Chapter 8 #2
‘Have you tried one of these?’ Hattie asked, digging into her bag and producing a walking pole. Unclipping the locking catch, she adjusted the length to fit Gerald’s height, before handing it to him. ‘It takes the weight off the knees,’ Hattie added.
‘Well, that’s awfully kind.’ Gerald reached out. ‘I have a couple myself, but Anouska insists I look like an old man whenever I use them. I was told to leave them at home.’
‘Well, hang on to that one for as long as you need it.’ Hattie looked around. ‘Where is your wife?’ she asked.
‘Anouska’s gone ahead.’
As Gerald settled into a suitable pace, aided by Hattie’s stick, they both saw Anouska posturing beside the long ramp that linked the temple’s terraces.
She held a selfie stick and struck a series of effortless poses as though working a magazine shoot, pivoting so the light flattered and caught every angle.
‘Your wife is like a catwalk model,’ Hattie commented.
‘Not like. Is.’
‘Really? I’m not surprised.’
‘Well, she focuses a lot on social media. An influencer, that sort of thing.’
‘Ah, an influencer . . .’
‘You should check her out on her Instagram handle; she has over fifty thousand followers. Posing like this is all part of her day. She’s known as Anouska Delusca.’
Hattie made a mental note of the name. ‘She’s very beautiful. Have you been married for long?’
‘Three years,’ Gerald replied. ‘Though for some reason, it feels longer.’
Hattie thought she heard Gerald sigh and wondered, not for the first time that day, whether all was cosy and rosy Chez Hamilton.
‘Anouska’s been married before. I’m her third.
’ He hesitated. ‘I’d been married to Sally for forty years, but she got the dreaded big C .
. . and I lost her very suddenly.’ Gerald unscrewed his water bottle.
‘I was so distraught that I struggled to work and eventually sold my engineering business,’ he continued quietly.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Gerald.’ Hattie was surprised at the man’s frankness and lightly touched his arm. ‘You must have been devastated.’
‘Indeed, I was, though the sale was timely, and I made a fortune,’ he added with a faint shrug. ‘At least something good came out of it.’
‘And when did you meet Anouska?’
‘I went on a Caribbean cruise, and there she was, single, glamorous, and to be honest, she knocked my socks off. I’d never met anyone like her.’
‘I’m glad you found happiness once more.’
As they set off again, she wondered why Gerald had felt the need to confide.
Was marriage to @AnouskaDelusca not the wedded bliss he’d envisaged?
She noted that he frowned again as he replaced the bottle in his rucksack.
Getting closer to his wife, who was still posing, Hattie deduced that Gerald must be in his sixties and at least two decades older than Anouska.
She was tempted to ask Anouska what she saw in the older, slightly overweight millionaire . . . Husband-hunting at sea had paid off!
‘She’ll have everything uploaded, as soon as she’s tidied them up,’ Gerald said. ‘Then the evening will be spent checking the number of likes.’
Hattie wondered what ‘tidied up’ meant and thought it probably referred to an image-improving app. ‘Is it profitable?’ she asked as they made their way up the ramp, watching Anouska move in and out of the terraces.
‘Well, she’d need a far bigger following to make any money through paid sponsorship,’ Gerald said. ‘At the moment she has small perks from occasional suppliers, who send her items to model.’ He sighed. ‘Anouska, I’m afraid, has an extravagant passion for designer clothes and shoes.’
Hattie knew that it wasn’t rocket science to work out who was footing the bills.
They’d caught up with the rest of their group, and as Gerald joined his wife, Hattie stopped to listen to Maryam explain that Queen Hatshepsut was one of the most important female pharaohs of Egypt.
Married to her stepbrother Thutmose II, they had no sons, and when he died, his son, Thutmose III, by another wife, became pharaoh.
But as the new ruler was only a minor, Hatshepsut appointed herself pharaoh and was a strong and powerful ruler, bringing great wealth and stability to Egypt.
‘Hatshepsut depicted herself as a man—’ Maryam smiled ‘—and wore a false beard, darkened her skin, and built up her muscles. You can see her image here.’ Maryam pointed to huge carvings.
‘But she has no face?’ Hattie looked puzzled.
‘Ah.’ Maryam nodded. ‘Legend tells us that when Thutmose III came of age and regained his title of pharaoh, all her images were defiled, and he removed her facial images to reinforce male succession. It was suspected that he had her killed.’
The guests gazed up at the huge carvings depicting the faceless female ruler.
‘But that’s a myth,’ Maryam said. ‘DNA today has been able to shed light on her death. It is believed at the age of fifty-four, sadly, she may have died of cancer.’
‘What a woman!’ Hattie reflected, as they reached the upper terrace.
She thought that Hatshepsut must have been quite a gal to rule in a such male-dominated environment, striding around, flexing her muscles and sporting a beard. Today, if Hatshepsut could sing, she’d be a perfect contestant for Eurovision, should Egypt ever enter.
Staring out at the view across the West Bank, Hattie could feel the scorching sun on her body. At almost midday, it was high in the sky, and when Sam and Maryam called time and said they were due to leave, she felt grateful to be shepherded back to the bus.
Once comfortably seated, many guests accepted a biscuit as Hattie handed them out. ‘Ginger nut or Garibaldi?’ she asked Gerald as she balanced beside him in the aisle. ‘My late husband was a sucker for a Garibaldi.’ She smiled.
‘He’ll have neither,’ Anouska cut in.
‘Don’t be a spoilsport, you’re on holiday.’ Hattie tucked a double helping of both into Gerald’s shirt pockets, then turned to Anouska and tossed a packet onto her lap. ‘Have a custard cream for yourself.’
Anouska recoiled in horror, as if she’d been jabbed with a cattle prod.
A bit of sugar might sweeten you up! Hattie thought and returned to her seat beside Sylvie, who took several Garibaldis and munched happily, the crumbs scattering across her lap.
‘We’re going to have another stop, before we return to the boat,’ Maryam informed the guests. ‘It is at an alabaster factory, and you might be interested to see some of the products being made.’
‘That sounds interesting.’ Sylvie beamed. ‘We’ve had such a great day, and my mind is a whirl with all the facts and memories of everything I’ve wanted to see.’
Hattie handed her another biscuit and rested her hand briefly on Sylvie’s arm. ‘Life should give us moments that make dreams come true,’ she said softly. ‘Make sure you put them in your memory bank for the days when living them is no longer possible.’