Whispers in the Sand

by Barbara Erskine

  Climbing the stairs towards her own cabin, having declined the offer of an escort from both Ben and Andy, Anna turned on reaching the reception area outside the lounge, to push her way through the swing doors. She could see Serena and Charley sitting on the sofa in the corner, the two figures huddled close to each other in the near darkness, the dim light of a single lamp casting a soft glow over them. Someone had brought them cups of tea.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Anna said as she headed towards them. ‘The cabin is safe. It’s gone.’

  Charley looked up. Her cheeks were pale, streaked with mascara. ‘Did they kill it?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘No, it disappeared. Ibrahim knows about snakes. He is certain it’s gone. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  She sat down opposite them, glancing at Serena, then back at Charley. ‘So, how did my scent bottle get into your drawer, Charley?’

  She saw the shock register in Serena’s eyes.

  Charley looked down at her hands. ‘It was a joke. I wasn’t going to keep it.’

  ‘No?’ For a moment Anna stared at her, frowning. She reached into her pocket and drew the bottle out, laying it on the table in front of them. ‘Did you realise it was valuable?’

  ‘It’s not.’ Charley looked up defiantly. ‘Andy says it’s a bit of tat from a bazaar.’

  ‘And so you thought it didn’t matter if you took it?’

  ‘I told you. I would have given it back.’

  ‘And how exactly did you get into my cabin?’

  ‘The door was wide open. Anyone could have walked in.’ Charley rubbed her face with her hands. ‘It was lying there on your bed, all dirty and messy and covered in earth or something, and I thought why not?’

  ‘On my bed?’ Anna frowned.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t rummage through your stuff if that’s what you think. It was just lying there.’

  Anna shook her head, trying to make sense of Charley’s words. The bottle had been wrapped in polythene, in her make-up bag. It had been hidden. ‘But you must have gone to my cabin for a reason.’

  ‘I did. To talk to you. To tell you to butt out of my life and leave Andy alone.’ Charley groped in her pocket for a tissue. Tears were streaming down her face again. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it. Of course I shouldn’t. But there is no harm done. It’s not damaged.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to bed. Are you coming, Serena?’

  ‘In a minute.’ Serena hadn’t moved.

  ‘But I don’t want to go alone. How do I know he searched properly?’

  ‘He did. He was sure,’ Anna said slowly. She was facing Serena across the low table. Half turning she looked up at Charley. ‘It’s all right. It’s quite safe now.’ She gave her a tight smile. ‘Just tell me one thing. What did it look like? Exactly.’

  ‘What? The snake?’

  Anna nodded. She found that she was clenching her fists.

  ‘What do all snakes look like? It was long. Brownish. Scaly.’

  ‘Was it a cobra?’

  ‘I suppose so. It reared up and opened its hood thing and its tongue went in and out.’ Charley shuddered violently.

  ‘Well, whatever it was it has definitely gone. There is no need to worry.’

  They watched as after another second’s hesitation Charley made her way across the lounge and out of the swing doors. Then Anna turned to Serena.

  ‘Ibrahim is some kind of snake charmer. He called it the king snake, even without seeing it and he said it was guarding something which was mine, which it is afraid I will give to a man.’

  They both stared at the little bottle, lying next to the ashtray on the table.

  ‘What if it comes back?’ Anna bit her lip; in spite of herself she gave a small shiver.

  Serena looked thoughtful. ‘What else did Ibrahim say?’

  ‘He said there was no danger but that there was a shadow in the air. He said the snake was angry.’

  Serena leant back against the cushions. She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I’m out of my depth.’

  Anna shivered. ‘I’ll put the bottle in the safe tomorrow, but I don’t know if I dare take it back to my cabin, Serena. What if it follows me?’ She gave a small mirthless chuckle. ‘It makes our existentialist discussion on the subject of prayer seem a bit irrelevant, doesn’t it? As you said, we’re dealing with experts here.’

  ‘Don’t stop praying.’ Serena spoke sharply. She raised a hand. ‘I’m trying to think about the cobra. It was a very powerful symbol in Ancient Egypt. The uraeus, the symbol of kingship and the serpent goddess Wadjet who became one with Isis – they are shown as cobras.’

  Anna shivered again. ‘But a goddess would be a queen. Ibrahim called this the king snake. But there aren’t any king cobras in Egypt, are there?’

  Serena raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t suppose he was referring to its species. Islam is a patriarchal religion so he assumed it was a male, but I think the snake’s sex is academic if it’s got you in its sights!’

  ‘But was it real?’

  Serena thought for a moment. ‘Charley seemed to think so. Real or not, Anna, I think you should probably regard them as deadly. I don’t think I would hang around to argue the toss, and neither should you if you see it!’ She shook her head and ran her hand across her eyes. ‘Dear God, I’m confused. My love, it’s late. I think we should get some sleep. Can I make a suggestion? Why not hide the bottle somewhere safe? Out on deck, perhaps. Just until you can put it in the safe. Don’t take it back to your cabin.’

  Anna didn’t argue. They let themselves out of the door onto the rear deck. ‘The pot plants,’ Anna whispered. ‘Why don’t I stick it in one of the pots?’

  They made their way to the ladder and climbed up onto the sundeck. There, arranged around the bows, were a dozen tubs of brilliant flowers, scarlet geraniums and hibiscus and bougainvillaea. The deck was completely deserted in the darkness.

  ‘I need something to dig a hole,’ Anna said quietly. ‘The earth is so hard. I don’t want to break the bottle.’ She glanced up. The river bank ahead of them was suddenly bright with lights.

  ‘Hurry. I think we’re nearly at Aswan.’ Serena had looked up too. ‘Someone told me that while we’re there it’s so crowded we’ll be tied up alongside other boats, so this is our last chance to do anything unseen. Wait. I’ll fetch something.’ She disappeared in the darkness, then a few seconds later she was back. ‘I noticed it earlier and it was still there. Someone left their comb on one of the tables.’ It was steel and had a sharply pointed handle.

  Scraping frantically, Anna dug a small pocket in the dry sandy soil and slipped the bottle into it. Pushing the soil back over it she dusted her hands together. ‘That’s all right as long as no one pinches the plants.’

  ‘They won’t. They take great care of them. Haven’t you noticed, they water them every morning at sun up.’ Serena turned to the rail for a moment.

  The boat had slowed. It was turning towards the bank. They were still some distance from the town.

  ‘You know, it’s quite stunning up here, isn’t it?’ She paused. ‘It looks as though we’re going to wait here till tomorrow. It’s probably too crowded ahead to moor in the dark. Anna dear, you’ll be all right tonight? You won’t be afraid?’ Her eyes strayed back to the plants for a second.

  ‘I won’t be afraid.’ Anna repeated it like a mantra. She had to make herself believe it.

  Even so, when she reached her cabin she hesitated. The door was still ajar, the lights on. She gazed in, looking in spite of herself for the distinctive sinuous movements of a snake.

  She had searched the cabin three times from floor to ceiling before she at last turned back to the door and pushing it shut, locked it. There was no sign of either the snake or of the earth that Charley had described. She searched her bed meticulously then with another glance up at the ceiling in the shower she pulled off her clothes and turning on the tepid water she allowed it to flow over her for a long, long time. When at last she had drie
d herself and climbed into bed she was almost asleep.

  It took only the smallest sound from the direction of the shower to shock her awake again though, adrenaline flowing. She turned on the light, rechecked the bathroom, tightened the tap against an incipient drip and climbed back into bed.

  In the dark, faintly, she could smell a sickly, resinous smell. What was that stuff? And where on earth had it come from? With a shudder she reached for the diary. The urge to sleep had gone.

  5

  Hail thou lion god! Let not this my heart be carried away from me!

  Three hundred years have passed. In the luminous desert the rock face changes from silver to deeper velvet black where the shadows hide it from the moonlight. As the three men creep towards the cleft in the cliff they are barely more than shadows themselves. Their sandals make no sound, so the sudden chink of metal on rock as the pick begins its work is the more shocking in the silence.

  The men work without speaking, swiftly and with certainty that this at last is the place for which they have been searching for so long. They have looked for signs, taken bearings in the daylight. But the exposure itself, the rape of the site, has to be quick and secret lest pharaoh’s men see them and exert the punishment tomb robbers have courted for a thousand years.

  The note of the pick – metal on stone – changes. The three men stop and hold their breath, listening as one. Then, cautiously they step closer, hands outstretched to feel amidst the tumbled rubble for the hidden edge of the doorway.

  Many, many years before, so legend has it, another pharaoh ordered the sealing of the tomb after the murder of the high priest …

  Leaving the Forresters to entertain the passengers of a neighbouring dahabeeyah on their first day moored at Aswan, Louisa excused herself on the grounds of a headache induced by the intense heat of this southern latitude and persuaded them, with little difficulty, she noticed, that nothing would be better for her than for Hassan to take her over the narrow strip of water in the sandal to visit the low, blessedly green, northern tip of the Island of Elephantine.

  He brought the small boat ashore on a narrow sandy beach and helped her out. She stared round in amazed delight at the trees and flowers – hibiscus, poinsettia, bougainvillaea, mimosa and acacia. After the low arid cliffs and the sandbanks of the approach to Aswan it was like heaven.

  By now it was with no embarrassment at all that she took the bag from Hassan which contained her loose soft green gown and native slippers and vanished behind some bushes. They were both used to the routine now. Safely sheltered, she would strip off her dress, her petticoats, her stockings, her corset, even her drawers, feeling for a few brief moments the heaven of the sunlight and the touch of the light wind on her hot bare skin, then she would pull the featherlight gown over her head and make her way back to Hassan who would by now have unrolled the rug, set out her paints and sketchbook and the baskets which contained their food and drink.

  Today she lingered longer than before over her transformation. The island was silent, save for the calls of birds in the trees and the gentle lap of water on the shore. There were Nubian villages further north, Hassan had told her, but here although boats frequently rowed or sailed across from the town, it was completely quiet.

  There was no one around as the sun rose higher in the sky. If she straightened a little she could see the river; even the Ibis at anchor near the other boats in the distance. The dappled sunlight touched her shoulders. She smiled, lifting the hot weight of her knotted hair off her neck with her hands. It was heaven to feel her breasts free in the languid air, to experience the soft touch of leaves against her thigh.

  ‘Sitt Louisa, there are people coming.’ Hassan’s voice was very close, just the other side of the bush. He sounded agitated.

  With an exclamation of horror and embarrassment she grabbed her dress and pulled it on, hastily brushing back her hair as the hem settled around her bare feet. Scooping up her discarded clothes she wadded them into a pile and emerged breathless.

  ‘Here. Please. Quickly!’ Hassan took the clothes from her and put a pencil into her hand. He stooped and pulled something from the picnic basket. ‘Please, Sitt Louisa, a veil for your hair.’ With only the slightest hesitation he shook out its folds and laid the silk scarf over her head, draping one end across her shoulder.

  As a group of some half-dozen people emerged onto the path nearby talking loudly, Hassan was once more the respectful servant, unpacking the food at the edge of the rug whilst Louisa, although somewhat unconventionally dressed, was respectably covered from head to toe. Becoming conscious of her bare feet even as the visitors approached she had drawn them quickly out of sight beneath her gown. She didn’t think they had seen.

  They were English, from Hampshire, on their last day in Aswan before setting out for the long voyage back to Alexandria. For a terrible moment she thought they wanted to stay, to sit down beside her, to talk, but after a pause for breath, an exchange of greetings, a polite, cursory glance at the sketchbook which Hassan had, with enormous presence of mind, folded back to show a river scene from the previous week, they were gone, the sound of their conversation dying away as swiftly as it had come.

  Louisa dropped her pencil and threw back her head. The veil slipped from her hair. ‘If you hadn’t warned me, I should have been caught totally naked!’

  Hassan dropped his eyes. ‘I am sure you were careful and modest, Sitt Louisa.’

  She smiled. ‘Even so. I didn’t hear them coming.’ She slipped off the stool onto the rug and her bare toes once more peeped from beneath her hem.

  His eyes met hers. ‘You look happy here amongst the flowers.’

  ‘I am happy.’ She leant back on her elbows, staring up at the trees above their heads. ‘It is beautiful here, Hassan. A paradise.’ A hoopoe was flitting back and forth on the branches above their heads flirting its crest, its pretty pink and black plumage a gentle contrast to the lush green, its mellow call echoing across the water.

  ‘The hoopoe is a bird of good fortune.’ Hassan leant against the trunk of the acacia tree. He was watching her closely, an indulgent half-smile on his face. ‘Would you draw a picture of the bird for me?’

  She sat up and looked at him, astonished. ‘Would you really like one?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Then of course I will.’ Her eyes met his again. This time he did not look away. She felt a flutter of excitement deep inside her and for a moment she found she couldn’t breathe.

  She swallowed hard. This must not happen. She could not let it happen. She had to stop it now while it was still possible. But she was still looking at him, drowning in his gaze, feeling the strangeness of new infinite possibilities. She couldn’t look away.

  It was Hassan who broke the spell. In one lithe movement he was on his feet, heading down to the beach where he stood for a moment staring out across the water, clenching his fists. When he turned back to her he was in control of himself again. ‘I shall serve the food, with your permission,’ he said formally.

  Unable for a moment to trust herself to speak she nodded.

  She ate very little, her eyes on the Nile, watching feluccas swooping back and forth in the strong breeze which had arisen, funnelling down between the low cliffs. Lost in her dreams she did not even try to keep track of the time. Slowly the sun was moving across the sky.

  ‘Sitt Louisa?’ She realised suddenly that Hassan was standing at the edge of the rug. ‘Shall I pack away the food? The flies …’

  She nodded without speaking and he bowed. Silently he filled the basket with the almost untouched bread and goat’s cheese and fruit. When he had finished he disappeared for a moment into the trees. When he returned he was holding a spray of scarlet flowers in his hand. He presented them to her as if they were the most precious gift on earth.

  She took them without a word. Examining them closely she took in their beauty, the perfection of petals and stamens, then she glanced up. He was watching her. She smiled almost shyly, suddenly as se
lf-conscious as a young girl, then she raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them gently.

  Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t necessary. Both knew that from this moment their relationship had changed for ever.

  ‘Do you want to go back to the boat now?’ She could hear the regret in his voice.

  She nodded. ‘There is always tomorrow, Hassan.’

  ‘If it is the will of Allah!’ He bowed almost imperceptibly. ‘I will take you on an excursion to see the unfinished obelisk where it lies still in the quarry where they were cutting it from the stone thousands of years ago. We will have to go on camels!’ He smiled mischievously.

  ‘Then you can be sure that the Forresters will not want to accompany us!’ She said it with some spirit. ‘I should like that, Hassan. And then there are so many things to see. The cataract, Philae, the souk.’ She watched as he loaded the baskets into the small boat.

  When he had finished he turned to her. ‘You should change your clothes now.’

  For one moment she thought of refusing, of climbing back into the sandal in her cool loose-fitting gown, feeling the warm water which slopped on the bleached boards of the little boat rippling over her toes, then she realised the folly of the dream. The Forresters would be scandalised. She might alienate them so much they refused to allow her to travel any further with them. She had no money to hire her own boat. If they put her ashore she would be stranded until the steamer came and even then she would not be able to afford the ticket back to Cairo.

  Taking the bundle of clothes from him she retreated once more to the bushes, and this time it was with a heavy heart that after a few moments of glorious nakedness she began to wriggle back into the stiffly boned corset, struggle with its laces, pull on her drawers and stockings and at last step into the blackdyed muslin. Then, the final act of constraint, she wound her hair into a knot and rammed her ivory hairpins into it to hold it neatly in place before putting on her black lace cap once more beneath her sun hat.