Going for Gold

by Annie Dalton

  “Her advisors begged her not to go, saying she’d be sailing to her certain death,” explained Khaled. “But Cleopatra had a special reason for wanting to go. She and Mark Antony had what you’d call a history.”

  Maryam took over the story. “They had met just once when he was a young captain and she was only twelve or thirteen. He was at a state banquet her father, the eccentric King Auletes, was giving for the Romans.

  During the meal, the king got very drunk. He got up in the middle of a speech by one of the Roman VIPs, and danced all by himself. Mark Antony guessed how humiliated the young princess was feeling, and took the trouble to talk to her, asking her opinions, putting her at her ease, treating her not like a little girl but like the great queen she would one day become. She never forgot his kindness.”

  “Her feelings for Mark Antony weren’t the only reason Cleopatra decided to go to Tarsus,” Khaled added hastily. “She was a woman, but first and foremost she was a queen, and she had thought of an extraordinary way to turn this meeting to her own advantage, saving herself, her throne and her country.” Khaled smiled at me and Lola. “This is where your vision comes in! Cleopatra’s plan could only succeed if she had her people’s help. She secretly sent messengers to every town in Egypt to seek out the best goldsmiths and glassworkers, the best entertainers…”

  “They had to keep Cleopatra’s plan under wraps,” Maryam put in. “Rome had legions stationed in Egypt as part of their build-up to a military invasion. There were spies everywhere.”

  “Omigosh,” I breathed. “Those guys were auditioning to see who got the royal contract!”

  “Did her plan work?” asked Lola.

  Maryam nodded, smiling. “Cleopatra saved Egypt and made Mark Anthony fall in love with her.”

  Ooh-la la, I thought. That girl bowled men over like skittles!

  -So what was this amazing plant” Lola’s eyes gli,,ted. This whole Cleopatra story had her hootod But Maryam and Khaled had to go off to a meeting .Maybe you’ll be able to locate the same t,me-stream before we finish the course,” Maryam Rested, smiling. “Then you’ll find ou, for yourself!”

  Chapter Six

  Our time-stream sessions were scheduled for early morning or evening, when cosmic vibes are at their most pure.

  This left me and Lola with our afternoons free to do the tourist thing. As it turned out, my soulmate had arranged a v. special surprise.

  When we came down into the foyer, the earth-angel boy on the desk shot out into the broiling street and gave a piercing whistle.

  A horse-drawn caleche rattled up to the door. The driver in his traditional flowing djellaba had to be the toughest looking earth angel I’d ever seen: short, bald and absolutely unsmiling!

  “Mel, meet Mohammed!” Lola beamed, adding in a whisper, “I thought it would be fun to play princesses for an afternoon!”

  I did feel exactly like a princess as Mohammed silently handed us up into our hired carriage. A hot sweaty princess but who cares?

  We snapped crazy pictures of each other under our fringed canopy, as Mohammed took us clip clopping through the town at higher speeds than you might naturally expect a horse and buggy to go!

  Egyptian traffic is MAD: pedestrians, donkey-carts, bikes, trucks and buses all competing for the same space. At junctions Mohammed stood up like an old-style chariot driver, glowering over the mayhem, before hurtling off in his chosen direction.

  Now and then he’d stop without warning, obviously expecting us to get out and wander around some suitable tourist attraction.

  Like nice polite angel girls we did what we were told. We checked out a couple of local bazaars, and peeked shyly into a cafe where old men were smoking hubble-bubble pipes and having heated discussions, reading aloud to each other from Egyptian newspapers to back up their arguments.

  Last on Mohammed’s private checklist was the local museum.

  Can I be totally honest? I’m not a museums kind of girl. I get inside and I’m like - what am I supposed to be looking at again?

  But as Mohammed was making it perfectly clear he was settling down for a long snooze, in we went.

  We walked through dimly lit rooms past showcases filled with King Whosit’s second best chariot and whatever, and after five minutes, like usual, I was slowly losing the will to live. But after ten minutes, I was like, Uh-oh. Houston we have a problem.

  Having acquired the knack of picking up time-streams I couldn’t seem to stop! The tiniest object would set an ancient Egyptian movie running in my head - and museums have a LOT of objects as you know. Also, just to increase the stress levels a notch, human tourists were constantly walking through us, a v. common angelic experience, but one I personally could do without.

  I trailed after my friend, getting increasingly spaced, but not wanting to seem feeble, you know how it is. I was literally on the verge of passing out when I saw a sign. TO THE MUMMY ROOM.

  Now I’m very nearly as fascinated by old mummies as I am by museums, but at that moment the scientifically-temperature-controlled mummy chamber seemed hugely desirable, mainly because it was blissfully free of humans.

  “I’m going to check out the mummy,” I mumbled.

  Lola’s eyes went wide. “Melanie! I can feel its vibes from here.”

  With my divine radar on the fritz, I wasn’t thinking vibes, I was just thinking cool, empty.

  “You’re on your own, Boo!” Lola called. Her voice had a panicky edge. “I’ve got a phobia of mummies, remember?”

  “Won’t be long,” I quavered. Black spots danced before my eyes as I tottered up the steps. By then, of course, it was too late.

  I could see myself reflected in the glass, an averagely pretty angel girl wearing a white cotton dress over cropped white cotton leggings - and an expression of growing horror.

  Inside the glass case, propped up like a scarecrow in what must once have been a sumptuous, silk-lined coffin, was the dried-up shell of - I suppose the polite expression would be - a ‘former human being’.

  I don’t know why the mummy was more disturbing than an average corpse but trust me, it was. All its bandages had rotted down to shreds, allowing its jaws to fall open, reminding me of a dead dog I’d seen once in Park Hall High Street. The mummy’s accidental leer exposed the stumps of four-thousand-year-old teeth.

  Then some vague survival instinct kicked in and I flew out of that chamber like a baby bunny with its tail on fire.

  Unfortunately I shot through the wrong door, finding myself in a bewildering corridor with offshoots going every which way.

  Like my friend I was now seriously mummy phobic, so I couldn’t even think of going back. I just kept running, getting more and more lost, until I ran into a completely empty part of the museum. Empty of humans anyway.

  Thoughtfully studying a display of ancient jewellery was the angel girl I’d seen from my balcony.

  Do you ever have those dreams where you know exactly what’s going to happen next? She’ll turn and smile, I thought, and it’ll be like we’ve known each other forever.

  The mysterious angel girl turned, flashing a wonderfully familiar smile. “I’m sorry,” she said as if we were in mid-conversation. “Why would anyone want to wear some gruesome old bluebottle on a chain?”

  The similarity in our voices should have spooked me but it was actually the opposite. I felt fabulously safe, like I already knew everything about her. I pointed to a notice inside the showcase.

  “It’s called THE FLIES OF VALOUR. It was a medal given for great courage in battle.”

  She gave a scream of laughter. “They had a medal called the Flies of Valour?! How completely hilarious! Do you think they had one called the Cockroach of Loyalty or the Maggot of - I don’t know—?” “Majesty?” I suggested with a smirk. “The Maggot of Majesty’! Ooh I like it!” She wasn’t my physical double. She was too pretty to be my double. But in every other way she was my twin; her gestures, her sassy way of talking, even her little wrap dress and leggings were identical, e
xcept her outfit was brilliant poppy red. She wagged her finger accusingly. “You don’t remember me!”

  “I do, I saw you early this morning,” I confessed shyly.

  “I know! You’d be such a rubbish spy,” she giggled. “No, before that, Babe! We were on the same Soul-Retrieval course. Not that you’d notice me with gorgeous Indigo schmoozing around!”

  I felt myself going pink. “I don’t think I saw you at our first time-stream session—” I said hastily changing the subject.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t get here till, like, five this morning, so I grabbed a few minutes shuteye.”

  “Wow, so you and Indigo must be at the same school? What’s it like at the celestial coll—?”

  But she was already dancing on to the next showcase.

  “Finally some jewellery a girl can relate to!” she bubbled. “I LOVE this gold ankh, don’t you?”

  An ankh, if you didn’t know, is shaped like a cross except it has a loop thingy at the top. On our Egyptian field trip, Mr Allbright had explained that the loop let everybody know that this powerful sacred symbol belonged strictly to the gods, and was only, like, on loan to humans.

  This particular ankh was made of solid gold studded with glittering dark gems. I thought it looked v. scary, but I dutifully said, “Wow.”

  “Do you want it?” The angel girl impulsively stretched out her hand. I thought she was going to put it right through the glass!

  She let out her contagious giggle. “Too slow, you lost out!”

  I laughed nervously, not sure if she was making fun.

  “I’ve had enough of this graveyard,” she said abruptly. “How about you, Mel Beeby?”

  “Definitely!” I giggled, secretly flattered that she’d remembered my name from the course.

  We emerged from the air-conditioned museum into a solid wall of heat. We both started fanning ourselves at the same moment, which made us laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know your name,” I said. The girl’s eyes sparkled, as if she’d been hoping I’d ask. “It’s Maia!” She pronounced it to rhyme with liar.

  “Maia is my favourite name,” I told her shyly but she was checking her watch and didn’t hear. “Fancy hooking up later?” she asked casually. “Totally,” I beamed. “I know Lola would love to meet you.”

  Her smooth forehead puckered in a frown. “Yeah, but it’s you I’m asking, OK?” “OK,” I said, startled.

  Maia was watching me with an oddly detached expression. “How come you have such a low opinion of yourself, babe?”

  I felt myself going hot and cold. “I didn’t think I did.”

  She shook her head. “No, I totally read people, and I bet - did you say your friend’s name is Lola? I bet Lola gets to play superstar twenty-four-seven, am I right?” Maia shook her head pityingly. “No fun always being the understudy is it, sweetie?”

  “Actually, Lola’s my best friend, so please don’t talk about her like that,” I said angrily. The words just came out by themselves. I’m usually rubbish at standing up to people, but she’d crossed a line.

  Maia went white. “That so didn’t come out how I meant. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She totally didn’t know where to look.

  I was already intrigued by this unusual angel girl. Now a tiny door in my heart that I hadn’t known was there, flew wide open.

  Maia might act sassy, but she had just shown me that she was every bit as scared and vulnerable as -well, me.

  I touched her arm. “It’s OK, really.” “Are you sure?” Enormous tears hung off the ends of her eyelashes, threatening to fall. “Totally sure, and I’d still love to meet up.”

  She was fiddling with something at her throat.

  With a twang of shock I recognised the ankh.Maia saw my face. “What? This?” She lifted the jewel-studded pendant, peering down almost in surprise. “No way! You thought I nicked it from the museum! That’s so hilarious!”

  My face was burning. “I didn’t really—” “Sweetie, this is fake. I bought it in Ambrosia before I came!”

  “I honestly didn’t—” I was beside myself with shame to think I’d virtually accused another angel of stealing.

  “Hey, it was a natural mistake, don’t stress it!” Maia had taken out her phone. She started walking away.

  “Come back with us!” I offered wildly. “You and Lola would totally hit it off, I know you would!” “Stuff to do, babe!” she called. “Later, OK!” “But how will I find you?” I shouted. “I’ll find you, OK!”

  Lola picked that moment to come flying out of the museum. She arrived on the pavement, looking frazzled.

  “Hi babe!” I greeted her. “Did you see that cool angel girl I was with?”

  She practically snapped my head off. “No I didn’t! Where the sassafras did you get to? I’ve been worried sick!”

  I scanned the crowded pavements, wanting to point out my fascinating new friend, but Maia must have been a fast walker because there was no sign of a sassy angel girl in a poppy red dress.

  Chapter Seven

  Back at the hostel Lola went right off the deep end.

  “You just disappeared, Melanie! I had NO idea what had happened! AND you forgot to keep your phone switched on!”

  “Jeez, Lollie, you sound like my mum!”

  “I don’t CARE! Suppose the PODS had got you.”

  “You really think the Powers of Darkness would let me make a phone call!”

  “That’s NOT the point!” Lola was so upset she’d given herself hiccups.

  “Don’t let’s fight,” I pleaded. “I don’t want us to fight.”

  I fetched us both a cool drink from our mini fridge, and we took them out on to the balcony. I made Lola hold her breath and block her ears and eventually her hiccups stopped and we were friends again.

  “You’re still coming tonight, aren’t you?” she asked anxiously.

  My soulmate had arranged to do a couple of sets with the band.

  I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wouldn’t miss it, truly.”

  A voice in my head whispered: Ma/a might be there.

  Lola was just getting into her second number, when I heard a friendly BEEP from inside my bag. I felt a happy little buzz when I saw Maia’s text message. Wait 4 u downstairs. Maz.

  Far too excited to wonder how she got my number, I rushed off.

  At the bottom of the steps, I heard a stifled giggle and Maia sprang out. “Surrender innocent angel girl, I am your worst nightmare!”

  We both burst out laughing. We’d picked almost identical outfits again: floaty gypsy skirts with beaded tops. I was in apple blossom pinks and greens, and Maia was in glittery sophisticated black.

  “You should really go to the party looking like that,” I said admiringly.

  “No way! Can’t take those types of get togethers. They’re so totally bogus.”

  I felt a naughty thrill go up my spine. Maia was saying we were the real deal, the rebels. Everyone else was just ‘bogus’.

  She was scrutinising me again. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Totally,” I said, ignoring a far-off twang of alarm.

  “Only I’m going to take you to this really special place, but it’s a surprise so you’ll have to cover your eyes.”

  Giggling nervously, I let Maia steer me through the gardens. Belly-dancing music drifted from a tourist boat. I could hear loud rhythmic clapping as the tourists joined in the dance.

  I heard Maia snigger. “Just picture all those old wrinklies doing belly-dancing moves! Euw!”

  “Don’t be mean,” I protested, giggling. “And don’t make me laugh, I keep nearly tripping over as it is!”

  The Nile smells were getting much stronger. We must have been getting close to the river. I could hear Maia breathing and I felt a rush of panic. Was she planning to push me in?

  “Duck!” she commanded, letting me go.

  I ducked through an invisible entrance, setting off tinkling sounds.

  “You can look now!”

  “How
- where—?” I stuttered amazed. “What is this place?”

  “It belongs to the hostel. No one uses it so I thought we’d take it over.” Maia seemed pleased at my surprise.

  Tea-lights in pretty glass holders flickered everywhere. Three walls were hung with richly patterned Bedouin rugs, the fourth wall was mostly taken up by a huge open window overlooking the Nile. Under the window a squashy sofa, draped with more tribal rugs, just begged you to kick off your flip-flops and enjoy the river views.

  “Someone must come here, or who lit the little tea-lights?”

  “That was me, silly! I wanted it to be special.” Maia put on a girly voice. “Hi, madam, my name is Maia and I’ll be looking after your every need this evening.”

  I giggled. “You’re TOTALLY mad, you know that!”

  She got busy throwing fresh mint into a pot, making Egyptian-style mint tea, seeming to know exactly where everything was kept.

  We curled up with our steaming tea glasses, watching the stars dance in the water.

  Maia noticed me shiver. “Wrap yourself in one of these!” She helped me arrange one of the tribal rugs around my shoulders. “Isn’t this better than that old party?” She gave a naughty giggle. “You’d like it even better if you were with Indigo!” “I wasn’t that into him, shut up!” Maia went so quiet I thought I’d offended her. She fiddled with her fake ankh.

  “Actually, Indigo isn’t the only mate we have in common.” Maia sounded cagy. “Your friend Lola is going out with an old friend of mine.”

  I laughed, amazed. “No way! You really know

  Brice!”

  Maia suddenly got off the sofa and went to sit in a nearby wicker chair, I heard her take a breath. “I probably seem really sure of myself, right? Sassy,

  quirky…?”

  “Well, yeah—”

  “It’s totally put on. I’m just so sick of getting hurt.”

  I sat up, startled. “Omigosh, Maia.” She sounded almost angry. “It’s always the same story. I make friends with some cool angel girl. We swap