Her final exam was early in May when she was twenty and she’d run out of excuses. As though Henry somehow knew this, he sent her an airline ticket to Cairo via e-mail, with an open-ended return date. He’d moved to a new site – again – and was excited about the things they were starting to find. He really wanted to show his appreciation. “Please come.” He'd be busy but she'd be free to come and go as she wished. She would have comfortable accommodation in the home of the wealthy businessman that he was staying with. She could spend just one day there, a week or more - whatever suited her. The ticket was for Wednesday morning. It was already Monday. She called James and went to his house for dinner to discuss it with him and his wife Helen.
James had married rather later in life than usual, less than three years ago, and he and Helen had recently become the parents of twin baby girls, Charlotte and Caroline. Helen's mother, Grace, a widow, had moved in with them to help with the babies, and the four of them discussed the invitation at length. They finally decided that she should go. Charis thought it would be the only way to stop Henry bothering her. She was still afraid of him but told herself she was a big girl now and she had a return ticket. James suggested she might want to arrange her flight to come home as soon as she arrived in Cairo, which seemed like a good idea to Charis. She spent some time with Helen talking about what kind of things she would need to take with her before she went home.
Charis had been overjoyed when James and Helen got married. Helen had been a top photographic model in her twenties. In her thirties she’d started a model agency and had been very successful. In her forties she’d met and married James. She was still stunning; tall, with beautiful auburn hair, flawless skin and large hazel eyes. She’d begun a new career soon after she and James were married, becoming a TV presenter with her own show called “Woman's World”, a daily half hour live magazine show with guests and topics that were of interest to women of all ages and life styles. Charis had once been a guest when they were talking about books and authors, and had been there to talk about her father and his work. It had been a very successful segment and she’d enjoyed the experience but decided she wouldn't really want to repeat it. Helen had often helped Charis during her time looking after Mildred by giving her a place to visit and get some respite, and despite their difference in ages, they’d become good friends.
James had always been one of the people that Charis knew she could trust. Although unable to do much to protect her from Mildred's dominance, he’d done what he could to protect her home and her inheritance. The Pattersons were also people that she’d come to rely on; Marjorie, the cook and housekeeper at Meadow Lea Hall, and her husband George, the gardener and handyman. They had retired after a lifetime of service to her family when the house was leased and Charis left for London, and she'd had a farm cottage renovated for them. It was George who’d taught her much about the gardens and she’d come to love going with him to choose shrubs and flowers to plant and helping to take care of them. Both of them had been a refuge from Mildred during school holidays and done what they could to protect her from the abuse that Mildred had heaped upon her. She’d spent a lot of time with them or on the home farm with Stephen and Sue Ridley and Lady, her loyal dog, who reached the ripe old age of fifteen before she had sadly, recently died.
*****
When Wednesday morning came, Charis was up early, showered and dressed by seven a.m. She’d spent the previous day making sure her house was clean and tidy and packing the things she’d decided to take. She was determined she would only be gone for a few days so would not need a lot of clothing – some lightweight trousers and a few tops and tunics, plus one dress in case there was an evening ‘do’ at the wealthy business man's house. Underwear, sandals, and a light jacket which she would carry – all done! Apart from getting herself ready, all she needed to do was strip and re-make the bed, and put the other sheets in the washing machine ready to wash when she came home.
The taxi was due to arrive for her at seven thirty. She went around her house making sure that all the appliances were switched off, except her fridge and freezer of course, and safe to leave for a few days. When the taxi arrived she was ready. A final check to make sure she had her passport, her ticket, her phone and credit card, then she opened the door and began her journey to Cairo.
Her flight was due to leave Heathrow at 11 a.m. She’d given herself plenty of time, allowing an hour to get to the airport in case of traffic hold ups, but everything went smoothly. She managed to pass through the security check quickly and easily and had plenty of time to relax before her flight began to board. The plane left the gate right on time, taxied out to the runway, gathered speed and soared into the air. Charis watched as the ground fell away – the plane banked, turned and headed east. The patchwork green fields that was England got smaller and smaller and soon they were flying over the channel, the white cliffs left behind and heading towards France. Despite her qualms and misgivings about this trip, Charis began to feel excited. She'd never been beyond Europe before. School trips had taken her to Venice and Florence, to Paris and Bruges. Cairo sounded so exotic and she anticipated seeing the pyramids, the sphinx and the Nile. She’d never been to an archaeological site before either, not even one in England, although she’d been to several Roman ruins and been interested in the things that had been recovered, buried for centuries in the ground. It had all intrigued her, perhaps because of her father's involvement in writing historical novels. Maybe these few days in Cairo would be a good experience after all.
The flight was uneventful. Charis wasn't interested in watching the in-flight film, some American cops and robbers thing, so instead put on the headphones and listened to some music. She wasn't really hungry but ate because the food was there and it helped to pass the time. They were due to touch down at 4:30 p.m. Cairo time. The plane landed and was kept waiting on the tarmac for fifteen minutes. She presented her passport in immigration, picked up her luggage, cleared customs and walked into the terminal. She couldn't see Henry anywhere but as she looked around she saw a very tall impressive looking Arab holding a sign that said ‘Charis Ainslie’. She walked up to him and introduced herself. His name was Abdul and spoke very good English. He apologised for Henry not being there to meet her but said he'd had an unexpected emergency come up and that he’d meet her at the house of their benefactor in an hour or two where there was a room prepared for her. Tomorrow, after she’d had a good night’s sleep, Henry would take her to see his work in progress. Thinking it would be good to freshen up after her travels, she followed Abdul to the car. He carried her bag and put it in the boot. He opened the door for her and they began the hour and a half drive to their destination.
Charis had expected Cairo to be all brown and desert. She was amazed at the reality of the place; a huge cosmopolitan city. She was fascinated by everything she saw as they drove through Cairo. The juxtaposition of rich and poor, religious and secular, old monuments and new buildings, ancient and modern side by side, the River Nile, the lifeblood of Egypt for thousands of years, running through the centre of Africa's largest city.
Her excitement mounted. This could be the holiday of a lifetime. If only it wasn't for Henry. As she thought of Henry a frisson of fear ran through her.
What on earth am I doing here? she asked herself. I could’ve made the worst decision of my life in trusting him. At home in London the fear of Henry had receded, but now…getting closer to seeing him again, suddenly she was afraid, but it was too late to turn back.
Finally they arrived. Charis almost couldn’t believe the grandeur of the place. It looked more like a palace than a home. Abdul suggested she go ahead and he would get her bag and bring it in. As she turned to climb the steps, the massive door was opened and she entered into a large hall; marble pillars around the sides and beautiful mosaics on the floor. A servant directed her to follow him and as she turned to see if Abdul had brought in her bag and to thank him, she thought she heard his voice call from outside, “Sorry missy�
� and then the huge door slammed shut.
PART II
BEN
It was almost 9 p.m. and Ben had been at the table since nine that morning and this was his third straight day of negotiations. But now it was done and he knew the King would be pleased with what he had accomplished. He stood and stretched to ease his muscles, cramped after sitting for so long. This had all been new to him – he was only there as a favour to his uncle, the King, and only because his cousin was involved in the negotiations for the other side. The agreement was fair to both sides - his cousin Ravi's smile assured him that he was happy with the deal.
Ravi had been gone for about an hour a little earlier in the evening and had returned looking very serious. Ben had raised his eyebrows in question but Ravi had just smiled at him. Now he approached Ben and spoke in English.
“Sorry old man, but I have to leave you for a few days,” he said. “My old father-in-law has just popped his clogs and I need to accompany my wife to the funeral. We have to leave immediately but I want you to stay. You must treat this as your home. I've been a guest at yours many times. Ahmed has instructions to take his orders from you and you must stay as long as you wish, or at least until the King has had a chance to approve the agreement and wants you back in Dubai.”
Ben's uncle was the King of Qumrai, and was currently on an official visit to Dubai and would be there for a few days still. Ben's inclination was to refuse Ravi's offer but felt it would be churlish to do so. He was amused at Ravi's continued use of British phrases even though it had been several years since he was there at school and university. Ravi had often spent time with Ben's English family during holidays. Ben's mother had always welcomed people into their home. It always seemed to be full, not just with family: aunts, uncles and cousins, but with the children's friends, too. Ravi had been a welcome visitor. He was a few years older than Ben but they’d always got on well together since they’d first met when Ravi arrived in England to attend school at the age of twelve.
Ben smiled in agreement, said all that was polite about Ravi's father-in-law and turned to leave. Ravi followed him to the door, slapped him on the back and said, “I've sent rather a special surprise to your room old boy…to keep you company while I'm gone. Enjoy your evening!” and gave a hearty chuckle as he walked away.
Ben groaned inwardly. Probably a girl, he thought. I would really rather just be left alone to relax and sleep. He made his way to his room; up the deep marble staircase and along the passage way, the floors covered with expensive rugs muffling his footsteps. He was surprised to see his bedroom door standing open, a small travel case just outside. Two servants stood in the hall chatting, one right in the doorway. He approached them and spoke in Arabic. They inclined their heads, called him “Highness” and turned to leave after placing the case just inside the door.
*****
The sight of the girl standing in his room took his breath away. She was on the other side of the room looking out of the window, her face in profile. She looked almost ethereal. Her hair, a soft shade of brown or maybe a very deep gold, curled around her face and tumbled over her shoulders. The flimsy robe she was wearing clung to her and he could tell she was naked underneath. She had an incredible body. Ben had very definite views on the female form. Not only was he not attracted to skinny women, he’d been heard to refer to fashion models as “stick insects”, but he also considered it very unhealthy to be too thin. But this beautiful girl seemed to be perfect - just the right amount of padding and curves in all the right places. She held the robe tightly as if afraid it might fall off. He could see that her skin was fair and he wondered where and how Ravi had found her.
He closed the door and startled, she spun around and he knew immediately she was the most exquisite girl he’d ever seen. They gazed at each other in silence for what seemed like forever, probably only a few seconds, but for Charis it was though time stood still. It was Ben! It was her Ben. Now she would be safe. He would take her home. The horror she had been feeling at the thought of what was awaiting her, gone…vanished in a single moment. She almost cried with relief as the realisation that it was Ben flooded over her. She took a few steps forward and formed the word “Ben” just as he spoke to her in Arabic. She stopped mid-step. It wasn’t her Ben after all. The fear returned, washing over her again. She was engulfed in it once more.
“I'm sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don't understand a word you're saying.”
“You're English?” he asked in surprise.
She pulled herself up to her full height, all of about five foot and four inches, he thought smiling to himself, and raised her chin almost in defiance, trying desperately to conceal her fear…to be brave.
“Yes!” she replied.
“What on earth are you doing here then?”
“I believe I am here so that some degenerate, lecherous, debauched, old, fat and ugly Arab prince can satisfy his lust.”
Ben's instinct was to laugh but he could tell the girl was serious. “You're what?”
“I said, I am here so that some degenerate, lecherous, debauched, old, fat and ugly Arab prince can satisfy his lust.”
“Yes, that's what I thought you said.” He looked at her quietly for a moment taking in the beauty of her face, the high cheekbones, her deep blue eyes, the shape of her mouth and her clear fair skin. “Must this Arab prince be degenerate, lecherous, debauched, old, fat and ugly?” he asked her.
“Well, possibly not,” she admitted. “The degenerate, lecherous and debauched bits are just my idea of what he must be like, but I am reliably informed that all Arab princes are old, fat and ugly!”
“All of them?” he questioned her.
“All of them,” she insisted.
“Well,” Ben paused a minute before he continued. “I'm not old.”
“No,” she agreed.
“I don't think I'm fat,” he added, patting his stomach.
She shook her head.
“And I hope I'm not ugly.”
She smiled a little and whispered, “No.”
“But I am an Arab prince.”
Her voice held surprise. “Really?” she asked.
“Really.” It was Ben's turn to insist. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Ali Ben Yousef el Hussein, grandson of the late King Mushtaq el Hussein of Qumrai, and nephew of the current King Azhar. But you may call me Ben.”
As he said his name was Ben, she looked at him more intently for a moment or two before she introduced herself'. “I am Charis Elizabeth Jane Ainslie. Or I should say, Miss Charis Elizabeth Jane Anslie of London.” Then she added somewhat condescendingly, “That's London…England, but you may call me Charis.”
Once again her little chin was raised in defiance. By this time Ben was thoroughly enjoying himself and trying not to laugh, but he couldn't keep the amusement out of his eyes. He’d taken off his suit coat and tie and undone the top button on his shirt while they were talking and now was nonchalantly half sitting, half leaning against the edge of a small table, his legs straight out in front of him, ankles and arms crossed.
“This reliable informant of yours, did they have any other bits of valuable information to give you?” he asked.
“Oh yes, lots,” she replied. “In fact, all the time she was getting me organised to come up here she never shut up. ‘Nice to be able to practice my English,’ she said. ‘Oh, your prince will love the colour of your hair,’ and ‘Your skin is so soft, your prince will be so pleased,’ and on and on until I felt I would go crazy. But I finally managed to shut her up.”
Ben smiled at her. “I'm impressed. How did you manage to do that?”
“I told her that he would most certainly not be my prince, that the last thing I wanted to do was to give him any pleasure at all, and that as far as I was concerned, he could go straight to hell. She was so shocked she stopped speaking to me.” Charis' look dared him to disapprove as she spoke.
Now Ben couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud. “I b
et she was!” he chuckled. “Arab girls are taught to please their menfolk above all else.”
“Yes, well, I am not an Arab girl.”
“No! You are most definitely not. So, no more reliable information?”
Charis hesitated for a moment or two before she said, “Well, just a little. She relented as we got up here and told me not to worry, that they were all so old and fat that even with those who were still capable, it would all be over in just a couple of minutes and then they would sleep it off all night on the other side of the bed, but they might keep me awake with their snoring.”
“Presumably she spoke from experience.”
“Presumably,” Charis agreed.
“And you, Charis?” Ben asked quietly. “Do you have any experience?”
“With old, fat and ugly Arab princes?”
“With anyone, Charis?”
Charis shook her head. He had to lean closer to hear her whisper, “No.”
“You're a virgin then?” He couldn't hear her reply, but noticed tears in her eyes and she nodded. Ben walked over to her, put his arm around her and held her quietly while she wiped away her tears. “We don't have to do this you know. I'll get another room and leave you in peace,” he said as he turned to go.
“No! No, please don't go.” Her voice was desperate as she reached out to grab hold of his arm.
“You know what will happen if I stay?”
Charis voice was indignant and she wiped away another tear as she replied, “Just because I have no practical knowledge or personal experience doesn't mean I don't understand the theory.”
Charis Page 3