'You should not do that,' he said calmly. 'She not hurt you. No one hurt you here.'
Melissa blinked through the hot angry tears smarting her eyes. 'You speak English! Why am I here? How dare you keep me here? You've no right. I'm English. I want to know why and how long you think you can get away with this. You ...'
do not know. I only obey orders.' His eyes were dark and imperious. cannot tell you anything except that you will be released unharmed in two days' time.'
'Two days! Why not now? How do I know you're telling me the truth? How do I . ..?'
He shrugged and turned away from her, helping the woman outside and closing and locking the door.
After that the woman did not return and the boy brought Melissa's next food. By then she had had time to recover from disappointment and cool down; she had also had time to think
She waited until he had set down the tray, watching her warily all the time, then she managed a smile and said softly : 'I'm sorry if I hurt her, but I had to do it. Please stay and talk to me for a little while.'
'There is nothing to talk about,' he said with a trace of sulkiness.
'Yes, there is.' She sat down on the goatskins which were the only furnishings in her prison and reached for one of the bread rolls spread with some kind of cream cheese. The cheese was turning rancid, but by now Melissa wasn't quite so fussy. 'Is she your mother?'
'Yes. How did you know?'
guessed. You're like her in features.'
The boy stood near the door, plainly uneasy, but curious despite himself. He was about fifteen or so, Melissa judged, and he did not look like a hardened criminal. She said abruptly : 'Are they paying you well?'
'My mother needs money,' he said defensively.
'Don't we all?' She leaned back casually on one hand and looked down at her half eaten roll. 'They haven't paid you yet, have they?'
'They will.'
'They won't.' She pretended to yawn.
'You lie.'
'By Allah, I assure you I don't.'
'They will. Two hundred dirhams.'
'Wait and see.'
He looked at her with arrogance in his dark eyes and went out abruptly, closing the door with a bang.
Melissa looked at its grim heavy boards and pursed her lips. For the first time she saw a frail gleam of hope.
It was sundown before he returned.
Melissa did not waste time.
'You need the money badly, don't you?' she hazarded.
'My young brother is going blind. He has trachoma. With money I can pay for treatment to heal his eyes.'
'I'm sorry,' she said, with genuine sympathy in her voice. 'What's his name?'
'What is it to you?'
'She shrugged. do not like to think of a little boy going blind when there are drugs that will restore his sight. He is little, isn't he?' She made a measuring gesture with one hand.
'Yes, he is little, many years less than me.'
'Your English is very good. What's your name"' 'Ahmed '
'Mine's Melissa.'
'It is not. Again you lie.'
She smiled faintly and shook her head. don't tell lies, Ahmed. You think my name is Amorel, but it isn't. Amorel is still safe at the House of the Amulet at Kadir.'
The boy looked sharply at her and she nodded. 'Have you heard the name of Raoul Germont?'
may have heard of it,' he said after a cautious pause.
has Amorel in his care, and he will not allow anyone to take her away. And now it is too late. She
will have much money, Ahmed, more than you or I ever dreamed of. Enough to cure thousands of little boys like your brother of their trachoma. But you will see none of it.'
do not believe you.'
`No,' she sighed, 'why should you? You have no guarantee that I tell you the truth, any more than you have guarantee that Jules Germont and his accomplices have spoken truthfully. They may keep their promise, but I doubt it. Because they will have none of the wealth they have schemed for.'
She watched him closely, reading the shadow of doubt in the dark eyes, the thin hands restless at the frayed edge of the denim shirt that was too big over the slight shoulders. His mouth tightened and parted uncertainly, and his gaze shifted away, then returned. She stayed silent, playing with the gold chain at her throat, then abruptly tugged the amulet from where it lay hidden in the folds of her pyjama blouse. She weighed it in her hand for a moment then slipped the chain over her head.
'Ahmed
His gaze flickered to the glint of precious metal in her hand, but he did not move.
'This will prove my identity to Monsieur Raoul Germont. If you take it to him he will give you money to cure your brother's eyes.'
`He will give me to the police.'
This was more than likely, as Melissa well knew. She said slowly, 'If you help me to get away will give you enough money to buy the drugs. They do not cost much, not as much as you believe.'
Still he stayed silent, his glance darting from her
face to the soft gleam she held. Melissa felt despair gripping her again; it was hopeless : he would not be bribed. Then there was a quick movement and Ahmed was crouching beside her.
He snatched at the amulet, stared at it, then raised eyes in which astonishment gleamed. She said, 'This in itself is worth quite a lot of dirhams, but . ..' she sighed and her mouth drooped, do not want to part with it.' Though it looks as though I've had it, she said to herself sadly.
'This is yours?'
She nodded.
'Who gave it to you?'
Germont.'
He was tracing the shape of it, smoothing its worn surface almost reverently. Suddenly he stood up and thrust the chain over her head. 'You must not part with it . . .' He broke into Arabic, shaking his head, and she stared at him in some puzzlement.
`No, I not take.' He backed away. send my
mother to you now, and do not hurt her, English missie.'
`no, I won't hurt her,' she said wearily.
When he had gone she sponged her face and hands in the bowl of water and tried to make herself comfortable for the long dark hours of the night. The woman did not reappear, neither did Ahmed, and Melissa huddled down on the skins and tried not to think about scorpions ...
By the following day her spirit had failed her and she felt weak and listless. The woman brought her food at sunrise and left wordlessly, and Melissa gave herself up to depression. This was her third day in
this dreadful place, and a sickness of spirit as well as body brought its soul-destroying misery.
How long? Surely Jules must know by now that his scheme had failed. Supposing he went back to France? Supposing no one knew she was here? Even if Ahmed set her free how was she going to get back? She had no money. Her passport and all her clothes were at Kadir. She had nothing, no means of identification, and she had a strong suspicion that she was no longer even in the land of Morocco. Her hair was dirty and tangled, her thin pyjamas filthy, and she felt like death.
Melissa shivered as though with an ague. Would she ever see home again, Avril, her mother .. .? Her head was splitting ... she felt sick ... things were crawling all over her ... the skins stank ... and she wanted Raoul Germont more than anything else in the world ... no matter how he tormented her ... she wanted him, and the sun on her face, and soft scented water over her body, silken comfort against her skin, and someone to restore order and sanity to chaos ...
In the airless heat of the afternoon she wept, and as the black shadows of the window bars stretched to long spokes across the cell she fell into the sleep of exhaustion because she could cry no more.
The black shadow crept after the spokes as they moved slowly across Melissa's small wan face. The waning sun deepened to crimson and burnished a fiery halo round her titian head. There was a commotion, angry footsteps outside, and the door swung back with a crash.
Raoul Germont stormed in and stopped. His hor
rified glance roamed the cell and he gasped aloud.
`Mon Dieu! What have they done !'
He sprang forward and dropped to his knees, and a badly frightened Ahmed shrank back in the doorway.
Melissa stirred at the urgent crying of her name. She moaned softly and reached out blindly towards the voice. It had to be a dream. But because it was a most wonderful dream she didn't want to wake up to reality. Not when it was Raoul's arms gathering her up to him, holding her head against his shoulder, touching the tear shadows under her eyes, lifting her effortlessly up into his arms.
She whispered incoherently, burrowed her face close against his breast and gave a great shuddering sigh. In the time span of a dream she was in his arms; in his arms she was safe from the world .
'Melissa. Will you try to wake up You are safe now.'
She shivered, her eyes wide and dilated as she tried to believe it was true. She was huddled on the front seat of the Mercedes, and Raoul was looking down anxiously into her face.
He drew back into the starlit night outside and she started back into full consciousness. She reached out frantically. 'Don't—don't ...'
'Don't what?'
'Don't go away,' she whispered.
'But I'm not going to go away.' His dark proud
features swam back into the dim light from the dash.
am merely going to get something to put over you.'
'Oh.' She clasped her bare arms, remembering the scantiness of her attire and the cold of the desert night. `I—I can't believe that it's all over.'
'Yes, it's all over. You are safe again.' There was a note in his tone that she had never heard before, a note that warmed and made her heart ache at the same time.
He had heavy folds of white over his arm, and they brushed against her as he ducked in at the open car door. 'They frightened you very badly, didn't they? But it is over now, like a bad dream. Now sit forward ... no, do not try to get out ... you are like a small frozen gazelle that has been lost for a long, long while ...'
He was shaking out the folds of the heavy white djellaba, placing it round her shoulders, wrapping it across her as tenderly as though she were some small lost creature. In the confined space he was very near her, the strong warm hands bringing a magic contact that she didn't want to lose. The folds of the robe enveloped her and she snuggled her chin down into its softness. It smelled warm and clean, and a faint masculine fragrance lingered in its fibre. She curled her feet up under it and relaxed, giving way to an exquisite relief that was almost pain. It was all part of the dream, and she didn't want it to end, ever . . .
He closed the door on her and went round to the driving side. The engine purred into life and it sparked off the restoration to normality. It was dispersing the dream, even though she tried to watch the starry heaven above and imagine the dream going on and on up the silver streams the headlights were making through the darkness.
She said : `Amorel .. is she all right?'
'She is perfectly safe. And she is well guarded.' His tone was quiet and reassuring. 'There is nothing to worry about now.'
She shivered. hope so. It was dreadful. They ...'
'Do not talk about it just yet. I know there are many questions and answers to' be made, but there will be plenty of time for that when you have recovered from your ordeal.'
She stole a glance at his profile and saw that it had settled back into the sharpcut imperious visage she knew best of all. She sighed, too weary to try crossing his will, but there was one thing she had to know, to complete the dream ... 'Are we going to Kadir?' she asked.
'Not immediately. It is too far a journey to make tonight.'
She considered this for a moment, recalling the long hours in the racketing discomfort of the ancient Land Rover, and knew a surge of disappointment. don't care how long it takes,' she said on a sigh.
There was a silence, and she sensed him directing a brief glance towards her. 'You are so anxious to see Kadir again?'
A flicker of caution disturbed her. She said carefully, `Kadir will be like heaven after that—that ... Where are we? Do you know?'
`We are about fifty miles into Algeria.'
She said nothing, her suspicions confirmed that her kidnappers had taken her out of Morocco. After a brief silence she said, 'Where are we going now?'
'I'm taking you to friends. Then we will continue our journey tomorrow.' He paused, then added in the
same cool tone : 'At this time tomorrow evening you will be back in Kadir. And this time next week you vvill be back in your own country. Does that thought make you feel any happier?'
There was no response. Melissa let her eyelids droop. That thought did not bring happiness, and she did not dare dwell on the secret her heart wanted to tell. That wouldn't bring happiness, either.
Raoul drove on into the night, the car rock steady under the strong capable hands on the wheel. Melissa stayed unmoving, curled up tight within the enveloping robe, and tried not to think about Raoul the way her heart wanted her to think about him. Presently the speed of the car slackened and she came out of her brooding to peer at the shapes of small square buildings, pale and faintly luminous in the moonlight. The car passed beneath a high curved opening in a wall and emerged into a narrow street amid the huddle of houses.
Raoul did not volunteer any information and she concluded that this must be the destination of which he had spoken. She was preparing herself to move, uncurling her stiff limbs, when to her surprise the car's speed quickened again. The castellation of roofs against the velvet blue came to an end and the open country came into view.
Almost another hour had passed before Raoul at last halted the car. The sting of the crisp desert night and the shifting sand underfoot effectively dispersed Melissa's drowsiness when she scrambled out of the car. Hugging the robe about her, she stared at the black outlines of the tents and felt little surprise. Somehow she had known it would be an encampment.
He touched her shoulder and she ,moved forward, to stumble and almost fall as her foot caught in a fold of the overlong djellaba. He caught her instantly, and for a moment she thought he was going to swing her up into his arms.
She gave a muffled exclamation and snatched at the robe, moving away from him. 'Which way?' she said, not looking at him.
'Here,' again he touched her, groping for her arm, 'watch that you do not stumble again.' There was a big overlapping fold at the tent entrance. Raoul drew it aside and motioned her into the darkness. His fingers tightened momentarily on her arm. 'Wait here.'
He had taken a small flashlight from his pocket. She watched its wavering pencil of light as he moved away from her and tried not to give way to the fret of impatience while she waited for him to return. Was this the same encampment that he had visited on the never to be forgotten day when she had hidden in his car? It could not be, it must be many miles away. But these people moved around all the time, following the old trade routes and spice trails across the desert. She heard voices, saw the flare of hastily lit lamps, and Raoul came back with a tall bearded man in a blue robe.
Briefly he introduced her to Shaik Yusef Ibn Haruni, and the big man inclined his head gravely, bidding her welcome.
Raoul said, 'Shall Yusef has summoned a serving woman. She will take you to your quarters for the night and see that you have everything you require.'
'Thank you.' Suddenly she felt small and lost and unsure of herself in these strange surroundings. She
could now take in the great silken drapes that formed the ceiling of the tent, and the rich rugs of brilliant hues which carpeted it. The woman came almost immediately, and afterwards it was much as Melissa remembered of the earlier occasion.
She was given refreshments; freshly made sweet mint tea, little sticks with savoury kebabs, sweetmeats of almond and honey and plump glistening amber dates, and after she had eaten battling water was brought and oils to rub on her body. There were also articles of dress, soft fine cotton serwal—the filmy pantaloons that the outer caftan completely concealed —and an embroidered, loose fitting blouse, but M
elissa clung obstinately to the voluminous white djellaba before the women took her to their apartment.
There they withdrew, leaving her a lamp which they set on a low stool beside the pile of cushions on which presumably she was to sleep.
But now sleep was the last thing Melissa wanted. She sat on the camelhair blanket and stared at the flickering shadows cast by the lamp. The division of time into day and night, and the fitting of regulated actions into those times no longer seemed important. The hour could be anything between eight and the small hours of the morning, and she had not thought to ask Raoul what time it was, but judging by the fact that the encampment had retired it must be very late. She stood up, secured the robe more securely so that it would not trip her, and wandered to the opening in the tent wall.
The night was very still, the moon swinging low, and there did not seem to be a soul abroad. She hesitated, then abruptly went back into the tent, to emerge
with a cushion which she propped at the opening; she had no wish to mistake her quarters in the dimness. That risk taken care of, she paced slowly past the great dark canopies until she reached the perimeter of the encampment. A grunt nearby made her start, then laugh nervously as she made out the shapes of the resting camels. A little farther on the goats were tethered, and she moved on with the intention of completing a circle about the camp. She was halfway round when the shadow detached itself from the other shadows and Raoul confronted her.
'Why are you not resting?' he demanded in peremptory tones.
wanted air, and to walk.'
She began to stroll on and he fell into step at her side. °If you wish to walk you must have an aim. We will go to the oasis, as there is no other aim.'
'Where's the oasis?'
He smiled in the darkness. 'This is the oasis, but the part which the visitor thinks of as the oasis lies this way, at the other side of the encampment.'
'Oh.' She followed his steps obediently, climbing the incline of a dune that skirted the area like a big crescent moon, until they descended into the hollow where the green began and the clusters of palms edged the water hole.
The house of the Amulet Page 13