Chapter 16 #2
Hattie smiled faintly. ‘I’m more used to hearing “Richard and Judy” talk about books,’ she said, thinking of the familiar duo from the Richard & Judy Book Club, rather than actors narrating ancient temples.
Almost losing her footing on the uneven ground, she found herself gripping hold of Sylvie with one hand and Ezra the other. The crowd surged forward in the darkness, and, stepping carefully, the trio went with the flow to make their way out of the temple.
Gerald was enjoying the Philae Temple excursion. From the moment they disembarked from the motorboat to slowly shuffle forward and wait in line to enter the temple, his anticipation built, and he looked forward to the show.
Anouska had been pleasant throughout the afternoon, and her mood continued into the evening. Gerald wondered if she was up to something and found himself watching her closely, waiting for the moment when the warmth might slip.
She took his arm as they made their way past the stalls lining the quay, vendors selling scarves, tiny pyramids and gleaming trinkets, and she stopped to barter for a scarab souvenir. Clutching the little beetle, carved from blue stone, Anouska smiled. ‘This will bring us good luck,’ she said.
Gerald wasn’t sure they needed good luck and would have preferred an ankh.
He’d heard it symbolised not only positivity and good health, but long life and the key to eternal life.
Not that Gerald yearned for eternal life, as it would be wonderful to hook up with Sally again in some heavenly afterlife, but a couple of extra decades, tacked on to his sixties, wouldn’t go amiss.
It was dark when they began to move forward to enter the temple, the lighting so low that shadows were their only guide.
Gerald walked over the uneven, ancient ground, placing each foot with care as Anouska clutched his arm.
He couldn’t fathom why she’d chosen to wear espadrilles with a high platform.
Most people sensibly wore flats or trainers, but Anouska wouldn’t exchange style for comfort, and so he adjusted his pace to match her own.
When the narrators began to speak, and Richard Burton’s ominous voice boomed into the darkness together with Judi Dench, the legends of the temple suddenly felt alive to Gerald.
As they slowly moved from one area to another, he watched hieroglyphs on the temple columns glow then fade into the shadows, and he was awed by the sense of history when the rulers of the time were truly great.
Eventually, they reached a large space, filled with rows of stone benches, but there was no room to sit down, and as they moved to one side, Gerald peered into the darkness and recognised Hattie a little way ahead.
She was wearing a long, flowing kaftan, the colour of a bright pink rose.
Glitter sparkled from her trainers and a beam of light highlighted the soft curls framing her pretty face.
He thought back to earlier on the boat, enjoying a glass of champagne courtesy of Peter, when Hattie’s image had caught his eye.
With the afternoon sun playing on the water, Hattie had turned, smiling at something Sylvie had said, and Gerald had found himself momentarily dumbstruck as Cupid swooped in, took aim and fired an arrow straight through his heart.
He’d sat there, alarmed, wondering what the hell had just happened, then as he felt a rush of heat to his face, he’d slowly smiled and for a moment, something unspoken hovered between them before he quickly looked away.
Now, here in the temple gloom, the feeling startled him all over again, and Gerald couldn’t understand it.
Had Cupid not checked his birth certificate? Old fools in their sixties, like him, had no right to fall in love.
He’d knew that he’d made the mistake of heart over head when he’d met Anouska and, given his time again, he would never have married her.
Gerald would have settled for happy memories with Sally to eke out his days.
He should have listened to his daughter, who had warned him off.
As things stood, Judith would benefit from his will, but Anouska was the main beneficiary.
Foolishly, he’d been led by Anouska’s sexual prowess, a drug that had initially been his addiction.
Now, with bedroom activity non-existent, it was clear that he’d married in haste only to repent at leisure.
But Hattie?
Gerald knew that she was a widow, probably in her sixties too.
On the coach, leaving the Valley of the Kings, hadn’t Hattie mentioned a late husband enjoying a Garibaldi biscuit?
Hattie had been so kind in administering medications to Gerald, and he thought that her husband had been a lucky man to have a wife like Hattie, who liked to cosset and spoil.
Anouska would sooner begin a lecture on carbohydrates than offer Gerald a biscuit.
Hattie was interesting too. Gerald had no idea what she did for a living, but he knew she still worked, and he remembered Hattie mentioning her curiosity about Agatha Christie. Anouska, to his knowledge, had never read a book, let alone taken an interest in its author.
Sharp nails suddenly dug into his arm and brought Gerald out of his daydream. Wincing with pain, he rubbed his skin and turned to see Anouska’s angry face.
‘Are you deaf?’ she hissed. ‘I’ve told you three times that I need to find a bathroom!’
‘Er, what . . . ?’ Gerald mumbled. ‘I don’t know where . . .’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, you stay here, and I’ll find one on my own.’
And before Gerald could stop her, Anouska stomped off into the darkness.