Chapter 10 #2
Anouska would have a fit if she caught him smoking. But while the cat was away, the smoker was free to play, and the race through the countryside had been fun, and far safer than being suspended high above the ground by a canvas globe.
At least, he pondered as he sipped the cocktail, Anouska had the shots she wanted.
What to Wear During a Once-in-a-Lifetime Hot-Air Balloon Experience had netted her another hundred followers on @AnouskaDelusca’s Instagram account.
It was unfortunate, however, that the balloon had come down in a farmer’s field, where fresh donkey dung had clung stubbornly to Anouska’s Jimmy Choo low-top trainers.
He’d had a devil of a job cleaning the wretched things when they returned to their cabin, all the while listening to Anouska complain that the trainers were ruined and the donkeys should have been shot.
Gerald sighed with satisfaction as the Tomb Whisper slid down with surprising speed. He was contemplating ordering another when he saw Hattie heading towards him.
‘Hattie!’ he called out, waving a hand. ‘Over here!’
Wearing a flowing rainbow-coloured robe over a snugly fitting baby-pink tankini, Hattie’s Tilley hat sat low above large sparkle-rimmed shades and a row of pearls at her neck.
She’d finished the look with glittery sandals, and her cavernous bag slung over one shoulder.
When she saw Gerald, she returned the wave.
‘Is that you, Gerald?’ Hattie said, dipping her shades to peer at him. ‘You look very comfortable. Mind if I join you?’
‘My pleasure. Grab a pew and let me get you a drink.’ Gerald rose to his feet. ‘What do you fancy?’
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’
‘Two Tomb Whispers coming up!’
As Gerald headed off to fetch drinks, Hattie removed her hat, set her bag down, and settled into her seat.
Looking around, she noticed the deck of a neighbouring riverboat, the railings only a foot or so away.
Several guests were crowded into a jacuzzi, while others lay on sunbeds.
The boat was so close that if she legged it over the railing, she could plunge straight into the pool.
On their own deck she noticed Ezra. With no headphones clamped to his ears and wearing a white T-shirt tucked into freshly pressed shorts, he looked disarmingly handsome.
Ezra was sipping a beer and chatting to the steward behind the bar, who Hattie knew was named Nazeem.
It was clear to Hattie that the two young men had things in common and as Nazeem worked, they spoke with ease.
‘I think you’ll enjoy this,’ Gerald said as he returned, balancing a tray, before setting down their cocktails and a bowl of spicy nuts.
‘Cheers!’ Hattie said and took a slug. Within seconds, she felt her eyes pop and her throat flare as if she had swallowed fire. ‘By heck,’ Hattie croaked, ‘that’s got quite a kick.’
‘The second sip will slide down,’ Gerald assured her, lifting his glass.
When she’d recovered, Hattie reached into her bag and produced her factor fifty. Smoothing it over her skin, she held it out to Gerald. ‘Cream up, or you’ll burn.’
‘Oh, I’m alright – it’s shady here,’ he said, waving the cream away.
Knowing the shade offered little protection from the scorching sun, Hattie merely shrugged. She couldn’t make a grown man take care of himself.
‘Did you enjoy your balloon flight?’ she asked, munching on a handful of nuts.
‘I cried off, but Anouska seemed to enjoy it.’
‘Fair play. I’m contemplating doing one later in the trip, but am wondering how on earth they’ll wrench me into the basket.’ Hattie laughed. ‘I’ve heard you have to climb in?’
‘Don’t worry, where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ Gerald grinned. ‘There’s a giant Egyptian who seizes passengers then hoists them aboard as if he were lifting no more than a sack of potatoes.’
Hattie frowned. She wasn’t so sure about that.
She looked towards their pool where bodies lay, baking under the sun. ‘Where’s Anouska?’ she asked.
‘She’s somewhere out there, stretched out with the sun-worshippers.’
‘Did you enjoy the Winter Palace last night?’
‘Yes, lovely place, very colonial and a good menu and wine list too.’ Gerald reached for the nuts. ‘Not to Anouska’s liking, sadly; she prefers a more modern theme.’
‘I wandered over to the bookshop earlier, the one beside the hotel,’ Hattie said.
‘Do you mean Gaddis she seems to bore easily at home.’ He appeared thoughtful. ‘Sally and I used to go to the Isle of Man for holidays with our daughter; we enjoyed it there.’
‘Ah, the Isle of Man, all cream teas and deckchairs on a sunny promenade,’ Hattie smiled, ‘with rain threatening but never ruining the day.’
‘Exactly.’ Gerald nodded with a reflective smile. ‘Happy days,’ he added.
‘My idea of heaven,’ Hattie agreed. ‘But does Anouska have more exotic tastes?’
‘Indeed. The Caribbean, the Maldives, and even an African safari earlier this year.’
Hattie was keen to know more but didn’t wish to appear intrusive.
Alf always accused her of being a Nosy Nora, forever poking into other people’s lives, but Hattie shrugged it off as part of her job.
What was wrong with knowing other people’s business?
After all, one never knew when a casual detail might prove useful.
Hattie’s mobile buzzed and, reaching out, she removed her sunglasses and squinted at the screen. Shaking her head, she cut the call and placed the phone in her bag.
‘Problems?’ Gerald asked.
‘No, it’s just Alf, at home. He’ll be asking unnecessary questions about my new bathroom fittings and likes to keep tabs on me.’
Hattie thought it best not to speak to Alf. A call might last for hours if he asked her for an opinion on thermostatic mixer valves versus manual, or the merits of quarter-turn ceramic disc cartridges. It was all double Dutch to Hattie.
Gerald appeared puzzled, as though wondering who Alf was. Finishing his drink, he said lightly, ‘Room for another?’
‘Be rude not to.’ Hattie grinned.
As they sat companionably chatting, the boat’s engines began to hum louder, and guests drifted towards the railings.
‘And we’re off . . .’ Hattie said as the boat turned south, and Luxor’s temples receded. She waved goodbye to the passengers on the neighbouring boat, who grew smaller as the SS Nefertari eased away from the quay.
Ahead, they could see the Nile stretching wide, where feluccas, their sails billowing, skimmed the sparkling water, and the riverbank – bathed in late-afternoon sunshine – glowed.
Nazeem placed more cocktails on their table.
Gerald made light work of his drink, as Hattie slowly tasted her own. This one seemed stronger, and she pushed it away.
Hattie realised that Gerald had slid further into his seat. With a foolish grin, he kicked off his shoes, then raised one foot, to display a big toe emerging through a hole in his sock.
‘S . . . Sally gave me these,’ Gerald said, now with a noticeable slur to his words. ‘I dwink to my late wife, Shally. May her spirit shail on.’
‘To Shally!’ Hattie toasted and raised her almost-full glass. The cocktails must be stronger than she thought, judging by Gerald’s sudden deterioration.
Hattie cocked her head. She could hear a distant sound that was becoming louder as the echo of a call to prayer drifted across the river, its long mournful notes rising and falling.
‘Do you think the chanting is urging everyone to confess their sins?’ she asked.
But Gerald’s happy expression had changed, and following his gaze, Hattie saw that Anouska was heading straight for them. She wore a thunderous look on her face, like that of an approaching storm, and glared at her sunburnt husband who was now three sheets to the wind.
‘Most likely, and I ruther thwink,’ Gerald slurred, responding to Hattie, as he watched Anouska, ‘that I’m about to confess all . . .’