Chapter 6
Chapter Six
AT LAST. THE NILE . . .
That evening, there was a welcome meeting in the boat’s main lounge.
Guests drifted in and settled themselves comfortably as their host, Cruise Director Sue, took to the small stage.
Slight in height and slim, she wore a Horus Line navy suit with a red, white, and black striped cravat knotted at the neck.
With enthusiasm, she greeted everyone and welcomed them to the SS Nefertari.
‘This will be your home throughout the cruise,’ Sue said, her soft Irish lilt echoing around the room. ‘The crew and I want to ensure that you have everything you need to make the most of your stay with us.’
Hattie was sipping a gin and tonic. Having showered and freshened up, she wore a bright orange kaftan and, glancing around, judged that most travellers erred on the side of casual and many were dressed in slacks and shirts, but she felt sure that they would smarten up for dinner.
A tall woman with shortly cropped red hair perched on a stool to her right.
Her trainers were scuffed and in need of a clean and her cargo trousers crumpled.
The tall, handsome lad beside her wore a T-shirt and jeans, and his shoulder-length black dreadlocks were braided with colourful beads.
Hattie wondered what Hugo would have made of it. Always immaculate at any time of day, dressed for cruising in a linen suit and Panama hat, he would no doubt have raised an eyebrow, smiled politely, and ordered himself another whisky.
Sue began introducing the crew members, and guests applauded as the reception manager, head chef, housekeeping, and chief engineer circled the room with their next-in-command, followed by an Egyptologist guide.
The smiling crew wore Horus Line uniforms and were introduced individually, then applauded once more as they waved and departed.
Hattie observed that each was as neat and tidy as the vessel itself.
Moving around the stage Sue continued.
‘Please join me, at your convenience, at my desk on the second floor, so that I can ensure you enjoy your booked excursions. There will be a daily schedule on the screen, which is also on the monitor in your cabins. Our lovely Egyptologist guide, Sam, will be available throughout the cruise too and will accompany many of the tours, so you can be assured that you are in safe, knowledgeable hands.’
Hattie poked the lemon in her drink and glanced at the Egyptologist, standing by the bar.
He was handsome in a sun-weathered, mature sort of way and athletic in a slim-fitting shirt and well-cut combat trousers.
As she watched, the Egyptian turned and caught Hattie’s eye.
His look was warm, and he smiled. Hattie nodded, assuming the guide was employed to be charming to all the guests and generous with his smiles.
‘Dinner is being served in the Hapi restaurant, where you may dine at your leisure,’ Sue continued. ‘May I remind you that the evening dress code is smart casual. No shorts, T-shirts, or jeans.’
‘Aw . . . hell!’ the woman in the crumpled T-shirt exclaimed with a loud sigh.
Hattie turned. ‘Are you alright?’ she asked.
The woman slid off her stool. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very happy if I go to the restaurant,’ she said as she approached Hattie. ‘They’ll probably turn me away.’ She ran her hands over broad hips and bit on her lip. ‘The airline lost my luggage, and this is all I’ve got until my case shows up.’
Hattie gave her a quick, assessing glance. The woman, possibly late forties, was roughly the same body shape, but much taller than Hattie, at almost six feet.
‘I’ve plenty of spare things,’ Hattie said. ‘Why don’t I pop along to your cabin with a couple of outfits and see what we can rustle up for you to wear tonight?’
‘Oh, honey – are you sure?’ The woman’s eyes widened. Relieved, she ran her fingers over her brow, her face devoid of makeup.
Hattie felt sympathy for her predicament. The last thing you wanted at the beginning of a holiday was to be caught without a change of clothes. ‘I’m pleased that I can help out,’ she replied.
‘That would be swell. I’m Sylvie Williams, by the way, from Larksville, Ontario, and this is Ezra.’ She turned to include her son, but Ezra was nowhere to be seen.
Hattie edged off her seat. ‘Hattie Mulberry.’ She offered her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
The Hapi restaurant was named after the god who reigned over the Nile and its fertile land, and represented food, generosity, and satisfaction.
The dining space, located on the first deck at water level, hummed with chattering diners as Hattie and Sylvie stood at the entrance and waited to be seated.
Each dressed in one of Hattie’s colourful kaftans, Sylvie’s – being the taller of the two – fell to her knees, while Hattie’s reached her ankles.
Hattie thought they looked like two peas in a pod and wished she’d packed a greater variety of styles, but her cruise clothes were all of the same theme: flamboyant and flattering on Hattie’s fuller figure.
The manager approached and asked if they would like to share a table with other guests.
‘Suits me,’ Sylvie said, flicking a glance at other diners.
‘Me too,’ Hattie agreed as they were led through the room, where glasses chinked, and voices rose and fell.
‘This is grand,’ Sylvie said and eased herself into place at number seventeen, a large circular table. ‘We must leave a space for Ezra.’
A tall steward with a toothy grin, who introduced himself as Hassan, poured iced water into glasses and asked, ‘Would you like wine?’
‘White for me,’ Hattie said.
‘And I’ll have red,’ Sylvie added, then with a little laugh, ‘I do love the fact that drinks are all-inclusive.’
As Hattie sipped the slightly acidic, already-warming wine, she thought Sylvie might revise her enthusiasm, but perhaps, after a few slurps of the local brew, the sharpness would soften. She noted that Sylvie was already halfway down her glass and greeting a man who had been shown to their table.
‘Good evening, ladies,’ the man said. ‘Peter Bully by name, but not by nature.’ He laughed and slid his slim body onto a chair.
Hattie recognised the newcomer as the fellow who’d sat behind her on the plane, regaling his adventures to all within earshot. As Peter, smart in a cotton shirt and navy chinos, made their acquaintance, Hassan hovered with a bottle of wine, and Peter gestured for only a little.
‘How’s your cabin?’ Hattie asked Peter.
‘Excellent, spacious, and light.’ Peter was economical with the truth, his cabin being on the small side, at the back and close to the boat’s engines. ‘But I shan’t be spending much time in there,’ he added.
Sylvie explained her dilemma with her missing suitcase and how Hattie had kindly helped out.
‘Missing suitcase?’ Peter’s interest was piqued.
Hattie noticed Peter tweak his ear and wondered if he was about to adjust an imaginary earpiece and begin a search that only a trained operative could follow. Hastening to change the subject, she asked, ‘Will you be joining all the excursions during the cruise?’
Peter shrugged. ‘I’ll see. It’s not always advisable to be too visible.’
Before Hattie could ask more, they were joined by a couple who introduced themselves as Gerald and Anouska Hamilton.
Wearing a tailored red dress that flattered her tall, willowy figure, Anouska carried a silver clutch, and her golden hair was swept into a perfect chignon.
Her lips were painted a confident red, the colour, Hattie considered, applied with as much care as the immaculate makeup on her face.
Anouska was stunningly beautiful and much younger than Gerald, who was shorter, and smartly dressed in a linen suit.
Sylvie, keen to know where everyone was staying, asked the newcomers about their accommodation.
Anouska explained that they were in cabin 317 on the third deck, adding somewhat smugly, ‘It’s one of only two suites on the boat and worth the extra cost. I need plenty of closet space; my wardrobe is extensive.’
Hattie refrained from informing Anouska that she occupied the other suite and watched as the woman traced the slender stem of her wine glass with long, graceful fingers. She wondered how old Anouska was and thought that despite appearing younger, she was probably early forties.
Sylvie, meanwhile, remarked that her own closet was empty, and her suitcase missing, but she’d been rescued for the evening by Hattie’s insistence that she borrow one of her kaftans.
Hattie hoped that well-dressed Anouska hadn’t noticed that Sylvie’s feet were still planted in scruffy size-nine trainers, too large to fit in a pair of Hattie’s glittery gold sandals and quite unbecoming with her outfit.
Gerald, finishing his glass of red, loosened a button on his boldly patterned shirt and smoothed his thick, slightly greying hair into place.
His face was flushed, and a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow despite the air-conditioning.
Hattie concluded that Gerald had wasted no time in acquainting himself with the all-inclusive bar and wondered if he would cope in the heat in the days to come, knowing how high temperatures were likely to rise.
She heard Anouska brag again that their suite was worth the additional expense, particularly because it had an outdoor sitting area where they could relax and admire the view.
Aware that their suite was opposite her own, Hattie knew the couple’s present view was of the dusty brick wall that lined the Corniche, unlike her Nile outlook, which was currently of the beautiful West Bank.
‘I’m sure there will be many wonderful sights for us all to enjoy, once we set sail,’ she said when Hassan approached and placed a smoked salmon appetiser before them.
As the guests enjoyed the next course of asparagus soup with a selection of soft, fluffy flatbreads and traditional Egyptian fino shaped into long white rolls, Ezra appeared with a towel draped around his neck. He removed his headphones and sat down between Sylvie and Hattie.
Hattie heard Sylvie introduce her son and explain his lateness, adding he’d taken a nap after being exhausted from their recent travels. Sylvie enlightened the guests on their whistle-stop tour of Europe and said they were excited to conclude their holiday with a much-anticipated Nile cruise.
‘Egypt has always been my dream destination.’ Sylvie’s eyes sparkled as she circled the rim of her glass with a finger. ‘Ezra knows how much I’ve longed to see the Nile, don’t you, honey?’
She turned to her son, who’d begun to spread butter thickly on a flatbread. Before he could answer, Sylvie carried on.
‘The poor boy is so hungry after our journey.’ Sylvie placed another flatbread on his plate as Ezra demolished his soup.
Hattie sipped her wine and discreetly glanced at Ezra.
His dreadlocks were damp, and she wondered if his “nap” had included several laps of the pool.
Flicking his hair, Ezra dabbed at droplets of water that fell onto his dark skin.
The young man’s eyes were watchful, and Hattie thought how handsome he was.
Emptying the breadbasket and mopping the last of his soup, Ezra listened to his mother continue with her city-by-city travelogue.
Sitting back, he looked at the guests, and as he turned to Hattie, she caught his eye.
For a moment, Ezra’s expression held, and once again she was struck by his good looks, thinking his father must be an exceptionally attractive man.
Sylvie’s genes alone could not account for her son.
‘Thanks for helping my mom out.’ Ezra spoke softly. ‘I’ve never seen her look so . . . colourful.’ He grinned, revealing perfect teeth.
‘It’s nothing.’ Hattie smiled. ‘Did you enjoy Europe?’
But before Ezra had time to reply, Sylvie, who’d heard Hattie’s question, butted in.
‘Oh, sure, we thought it was wonderful, didn’t we, honey?’ Sylvie enthused. ‘Especially Paris. Although I was grateful that there was a lift to the viewing platform of the Eiffel Tower after climbing up all those stairs.’
Peter coughed. ‘I’ve been to the top of that tower,’ he said casually. ‘Not where the public go, of course, and there are other ways in, if you are in the know.’ He pointed to his nose with a sly wink.
‘And why would you visit an area denied to the public?’ Hattie asked.
Peter shrugged. ‘Observation. Vantage points are strategically useful, but I can’t go into details.’ He folded his arms. ‘Line of sight and all that – you learn to understand who’s watching whom . . .’
The diners looked anxiously around and wondered what on earth Peter was talking about.
Sylvie seemed perplexed, while Ezra grinned, and Gerald raised an eyebrow and mopped his brow with a handkerchief.
But before anyone had time to question Peter further, Hassan cleared the table and set down a fragrant chicken dish.
Hattie was beginning to realise that, given a platform, Peter would fantasise throughout the evening, and raising her glass, decided to divert the subject.
‘Well, here’s to a wonderful meal,’ she said, ‘and the start of a fascinating holiday. I’m delighted to meet you all and can’t wait to set off on our tours of ancient Egypt and discover what history has to tell us.
Perhaps there may be a few surprises in store,’ she said and turned to Ezra.
‘And let’s hope that everyone, no matter what age, will leave with lasting memories. ’
‘Hear, hear,’ Gerald agreed and chinked Anouska’s glass with his own before raising it towards Hattie. ‘Well said, and bon appétit, everyone!’