by Isobel Chace
“No,” she said at last. “I shall fetch it myself.”
She walked slowly up the stairs, her shoulders drooping a little. Katherine watched her go, wondering why she should worry about the other girl, who was really more than capable of looking after herself. She hadn’t had the reception she had expected from Dr. Kreistler, that much was obvious, and yet Katherine thought that he would have welcomed her interest in his work. Perhaps he was one of those men who liked to separate his work from his pleasure, and yet — oh, how very much she would have liked to know what he really thought about the de Hallets and about herself!
She sat on in the darkening courtyard, half dreaming and half wondering if she hadn’t put too much store on building the canning plant at Hammamet. It was so terribly difficult to know whether she was doing the right thing. She didn’t want to be unfair to the de Hallets, but on the other hand, there must have been some reason why Edouard had left the properties to her, and what could it be if it were not to conserve them and improve them and make them a paying part of the new Tunisia?
She heard Guillaume’s car roar into the market square and didn’t even look up as he came through the archway of the door. He came
and stood over her, looking down at her until she felt self-conscious and opened her eyes and looked back at him. Immediately the colour flooded up her cheeks and her eyes opened wide, for it was not Guillaume at all but the doctor.
“I thought it was Guillaume’s car outside,” she said.
“It was,” he replied briefly.
“Then —”
He smiled down at her.
“Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked her.
She shook her head and he sat down opposite her, watching her closely under his dark bushy eyebrows. Katherine became horribly aware of her creased dress and the traces of sand on her face that she had forgotten to wash off. She didn’t compare very favourably with the chic Chantal, she thought, and took refuge in gazing down at her hands so that she needn’t look at him.
“You don’t seem very hospitable this evening,” he remarked in amused tones. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”
Her eyes flew up to meet his and dropped again.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you’d be coming in tonight. Have — have you been out to the wedding village?”
His face hardened and she wished she hadn’t brought the subject
up.
“Yes, I went,” he said. “I made Guillaume drive me out there, as a matter of fact.” He was silent for a moment, then he said quite gently: “There’s no need to look like that, my dear. No one blamed you for the incident. Even the villagers were quite clear about that.”
“Did Guillaume apologise to them?”
“Not exactly, but he made them very handsome reparation, and they were quite satisfied with that.”
She stood up and went into the kitchen, returning with a whisky and soda which she handed to him with a smile.
“Thank you, for sorting it all out,” she said.
He accepted the drink and sipped it thoughtfully.
“I hesitate to ask it of you,” he said, “but you could prove your gratitude by not going on these expeditions with Guillaume in the future.”
She sat down again, drawing her feet up beneath her.
“I don’t suppose he’ll be so silly again. I think he gets bored and lonely down here with nothing to do.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” the doctor said dryly. “But don’t feel that you have to entertain him. He isn’t at all clear-headed about his future at the moment.”
“Are you forbidding me to go out with him?” she asked, bewildered.
His lips twitched and she thought with a little rush how nice he was despite his rather impatient manner.
“Have I really that right?” he asked her.
It came as rather a surprise to her to think that she had ever considered that he had.
“Of course not!” she denied quickly. “But was that what you meant, all the same?”
He smiled, looking a little guilty.
“Yes, it was,” he admitted. “The de Hallets are going through a bad patch, and I don’t think this is a good time to get too involved with them.”
Katherine stiffened involuntarily.
“You mean not all right for me but all right for you!” she exclaimed heatedly.
He looked surprised.
“I think you are reading too much into this. I meant it as a friendly warning, no more than that.”
“Indeed?” She felt flustered and rather indignant, and the memory of Chantal’s inopportune arrival at the hospital and her own dismissal from the scene still burned within her.
The doctor nodded, still looking more than a little amused.
“Why not? It is pleasant for you to have an escort, of course. When you first arrived down here you worked much too hard. You needed some relaxation.”
“I was happy!” she retorted.
His glance softened.
“Were you? Nevertheless I think I should have done more for your entertainment. I shall make up for it now by asking you to accompany me for dinner to an ex-patient of mine. It will be good for you to see an Arab household like this one, but unfortunately the track to his house is too bad for a car. We should have to go by camel. Will you come?”
Katherine hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the skirt of Chantal’s dress hovering at the top of the stairs, and she wondered irritably why the other girl didn’t either come down and join them or go right away.
“I should love to,” she said at last, and saw the skirt move back and then come forward again as Chantal began to come downstairs.
“Am I invited also, cheri?” the French girl asked the doctor prettily.
He stood up, his eyes widening slightly with appreciation at the picture she made, standing among the exotic blooms of the creepers.
“I think not, my dear,” he replied gently. “It is not quite your sort of outing.”
Chantal descended the stairs in a rush, pouting at him.
“But if you will take Katherine —”
He laughed.
“Katherine I can see on a camel — you, I cannot!” he said, and he made it sound like a compliment. Certainly Chantal took it as such, for she gave him a very gracious smile and seated herself on the arm of his chair.
“Perhaps you are right,” she said softly. “There are other times for you and me to go out together.”
The doctor gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders and drained his drink.
“I must go,” he said. “I shall pick you up at six o’clock tomorrow evening, Katherine?”
Katherine nodded her head, not looking at him. For her much of the pleasure of the outing had been taken away. Chantal was so very sure of herself, and so very sure that she had Dr. Peter Kreistler in her pocket, that it was difficult not to believe it. “I shall be ready,” she said.
He smiled at her, right into her eyes, and she was comforted.
“Wear a dress with a wide skirt,” he instructed her. “Goodnight!”
He walked out without a backward glance, leaving the two girls together. Chantal slid easily into the chair he had just vacated, her pale blue eyes never leaving Katherine’s face.
“Don’t be too clever, my dear, will you?” she said silkily. “I am prepared to accept your taking the legacy that was due to me, but I should not accept your taking my man also.”
Katherine held her head high and took a deep breath.
“Is he your man?” she asked quietly.
Chantal’s colour rose angrily and the little lines round her mouth showed more plainly than ever.
“I have told you so. That should be enough!” she said grandly. “But if you really need convincing, why don’t you ask him?” And Katherine was shocked to see the real dislike that shone out of her eyes. She was pretty safe there, she thought, for she was far too frightened of the doctor to ask him an
ything of the sort.
Katherine dressed with care the following evening. She chose a frock of pale blue dressed cotton that had a wide, flared skirt and a neat fitting bodice that suited her well and accentuated the fairness of her hair. With it she wore blue leather sandals and long black gloves that matched her handbag and some black ebony beads that had been given to her as a child.
There was no sign of either Guillaume or Chantal as she made her way downstairs and out into the market square to await the doctor, and she couldn’t help feeling rather relieved that they wouldn’t be there to witness the first time that she mounted a camel. To tell the truth she was a little afraid of the great, haughty animals that the Arabs treated with such a casual respect, and she couldn’t imagine herself riding one with any ease or grace at all. But it was too late to cry off now, and anyway she was anxious to see this house that Dr. Kreistler had wanted to take her to. She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, that it was the idea of an evening in his company that was so attractive.
He arrived on the dot of six, with two camels accompanied by their laughing owners, who thought the whole occasion was a great joke. The animals looked very tall to Katherine and quite unbearably disdainful.
“You look very nice!” the doctor greeted her.
She brushed down the skirt of her dress, secretly pleased that he should think so.
“I have to admit I’m terrified of your camels,” she said.
“Are you?” He looked surprised, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that she might have any doubts about riding any kind of animal. “It’s very easy really. The secret is to lean back and not cling on to the front of the saddle.”
The saddle! That for a start was a misnomer! It was no more than a framework of wood lashed together with string and covered by a couple of brightly-coloured striped blankets. The doctor grinned at her and signalled to one of the camel-boys to make his beast kneel down. The camel groaned, swore vigorously and started on the perilous descent to a kneeling position. With another groan it subsided completely on to the dusty ground. It didn’t look nearly so overbearing when one could look down at it, and Katherine felt distinctly better about the whole thing.
Dr. Kreistler helped her to settle herself on her perch of blankets just behind the single hump, and the great beast started laboriously to rise, the back legs first and then, with a frightening lurch, the front ones also, staggering a little to regain its balance. Then he jumped on his own camel and led off the strange little procession, out of the dusty market square and along the narrow, windowless streets of the village. The children came running out to see them pass, calling out greetings as they ran alongside.
“Where do you go?” they asked. “Why do you go there?” And lastly: “Is it a marriage? Can we come too?”
The doctor answered them all with a cheerful good humour, hurrying his camel forward, though that reluctant beast refused to break out from the plodding walk that came more naturally to it.
Katherine became used to the jolting motion quite quickly and began to enjoy herself. From her high seat she could see over the hedges that surrounded the oasis allotments, catching glimpses of the neat rows of vegetables and the occasional pink or white of blossom. The date-palms grew tall and straight and a few bananas fought for space beneath them, seeking their share of the sun and the carefully controlled water. She still found it rather startling to see all this vigorous growth in the middle of the harsh dryness of the sandstone terrain.
It was fully an hour before they came to the end of the narrow track and found themselves once again among dry yellow cliffs that were strangely reminiscent of the scenery of a Western film. They travelled upwards and then dropped down again into a little basket of green away from the main springs of the oasis. Already Katherine could hear the drums of the band and the swirl of their home-made bagpipes.
“There’s the house,” Dr. Kreistler told her, pointing towards the edge of the green of the palms. “It doesn’t seem possible, does it?
To build such a place so far from anywhere?”
Truly the house could have come straight out of the Arabian Nights. Its domes towered upwards towards the sky, miraculously white and smelling slightly of dry distemper, an unromantic touch that somehow made the whole thing seem more real, for even the soft playing of the fountains and the brilliant colours of the massed flowers looked more as though they had come out of a dream than that they were a part of reality. Katherine was glad that she had taken the trouble to dress up, though nothing short of a full-length evening dress would really do such a place justice.
The camel-boys began to urge their gangly-legged beasts forward, uttering shrill cries of encouragement as they ran forward a few feet and pulled on the short rope that was their only contact with their charges. The camels plodded slowly on regardless, completely ignoring their young masters’ efforts. And then, quite suddenly, they were there, and the camels were reluctantly collapsing again to allow them to dismount.
Katherine stood rather shakily and smoothed down her dress, making sure that she was not dishevelled by the long ride. Dr. Kreistler came over and joined her, looking critically down at her.
“Will I do?” she asked him. “Do I need some more lipstick?”
He took her hand in his, smiling slightly at her nervousness.
“You look very nice,” he said. “Come and meet your host.”
They walked slowly through the gardens towards the noise of the band and the sound of laughter and, rounding the corner of the house, they came across a group of Arabs, some of them in European dress and others in their national costume, watching the dancing display that their host had put on for them. One of them, a tall man in a burnous and sandals, came towards them and shook them both by the hand.
“Welcome to my house,” he said formally. “Everything that I have is yours.”
Dr. Kreistler returned the formalities in fluent Arabic and then turned back to Katherine.
“May I introduce Selim Behn Ahmed El Badis, Miss Katherine Lane.”
The Arab bowed low over her hand.
“I am honoured that you should adorn my house,” he said easily. “Now that you are here we shall eat, and then we can watch the dancing again when the night is cooler and we can enjoy it better.” He led the way to the table that had been placed on one of the spacious verandahs. “Will you sit one on either side of myself?” he asked them.
Katherine caught a glimpse of the women of the household behind a latticed screen, and felt suddenly shy at finding herself alone in this completely male party.
“Could I not join your wife and daughters?” she asked him.
Selim gave her a look of approving indulgence and regretfully shook his head.
“It would not be practicable. They speak no French at all, like all the women of Tunisia, but they will be delighted when I tell them that you asked to join them. Perhaps later I will take you to meet my wife.” He pulled out a chair for her to sit on and she sat down hastily, hoping that she had not put Dr. Kreistler in a difficult position by her suggestion. She could feel his eyes on her face, unblinking and watchful, but she had no way of knowing what he was thinking. She cast him a quick, shy smile and was relieved when an answering gleam came into his eyes and he looked away from her and began to talk to his next-door neighbour.
The meal was strange but delicious. Selim himself served her from the great bowls of food that were brought round by the veiled women, explaining gently how she should eat each item and what it was called.
“This is brik,” he said, pointing to a brittle envelope of crust in which was folded an egg together with some herbs. “It is eaten with the hands, like this.”
She tried to follow his example and thought she managed pretty well, though there was some laughter at her efforts.
“You like my country, do you not?” he asked her suddenly.
“Ohyes! Very much!”
He gave a little nod of satisfaction.
“That is well. Edouard
de Hallet was a wise man, and I can see that he did well when he left Sidi Behn Ahmed to you. There is much that needs doing to the land in the new Tunisia, and we cannot afford to be greedy in what we take out of it. The de Hallets have never learned this, I think. I am pleased that I can welcome you as a neighbour.”
Katherine flushed with pleasure.
“But I know so little about the management of property,” she said. “Sometimes I’m afraid I shall do the wrong thing. It’s so difficult to know always which is the best thing to do.”
He nodded sympathetically.
“And you have the de Hallets with you? That also must make difficulties.” He finished his brik with a little flourish of his fingers. “I shall tell you an old fable of Tunisia. Will you listen?”
Smiling, she nodded her head.
“It is the story of a little gazelle from the steppes,” he told her. “A graceful, charming little animal as fair in colouring as yourself. She became very thirsty, as you can imagine, in the hot sun that beat down on the dry land, so she thought that she would go to a little grove of palm-trees that she knew about where there was a small amount of water. But on the way she met a fox who was also very thirsty, though he had done nothing to make him so, and this fox asked her whether she knew of all the dangers that could meet her in the palm-grove, saying that it was better that he should go on first and protect her, for he knew that there was only sufficient water for one of them.
“So the fox ran on ahead, but when he reached the water the mocking-bird mocked him and the water snake kept him out of the pool, while the other animals snapped and snarled at him from behind the cactus bushes. And Monsieur Fox — or Madame Fox — had to withdraw, and when the gazelle came to the pool it was all safely waiting for her to drink. So you see that grace and gentleness are far stronger sand date-palms, and that means big money around here.”
Katherine yawned. She was pleasantly tired in a way that she could enjoy, and she was making the most of it.
“I wonder how many date-palms I own,” she said.
Dr. Kreistler was amused.
“Don’t you know?” he asked.