Barbara Erskine - Whispers in the Sand

Anna shook her head, laughing. ‘I had no idea there was so much ideological conflict going on on the boat. It will make for an extraordinarily interesting trip. I have spoken to Serena. She sat next to me on the bus, but we didn’t talk about Sirius. That aspect of Egypt’s history seems to have passed me by. My interest stems from travel books, people like Lawrence Durrell, my mother’s books about archaeology, even school where we had a teacher who was passionate about pyramids.’

‘And Louisa.’

‘And Louisa.’

‘Can I see her diary one day?’ He held her gaze once more with that disconcerting directness which seemed to be his trademark.

She looked away first. ‘Of course you can.’

‘Now?’ He raised an eyebrow hopefully.

‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t bring it with me. It’s on the boat.’

‘Of course. Silly me.’ He swung his bag back onto his shoulder. ‘OK, I think I’m heading back down to the valley to see another tomb or two before we leave. I’ll go and find Omar and plague him with some deep philosophical questions! Will you be all right on your own?’

She wasn’t sure whether the question was posed out of real concern or was a subtle way of telling her that he did not expect her to walk back with him and indeed, no sooner had he spoken than he turned and began to lope back down the path. In seconds he had disappeared behind the rocks.

The silence and the heat flowed back over her in a heavy curtain. Standing stock still she found she wanted to call him back. The loneliness in the valley was intense. Shading her eyes, she stared round for a moment scanning the cliff face then she turned and looked after him. At her feet a few pieces of shale rattled down the path. The sound emphasised the quiet. She was trying to recall the diary, the picture of the valley as Louisa had seen it, trying to visualise the rug, the shelter, the simple companionship of the man and the woman as Louisa laid out her painting things, but she couldn’t bring the picture into focus. The shadowy image of Louisa and her parasol, the click of the donkeys’ hoofs on the stone, the tap of the paintbrush against the rim of the water pot had all faded into the silence. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to run after Toby. This was ridiculous. What was there to be afraid of? The silence? The emptiness after the crowds in the valley bottom? She cast one last look over her shoulder up at the sun-baked cliffs and then she began to retrace her steps, hoping at every moment to catch sight of Toby ahead of her on the path. Twice she glanced over her shoulder again and then suddenly panic overwhelmed her. She lengthened her stride and before she knew it she was running back down towards the valley as fast as she could, slipping and sliding in her anxiety to catch up with Toby. It didn’t matter what he had said, she didn’t want to be alone in that spot for one second longer.

But the path was empty. There was no sign of him. Arriving at last in the valley bottom once more amongst the crowds and the shouting guides she made her way panting to the shaded resting place where groups of other tourists were sitting, exhausted by the intense heat which seemed to pool in the valley. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, trying to steady the thudding of her heart under her ribs. There was no sign of Toby anywhere.

It was Andy who found her. Sitting down heavily on the bench next to her he took off his hat and fanned his face with it. ‘Hot enough for you?’

She nodded, struggling to steady her voice. ‘I thought the tombs would be cool. In the darkness.’

‘More like tandoori ovens.’ He grinned. ‘Are you enjoying yourself? You look lonely sitting here. I thought Ben was taking care of you.’

‘I don’t need taking care of, thank you!’ Her indignation was only half feigned. ‘But he was with me, yes. He’s a nice man.’

‘And so am I.’ Andy raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I escort you into another hell hole? We gather for our picnic in about an hour.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Then this afternoon it’s off to the Ramasseum and Hatchepsut’s temple. There’s no slacking on this trip!’

A shadow fell across his face. Charley was standing there looking down at him. ‘I am sure Anna doesn’t need an escort. If she needs someone to hold her hand in the dark, Omar can do it. That’s his job, after all.’ Her voice was acid.

Anna stood up hastily. ‘I don’t actually need an escort of any sort. Please, don’t worry.’ She grabbed her bag and slung it on her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you back on the bus, no doubt.’ She did not wait to see their reaction, plunging back into the sunlight to make her way across the sandy path towards the shadow of another tomb entrance.

It was only when she was standing in the queue, her guidebook in her hand that she realised Andy had followed her.

‘I’m sorry. That was embarrassing.’

‘Not at all. Charley is right. I don’t need an escort.’ She glanced behind them. ‘Where is she?’

‘Still over there in the shade.’ The queue shuffled a few steps closer to the entrance. ‘Egyptology is not her thing. She feels she has seen enough for one day.’

‘I see.’ Anna glanced at him sideways, unsure whether she should feel triumphant or sorry for the other woman. She liked Andy. His good-natured friendliness had done much to put her at her ease amongst so many strangers. Not that they seemed like strangers now. It was her first day in Egypt and yet she felt as though she had known them for a very long time.

‘Hello there.’ As though to confirm her thought Ben emerged from the entrance in front of them. His face was pink with heat, a marked contrast to the whiteness of his hair. As the sun hit him he smacked his hat back onto his head and grinned at them hugely. ‘One of the best tombs, this. Magnificent! The mind just boggles at the thought of how much work has gone into it all, and how many men it took to do it.’ His face sobered a little. ‘Charley! Are you going in too?’

Charley was suddenly beside them. Her face was tense, her eyes smouldering with anger. ‘Yes, I’m going in too. Stupid thick Charley is actually interested.’

‘Stay here!’ Andy’s hand on Anna’s wrist was like an iron clamp as she turned to move away. Startled, she frowned. ‘Andy, please –’

‘No. I asked you to visit this tomb with me. I meant it. If Charley wants to come too, then that’s up to her. She has a ticket, the same as the rest of us.’

Charley’s face was red with fury. ‘That’s right. And I’m coming in.’

‘Please do.’ Andy’s smile was, at least on the surface, as affable as ever.

When Anna glanced round for Ben, he had gone.

As they walked down into the darkness Anna spotted Omar ahead of them with some half-dozen of the other passengers from their boat who had elected to stay with him for the tour. With relief she hurried to catch up with him, aware that Andy was still at her side. Over the next twenty minutes or so as Omar talked to them about burial chambers and cartouches, The Book of the Dead and The Book of Gates , slave labour and the gods of death and retribution she slowly managed to distance herself from Andy and Charley in the darkness. By the time they had reached the inner pillared hall she had lost sight of them entirely.

It was as she was walking back, her concentration on the ceiling with its wonderful paintings that her arm was seized. ‘What do you think you are playing at? You hardly know him!’ Charley’s hiss in her ear was full of venom. ‘Why? Why are you doing it?’

Anna turned in astonishment. ‘Doing what? Look, Charley, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m not trying to do anything, I promise.’

‘You’re encouraging him!’