Barbara Erskine - Whispers in the Sand

‘Perhaps I can be of service?’

She smiled at him. ‘I don’t think Charley would approve,’ she said gently. ‘Where is she, by the way?’

‘Up front somewhere. With Joe and Sally. She’s been chatting up Omar.’ The lurching of the bus threw him against her for a moment. ‘Have you got your camera?’

She nodded. ‘Photography is one of my passions. I’m not likely to forget that.’

‘Good. You’ll have to take a picture of me in front of some great pharaoh so I can brag about my trip at home.’

They climbed out of the coach to queue for the short ferry ride across the Nile and found another identical though older vehicle waiting for them on the other side. When Anna looked round for Andy as they climbed aboard, she saw that Charley was by his side. For this second part of the journey she found herself next to Serena.

‘My first visit to Egypt.’ The dark-haired woman was wearing a cool cheesecloth skirt and blouse of brilliant contrasting blues and greens.

‘Mine too.’ Anna nodded. ‘You’re a friend of Charley’s, I gather?’

Serena laughed. ‘For my sins. We’re sort of flatmates in London. Well, in fact she rents a room in my flat. It was my idea to come out to Egypt and before I knew it Charley was coming too. She knew how long I’d wanted to come out here and I suppose I was so enthusiastic and excited I sold her the idea.’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘She and Andy had been going out together on and off for several months and when he heard about it he half jokingly said he’d come as well. Charley was over the moon and he realised he might have committed himself a bit more seriously than he intended so he asked the Booths and there we were, a veritable wagon train!’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry. Does that sound as though I’m complaining?’

Anna shook her head. ‘I should think it’s more fun coming with friends than on your own.’

‘Perhaps.’ Serena did not sound too certain. There was a moment of silence as the driver climbed into his seat and leant forward to turn on the ignition. The bus gave a shudder and settled down into a violent but steady rattle. ‘You’re on your own?’ Serena’s enquiry was almost lost in the noise of grinding gears.

‘Newly divorced and stepping out for independence.’ Anna had a feeling that her jaunty tone had a wistful ring to it. She hoped not.

‘Good for you.’ Serena nodded. ‘My partner died four years ago. For a while it was like losing half of my own body. We had been so close there was a physical loss; part of me had died with him. But it gets better.’ She gave a big smile. ‘Sorry. That’s a bit intense for a first conversation, but at least you know there’s someone who understands if you need a chat.’

‘Thank you.’ Anna was astonished by the wave of warmth she felt for the other woman. It wasn’t the same, of course. Felix wasn’t dead. And her feelings for him – had they ever been so intense that she had felt him to be part of her? She wasn’t sure they had ever been that close.

Conversation was impossible above the noise of the engine and they turned their attention to the passing countryside. Apart from the cars and buses the landscape was, Anna realised, exactly as Louisa had described it a hundred and forty years before. And, with its intense air of timelessness, it might for all she knew have been the same fourteen hundred years before as well.

She stared out of her window at the intense green of this narrow strip of fertile fields, watered by narrow canals, and at the shade of the eucalyptus trees and palms which formed darker patches on the dusty road. She caught glimpses of water buffalo and donkeys and even camels; of men dressed in galabiyyas , boys dressed in jeans and some on bicycles, but most perched on the rumps of small trotting donkeys, whose ribs stuck out like harp strings. And there too were the fields of sugar cane and small allotment-like squares of onion and cabbages. Amongst them were scattered small, shabby papyrus and alabaster factories.

They stopped briefly to get out of the bus and photograph the Colossi of Memnon, two massive figures carved out of pink quartzite, standing alone on the bare rubbled ground, then they were back into the coach and heading once again towards the edge of the green fertile countryside. At last they were nearing the range of mountains she had seen from the boat in the early morning light. As they drew closer they changed colour. They were becoming less brown, less pink, more dazzling as the sun reflected off the dusty stone and the sand. They passed villages nestling into the cliffs with dark holes amongst the mud-brick houses which could have been modern or ancient, caves or dwellings or antiquities.

It was hard to tell, Anna realised, if something was two years old or two thousand. Here there was no green to be seen at all. The ground was everywhere a rubble of rocks and shale and scree.

The bus park in the valley dispelled all her visions of Louisa’s lonely visit to the tombs. As Andy had warned it was packed. Acres of coaches, hundreds of tourists and round them, like wasps round a jam pot, dozens and dozens of eager noisy men, dressed in colourful galabiyyas and headscarves, holding out postcards and statuettes of Bast, Tut and souvenirs galore.

‘Ignore them and follow me.’ Omar clapped his hands. ‘I will buy your tickets and photograph permits then you can explore alone or stay with me and I will take you into some of the tombs.’

Anna looked around in dismay. It was nothing like the place she had imagined. Nothing at all. For a moment she stood still, overwhelmed, then she was swept into a loosely gathered queue making its way alongside the barren cliffs, past a line of colourful booths and stalls where yet more souvenirs were being hawked. Andy and Charley, and Serena had disappeared. For a moment she wondered if she should try to find them, then she decided against it. With a smile she took her ticket from Omar and resolutely she set off to find her way around on her own.

The narrow valley absorbed the sunlight, turning it into a blinding oven. The mountains all around them were huge, ochre-coloured, awesome, rugged and uneven and deeply fissured. It was a landscape utterly untouched by time. The square entrances to the tombs were black enticing shadows scattered over the cliff faces. Some were barred with gates. Many were open.

‘You look bemused, Anna, love.’ Ben Forbes was beside her suddenly. ‘Want to venture in with me?’ His broad-brimmed hat flopped idiosyncratically to one side and the green canvas bag hanging from his left shoulder looked as though it had seen quite a few expeditions in the past. He had his guidebook already open. ‘Rameses IX. This is a particularly splendid tomb, I believe. It is as good a place as any to start.’ He led the way down a sloping ramp where they joined the queue of people wanting to go in.

‘Interesting man, Andy Watson. We were both a bit late applying for places on this holiday and as fate would have it there was only a double cabin left so we’re sharing. I don’t find him irresistible, but I can see the ladies might.’ He had taken off his glasses and was polishing them with his handkerchief.

‘Yes.’ She nodded.

‘Seems to have taken quite a shine to you.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. He’s just being friendly.’

Ben nodded. ‘Probably.’ There was a moment’s silence as they shuffled forward in the queue. ‘I sat next to Charley on the bus.’

Anna glanced at him. ‘His girlfriend?’

‘According to her, yes. Forgive me poking my nose in, Anna, especially at this early stage, but I’ve been on cruises before and ours is an exceptionally small boat.’

Anna raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I being warned off?’