda were in a relationship. Blake walked slowly back to his cabin, turning the proposition over carefully in his mind. It was not how he wanted to see things. Perhaps he was in a state of denial but if it were true, it would explain a lot – the meeting in the coach-park at the Valley of the Kings, the scene on the ship’s rail, all culminating with the goings-on at the Egyptian Evening. And he’d thought they’d been discussing antiquities and the history of Egypt – so much for his powers of observation! He’d spent a lifetime looking at wildlife and prided himself on being able to detect the signals – the alarm call of a thrush, the angle at which an otter raised its head – they all had meaning. And just as he might watch birds, so he thought he might watch people.
How ironic that the skill he’d acquired through the study of animal behaviour was not one shared by the others! Earlier in the trip he’d castigated them for failing to understand the Egyptian character – they couldn’t possibly understand the country the way that he did. Now, in the space of a few short moments, they’d exposed his own shortcomings and it filled him with apprehension. How could he have missed something so obvious? Or was it that he’d simply refused to face up to it?
Another, more damning, thought occurred to him. What if their relationship encompassed more than something personal? Malaysia was a Muslim country and Lee Yong an active and forthright person. What if she and Reda were in collusion?
The implications of this possibility multiplied within him. But the evidence to hand was purely circumstantial, and beyond his own observations and the offhand chatter at the breakfast table there was a lack of any hard facts. This in itself proved nothing and it wanted something concrete to put the matter beyond doubt.
Blake became determined to find it. As much as he was driven by curiosity, there was also a lingering sense of duty – he was not long out of ‘uniform’. And besides, he needed to restore his sense of credibility. A spoor had been pointed out to him and like the tracks of an animal walking on wet sand, he needed to follow it to its conclusion. Yesterday, Reda had been a worry to him – the day before it had been Lee Yong who’d engaged him. Then, whoever they were and whatever they might be doing had been no more than a passing interest – today it was about to become an obsession and for the moment he could think of little else.
Relying purely on habit, he stumbled through his morning routine – but when he came to packing up his telescope he hesitated. To take it or not to take it? That was the question. A few days earlier and it wouldn’t have been an issue. Up until then it had accompanied him everywhere and it was as natural for him to include it as it was to put on shoes or a shirt. But what was the point of it now? He wasn’t going to be watching birds. In the end, he settled for just his binoculars and left his room feeling slightly underdressed.
He arrived on the quayside out of breath but with his backpack and bins at the ready. With its door open and engine running, the bus was already waiting. His bout of indecision meant he was the last aboard and rather than cause further delay, he slumped into a seat right at the front.
“You’ve cut it a bit fine,” someone called from the rear.
“Sorry…”
“Good morning, Mr Blake,” came a familiar voice from his left.
In his struggle to cope with his seatbelt he had failed to notice he had sat immediately next to Reda. The young Egyptian looked at him and smiled, but said nothing more as the bus moved off into the bright morning light.