Whispers in the Sand

by Barbara Erskine

  The boy is young and strong, as is his brother. The priests can gorge on their life force and, at each morning’s rebirth of the sun god, they grow more powerful.

  The children grow weaker.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Serena was clutching the bottle against her chest.

  ‘The diary. Someone has taken it!’

  ‘Oh, Anna! Surely not. I know it’s valuable, but no one on the boat would take it, not even Charley. Are you sure you haven’t put it somewhere else? In your bag? You were carrying it everywhere with you. Or in another drawer, or a suitcase or something.’

  ‘No. It’s gone.’ Anna tightened her lips grimly. Her hands were shaking as she began systematically to search the small cabin. It wasn’t the value of the diary she was thinking about, it was the story. How could she bear not to know what had happened to Louisa and Hassan!

  She knew it was pointless taking down the suitcase from the top of the cupboard, undoing it, searching through discarded tissue paper, but she did it just the same. It was as she was relocking it and swinging it back into place that there was a knock at the door and it was pushed open.

  Andy peered into the room. ‘Everything all right, ladies?’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ Anna faced him, distraught. ‘The diary has gone!’

  ‘Louisa Shelley’s diary?’ he frowned.

  ‘What other diary is there?’

  ‘Anna, I did tell you to take care of it! You knew how valuable it was.’ He stepped into the room. ‘Are you quite sure it hasn’t fallen behind the cupboard or under the bed or something?’

  ‘I’m quite sure.’ She stood stock still in the centre of the cabin. ‘Someone has taken it.’

  ‘In which case I think we can all guess who that someone is.’ Andy shrugged. ‘I did warn you, Anna.’

  ‘If you mean Toby, it can’t have been him. I went sailing with him this morning.’

  Andy raised an eyebrow. ‘And were you with him every second of the time?’

  ‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, I suppose not every second.’

  He had left her sitting in the boat before they set sail. What had been his excuse? To fetch his sketchbook. She frowned bleakly. As if he was ever without it. And then he had gone off again, to fetch some cans of juice from the dining room. And again, on their return, he had left her in the bar. Where had he gone so quickly? At the time she had thought nothing of it, given his antipathy to Andy, but now …

  Seeing her frown, Andy smiled. ‘Exactly. Would you like me to speak to him?’

  ‘No!’ Her response was instantaneous. ‘No, don’t say anything. If anyone does, it’ll be me.’

  She didn’t believe it was Toby. How could it be? And yet, she had to admit, he had certainly had the opportunity to take the diary several times over.

  ‘Anna,’ Serena put in quietly. ‘You don’t know it was Toby. It could easily have been one of the crew. Or a stranger – someone who came on board while we were all sailing this morning.’

  ‘But how would they know about the diary?’ Anna said bleakly. ‘If it was a thief, they would have taken my lapis beads and my silver bangle. I left them lying on the dressing table. They must be worth something.’ She shook her head. ‘No, it was someone who wanted just that one thing. Thank God he didn’t take the bottle. What an irony that would have been!’

  Andy, following her gaze, looked at the silk-wrapped bundle in Serena’s hands. ‘Is that it?’ he asked sharply. ‘Why has Serena got it?’

  ‘Because I have given it to her to look after,’ Anna replied firmly.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Andy stepped forward and with calm authority took it out of Serena’s hand. ‘I think I’ll look after this, if you don’t mind. It’s not genuine, but it has a certain curiosity value and it will be safer with me under the circumstances. Besides, I’m not having Serena getting involved in any more of her mumbo jumbo and unsettling Charley. This whole boat is heaving with superstition and hysteria already as far as I can see.’

  Wrapping the bottle even more firmly in the scarf he tucked it into his pocket, then he turned towards the door. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep it safe.’

  ‘Andy! Bring that back!’ Anna found her voice at last. ‘Bring it back this instant!’

  But he had gone, striding down the corridor and round the corner, out of sight.

  ‘I don’t believe he did that!’ Anna turned back to Serena, who had slumped on the bed. ‘Did you see what he did? He just took it!’

  ‘I saw. I’m sorry, Anna.’

  ‘He’s a complete bastard!’ Anna actually found that she had stamped her foot in her anger. ‘And he’s so pleased with himself. Did you see? Because Toby turned out to be a thief.’ She paused. ‘Or at least …’

  ‘Exactly.’ Serena looked up at her. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions on Andy’s say so, Anna, please. Use your own judgement about the diary. Or speak to Omar and ask him what you should do.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose the police ought to be called really if it’s as valuable as all that.’

  Anna sat down beside her. ‘I’ll go and talk to Toby and I’ll ask him outright. If he’s taken it, it’s to read, that’s all. He was looking at it and we both got very involved with the story. He would never steal it. Never.’

  ‘And the bottle?’ Serena’s eyes were suspiciously bright.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry about the bottle. I’ll get that back.’ Anna folded her arms. ‘If Andy really thought that by buying me the odd drink he’d lull me into quiet acquiescence he’s got another think coming. How dare he speak to you – to us – like that!’

  ‘That’s Andy for you.’ Serena gave a rueful smile. ‘He’d do anything to spite me. You’re getting to know him at last.’

  Anna stood up. ‘Why does he do it?’

  Serena shrugged. ‘I think he’s afraid of me, or perhaps more accurately what I represent. A woman with power.’ She shook her head self-deprecatingly. ‘I see through him. I’m not won over by his charm. I have – or had – influence over Charley. Ergo I’m an enemy, to be put down and humiliated.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  Serena nodded. ‘But he was right about one thing. Word is getting round the boat that something odd is going on and we do have to be careful not to let superstition and hysteria as he calls it, cloud our judgement.’

  With a rueful nod Anna headed for the door. ‘Point taken. Listen, I’m going to go and see Toby now, before lunch. Don’t worry about the bottle.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s see what Anhotep does about it. I’m more than happy not to have it for the time being and it may be that Andy is a good person to leave it with!’

  Serena levered herself off the bed and shook her head. ‘I doubt it. I’ll leave you to go and see Toby – unless you want me to come?’ She paused. ‘No. Then I’ll see you later. I do hope he’s not a thief. To tell you the truth I rather like him.’

  So do I. Anna pushed away the thought as she made her way to Toby’s cabin. She clenched her fists. Who else could have taken the diary? Who else knew about it? Who else would have any interest at all?

  She knew which was his cabin; she had seen him coming out of it when she had visited Serena’s. Standing outside his door she took a deep breath. The boat was totally silent save for the subdued wave of conversation from the bar in the distance. Lifting her hand she knocked quietly. There was no reply. She knocked more loudly. There was still no response so, glancing left and right along the deserted corridor, she gently tried the handle. The door opened; he hadn’t locked it.

  She peered inside and caught her breath. The cabin itself was identical to hers in layout; the only other single cabin on the boat and like hers, which must be directly above it, tucked into a forward corner of the boat. But the resemblance ended with the basic furniture. He had turned his into a studio. In the middle of the floor was a folding easel, on it a large sketchbook, clipped back to reveal a sketch of the waterfront outside the window. On every wall he had stuck sketches and paintings. On the dress
ing table and bedside cabinet were paintboxes and charcoal and pencils. The open door of the bathroom showed a wet sketch apparently pinned up to drip into the shower. She stared round in astonishment and took a step inside. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of colour. For a moment she forgot why she had come. When had he done all these? How had he had time? He must have been painting all night and every free second between their trips ashore.

  She took another step inside and the door swung shut behind her.

  The paintings were beautiful. Vibrant. She stood in front of the easel and stared at the busy waterfront with its array of huge cruisers, their own little paddle steamer moored alongside a vast gin palace of a floating hotel.

  It was several minutes before she remembered what she was looking for and turned her attention from his paintings to his personal belongings. The drawers under the dressing table were filled with a jumble of shirts, a couple of sweaters and some underwear. The bag nearby held more pencils. She pulled open the wardrobe. A couple of pairs of trousers and some jeans and a jacket. The drawer of the bedside table held a torch, some notepaper and postcards and a fountain pen. That was all. A couple of paperback books, both unopened as far as she could see, completed his belongings with a thumbed guidebook to Egypt, and his shaving gear and toiletries on the glass shelf in the shower room.

  She pulled back the counterpane and looked under his pillows then she bent and ran her hand along beneath the mattress. Nothing. With a sigh she stood up again, pushing her hair back from her face.

  Where else could he have hidden it? She was turning to survey the cabin again when a slight sound from the door made her swing round to face it. Toby was standing in the doorway, one arm propped against the doorjamb, the other in the pocket of his jeans, watching her. He looked as though he had been there for some time. His face was hard, his eyes cold.

  ‘Have you quite finished your inspection?’

  ‘Toby!’ Any further words died in her throat as he took a step into the cabin and, closing the door behind him, drew the bolt.

  ‘Why have you done that?’ Her mouth had gone dry.

  ‘Because I want the chance to speak to you without Andrew Watson poking his nose in. You have a reason presumably, for being here?’

  She hesitated. A wave of real panic had swept over her. ‘I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for the trip. I wondered where you were.’

  ‘And you thought I might be hiding in a drawer inside the dressing table.’ He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. ‘Or under the mattress, perhaps.’

  With an effort she steadied herself. ‘Toby, I’m sorry. I came to find you. I knocked. The door opened. I saw the pictures and –’ She paused with a shrug. ‘I came in to see them.’

  ‘And thought you’d have a quick pry while you were in here.’ His voice was still hard.

  ‘I wasn’t prying!’ She was stung. ‘If you want to know, I was looking for my diary.’

  ‘Your diary?’ he echoed.

  ‘My diary has disappeared from the drawer in my bedside table. You were the only person who knew it was there.’

  ‘So you thought you’d look in the drawer beside my bed! In other words you thought I’d stolen it!’ There was disbelief in his voice.

  ‘No.’ She had answered too quickly and she knew it. ‘No, I didn’t think that.’

  ‘Then who did?’ he asked softly. ‘Don’t tell me. It was Watson.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘And you believed him.’ He folded his arms.

  ‘It was a possibility,’ she flared. ‘You might have borrowed it. You might have wanted to study it.’

  ‘Without asking you?’ She could hear indignation as well as anger in his voice now.

  ‘Yes! What else was I supposed to think? You and I were looking at it. We were discussing it. You helped me into the felucca then you left me there, remember? And you came back to the cabins. How do I know you didn’t do that so you could go to my cabin, tell me that!’

  ‘You tell me something first,’ he put in sharply. ‘Why on earth didn’t you lock your cabin door if you mistrust everyone so much?’

  ‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ she flashed back. ‘I did trust everyone!’

  ‘Everyone except me.’ His voice dropped. ‘So, tell me, why do you not trust me any more? Why does Andrew Watson not trust me? What have I done to deserve all this suspicion?’

  He looked her in the eye suddenly and she found herself colouring. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Or you don’t intend to say. My guess is Watson has been poking his nose in where it’s not wanted and poisoning the well.’ He rubbed his chin, still scrutinising her face. ‘I see I’m right. You didn’t think to ask me the truth? You didn’t doubt him, just a little bit? I thought we had a friendship of sorts. I was obviously wrong.’

  He sat down heavily on the bed after grabbing an armful of his belongings and hurling them to the floor to make room.

  Anna bit her lip. Her fear had evaporated. ‘All right, I’ll tell you what happened! I didn’t believe him, I didn’t believe him for a single second! Until this happened. And then … I’m sorry.’ She hung her head. ‘I was so frantic about the diary that I wasn’t thinking clearly.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘If I’m honest, I was hoping you did have it. If you haven’t, who has?’

  He considered for a moment. ‘Do you really want my opinion?’

  She nodded, but her wry smile was wasted on him. He was staring at the picture on his easel. ‘I’m prepared to bet fairly large odds on Watson himself.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t. Besides, he was there –’ She broke off.

  ‘He was there. He sympathised and he pointed the finger at me. I can see the scenario, Anna. I can see it clearly.’ He sat forward suddenly. ‘Why would I want the diary, tell me that? He’s the wheeler dealer. He’s the man who has the contacts.’ He looked up at her. ‘Well? I asked you a question. Why would I want it?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s desirable. It’s a historical artefact. It has Louisa’s sketches. It’s worth a lot …’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘It’s worth a lot of money!’ He echoed. ‘I don’t need money, Anna. And I don’t want Louisa’s diary. Is that clear?’ He glanced at the cabin window. ‘Now, you’d better go.’

  ‘Toby, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Go!’ The implacable coldness was back in his eyes.

  She grimaced and turned towards the door. As she opened it she turned back to him. ‘I am sorry,’ she repeated.

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘Can we still be friends?’

  There was a moment’s silence then he shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, Anna.’

  Outside in the passage she stopped and took a deep breath; to her chagrin she was near to tears. Turning, she fled down the corridor.

  Behind her Toby’s cabin door reopened. He stepped out and looked after her. ‘Anna!’ he called.

  Ignoring the shout she ran up the stairs and headed back towards her own cabin.

  Throwing open the door she ran in, hurling it back on its hinges so that it slammed against the wall, rebounded and closed behind her. With a sudden frantic gasp, she stopped dead.

  The cabin wasn’t empty. The air was heavy with the sickly smell of resin and myrrh.

  Standing in the middle of the floor was a shadowy figure, tall, insubstantial, but unmistakable in its bearing. Anhotep half turned towards her and she felt his eyes searching for hers as slowly he began to raise a thin wispy hand towards her.

  Anna screamed. Her whole body had gone cold. She couldn’t breathe. Desperately she tried to turn back to the door, to move, to tear her eyes away from his, but she couldn’t. Something held her where she was. She could feel her legs beginning to buckle, strange red lights beginning to flicker behind her eyes.

  As she started to fall the door was pushed open as Toby flung himself into the cabin behind her. ‘What is it? What’s wrong? I heard you scream.’
He stared round frantically as he caught her hand and swung her towards him. ‘Anna, what is it? Was there someone here?’

  Behind her the cabin was empty.

  ‘Is it Watson?’ He pushed her away, more gently now and, stepping across the cabin, pushed open the shower room door. There was no one there and nowhere that anyone else could be hiding.

  ‘No, it’s not Andy. It’s Anhotep the priest.’ She was trembling violently. ‘You read about him in the diary. The priest who haunts my little scent bottle. He was in here. Standing here!’ She indicated a spot on the floor about two feet in front of her. ‘But the bottle has gone. Andy took it away with him.’

  She was shaking so violently that her teeth were chattering. Slowly she collapsed onto the bed and sat looking up at him.

  There was a long pause and she wondered suddenly if he was going to laugh; to ridicule her every word.

  He pursed his lips. ‘Andy Watson’s name seems to crop up rather a lot in our conversations, doesn’t it?’ He stared round the small room again. ‘Have you seen this apparition before? Didn’t you see something on the boat this morning? Is that what you saw? The priest?’

  Relief flooded through her. He believed her! He didn’t think she was insane. She nodded.

  ‘You told me the bottle was cursed. But you never told me how or why. Why didn’t you mention all this when we read about it in the diary?’

  ‘And have you think I’m mad? What do you think would happen if a story like this got round the boat? “Woman passenger sees Ancient Egyptian priest!” Either everyone would panic and go home or they’d have me sectioned or at the very least I’d become a laughing stock.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I can’t take much more of this.’

  ‘Does anyone else know about it?’

  She nodded. ‘Serena.’

  ‘And what does she think?’

  ‘She believes it. She knows quite a bit about Ancient Egypt. She’s studied its religion and rituals. She knows what to do. She was going to take the bottle and bless it or something, but then Andy took it away.’