Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
A MEANING UNMADE . . .
Dinner in the Hapi restaurant was buzzing when, after returning from the hotel, Hattie took her place. Guests at surrounding tables, who’d spent the day on various excursions, were excited to chatter about the wonders of Abu Simbel, the Nubian village and the colourful souk in Aswan.
‘Tell me about your trip,’ Hattie said as she made herself comfortable beside Sylvie. ‘Was the temple worth the long journey?’
‘Gee, Hattie, it was the wildest experience,’ Sylvie said breathlessly. ‘We were driven through the desert for hours, often with a police escort, which was kind of weird, and I wondered if we were in danger of some sort of ambush.’
‘I’m sure that would never happen,’ Hattie said, almost certain there was every possibility that it might.
She was surprised that Peter hadn’t joined the Abu Simbel excursion. A long drive, through the desert, armed guards and imagined enemies lurking beyond the dunes. It ticked all his boxes, Hattie thought. An outing he could weave into an elaborate fantasy of danger and daring.
But she’d seen Peter in the bar at the Old Cataract Hotel when Gerald suggested a cocktail. Hiding behind a large, leather-bound wine list, he’d looked uncomfortable when she paused to say hello.
‘Are you undercover?’ Hattie asked, deadpan.
Peter shuffled in his seat. ‘There are certain reasons why I’ve come here today,’ he’d answered, furtively glancing around the room.
‘Well, don’t let us disturb you.’
Leaving Clitheroe’s man of mystery to whatever intrigue he was pursuing, Hattie and Gerald had moved on.
Hattie returned her attention to Sylvie.
‘What did you think of the temple?’ she asked as Hassan placed menus before them and poured wine.
‘It was extraordinary. The huge temples suddenly came into view, like three-dimensional visions carved in the rock face beside Lake Nasser. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight.
’ Sylvie picked up her wine and took a sip.
‘And inside . . . It just blew my mind. Like stepping into living history.’
‘Did Ezra enjoy himself?’ Hattie asked.
‘Oh, you know Ezra.’ Sylvie sighed. ‘He said he saw a tourist produce an amulet and sprinkle powder on the floor in front of one of the statues, then he became convinced they were muttering incantations to protect everyone from a curse.’
‘Ezra has a vivid imagination.’
‘I think the tourist was simply adding a hydration sachet to his bottled water and accidently dropped the packet.’ Sylvie sighed.
‘And as for an incantation, Ezra misread what was more likely a simple prayer.’ She reached for the breadbasket and began to butter a roll.
‘I felt embarrassed, in front of everyone. Sam thought it was hilarious.’
‘Tricky,’ Hattie said and thought that Sam might have been more help. She picked up the menu and scanned it. ‘Is Ezra joining us?’
‘No, honey. He said he might have a lie-down and maybe order room service.’
Hattie suspected there was a good chance Ezra was freshly scrubbed, neatly polished, and already making his way to the bar on the top deck. He seemed to gravitate there with the reliability of a moth to a flame.
‘Oh, good.’ Sylvie looked up. ‘Anouska and Gerald are joining us.’
Heading into Hapi restaurant, Anouska strode ahead of Gerald, her shoulders ramrod straight. She looked anything but pleased to be there, while Gerald followed behind, his lips set in a tight line.
As Gerald drew out Anouska’s chair, he caught Hattie’s eye, his look edged with worry.
‘Hey, Anouska, you look so lovely,’ Sylvie began, ‘black really becomes you and sets off your tan. And those diamonds . . .’ She whistled.
Anouska wore a shoestring LBD with cutouts at the waist. Diamond studs glinted at her ears, matching the necklace at her throat. Her hair was drawn back, deliberately framing the jewels to their advantage.
Touching the necklace, she said bluntly, ‘An anniversary gift from my husband.’ She offered no thanks to Gerald other than a sideways scowl.
‘Tell us about your trip,’ Sylvie gushed. ‘You guys must have loved the Nubian village. Did you buy any souvenirs?’
Anouska held her glass steady as Hassan poured wine. She took a sip before speaking. ‘Unfortunately, Gerald was indisposed and failed to warn me of his condition in time. Instead, he abandoned me for the afternoon, leaving me with little choice but to join the excursion alone.’
‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ Sylvie sympathised, ‘but I’m sure you soon chummed up – everyone is so friendly. Did you enjoy it?’
Anouska paused. ‘The felucca sail was charming and the village picturesque, but the constant heckling from vendors was irritating.’ She paused. ‘Still, when you look like this, I suppose it’s only to be expected. Isn’t it, Gerald?’ She stared at her husband.
Gerald didn’t reply, and Hattie realised that Anouska was unaware that he hadn’t been confined to their suite.
‘But I’m lucky.’ Anouska gave a grin. ‘Gerald has made a rapid recovery.’ She turned to Hattie. ‘Did you magic up a potion from your bag of tricks?’
Before Hattie could reply, Sylvie cut in. ‘That’s swell, that Gerald is feeling well.’ She grinned. ‘Now we can all look forward to a lovely dinner.’
Dinner progressed, and with Sylvie prattling about nothing in particular, the conversation was kept alive. Hattie felt awkward and wondered why on earth Gerald hadn’t told Anouska the truth, that he hadn’t wanted to go on the excursion, preferring instead to have an afternoon at the hotel.
But the more Hattie thought about it, the more she understood Gerald’s reasoning.
Once Anouska realised that she’d missed an opportunity to capture Instagram images at the iconic hotel, she was liable to blow a fuse.
And if she knew he was with Hattie, the truth would be akin to lighting the blue touch paper and waiting for the bomb to explode.
Hattie toyed with her dinner. She wasn’t really hungry after consuming most of the afternoon tea. As Sylvie rambled about the day and all the sights she’d seen, Hattie was aware that Gerald was watching her from across the table, and her thoughts drifted to their earlier time together.
He’d been such good company.
She’d enjoyed sharing every moment of her Agatha experience with him, and Gerald was good fun too. When they settled in the bar to enjoy a Christie Cocktail, they laughed as they invented fanciful backstories for Peter.
‘I wonder what he does for a living?’ Gerald asked.
‘I haven’t a clue. He dodges the question when asked,’ Hattie replied, sipping the peachy drink, loaded with gin and triple sec. ‘I know that he lives in Clitheroe; that’s where his wife went missing.’
‘What do you think happened to her?’
‘Hard to say, but if I’d been on the case, I’m certain I would have found her by now.’
Gerald looked puzzled. ‘On the case?’ he asked.
‘Oh, rats.’ Hattie shook her head. ‘I’m off duty, and I never tell folk what I do, so keep it under your hat.’
‘I’m intrigued . . .’
‘I’m a PI, private investigator, you know. I solve other people’s muddles.’
Gerald’s expression softened with admiration.
‘I haven’t always been one,’ Hattie continued. ‘I was a hotelier for donkey’s years, helping my mate Jo run her hotels.’
‘So how did you get into it?’
‘Well . . . it was Alf, really.’ Hattie paused, thoughtful. ‘When Hugo popped his clogs, and I moved to my cottage, Alf said I was bored and needed to find a job.’
‘And were you?’
‘Absolutely. Bored rigid. My neighbour had died in mysterious circumstances, and when his widow asked me help find out what had happened, it became my first case. I got my licence, did what I had to do and caught the bug. Alf always said I liked meddling, and he was right.’
They discussed the merits of work in later life, with Hattie explaining how she felt it kept her young and Gerald admitting that he rather envied her. While he enjoyed the comfort of retirement, he missed a sense of purpose.
Hattie listened, all the while quietly weighing Gerald up.
He reminded her so much of Hugo, attractive not in a conventionally handsome way, but in something equally appealing.
Hugo had been slender, and Gerald wasn’t trim, yet there was an undeniable attraction about his soft, cuddly solidity, and it stirred a response she hadn’t expected.
How lovely it would be to sink into his arms and feel the comfort of his hug.
She could see in his eyes that Gerald liked her, and she suspected his feelings ran deeper than simple admiration. If she were honest, Hattie knew she could easily feel the same. Gerald was gorgeous and under different circumstances, for two unattached people, it might have been rather wonderful.
But Anouska was Gerald’s baggage, and unless he found a way to take a grip on his life, Hattie feared his wife would weigh him down, draining him both emotionally and financially, until there was little left of the man Hattie found herself so drawn to.
Hassan cleared the table, while Sylvie studied the dessert menu, opting for mango ice cream.
Anouska declined, and Gerald said he would just have a coffee.
Hattie was considering a portion of baklava when Sam, making his round of the restaurant, paused beside their table.
He placed a hand on Hattie’s shoulder, and – as he asked everyone how they’d enjoyed the day – she felt his fingers move in a soft, lingering caress.
Hattie was tempted to pick up her spoon and wallop him, but there was already enough tension at the table between Anouska and Gerald, and she had no desire to make things worse.
Instead, she twisted her shoulder, so his fingers slid away.
If she couldn’t smack his roving hand, she’d retaliate by other means.
‘I heard you found Ezra’s panic at Abu Simbel rather entertaining?’ Hattie said. ‘I can’t help wondering why you, as a guide, found it so funny?’
For a moment Sam looked genuinely puzzled. Then the memory caught up with him, and he had the grace to appear embarrassed.
‘I was only trying to make light of things,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t want Sylvie and Ezra to be upset.’ Not wishing to linger any longer under Hattie’s level stare, Sam flashed a smile and beat a retreat.
Sylvie was spooning ice cream when she announced, ‘Hey, Hattie, forgive me, I haven’t asked how your afternoon tea at the hotel was?’
Hattie was about to say that she’d enjoyed it then hurriedly changed the subject, when Peter appeared.
‘Evening, folks,’ he said, pulling out an empty chair beside Anouska. ‘Sorry I’m late, but I had a bit of business to attend to.’
Anouska beamed at him. ‘Keeping the empire running?’
‘Twenty-four-seven,’ Peter replied with a smile. ‘The Chinese stock market needed my attention.’
Sylvie licked her lips. ‘I was just asking Hattie about her visit to the hotel today,’ she said as she took another generous spoonful of ice cream.
Hattie’s breath caught. Instinct told her exactly where this was heading and she braced herself for the inevitable.
‘So, what did you guys think of the cocktail bar?’ Peter turned to Gerald.
But Gerald was stirring his coffee, his eyes fixed on the cup.
Puzzled, Peter turned to Hattie.
‘You and Gerald seemed to be having a great time.’ He laughed. ‘Those Agatha Christie cocktails must have packed quite a punch.’
The table fell quiet, with tension as taut as a time bomb ticking down.
‘Excuse me,’ Anouska said, breaking the silence. ‘Have I missed something here?’ She turned slowly to Hattie. ‘Were you entertaining my husband in a cocktail bar this afternoon?’
‘This isn’t what it seems,’ Hattie began.
‘Oh, I think it’s exactly as it seems . . .’ Anouska snorted, her face flushed a dangerous crimson as dark as her lips. She tightened the grip on her glass and lifted it slightly. ‘Or did you book a room for your afternoon pleasure. Afternoon tea? Please . . .’
She looked poised to hurl red wine at Hattie, when Gerald spoke up.
‘Anouska, stop it,’ he said calmly. ‘This has nothing to do with Hattie. I needed some time on my own, and my excuse was the only way I could get it.’ He glanced briefly at Hattie before turning back to his wife.
‘Running into Hattie was a coincidence, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a mountain out of a molehill. ’
All eyes turned to Anouska, who lowered her glass, forcing herself to be composed.
‘Of course,’ she said lightly, ‘how silly of me.’
‘Shall we finish this conversation in our room?’ Gerald stood.
‘No, darling, I understand, you go ahead. I’ve changed my mind and would like to order a dessert.’
Peter, whose grasp of the tension had sailed completely over his head, rubbed his hands together and picked up the menu. ‘Don’t mind if I join you, do you? I’m starving and have a bit of catching up to do.’
Sylvie finished her dessert. Nudging Hattie, she pushed back her chair. ‘Honey, there’s a jukebox quiz in the lounge that I’d like to catch. Will you join me?’
‘Lovely,’ Hattie said. She folded her napkin with deliberate care and waited until Gerald had left the restaurant before standing.
As she turned, Anouska’s gaze locked into hers, and for a heartbeat neither moved. Anouska’s smile was perfectly in place, but her lips silently mimed, This isn’t over!
Hattie smiled sweetly then broke away, her heart hammering as she followed Sylvie out.