Flora's War (3 page)

‘There you are,’ Frank said smugly to Gwen. ‘Flora knows what’s what.’

Gwen gasped indignantly and threw me a reproachful look.

‘But of course,’ I went on, ‘now that
I’m
here, you’ll hardly need to, will you? You know Gwen and I can look after ourselves, a couple of reliable, resourceful, modern girls like us. You’ll be free to go off and excavate, or research, or study, or – oh, I don’t know – do whatever it is conscientious elder brothers do. Won’t you?’ I smiled at him sweetly and Frank burst out laughing.

‘Good try, Flora. Reliable, resourceful, modern girls, is it? Well, I’ll leave you to get on with it, then.’ He turned to Gwen. ‘I have a few things to do, I’ll be back to pick you up at about, oh say, five? Flora, my mother sends her compliments. She knows you’ll want to settle in today, but she asks if tomorrow Mr Wentworth and yourself would dine with us at Shepheard’s.’

I glanced at my father. The manager had returned and he and Mr Khalid were deep in discussion. ‘I’ll ask Fa,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be delighted. Please thank your mother for us, Frank.’

Frank left, and Mr Khalid looked up. ‘Perhaps Miss Wentworth could be shown to her room?’ he suggested to the manager.

The manager looked flustered. ‘Of course, my apologies. At once.’ He waved his hand and a servant appeared from nowhere. The manager murmured to him. The servant bowed to Gwen and me, and indicated we should follow him.

As I’d hoped, my room overlooked the terrace and the garden. The view in the other direction towards the pyramids was awe-inspiring, stretching out over the desert for miles and miles, but it wasn’t pretty. At the end of a long day, I was happier to look at green, growing things and sparkling fountains. I’d see quite enough sand during the excavation.

Gwen and I explored the two rooms, a bedroom and a sitting room, each with arched windows surrounded by colourful, painted tiles.

‘What a beautiful room,’ Gwen sighed. ‘I mean, mine is nice, Shepheard’s always is, but this is like an enchanted palace. We’d be closer to the excavations if we stayed here, but you know how Papa likes to be near the Egyptian Museum.’

A small balcony led off the sitting room. We sat down on a soft, padded couch. ‘We mightn’t be here very long,’ I said. ‘It looks as if we’ll be thrown out to make room for a military hospital.’

‘Flora, where will you go? Shepheard’s is packed with all these military people, and I mean
packed
. I only have a very small room, leading off Mama and Papa’s.’

Gwen and I wrote to each other throughout the year, but Cairo was the time to catch up with all the news. It was hard for us to picture the other’s life. Imagine, I thought, it was probably snowing in Boston right now! I’d never seen snow. And Gwen could never imagine having Christmas in the summer, or the cyclones that sometimes lashed Brisbane with teeming rains and roaring winds.

‘So we’ve been here for two weeks now,’ Gwen told me. ‘But it’s so – so different. This year with all the soldiers about, the city just isn’t the same. They’re everywhere! The cafés, the bazaar, out exploring the pyramids and the Sphinx. They keep coming to Papa’s excavation and wanting to know what he’s doing, and can they come and see it.’

‘Does he show them?’

Gwen laughed. ‘Not Papa! You know what he’s like!’

I nodded. Professor Travers was a lot like my own father, completely focused on his work. He actively discouraged visitors to his excavations, and not always politely, either.

‘But Frank does,’ Gwen said. ‘He likes to give them a tour and explain what he’s doing.’ Her face clouded a little. ‘At least he
did
. I think a couple of them annoyed him a bit.’

‘How?’

‘They asked him why he isn’t in uniform,’ said Gwen shortly.

‘But Frank’s American! America isn’t part of the war!’

‘Frank’s half British,’ Gwen reminded me. ‘We do spend time in England. So I hope …’ She broke off, bit her lip.

‘Yes?’

‘I hope he doesn’t take it into his head to join up!’ Gwen said in a rush. ‘Is that a terribly unpatriotic thing to say? It’s just I don’t want Frank to be in danger.’

‘Is there any danger here?’ There had to be a reason for so many soldiers in Cairo.

‘Not as far as I know,’ Gwen said. ‘I’d say the most dangerous activity for most soldiers in Cairo is riding a camel. Or maybe the rollercoaster at Luna Park, that’s certainly a thrill.’

‘Gwen! Have you been on the rollercoaster? Oh, you have to take me!’

‘I’ve been doing everything,’ said Gwen proudly. ‘Luna Park, Groppi’s Café for tea, the dances and concerts at Shepheard’s. The private dinners and dances are just starting, too. We’re going to have the most wonderful time!’

‘Now, tell me about the ensemble.’ I indicated the white dress, shoes, hat and parasol. ‘You didn’t get that in Boston?’

‘Boston? At the start of winter? No, I had dresses made here. There’s a wonderful dressmaker right around the corner from Shepheard’s. You just have to go!’

‘I will,’ I said, thinking of the clothes Aunt Helen had deemed suitable for Egypt. They were fine but they weren’t
amazing
the way Gwen’s outfit was. ‘But probably not entirely white for me,’ I said, thinking of the dresses I’d have made. ‘You can carry it off, you’re dark, you look wonderful in white. I’m fair, in white I just disappear.’

‘The shop has every colour,’ said Gwen. ‘You’ll need evening dresses, for the dances and concerts.’

‘I won’t be able to run around town all the time though,’ I said. ‘I’m Fa’s assistant this season.’

‘Really?’ said Gwen. ‘In what way?’

‘Oh, recording finds and sketching some of them,’ I said. ‘It’ll be fun!’

Gwen looked unconvinced. ‘Truly? Working with all those dry, dusty
dead
things? But then you and Frank have always liked them. I can’t see the attraction, myself.’

There was a pause. ‘Gwen?’ I said. She looked at me enquiringly. ‘Gwen, what are you going to
do
with your life? I’m going to be Fa’s assistant, but what about you? Are you going to pursue your violin studies?’

‘Do? Me?’ Gwen considered. It was as if no one had ever asked her before. ‘I don’t quite know, I guess,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I would quite like to do some serious violin study. But I miss a lot of lessons coming to Egypt every year and it doesn’t help my technique. I don’t actually have to do
anything
. I suppose I’ll get married … sometime …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘But that could be years away,’ I said.

‘And it could be next year!’ Gwen had bounced back. ‘My mother was married at seventeen, you know. But we don’t need to worry about that now!’

I looked down at the terrace. People had progressed from drinking tea to sipping cocktails. A boy in a smart uniform, carrying a sign with tinkling bells hanging from it, moved among the tables. ‘Message for Major Mostyn-Smith!’ he called. I saw Mr Hussein had joined my father and Mr Khalid.

‘Now there’s something I want to do!’ I said. ‘Mr Khalid has a motorcar. I want to learn to drive it!’

‘Really? Papa’s got a motorcar. He says it’s much the easiest way to get from town to the excavation and back. I’ve never even thought of learning to drive it myself.’ She smiled. ‘What a wonderful idea! I’ll have to talk Mama into it somehow, I’m not sure she’d think it was quite the thing. Oh could we, really could we? It would be so – so –’

‘Dashing!’ I said, laughing. ‘Why shouldn’t we? Remember what we are?’

‘Modern girls!’ said Gwen. ‘Totally modern girls!’

…

Later, when Gwen and Frank had gone, and Fa had promised we’d join their family for dinner at Shepheard’s the next day, Fa and I took a table for dinner on one of the terraces overlooking the pyramids.

‘Can we have Egyptian food?’ I asked eagerly.

Fa grinned. ‘I’ve been looking forward to that myself.’ He ordered platters of mezze with flat breads and tahini and hummus, and grilled meats. We loved Egyptian food.

‘Gwen says Professor Travers has bought a motorcar,’ I said casually. ‘She says he finds it very useful for going to and from his excavation. Fa, I was just thinking …’

‘Yes?’ Fa said warily.

‘If we bought a motorcar, you could use it to get to your excavation,’ I said. ‘And,’
very
casually, ‘if I learned to drive, I could run you backwards and forwards, couldn’t I?’

Fa eyed me. Sometimes, I thought, he really wasn’t as vague as he seemed. ‘You could drive it?’ he said.

‘I could,’ I said. ‘Lots of girls drive now.’

Fa looked at me steadily.

I had to laugh. ‘Well, not
lots
. But girls do drive! I’m sure I could learn. And Mr Hussein will teach me.’

‘Will he?’

‘That’s if you approve, of course,’ I said. ‘Which you do, don’t you?’

‘Oh, why not?’ said Fa. ‘Talk to Khalid about it. He’ll know where to find a motorcar.’

Yes! I could see myself already, speeding along in an open-topped motorcar. Possibly with a long scarf trailing behind me. I knew Mr Khalid would find just the right sort of motorcar. Mr Khalid could do anything.

‘Fa?’ I said. ‘Just how
does
Mr Khalid get everything done? Whatever we want, he can arrange.’

Fa laughed. ‘I wouldn’t be brave enough to enquire. I know he has contacts everywhere. I’ve heard he’s related to some very important families indeed. He was educated in England, at a very reputable school, did you know that?’

I shook my head. Mr Khalid’s impeccable English should have given me the hint. His English was more correct than my own.

‘I’d say he’s involved in everything, in one way or another,’ Fa went on. ‘Some of the archaeologists he acts as agent for aren’t quite on the up and up. I suspect he might sometimes sail a little close to the wind. But it’s none of my business. Ah! Here comes our dinner.’

I smiled brilliantly at the waiter bringing our dishes of food. This was going to be a wonderful year!

As we ate, I looked out at the view from the terrace. It was very nearly dark and the pyramids loomed huge and black against the sky and stars. But I was reminded that something had changed. In previous years, the desert between our hotel and the pyramids had been empty. Now, there were thousands of little lights dotted between the Nile Palace and the pyramids – campfires of the huge Australian army camp.

This year, I realised, might be wonderful – but it was also going to be different.

Chapter 3

We spent the next day at the Egyptian Museum and at the offices of the Antiquities Department, where Fa renewed his connections with the Egyptian curators, archaeologists and officials. Mr Khalid had already paved the way, of course, and Fa’s excavation plans had been considered and approved. It was important, however, to observe the courtesies.

‘Flora will be my assistant on our yearly excavations from now on,’ Fa said proudly to Mr Mehmet, the head of the Antiquities Department.

Mr Mehmet regarded me rather as if I was a particularly disappointing specimen found in a tomb. ‘A lady assistant?’ he observed sceptically. ‘There are not many ladies working on excavations.’

I smiled at him brightly. ‘I’m sure there will soon be many more,’ I said. ‘After all, we’re living in modern times.’

Mr Mehmet looked dubious.

As Fa and I entered Shepheard’s Hotel for our dinner engagement with the Travers family that evening, I saw at once how different things were. Shepheard’s, one of the oldest and most fashionable hotels in Cairo, had always been busy. Now it was full to overflowing. The lobby and all the restaurants, coffee rooms and lounges were crowded with the usual clusters of archaeologists, but also with soldiers and, surprisingly, parties made up entirely of women.

Frank met us in the lobby. He followed my gaze. ‘They’re nurses,’ he said. ‘There are British nurses here, and I believe some Australians and New Zealanders too.’ The women wore sober grey dresses with high, primly buttoned collars and cuffs, a sharp contrast to the delicate, pretty evening gowns other women were wearing. But uniformed or not, the nurses were having a good time, dining in the hotel’s smartest restaurant, talking and laughing together.

The rest of the Travers family were waiting for us in a lounge room. A string quartet played rippling music in the background while drinks were served by waiters in long white robes, with red sashes around their waists and red fezzes on their heads. Mrs Travers bustled over and kissed me soundly on the cheek. ‘It’s lovely to see you, Flora, dear,’ she said. ‘And don’t you look so grown up! Such a pretty dress.’

It was blue and cream, my favourite of the evening dresses Aunt Helen had ordered made for me, but I was eclipsed by Gwen in delicate daffodil-yellow and a hemline shimmering with beads. Gwen sparkled as she walked. I just
had
to get to that dressmaker of hers, I thought. I wanted to sparkle too.

In the British restaurant, we were shown to one of the best tables near a terrace overlooking the Nile. Mrs Travers was very conservative and had no love for Egyptian food. It wasn’t quite dark and I could still make out graceful white-sailed feluccas gliding like ibis on the river.

As soon as we had ordered, Fa and Professor Travers sank deep into conversation about the tomb Professor Travers was excavating on the Giza plateau. I listened, interested.

‘It’s a mastaba tomb, of course, from the third dynasty,’ Professor Travers said. ‘We’ve hardly started, we’re still clearing the sand above it, but I have great hopes it hasn’t been looted. So far we’ve seen no signs of forced entry but we could be disappointed further down.’

‘Is there any indication for whom it was built?’ Fa asked.

‘It’s early days,’ said Professor Travers. ‘And you? What will you be working on?’

‘Much the same, I believe,’ said Fa. ‘Khalid tells me it’s a third dynasty mastaba. He seems confident it’ll be an interesting excavation. It appears to be a large tomb, so possibly minor royalty.’

‘Here’s to a productive season,’ said Professor Travers, raising his glass to Fa. We all raised our glasses as well. For the first time, Gwen and I had been allowed wine. Just half a glass, but still – actual wine! ‘And to professional rivalry!’ added Professor Travers. We all laughed.