Flora's War (11 page)

‘It was pleasant enough,’ admitted Gwen. ‘But wonderful? No. Not really.’

‘Maybe you really have to like someone a lot before it’s wonderful?’ I suggested. I thought about that. Who did I like a lot – enough to kiss them, that is? No one with a prickly moustache! Suddenly I realised whose face I was picturing. The face of someone I liked a lot. Frank. Now
that
, I thought, would be really interesting – to be kissed by Frank. But, I realised sadly, though I’d laughed with Frank, and teased Frank, and even danced closely in his arms, he’d never, ever tried to kiss me. He hadn’t even danced with me once tonight. And on my birthday, too! He probably just didn’t think of me in that way. I’d thought he did, after the Christmas party, but clearly I’d been wrong. Oh well. Someone else would come along, I told myself.

Gwen was still talking, and I turned my full attention back to her. My full attention, except for an odd little ache around my heart.

‘I do have to admit, I was less than impressed,’ said Gwen. ‘I guess I just wanted to see what it was like, and he was offering. Maybe I won’t bother again, not until I really, really like someone, anyway. Then I’ll see if it’s different.’

We sat at my window on my lovely comfortable cushioned divan, looking out at the sky, and talked the party over. Who’d said what, which nurse had danced with which officer, which officer had flirted with which nurse, and the stars circled behind the towers and minarets.

Everything in our world was wonderful.

Chapter 9

I kept an eye on the small door in the wall. Every week or so when I felt I was unobserved, I went to the secret, sliding panel and entered the room behind it. Sometimes the bundles on the shelves were unchanged; sometimes, they were different. I would unroll a parcel or two, and they always contained small, beautiful artefacts. Nothing of great value, but valuable enough to turn a good profit. Someone was moving them in and out.

I never saw anyone near the exterior door. I never saw anyone in the house who shouldn’t have been there. I didn’t know what to do. Corruption and bribery were common in Egypt. I didn’t want Fa accused if I reported the cache. I had no idea of the best action to take – or whether to take any action at all.

…

Easter came in early April. Lady Bellamy had been most insistent that every available volunteer should be on duty at the rest and recreation centre. ‘Many of the men will be on leave,’ she said. ‘We need every hand on deck to help take care of them.’

Gwen and I were rostered on at the centre on Thursday. Lady Bellamy was sure that many soldiers would be in Cairo to attend church the following day, Good Friday. Gwen and I weren’t as convinced about
why
they’d want to be in Cairo, but we accepted there’d be lots of men in town.

The centre was busy with soldiers all day. Trooper Alex Hendy and his group of mates were among them. They were in town for a good time, of course, but they weren’t quite as ready to joke and laugh as they had been. They were quieter, more preoccupied.

‘Is something wrong?’ I asked Alex when I was able to speak to him alone briefly.

He looked startled. ‘Why should anything be wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. I felt Lady Bellamy’s eye on me and to look busy I started to pour Alex a cup of tea. ‘You just seem different.’ I nodded towards his friends. ‘Ted and Stan aren’t fooling about the way they usually do.’

Alex took the tea and absentmindedly added four spoonfuls of sugar. ‘Yes. Well. I suppose we’re all doing a bit of thinking, so to speak.’ He glanced around and then lowered his voice. ‘There are rumours going about that there’ll be action soon, big action. It makes a fellow think.’

‘Action? Where? Not around here, surely?’

Alex grinned. ‘Oh, the brass don’t tell us that! We could even be shipped to France. But I don’t think so. Why would we be doing all this desert training if we’re going to France?’

I looked over at Ted and Stan. They were playing table tennis, but the game was slow and languid. Normally, they’d be leaping around the table like crazed kangaroos, and table tennis balls would be flying dangerously. They’d become very skilled at landing them, quite accidentally of course, in cups of tea.

Before Alex took a sip of his tea, I said, ‘You’d better give me that. You’ve put four sugars in it.’

‘Have I?’ Alex looked at his cup, surprised. ‘Well, there you are. My mind’s on other things.’ He hesitated. ‘Speaking of other things …’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, if we’re moving out, going into action, I wondered – well, would you write to me? I know you’re busy,’ he added hastily. ‘But if you had a spare moment, just a line or two …’

I handed him a fresh cup of tea.

‘I’ll understand if you don’t have time,’ he said.

I put my hand on his arm. Bother Lady Bellamy. ‘Of course I’ll write to you, Alex. I’ll be happy to. I can tell you everything that’s happening in Cairo, and you can tell me what’s happening in – well, wherever you are.’

Before the end of the day, Ted and Stan had both approached me quietly with the same request.

‘I don’t suppose you’d write to me, would you? Just now and then.’ Stan said with a forced smile.

‘It’s so good to get mail, you see,’ Ted said.

Other soldiers I’d come to know asked me to write as well. By the end of the day I had a pocketful of slips of paper with names and addresses, and I was feeling rather overwhelmed.

When I got a chance to talk to Gwen I noticed that her overall pocket was bulging as well. ‘Not you too?’ I said.

Gwen looked troubled. ‘I don’t know how I’ll manage,’ she said. ‘But what can you say? I know it sounds silly, but they’re all so
young
, though they must all be older than I am – they’d have to be.’

‘Not all of them,’ I said.

…

We worked at the busy rest and recreation centre all through Good Friday. Lydia called in towards the end of the day, on the arm of Matthew Grier, her dance partner at my party. Alex, Ted and Stan came in again.

‘We were right,’ Alex told me. He was tightly holding the glass of lemonade I’d poured him, but he wasn’t drinking it. ‘Our training period’s over and we’ll be embarking for action soon. We still don’t know where, though.’ He looked down at his glass. ‘It’ll be good to have a crack at the enemy at last.’ He downed the lemonade in one long swallow.

‘Yeah,’ Ted agreed. ‘About time we saw some sort of a fight.’

Then we heard a gunshot. Heads swung around sharply.

The shot was followed by several more and everyone in the pavilion stopped dead. I tried to follow the source of the sound. It wasn’t very close – but it wasn’t too far away, either.

‘Hell,’ said Alex. ‘They’ve done it. They’ve gone for the Wozzer. The idiots!’

‘They’ve what?’ I said.

Alex, Ted and Stan snatched up their hats, ready to run in the direction the shots had come from. I grabbed Alex’s arm. ‘The Wozzer?’ I said. ‘What’s going on there?’

Alex stopped and stared at me. ‘What do you know about the Wozzer?’

‘I know it’s the bad part of town,’ I said. ‘What’s happening there?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but it won’t be good,’ Alex said. ‘Some of the fellows say they’ve been cheated there and –’ He stopped. ‘Well, if we were moving out, they’ll be getting their own back before we go. But
shooting
– that’s well out of order.’

Lady Bellamy’s voice rang out, ‘There is no need for panic or to be concerned. The situation will be well under control.’

‘How’s she know that?’ growled Alex. ‘See here, Flora, you get Gwen right now. We’ll get you both to your house, that’s right away from the Wozzer.’

Lydia and Matthew Grier joined us. ‘Do you know what’s happening?’ Matthew said sharply to Alex.

‘I’ve got an idea, sir, but not exactly, no,’ said Alex. ‘We’re just saying, we’ll get Miss Wentworth and Miss Travers to Miss Wentworth’s house.’ He looked at Lydia. ‘You too, ma’am. I think that’d be best until we find out what’s going on and which areas aren’t safe.’

Matthew hesitated. I could see all four of them were dying to run out of the pavilion and straight to the Wozzer. Whether to join in, or to stop whatever was happening, I didn’t know. Most of the soldiers had already gone, running towards the shouts and yells and whistle blowing. I was frightened. Gwen had gone pale.

‘Yes, first thing, we must get the girls to a safe place,’ said Matthew. I didn’t have the car today, Fa had needed it to go to the excavation that afternoon. Mr Hussein had dropped me at Shepheard’s on the way, and I’d walked across the gardens to the rest and recreation centre with Gwen. ‘Can we walk to your house?’ Matthew asked me. ‘Is it far from here?’

‘That will not be necessary.’ I hadn’t seen him arrive but Mr Hussein was beside us, composed as ever. ‘I have a motorcar and I will see the young ladies safely home.’

‘Are you sure you can?’ Matthew asked him.

Mr Hussein flicked an eye at him. ‘Certainly. No harm will come to them.’

Matthew looked Mr Hussein over and wisely decided to take his word for it.

‘Very well. Thank you.’ He turned to Lydia, taking her hand and holding it while he looked at her intently.
Very
interesting, I thought. ‘I’ll come to see you as soon as I can. Will you stay at Flora’s house?’

Lydia looked doubtful. ‘I should get back to the hospital. I’m on duty later tonight. Will it be safe?’ she asked Mr Hussein.

‘If it is possible, I will return you to the hospital. If not, I will have a message sent saying where you are.’

Another shot rang out.

‘We must go now,’ said Mr Hussein.

I didn’t need any urging. A swift wave to the boys – who were already on their way – another to Lady Bellamy to indicate we were leaving with Mr Hussein, and we were off. Mr Hussein had driven the motorcar right into the gardens, which was usually strictly forbidden.

‘Do we need to keep our heads down?’ gasped Gwen. She looked as if she’d recovered herself and was now rather enjoying the situation.

Mr Hussein looked at her with amusement. ‘That will not be necessary,’ he said.

‘Oh.’ Gwen sounded disappointed.

We saw no signs of disturbance as Mr Hussein drove us to the House of the Butcher and Blacksmith. The alleys, in fact, were much quieter than usual. Many of the small shops had put their shutters up.

‘It won’t spread to here, surely?’ I asked. The shouts and yells had faded far behind.

‘I think not,’ Mr Hussein said. ‘The shopkeepers are taking precautions only. The disturbance seems to be confined to a certain area.’

‘You mean the Wozzer,’ I said.

Mr Hussein raised an eyebrow. I could see he was wondering, as Alex had, just how I knew about the Wozzer – and how much.

‘Because the disturbance is not far from Shepheard’s,’ he said delicately, ‘I think it would be wise for Miss Gwen to stay with you until I ascertain whether it is safe to take her home. I will have a message sent to her family and to your hospital, Miss Lydia.’

Mr Hussein carefully negotiated a tight turn into a narrow street. The shops here, too, were all locked and shuttered. I saw Mr Hussein look ahead and brake suddenly. A crowd of soldiers was running into the alley. Some of them were carrying things. There was a roar of disappointment as the men saw the shuttered, locked shops. ‘All closed up here, too, lads!’

Looting, I thought. They were looting.

Mr Hussein spun the steering wheel urgently, trying to reverse, to get away. ‘Get down!’ he said quickly to us. ‘Get your heads down!’

Gwen gasped. Lydia, in the back with her, grabbed her head and pushed it down. I slid down and crouched on the floor in the front. We clung to whatever we could grab as Mr Hussein tried desperately to turn the motorcar.

There was another roar from the soldiers. ‘Look! A gyppo! A gyppo in a motorcar!’

‘He’s one of them! Get him!’

I heard many feet running towards us, hammering on the stones of the alley. Something crashed against the motorcar. A stone? A bottle?

‘Hold on!’ Mr Hussein ordered. The motorcar made a last sharp, shuddering turn and sped up. We must have turned, I thought. We’re getting away!

There was another crash as a missile hit the motorcar, and another.

‘They’re throwing things at us!’ Gwen exclaimed, unbelieving.

And I heard Mr Hussein cry out. I looked up from my crouched position on the floor. Mr Hussein had his hand to his head. There was blood on his face; something had hit him on the head. The motorcar careered wildly. We scraped the wall of the alley. Mr Hussein took his hand away from his head and gripped the wheel. But he couldn’t see through the blood streaming into his eyes.

I crawled back into my seat and leaned over. ‘Give me the wheel!’ I yelled. I fought to control the motorcar, but from my position I couldn’t get to the pedals. We were going to stall, to stop – and then the mob of soldiers would be on us.

Lydia leaned over the back seat to help Mr Hussein. Behind us, the sound of pounding feet had slowed. ‘There’s a girl in the motorcar!’ I heard. ‘A white girl!’

‘There’s another one!’ a soldier shouted, spotting me leaning over Mr Hussein to get to the wheel.

The sound of feet stopped. ‘That’s the girl from the rec centre in the gardens,’ an incredulous voice said.

The motorcar stopped with a bone-wrenching jerk and buzzed like an angry hornet. Mr Hussein looked around blankly. ‘Sit still,’ said Lydia, pressing her handkerchief to the wound on his face.

I stood up in the motorcar and turned to face the soldiers. Even though the alley was dim, I could recognise both Australian and New Zealand uniforms. I’d felt scared before, but now I was angry. Boiling mad, in fact.

‘Look!’ I shouted. ‘Look what you’ve done! You’ve hurt our friend and you’ve made us crash. You should be ashamed of yourselves. The people in this area have done nothing to you! Why would you steal from them? What do you think you’re doing?’

The soldiers stood silent. I knew they wouldn’t attack us now. They knew they’d gone too far.

‘I’m going to start this motorcar now,’ I went on, ‘and I’m going to drive our friend home and take care of him. Are any of you going to stop me?’