Flora's War (12 page)

Silence.

I leapt out of the car. ‘Gwen, can you take the wheel?’ I said. Gwen got out, looking defiantly at the soldiers as she helped Lydia move Mr Hussein to the back seat. Lydia got in beside him, keeping up the pressure on his wound with her handkerchief while he leant back with his eyes closed. I looked worriedly at Lydia. She gave me a tiny, tight smile, and nodded slightly.

Gwen got into the driver’s seat. ‘Ready,’ she said.

I swung the crank handle as hard as I could and prayed it would work first time. The motorcar fired up. Thank heaven Mr Hussein had insisted we must learn to start the motorcar by ourselves! I thought. I jumped back in, and Gwen drove us away. I thanked heaven, again, that the motorcar hadn’t been badly damaged in its scrape against the wall.

There was still no sound from the soldiers. When I looked back, there was no one in the alley. They had gone.

Gwen found our way through the narrow streets to the House of the Butcher and Blacksmith. We saw no one else in the streets. When we reached the house, we looked at each other and drew deep breaths. I was surprised to find my hands were shaking as I knocked urgently on the door and pulled the bell at the same time. I had time to be frightened now.

Mr Bilal and Mrs Maryam were horrified. ‘What has happened to Mr Hussein?’ Mrs Maryam cried. ‘You must bring him in at once!’

‘The young ladies are safe?’ Mr Bilal said urgently to me.

We were.

‘Do you know what is happening?’

We didn’t.

Mr Hussein was helped to a couch inside and the blood sponged from his head. When the blood was washed off, it didn’t seem to be too bad.

‘Superficial’ said Lydia with relief. ‘It won’t even need stitches. Head wounds always bleed a lot. He’ll have a bad headache though. He certainly shouldn’t drive.’ She wrapped his head in a bandage Mrs Maryam had supplied.

‘Now you must all sit quietly and rest,’ said Mr Bilal. ‘We will bring tea and food. I will send a message to Mr Khalid.’

We hardly felt like tea, or food, but I knew they wouldn’t be happy until they’d served it.

We went to the roof, of course, and Mr Hussein, much recovered, came with us. We made him comfortable on a cushioned couch in the corner. He closed his eyes and we left him to rest. We leaned out to look over the town in all directions but could see nothing out of the ordinary. The domes and towers and minarets were as peaceful as ever. White pigeons still wove intricate patterns in the air between them. If we listened very, very carefully we could hear faraway noise but it was difficult to distinguish it from the ordinary clamour of the city.

‘Oh, I wish I knew what was happening! I hope Matthew’s all right,’ Lydia fretted.

I turned to her. ‘Yes, tell us about Matthew, Lydia.’

Lydia glanced at Mr Hussein. ‘Tell you what?’

‘Mr Hussein’s not listening,’ I said. ‘There’s something to tell. I’ve noticed Matthew’s been around rather a lot lately.’

‘And he was holding your hand very significantly,’ said Gwen. ‘There’s either something to tell or you’re an appalling flirt, Lydia.’

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Lydia. ‘Yet.’

‘But there might be,’ Gwen pounced.

‘Maybe. Perhaps. Nothing’s settled yet.’ Lydia had gone an interesting shade of pink.

‘When something is settled, I hope we’ll be the first to know,’ Gwen said severely.

‘And we want to be bridesmaids,’ I added. ‘What colour dresses do you think, Gwen?’ Lydia gave a small smile, but she wasn’t admitting a thing.

Mr Bilal came up to the roof terrace with tea.

We sipped our tea as the sun went down. The sky flamed red and orange. As it deepened to purple and dark blue, some of the red and orange remained – an ominous smudge just above the rooftops. There was fire in the city.

‘That doesn’t look good,’ I said.

Mr Bilal returned with little snacks and rumours of what was happening. ‘There is a riot. Houses are being burned and soldiers are throwing –’ He paused delicately. ‘Soldiers are throwing, uh, bad women into the street.’

‘What soldiers?’

‘They say Australian and New Zealand soldiers,’ said Mr Bilal.

I was sure the soldiers who’d confronted us had been wearing the uniforms of Australia and New Zealand.

‘Is anyone stopping them?’

Mr Bilal went to try and find out more.

‘Throwing bad women into the street?’ Gwen said. Gwen and I looked at each other. Then at Lydia. ‘What has Matthew told you about this?’ Gwen asked.

Lydia hesitated. ‘Do you know about the Wozzer, where some of the men go?’

‘Yes, yes,’ I said impatiently. ‘Frank’s put us in the picture about all of that. Bad liquor, bad women and being cheated.’

Lydia was silent.

‘Is there more?’

‘Well, yes. Look, I’ll give it to you straight. Yes, the men have been complaining that they’ve been cheated. They’re sold diluted liquor, they’re robbed, they’re overcharged for what they buy, there are even stories of some being stabbed, though I have to say if that’s true they haven’t come to the hospital for treatment.’ She paused to scoop some tomato salad onto a piece of flat bread. It took rather longer than it should have.

‘And?’

‘Some of the men have picked up diseases from the women in the Wozzer,’ Lydia continued reluctantly. ‘We nurses aren’t really supposed to know about that, but of course we do. There’s a special hospital at Abbassia, near the Suez Canal, called the Contagious Diseases Hospital,’ she said and took a bite of her bread and salad. ‘Measles cases, for example, would go there, but it’s more than that. There’s a barbed wire fence around it and sentries on duty. It’s where venereal diseases – gonorrhoea and syphilis – are treated. Nurses don’t work in that section; it’s all done by doctors and male orderlies.’

‘You’re not supposed to know?’ I said.

‘They’re protecting our innocence, I suppose,’ said Lydia wryly. ‘The men are given lectures on the ship on the way over, and their medical officers supply …’ she paused delicately, ‘… prophylactics, if you know what they are …’

We didn’t, but we wouldn’t have admitted it for the world. We were, after all, modern girls.

Lydia sighed. ‘The men will go to the Wozzer; they don’t listen to their medical officers. The word is that there’ve been more than two thousand cases of venereal disease treated at the Abbassia hospital. The boys are young and they’re a long way from home. This is all a huge adventure to them … so far.’

‘So some have got sick?’ I said. ‘And they’re taking it out on the people who’ve done these things to them?’

‘That seems to be it,’ said Lydia. ‘I suppose, seeing they know they’ll be leaving soon, that they’ve decided now’s the time to get square.’

We were silent, staring out at the red glow in the sky over the town.

When Fa arrived home from the excavation, he joined us on the roof and exclaimed over Mr Hussein and his bandage. I made light of the incident to him. I knew, now, we hadn’t been in danger once the soldiers had seen who we were, and I didn’t want Fa getting concerned and stopping me driving.

It worked. ‘I’m sure the whole business is a storm in a teacup,’ Fa commented. ‘Thank you for looking after the girls,’ he said to Mr Hussein and shook his hand heartily.

‘I think it was more a case of the young ladies looking after me,’ Mr Hussein responded weakly.

Fa went down to his study. I knew he’d have forgotten all about it in minutes.

Lydia began to look anxious again. Gwen and I were feeling anxious as well. We already knew that some of our friends were there in the Wozzer and many more might be there too.

The glow in the sky began to fade. ‘The fire engines have come,’ said Mr Bilal.

‘I wonder if I can get back to the hospital safely,’ Lydia said.

‘When it’s safe, my father will let us know,’ Mr Hussein said. ‘He will send someone.’

‘And this is where Matthew will come, when he can,’ I said.

…

It was after ten o’clock by the time Matthew limped in. He’d lost his cap. He was tired and sweaty, even though the night air was chill.

‘What
happened
?’ We surrounded Matthew.

Matthew looked at Mr Hussein. ‘What happened to
you
?’

We told him.

‘Lydia, you were in danger?’ Matthew looked as if that was worse than anything else he’d had to deal with that night.

Well, don’t you concern yourself Gwen, Mr Hussein and me! I thought. But about then I thought, wistfully, that it would be rather nice to have someone feel so anxious about me.

‘We’re all right, Matthew. Don’t worry!’ Lydia said impatiently.

Mr Bilal came in with a decanter of brandy and a glass. Matthew looked at him gratefully and drank a glass straight. He sank into a chair and Mr Bilal refilled his glass and left.

Matthew closed his eyes for a second. ‘When I got to the Wozzer some fellows had been chasing the – um – ladies from their houses into the street. They were throwing everything out of the houses into the street after them: furniture, mattresses. I even saw a piano pushed out of a second-storey window. They were tossing chamber pots – and their contents – out the windows too. Then they started setting fire to the piles of stuff in the streets.’ He stopped, reaching for his glass and taking a gulp. ‘Some Australians, Ninth Light Horse I think, were trying to stop it all and they arrested a few fellows. But the crowd watching wasn’t having that. They took rifles off some of the Light Horse and threw them into the fires too, and most of the arrested fellows got away.’

‘Then what?’ I asked.

‘The British military police arrived. Most of the crowd were Australians and New Zealanders and you know what they think of the MPs – they got a right round of abuse. Then the MPs decided to fire their pistols – another big mistake. I suppose they meant to fire over the heads of the crowd, but a few fellows were wounded. It started getting really nasty then, and the MPs disappeared.’

‘How many soldiers were there?’ Gwen asked.

‘Two, three thousand? Anyway, the Egyptian fire brigade turned up and tried to put the fires out. Our fellows tried to cut their fire hoses, and the Egyptians tried to turn the hoses on the crowd, and then our fellows actually pushed the fire engine into the flames.’

There was going to be really big trouble over this. It was one thing trying to get even with thieves and cheats, but quite another to attack the fire brigade.

‘Some of the men began looting shops, and they tried to set them on fire too,’ Matthew went on. ‘In the end, another fire engine came – under escort this time – and they started putting the fires out. Armed troops arrived to cordon off the area, and the fellows decided it’d probably be best to just, well, disappear.’

‘What were you doing?’ Lydia asked.

‘I was trying to locate my men. I told them to
imshi
, get back to camp,’ said Matthew. ‘I told them I hadn’t seen them, I didn’t know their names, and if they were smart they’d keep it that way.’

‘What will happen?’ I asked.

‘Oh, there’ll be an inquiry, of course,’ said Matthew wearily. ‘If they can identify any of the ringleaders, they’ll be punished. There’ll be apologies to the Egyptian fire service – as there should be – and probably the damage will be paid for. Those thieves and scoundrels in the Wozzer deserve
not
to be recompensed. But, well, you can’t have men taking the law into their own hands.’

I hoped Alex, Ted and Stan had had the good sense to keep out of it.

‘Is it safe to leave now?’ asked Lydia. ‘I’ll be late on duty, but I could get there.’

‘Me too,’ said Gwen. ‘My parents will be concerned.’

‘It seemed quiet when I came here,’ Matthew answered. ‘I don’t quite know how to get you there, though. I doubt there will be a carriage for hire on the streets.’

‘Perhaps I could drive you?’ I suggested. ‘And Gwen too.’

Both Matthew and Lydia looked shocked. ‘Certainly not!’ Matthew said. ‘We don’t know if it’s safe. You can’t be driving around alone.’ Gwen shrugged.

‘Miss Flora will have no need.’ Mr Khalid had quietly appeared on the terrace and was giving me a very stern look. He went immediately to Mr Hussein and looked him over carefully. ‘I am sorry I was delayed,’ he said. ‘The streets are … volatile. As you have seen, an Egyptian in a motorcar is a target.’

After exchanging a few quiet words with his son, and satisfying himself that he was not badly hurt, he turned to me. ‘With your permission, Miss Flora, I will have Miss Gwen driven to Shepheard’s and Miss Lydia and Lieutenant Grier to the hospital and camp. Messages have already been sent saying they are safe.’

‘You’re a wonder, Khalid,’ said Matthew.

Mr Khalid inclined his head graciously.

‘I’m so sorry Mr Hussein was hurt,’ I said to Mr Khalid as we all walked down to the courtyard. The door was open and a driver had a motorcar waiting nearby.

‘I am very appreciative of the great care you took of my son,’ Mr Khalid replied. ‘If you had not been there, and defended him so fiercely, it might have been much, much worse for him.’ We stood together, watching the driver assist Mr Hussein into the motorcar as Matthew, Lydia and Gwen waited to get in.

I couldn’t help my eyes falling on the mysterious little door in the wall directly opposite us. I looked up after a moment and saw Mr Khalid watching me. He slowly put his index finger to the side of his nose. Did he know something about the door and what went on behind it? He
could
just have been rubbing his nose. Did he know who the owner of the house was, and what he stored in there, and moved in and out? Did he know
I
knew something about it?

Mr Khalid moved to the door. ‘Thank you again, Miss Flora,’ he said. ‘I am in your debt. Many, many times over.’ He took his place in the packed motorcar.

He meant it, I knew. Egyptians took their debts very seriously indeed. I stepped back into the courtyard and Mr Bilal shut and barred the door.

I went back up to the terrace. I didn’t know what to think about Mr Khalid and the mysterious door. But I would keep quiet about what I knew. For now.

I sat on a cushioned divan, watching the last of the red glow of the fire over the Wozzer and hoping that all my friends were safe.