I found ways to see Sven throughout the days, made a pretense of checking in on Sitto and asking after her when it was the boy I wanted to see. When I glimpsed her giving him sweets one afternoon, I teased her, wagged my finger as I took the bag from her hands. “Not from Sitto! Sven needs to listen to Sitto.” She smiled in response, and I believed she understood me. Instead, it was I who carried a small paper bag with me so that when I was able to spend a little bit of time with Sven, I could slip him sweets. Sitto humoured me, seemed to know that I was trying to fill a need that was beyond confectionery.
* * *
One afternoon, I was in the small room adjacent to Mr. Brandt’s office where I updated the calendars and made lists of tasks and supplies. Sitto knocked on the door and ushered in Sven, pale and listless. “Not good, miss,” she said and nodded toward the boy. “Not good.”
I came around the table and knelt in front of him. “How are you feeling, Sven?”
As soon as I asked, tears were in his eyes, but he neither cried nor spoke, just shook his head and looked down.
“Not good?”
He shook his head again. I took his hand in one of mine and put the back of my other on his forehead. He was so cold. It was hot, even indoors, and the boy was cool to the touch. “I’ll call for the doctor.” Sitto nodded. I knew she understood English, which was the language we used with the staff, even though she couldn’t speak much. “I’ll call for Mrs. Brandt as well. She’ll be home soon.” Where was she that day – her bridge game, playing tennis at the club? I should have known but would have to check. “Your mother will be home soon.” In that moment, he lurched forward and I fell back slightly, hanging onto the boy as he clung to me.
Plans were made quickly and I wasn’t the one to make the calls and arrangements. I could hear Mr. and Mrs. Brandt, voices raised against each other. The house was strange that way – some parts of it swallowed sound and hid it away; in other parts, voices slipped along chambers, turned corners, emerged in other rooms completely.
“A sailing, at this time? You know the conflict – things are about to erupt –”
“Not at sea, not so soon – if we stay, he may not –”
“– no one should be travelling now.”
“We can send for someone –”
“Overland, perhaps.”
“– not last that long – our son!”
The words travelled down the halls, sometimes in complete sentences, other times singularly – no, her, how, home – though nothing was said to me until the next morning. I jumped when Mr. Brandt’s office door opened into the area where I sat as I sorted through the appointments and household arrangements for the day. I hadn’t expected to see him so early and said nothing, no morning greeting. Mr. Brandt looked pale, his eyes heavy as though he hadn’t slept. I didn’t look at his face for long. “My wife and son need to be back in Copenhagen. He’s –” He stopped.
“I’ll make arrangements immediately.”
“No, no. That’s already been done. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Of course. I’ll cancel all of Mrs. Brandt’s appointments.”
“Yes.” Mr. Brandt didn’t move, stood facing me, though I knew from a glance at his eyes that he couldn’t really see me.
“Your son –” I started.
“Yes.”
I felt like I shouldn’t continue, as though it was too personal to talk about his family. I’d started, though, so I continued. “He’ll get the care he needs in Copenhagen. He’s a strong boy, Sven.” He was frail physically, but I’d seen him withstand so much already – rough ocean travel, transition into an entirely different culture and climate, long days in the company of people who didn’t speak his language. He did all this without complaint and with little comfort from either of his parents. I didn’t say this, but I thought it might be good for the boy to have an extended period of his mother’s attention, even if it was in such unfortunate circumstances.
Something occurred to me then. “Should I plan to go with them?” I knew that I’d not been hired to care for the boy and I had seen him less than I would have liked to once we were in Cairo.
“Oh no. No, Mrs. Brandt will be able to travel with the boy and our staff will be waiting in Copenhagen. My wife is going to expect you to keep this household running, to keep everyone in line. She doesn’t think I’m capable of doing so.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed in and released a long, slow sigh.
I reached for my papers on the table as though they might have instructions for what I was to do or say in this situation. I found none. “Of course. She’ll be able to depend on me.”
“Presumably.” He glanced at me, that quick frown caught between his brows I’d seen the first day we met. “You can go now.”
Twenty-Nine
When Mrs. Brandt left to sail back to Denmark with their son, she wished me luck in holding up to the blacks. It was the Arabs she was speaking of. “If you’re not able to handle them, it will be no weakness on your part. They are an ugly, brutish people. Just let Mr. Brandt know that you need help.” I wondered what her husband would do, what kind of help he could offer me. Most staff were not Arab. The chef was French and the house girls who worked in the kitchen and as cleaning staff were Spanish and Portuguese. The gardener in the inner courtyard was from Italy. It was the groundskeepers around the compound who were black, as we called the Arabs then.
One morning, Sitto came back. I hadn’t seen her since Mrs. Brandt and Sven had left. “Madam, something wrong.” I was a miss, not a madam, but I didn’t correct her.
“What is it? You received your pay?” I felt badly as soon as I asked. I hadn’t assumed that she was coming to me for money and yet it was the first thing I said.
“No, no. It is the girl, Marta. She not good.”
As with Sven, Sitto came to me when things were not good. Marta was one of the girls from Portugal, a housekeeper. “I don’t understand. Has she done something wrong?”
“No, no! Not Marta. She no wrong. The men, so bad. Animals, they animals.”
I understood. “Where is she now?”
“She come to Sitto. She sleeping at Sitto’s daughter’s house.”
“Does she need a doctor?”
“No, Sitto take care of her.”
“Can you take me to her?”
Sitto looked frightened, wary.
“I need to see that she is okay.”
“She not good.”
“Sitto, listen to me. I will make sure that none of those men work here anymore.” I wasn’t sure of this, at all – that Marta would identify the men, or that I would be able to dismiss them – but I looked directly at Sitto as though to assure her of my ability to do so.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It not them, miss. Not them.”
“Not who, Sitto?” She didn’t respond. “I need to see her, Sitto. Will you take me?”
I wanted to call on one of the Brandts’ drivers, but Sitto convinced me to walk. We left the broad, palm-lined streets and went through narrow and narrower lanes until we were on dirt tracks between walls. I followed Sitto down a deep flight of stairs cut into the wall. At the bottom, though we were still surrounded by city, the dirt gave way to sand. I could hear the river somewhere near us, feel it on my skin, but I no longer knew where I was, didn’t know in which direction the water ran. Tents circled an area the size of the Brandts’ villa and compound, and smoke from small fires rose in thin columns. The smell of meat, spices and incense blended with that of urine and animal dung.
Sitto led me into a dark tent, heat and smoke choking the space. When my eyes adjusted, I could see Marta lying on what was likely a straw mattress on the ground covered in layers of rugs. I knelt beside her, saw in the low light how her eyes were swollen, her lip cut, face bruised. The air was hot, closed, and yet she was covered in layers of thick blankets. By t
he foot of the mattress, I saw a bundle of fabric, the dark stain. I could smell the rust of blood.
“Sitto, she needs to see a doctor.”
“No, no, madam. Not here, no doctor here.”
“Well, then I’ll have to bring her to a doctor.”
“She cannot move. Must rest.”
Marta’s hand hung over one edge of the mattress. I moved it so it was on her chest. Her skin was moist, so hot. “I’ll be back, Marta,” I told her, though there was no indication that she could hear or understand what I said. When I stepped into the yard, the air seemed clear, fragrant in comparison. Children appeared from somewhere – so many children, pushing up against me and staring.
“I will come back with Mr. Brandt. He will understand. I promise you that he will not be upset.” Again, I made pronouncements about things I could not control. “If we cannot bring a doctor here, we will take her to one.”
Sitto didn’t look pleased with my plan, but she nodded.
“Please, stay here with her until I return. Make sure she is okay.” I climbed the steps back toward the streets and heard Sitto yelling behind me. She wasn’t speaking in English but she was pointing to a young boy who was running my way. I understood that he would show me the way back to the Brandts’ compound. More than that, this twelve-year-old boy would be my safety; without him, I would be a target.
* * *
I called the doctor, summoned the car and driver and located Mr. Brandt, who came home dressed in white, directly from the club. He wanted to change but I told him that we didn’t have time. He listened to me. The doctor listened as well when I told them that only Mr. Brandt was to come into the circle of tents. I gave coins to boys and told them to protect the car as the doctor waited. Mr. Brandt looked absurd, dressed in his club attire, but he carried himself as though we were meant to be there, in that part of the city, entering a tent that was only for women. Sitto stood when we did, then bowed slightly to Mr. Brandt. He looked at Marta, touched her forehead, her hands, things that would not have been permitted if he had been a Muslim man and she a Muslim woman, but we were each something other, moving through their world. Mr. Brandt picked up Marta, still wrapped in the heavy blankets, and carried her out of the tents and up the stairs to the car. Behind us, children trailed, their voices lilting, almost cheerful sounding. This was exciting for them.
Marta was put in a bedroom in the family quarter of the villa, away from the other employees. “She has an infection,” the doctor told us. “She will likely recover but she will need rest and clean conditions.” I gave the girl her medicine, cleaned her wounds and kept the shutters closed against the sun. One afternoon while she slept, I went to Mr. Brandt in his office. I knocked quickly, then entered already speaking before I lost my resolve. “The groundsmen – all of them – will have to be let go.”
Mr. Brandt was standing behind his desk, facing the papers spread over the surface. He looked up slowly, as though coming out of thought, then focused on me, eyes across my face, his brow lowering. “Of course.”
I wasn’t expecting he would consent so quickly. I kept speaking. “Sitto will help me rehire. She will know who we can trust.”
He came around the desk. “Will the girl be all right?”
“I think she’ll heal physically if that’s what you mean,” I answered. “I’m not sure that she should stay, though.”
Mr. Brandt leaned against the front of his desk. “I’m not going to fire her for this. That wouldn’t be right.”
“No, no, of course not, but I think you should pay her way back home to Portugal. You should give her a month’s wage as well.”
Mr. Brandt crossed his arms over his chest. “Really? You wouldn’t make a good businesswoman, Miss Jüül.”
I ran my hand along the top of one of the chairs, looked toward a wall in the opposite direction. “I never claimed that I would. It’s the right thing to do.”
“It goes against my instinct, but if you think I should, I’ll do it.”
I looked back toward him. “It goes against your instinct to be kind? To do what is right?”
“You’ve misunderstood.” He stood up straight.
“That’s what you just said.”
“I meant that the girl is a good employee. I don’t want to lose someone like her.” He rounded the desk, straightened papers as he did. “How will it be right to send her home as though she’s done something wrong? What will her family think?”
He was right. I’d been thinking of myself, how I wouldn’t want to stay in a place after what had happened. Yet, would I be able to go back home if I were in the same position? I’d never returned to my family. “You’re right. You should ask her, give her the choice.”
“You can ask her, when she’s ready.” He stared at his hands. “And then you will tell me what to do.” He looked up, eyes on mine.
I hired groundskeepers based on Sitto’s suggestions. They were younger, more boys than men. Their clothes were clean each morning and they spoke quietly, bowed their heads to Mr. Brandt and to me. I told him that he should increase their pay, just slightly. Before leaving for Copenhagen, Mrs. Brandt had briefly considered taking Sven to the family’s other residence in Alexandria, where the sea air might have bolstered his health. I told Mr. Brandt that Marta should be sent there to escape the heat and crowds of Cairo. I don’t know why I spoke to him so much, gave him my opinions. In all matters, he listened to me. I suppose that was all it took.
Thirty
The heat was constant in Cairo. I had been told that I would get used to it but it had been months and I had not adjusted. It had been two weeks since the incident and Marta had recovered physically, but when she stood and moved, it was as though she were somewhere else, her body a kind of stiff costume.
One morning, I was filling out the calendar on the small table outside Mr. Brandt’s office. “I’ve taken your advice.” He startled me and I jumped, banged my knee on one of the table legs. “I’m sorry,” he said without looking at me.
“No, no.” I stood. “What advice, sir?”
He looked out the window into the courtyard. “To have Marta relocated to our residence in Alexandria.”
“Good. I’ll ensure that she’s ready to travel.”
Mr. Brandt turned from the window and looked at me briefly before his eyes flicked away. “By tomorrow. We’ll leave then.” He touched the back of a chair. “I know this means you’ll need to rearrange my appointments once again. I’m sorry.” He didn’t look sorry; he looked harried, tense.
“No, sir. Let me know what arrangements you’ll need.”
“Book a first-class ticket for each of us – you as well. I’ll need you to acquaint Marta with her new duties there.” He drummed his fingers along the top of the chair. “I know it is late notice, but I’ll need you to find some more staff. It wouldn’t be right to have her there on her own.” Mr. Brandt looked toward his hands, now still.
“Of course.”
“And you can meet my brother. You’ll like him. Most women do.” My surprise at this comment made me blush. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” Mr. Brandt may have been embarrassed as well. “My brother, he’s – I’m sure you’ll like him. And he you.”
Mr. Brandt knew little about my preferences, for people or otherwise.
“Cancel my appointments for the week. My brother will convince me to stay longer than I intend – he always does. I could use some time away.” Mr. Brandt stepped toward his office, then turned. “Do you ride, Miss Jüül?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Horses – do you ride horses?”
Was there a right way to answer this? “I used to.”
“I thought that you might have.” He smiled and turned to look out the window, then back at me, his eyes clouded with distance.
* * *
Mr. Brandt’s brother met
us at the station in Alexandria. He was taller and fairer than his brother. I recognized something in him. “Call me Onkel,” he said, as though I were a family friend, not his brother’s staff. He winked at me and gave his moustache a quick twist and I knew whom he reminded me of – Knud, in Zealand.
“Your carriage awaits.” He threw his arm in the direction of a car and driver. “I’m afraid that I’m not as minted as my brother here. It will be one car for the four of us. I hope it will suit you ladies.”
Marta stared at Onkel, without expression, then turned to me with a slight smile.
“We will be fine.” I took Marta’s elbow to lead her to the car. As far as I knew, a man had not touched Marta since the incident. We got into the car, Marta and I in the seats facing forward, Mr. Brandt and his brother on seats across from us. It seemed improper to look directly at either man, so we watched the passing city.
“You could’ve called for one of my cars, Onk.” I turned to see if Mr. Brandt’s expression was serious or jesting. When I did, he was looking at me, so I quickly turned away again, tightened the scarf under my chin.
“I know – just as I know that this car and driver are yours as well, really. Don’t reveal my ploy, Bror.” He spoke with a lilt, obviously the younger of the two. “I always prefer travelling with ladies.”
I hadn’t glimpsed the Mediterranean yet but the air was laced with the sea, so different from the dense heat in Cairo. I was used to being by the ocean, the smell of it, and for the first time in Egypt I felt a familiarity. Something that was not like home but was not as foreign to me.
Mr. Brandt’s Alexandria residence was near the shore, a French-style apartment with tall arched windows and stone balconies. “Onkel’s apartment is connected to ours, but I won’t be comfortable with you here alone. Miss Jüül will help find another staff member for the residence, a girl to help you.” It seemed extravagant and unnecessary. As though thinking the same, Mr. Brandt added, “We’ll want more staff. Mrs. Brandt and our son will want to spend more time here when they return. The sea is so healthful.” Marta and I both nodded. “I’m here quite often as well. Onkel takes care of the shipping end of the business, but every little brother needs supervision once in a while, yes?”
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