Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
A VOW UNRAVELS . . .
Hattie spent a restless night wrestling with two bath towels that had unravelled from the duck and, in the early hours, seemed intent on strangling her.
At some point in the dark she’d heard raised voices carry along the corridor, with a door opening and closing and footsteps pacing.
Lying still and staring at the ceiling, she half guessed the culprits and hoped that Gerald was alright.
When a sliver of light peeked beyond her curtains, she propped herself against the pillows with a groan.
The creamy nightcap that had seemed like a good idea at the time had settled just south of her throat, threatening to regurgitate if she so much as moved.
Getting up felt like too much effort, so she lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
But Hattie was hot and couldn’t settle. Sharing her bed with a camel, a croc and a dishevelled duck was too much and with a grunt, she thrust the animals aside with the bed covers, then cautiously swung her legs over the side of the bed.
‘Fresh air, that’s what I need,’ Hattie said and stood.
Wearing only her knickers, she padded across the room and tugged back the curtains before sliding open the balcony doors.
‘Ah, lovely,’ she breathed, eyes closed and hands on her hips, her hair wild from sleep as she savoured the morning breeze.
But when Hattie opened her eyes, she gasped.
Two uniformed sailors clung to the side of the boat, gripping soaking wet chamois leathers and polishing the hull to a brilliant shine.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Hattie froze. The sailors, mid-buff, froze too.
‘Morning, lads,’ she said brightly. ‘Nice day for it.’
Mortified, Hattie reached out to close the curtains and beat an undignified retreat.
With her cheeks burning, she reached for her robe and slunk back into her bed. ‘Brilliant,’ she muttered to Clement, whose jaws seemed to widen in a toothy grin.
Checking her watch, Hattie saw that it was almost eight-thirty, and a knock on the door confirmed that her breakfast had arrived. Adjusting the mound of stuffed safari, she smoothed the covers and sat up as a steward came in and set a tray before her.
‘Good morning, Miss Hattie,’ he said and moved to draw back the curtains. ‘Another beautiful day.’
Relieved to see that there were no sailors swinging over the rail to join her for coffee, Hattie thanked the steward as he left. She was about to spread apricot jam on a croissant when her phone rang. It was Alf.
‘Another early start?’ Hattie asked.
She switched to FaceTime, and Alf appeared on the screen, wedged behind the wheel of his vehicle. Ness sat upright in the passenger seat, ears pricked, and eyes fixed on him, while Drake occupied the back. Both of them watched unblinking as Alf took an enormous bite of his door-stopper sandwich.
‘I’m outside yours, waiting for the plumber,’ Alf mumbled as tomato sauce trickled down his chin. ‘He said he’d here by seven.’ Breaking off two ends of the sandwich, he handed them to Ness and Drake, who gobbled them in a flash, eyes fixed on the remainder in Alf’s hand.
‘A plumber starting work before breakfast is unheard of.’ Hattie reached for her coffee. ‘So why the call, does the plumber need my help?’
Alf wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Aye, that would work,’ he said drily. ‘You and pipes are like a cat at bath time.’
‘Very funny.’ Hattie yawned. ‘I know how to fix a leak.’
Alf raised an eyebrow. ‘Like the last time? When I found you with your thumb over the kitchen tap that was firing water at the ceiling like a fountain?’
‘It only did it briefly.’
‘Long enough to bring half the ceiling down.’
Hattie sniffed. ‘So what do I owe this call to?’
‘We have a crisis.’
‘A crisis?’ Hattie pushed herself upright.
‘Aye. The waste pipe for the bidet won’t line up. No matter what we do, it just won’t fit.’
‘And your point is?’
‘The plumber needs a decision. He can rip it all out and rework the pipework so the bidet fits, but it will cost double and won’t be sorted until after you get home.’
‘Is there an alternative?’
‘We forget the bidet.’
Hattie paused. The bidet was a luxury, nothing more, and she’d managed perfectly well without one so far.
‘Ditch it,’ she said.
‘Will do.’ Alf nodded. ‘How’s it going? Met anyone interesting?’
Hattie considered the question. She’d met a couple teetering on the brink of divorce, a woman travelling without so much as a spare cardigan, a young man convinced his problems were insurmountable, and a fully grown adult who inhabited a self-constructed fantasy world.
‘Yes,’ she said carefully, ‘there are one or two interesting passengers.’
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She shifted her tray and sat up straighter. ‘Can you do something for me?’ Hattie asked.
‘Aye.’ Alf nodded. ‘I usually do.’
Hattie began to explain about Peter and his mysteriously missing wife, and her feeling that something didn’t quite add up. ‘I know I can have a look on Google but Clitheroe’s not so far. Go and have a poke about, will you? See if you can find anything worth knowing.’
There was a pause.
‘Are you on the job?’
‘No,’ Hattie said. ‘Just a hunch.’
‘Alright, but there better be petrol money in it and a pint . . .’
A little later, Hattie was enjoying a bath and relished the thought that with her new bathroom installed, she would soon be doing the same on her return to the cottage. Idly soaping her arms, her thoughts turned to Ezra.
What a lovely but troubled young man.
It had taken courage to tell her. She’d seen it in the way his hands twisted as they sat side by side on her sofa, and she’d encouraged him to talk about home.
‘Everyone knows everyone’s business, Hattie,’ he’d said. ‘Mom and Dad talk all the time about when I settle down and how Grandma is already knitting for the grandkids. Mom smothers me, like I never get time on my own.’
‘I think your mum is being protective. That’s only because she loves you and wants the best.’ Hattie’s voice was gentle. ‘And what do you want, Ezra?’ she asked.
He took a breath. ‘I want to be myself,’ he said quietly. ‘The person I was meant to be.’
She reached for his hand. ‘The person who wants to meet a nice man.’
It was a statement, not a question, and Ezra’s eyes, as he turned to Hattie, told the truth.
‘Oh, Ezra, loneliness can be loud in a crowd when you feel out of place, that and the fear of disappointing people you love.’
‘I don’t want to disappoint my folks but I’ve met someone. His name is Nazeem.’
‘The young man who serves in the alfresco bar.’
Ezra nodded. ‘It feels right, comfortable, exciting too.’
‘How wonderful.’
‘Do you understand?’
‘Of course,’ Hattie said, thinking of Gerald. ‘I may seem old and over the hill to you, but attraction strikes when you least expect it. If you are lucky enough to feel it, truly feel it, then it’s a wonderful feeling.’
She stared steadily into Ezra’s green eyes. ‘There’s no rule book. Love doesn’t ask permission. It just turns up, taps you on the shoulder and says, “There you go, fill your boots.”’
Ezra giggled as Hattie brushed her thumb lightly across his knuckles.
‘Who you love isn’t as important as how you love.’
‘But my heart is all over the place.’ He sighed.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your heart, Ezra.
Your ticker is working exactly as it should.
’ She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t be scared, and your mum and dad need to know how you feel about everything.
To have produced a man like you, tells me what great people they are.
They’ll soon come around to realising that in this melting pot we live in, it’s fine for a young man, or woman, to love another young man, or woman, without any shame. ’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘My dear Ezra . . . Of course! It’s the person that matters.’
‘Will you help me?’
‘Anytime.’
Hattie suddenly understood that Ezra’s fear of curses was a coded expression of his own burden.
Some curses you learn to live with, but there was no reason why Ezra should live with this.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, and as he returned her hug, she knew that it might take time for his family to catch up, but time was far kinder than fear.
After her bath, Hattie sprayed her favourite floral perfume and dressed carefully, stepping into lightweight trousers with a pale pink linen top.
She put on her pearls, fastened her glittery trainers, picked up her Tilley hat, gave a last glance in the mirror, then checked the contents of her bag.
Water bottle, sunscreen, sunglasses, notebook, and essential bits and bobs.
She slicked on a coat of glossy lipstick, pressed her lips together and nodded.
Checking the time and seeing that it was almost half past nine, Hattie was good to go.
In the lounge, guests were already gathering for the three-hour excursion to the Tombs of the Nobles and Kitchener’s Island.
An earlier group had left for the High Dam and the Unfinished Obelisk, but Hattie preferred the promise of a felucca sail across the Nile to the West Bank, where the tombs sat on a hillside called Qubbet el-Hawa.
Scanning the room for a seat, Hattie spotted Ezra. He raised his hand and gave a smile in greeting.
‘Where’s your mum?’ Hattie asked, slipping onto the chair beside him.
‘She’s gone on the High Dam tour,’ he said. ‘I told her I preferred this one.’
‘That was brave.’ Hattie smiled.
‘I thought a lot about what you said last night, and I thought I’d start today with some parental time out.’
‘And?’
‘She didn’t love the idea.’ Ezra paused. ‘But I said I’d be fine, and I wanted to do this on my own.’ He looked at Hattie. ‘And I held firm.’
Hattie nodded. ‘Good man.’
They turned as Sam stepped onto the stage for a roll call. When he called for Gerald and Anouska Hamilton, Hattie’s head swivelled. The replies came from opposite ends of the room.
All was not well in the Hamilton household!
Hattie remembered the raised voices during the night.