Three Rivers (42 page)

Kate tried to look away. After all, they were just another bunch of peasants, but something kept drawing her eyes back to them. It was their joy and happiness, their open sweet smiles for such miserably poor, disease-ridden people.

Billy Buckley stopped by and said, “Isn’t it nice? We have even seen a wedding along the way.”

Kate looked and did not think it was nice, but was mesmerized by them, their innocence, their joy for this one happy day. After the boat had left them far behind, Kate kept thinking of the little procession, and her mind started slipping back to her own problems.

How had she come to this? Sailing down the Nile, in the heat of the day, all on her own. Sailing down a river going where? How could it be? Kate had two daughters, they were her family. Then, how was it that Kate was all alone?

Soon her confused emotions mounted to hysteria, and
that was the worst thing that could happen to her. Every nerve in her body went taut with anxiety over her plight, and her damaged heart started pumping hard. Her daughters! She had given up her life for her two daughters.

Ava had everything she wanted and for years had reveled in her financial security and her doting husband. How was it Kate never had that? She knew way down deep in her heart what an unloving, self-centered daughter Ava was. She had seen her cover it up for years by playing the coquette and using her money as advantageously as possible. But Ava had a life of her own, and the rest of the world didn’t matter, including Kate.

Now, after all the years of pretending insecurity, that selfish Isabel was also eliminating Kate. Ava and Isabel would have lives of their own and financial security, the two things that Kate had never managed to attain in her life.

She thought of the wedding procession again. Maybe today was the day that
Isabel
was going to get married. Maybe somewhere in this crazy country she was having a wedding party. It then struck Kate that if that were true, then on the biggest, happiest day of Isabel’s life she had eliminated her mother. Her daughter was getting married while Kate was making the hundredth, probably the
thousandth
attempt at bravely making a life for herself in a world of people who could not care less. God, she was tired of it, tired of pretending, of lying, of cheating herself, and everyone else.

The boat tied up at a small dock on the outskirts of the city. Billy Buckley picked up her things and helped her to the bus. Kate used every drop of willpower she had to keep the dynamic pain in her chest under control. She made up her face and settled herself in the bus for the ride through Alexandria.

It was Kate in her best performance. She used her sick energy to charm every person on that bus. She took a keen interest in every sight that was pointed out to her, and when her fellow passengers were critical of the filth, the crumbling buildings, the heat and the humidity, the disease, the flies, the human shit in the streets, it was she who chided them for not accepting the facts of the world. In this way she hung on, waiting only to make it to her
cabin and her bed, where she would lie between clean sheets and rest.

Like everything else on this journey, the bus trip seemed endless, but eventually they arrived. The
Aphrodite
was a great ocean-going ship and it looked to Kate like Paradise in dock.

The smoke was belching out of her two enormous stacks, and several gangways, like long tongues, reached out from the different decks. People were hanging over the rails, and as the old men and women filed off the bus, weary and exhausted, they received a cheer from their shipmates who had remained aboard. With a new surge of energy they trundled up the ramps as quickly as they could. Kate was among them and Billy Buckley was not far behind her.

There were three blasts from the whistle on board ship — that wonderful sound that means “we are heading out to sea” — and as soon as the gangways were empty, they were pulled away and the open rails quickly clicked shut. Before Kate had even found a seat, the S.S.
Aphrodite
was sailing out of the port of Alexandria.

Kate felt relief the moment she stepped aboard. Everyone seemed so happy, and everything was so spanking white and clean. Kate looked at the deck and thought to herself how one could eat off the floor. The crew, which was mostly Greek, was a joy to see in their white and blues, and the few Americans among them were, like Billy Buckley, rushing around making everyone comfortable.

Once on board, Kate went to a deck chair, where she remained for the sailing. An hour out to sea, Billy arrived with the cabin steward and Kate was ushered to her stateroom. There was music coming through the loudspeakers. Bing Crosby crooned across the decks, through every hall. Oh, God, it was nice to hear Bing. “When you wish upon a star … bump, bump, bump, bump …” went Bing. Oh, God, it was nice to hear him. The stateroom was far more than Kate had imagined it would be for the money. Ah! Little Stephano, you did come through for me.

With the help of the cabin steward she unpacked and made herself comfortable. Within an hour she had managed to bathe and slip between the nice cool sheets, dressed in a fresh nightgown. In her air-conditioned cabin she was comfortable at last.

She ordered a proper lunch, even though she was sure
she would not be able to manage it all. It was wheeled in by the waiter, who raised the side flaps of the trolley and presto! there it was, a perfect little round dining table with a crisp white cloth and yellow tea roses in a silver bowl. She slipped on a dressing gown while still in bed and weakly moved over to the chair that was held out for her by the waiter. From underneath the table, he removed the dishes that Kate had ordered and served her lunch.

Kate found herself making a supreme effort to charm the waiter. After all, he had to serve her all the way to New York. The effort was too much, and halfway through the meal, she suddenly felt terribly tired and just barely made it back to bed. She managed to ring for the waiter, who removed the table.

All through the afternoon Kate lay in her bed making resolutions. She would have the best holiday ever on board once she was well again. The river was forgotten, all her hatred for her two daughters gone, and Kate again was making plans to live with Isabel once she had completed this holiday.

On Tuesday afternoon at 5:38, aboard the S.S.
Aphrodite
, somewhere at sea, and eight minutes after her daughter Isabel was married on the river Nile, Kate Wells had her second heart seizure. It was nowhere near as severe as the attack she’d suffered on the Nile cruiser. Kate knew the moment that it hit her what it was. It took nearly an hour before she had some relief from the pain, and although her breathing was labored and she still had considerable discomfort, her mind was clear.

After forty-five minutes of hanging somewhere close to death, Kate saw her whole miserable life run before her like one big, bad movie. So many people came across her screen. Her mother, father, Sam, her sisters, brothers, friends, Isabel, Ava, the admiral, her miseries and her unhappinesses. It all ran out before her, and Kate was able to see what her life had been. She was quite ready to give it up. She knew that she would never see the end of this voyage.

It was from exhaustion, not by choice, that Kate gave up her fight for life. Her heart was so badly damaged that she knew that she was going to die. The only thing that she could think about was the relief that her daughters would not be there. Now that she knew that she was going to leave the world, she would at least do it on her terms,
or as close to her terms as she could manage. She would die among strangers, alone, and that was just fine with her. She had always done better with strangers. After all, what was there to say to her daughters? They were going to live.

Kate had thought that as long as Isabel was alone, there was always the hope that Kate could win her over and live her life. It was only after realizing how severely wounded she was that Kate accepted that it would never be.

Kate managed to ring for the cabin steward and asked him to bring Billy Buckley to her at once. It was Billy who wrote out Kate Wells’s last will and testament. The cabin steward and first officer were witnesses and a notary made it all legal. Only after that was done, the document sealed in an envelope and handed over to the captain to be opened upon her death, did Kate allow the ship’s doctor to examine her.

Kate hung on for three more days. There were two doctors, four nurses and an excellent sick bay with the best equipment to help save Kate, but she had been as good as dead from the massive heart seizure she’d suffered on the river, en route to Alexandria.

The captain and his first officer, the doctor and two nurses were the attendants at two o’clock in the morning, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, under a sky full of stars, when Katharine Anne Wells was buried at sea.

The captain followed her last will and testament to the letter. She was buried, as she had requested, before her family were notified. Her belongings on the
Aphrodite
would be stored in New York and released to her elder daughter upon her arrival there. A telegram was sent to Miss Isabel Wells, c/o Sir Alexis Hyatt in Cairo.

It read: “This is to notify you that Mrs. Katharine Anne Wells was buried at sea in the early hours of the morning of Saturday November 1 somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. She died of a massive heart attack. Her last will and testament asked that you be notified after her burial. All her possessions are to be given to Miss Wells upon her arrival at our offices in New York. The S.S.
Aphrodite
docks at Pier 57 on November 22. We regret having to send you this news. Signed, Captain Panos Papastamati S.S.
Aphrodite
, at sea.”

XIII

The sun was streaming into the room when Isabel opened her eyes on the morning of her wedding day. Someone had drawn back the mosquito netting while she slept. She lazily moved herself up the pillows and looked around what was still the most beautiful room in which she had ever spent any length of time. The antiquity of it, the delicacy of the craftsmanship, the peace, the beauty, and yes, even the smell of it, enveloped Isabel.

She saw at one end of the room, near the cupboards, Maryka, Doreya and Gamal whispering among themselves softly as they assembled cases and packed clothes. She saw her galabia lying across the bed, picked it up and slipped it over her head, then raised herself up to a sitting position. Isabel moved almost in slow motion and ever so silently. She felt strangely beautiful, amazingly happy; she felt different, and could not understand it at all. It was as if a great burden had been removed from her life.

She watched the three people at their work, assembling her trousseau. She wanted to say good morning but was powerless to do so. She slipped her hands out from under the covers and saw the diamonds on her fingers sparkling up at her; oh, they were beautiful. “Alexis, I love you,” she murmured.

Almost quietly, she said good morning and then sat back. The three left their tasks and went round to the bed, all happy smiles. Gamal carried a large, round, flattish basket. Alexis’s three devoted servants threw rose petals and jasmine blossoms over her bed and around her. They wished her the sweetest of life and the happiest of days. Isabel could not stop smiling and laughing because of the touching gesture. There were petals everywhere, and when she scooped them up in her hands and threw them up in the air, they rained down all over her. Gamal went to the telephone while the three women played with the
blossoms. He went back to his work after telling Isabel that he had ordered breakfast to be brought.

Isabel slipped ever so gently from her bed to go into the bathroom, and when she returned to the room she just as carefully slipped back under the coverlet into her bed of blossoms. Ordinarily, she would have checked on everything, but she seemed to be floating on some sort of magic love carpet. It was so nice not to have to be in control. She played with the petals, running her fingers through them again and again.

Gamal brought a box over to her. It was wrapped in yellow paper and had many thin ribbons of the same color all tied together in a vast bow. On top of the bow were pinned fresh, fully blown, yellow roses. There was a letter in a cream-colored envelope slipped under the bow.

“From Sir Alexis for when you are awake,” Gamal intoned. He left her with the dress-box and went back to his work.

She opened the letter first and read: “My darling, not seeing you until this afternoon does not mean I cannot write to you. I hope you had a good night and woke up happy and as much in love with me as I am with you.

“Here is a little something for you to wear for our first night together, and it is just that, since every night with you is a first night.

“Alexander will be with you all day, and bring you to me. I think of you with love as I always have from the first moment I saw you. Alexis.”

Isabel carefully removed the roses, and she inhaled their scent. She put the flowers among the other blossoms on her bed. Then she untied the ribbons and opened the box.

A chocolate-brown nightdress of the most exquisite Belgian lace, with shoestring straps, a low-cut front, narrow waist and slits up the sides lay inside. She took note that the lace was designed in such a way that both her nipples and the darker pink skin around them would lie bare, exposed through the lace like the center of a flower with its stamen.

Under the nightdress was a peignoir of the same chocolate-brown-colored lace, with long, bell-shaped sleeves in an exquisite cut, very full and trailing in the back, tying low in the front under the bust. Pinned at the fastening was an English Georgian dragonfly with a wingspan
of about five inches. The wings were of diamonds and the body was of Cabouchon rubies. The whole thing was utterly gorgeous.

She lay there looking at it all and running her fingers through her flower bed. It was like some wonderful fairy tale. The only strange part was that she was so at ease with it all. It was as if she had been like this all of her life and had just woken up to it after a bad dream of years of merely sexual relationships, loneliness and the working life.

There was a tap at the door and Gamal opened it. In walked Alexander, followed by two servants who carried in a breakfast table set for two. The table was placed close to her, and a chair was drawn up for Alexander.

Alexander told her that it was his day now. He had her all to himself from now until he delivered her to her bridegroom, and he intended to make the most of it. He was arranging a special wedding lunch for her at the pool, but since it was a secret wedding they would be the only two guests.

Alexander was dressed in his pajamas and a very smart dressing gown. He looked extremely handsome and dapper with his small silk handkerchief poking out of his pocket. He told her she was not to ask one word about the night before, and he would ask her nothing; all she need know was that they were going to have an easy day because he was feeling fragile.

Over breakfast he told her that a car would take her cases to the boat. The plan was for her to spend the morning relaxing in bed while he had a few hours sleep. They would have a relatively early lunch at the pool, and afterwards Doreya, Maryka and Juju, her handmaidens, would be waiting in the hammam to make her ready for her groom. He would deliver her into their hands, and when he returned, she would be dressed and coiffed for her wedding. Then the two of them would drive to Memphis and board the
Mamounia
there.

“He is something, your Alexis. He has planned the loveliest way to be married. By the time we are aboard all the officials will be there ready and waiting. We will sail up the Nile during the ceremony. There will be a quick and light refreshment for the officials and then we will be set ashore, where cars will be waiting for us to whisk us back into Cairo while you cut loose for Abu Simbel. Not bad
for your first wedding, old girl.” He went round the table and kissed her on the cheek, then continued, “Isabel, I have brought you a little something as a wedding present from acting father, nanny and friend of the bride. My wedding gift to you both, my real wedding gift, is waiting for you on the
Mamounia
. This is really only a token of how happy I am for you.”

Isabel was deeply touched. She removed the red wrappings and opened the Cartier box. Inside were three hair clips of diamonds. One was in the shape of a star about an inch-and-a-quarter across, another was a crescent moon about the same size and the third one a flower. They were exquisite, and she immediately asked him to pass the hand mirror so she could place them in her hair.

They were a fun gift, because once they were pinned in her chestnut-brown hair, they sparkled and were very special, decorative and amusing rather than extravagant and overly elegant. They were things she could wear a great deal, and she was delighted with them. She made her way out of bed and went around to Alexander, bent down and kissed him in thanks.

He put his cup down, and while kissing Isabel, her galabia opened, exposing her breast. Alexander slipped his hand inside her robe. With his other hand he held her face by the chin, close to his and said, “Shush, I have something to say. If you had not fallen in love with Alexis, and if he had not declared himself, I would have tried for you myself.” He ran his thumb over her nipple and kissed her on the lips very gently, then went on, “I love Alexis and I love you. I want you to know that. I will be your friend for always.”

With both his hands now, and very quickly, before she realized what was happening, he lifted her breast to his mouth and kissed and sucked her nipple. Before she could even pull away he tucked it back in her galabia, took her on his lap, lifted her face to his and said, “Please do not be angry with me, it will not happen again. But I wanted you to know.” He kissed her lovingly and touched her cheek again.

Isabel thought it was rather bad manners and would have made an issue about it, except that she knew that Alexander Gordon-Spencer was being honest: He did love her. He loved them both. He and Alexis would be in that
not uncommon situation: two friends in love with the same woman.

She knew that Alexander understood that she would never have an affair with him. They were two mature people who knew the rules of the game. She was sure that was why he had told her, so that she would know exactly how he felt, and appreciate it, use it, play with it, as
he
would play with being in love with his best friend’s wife. Isabel was almost sure that if Alexis did not already know, then he would very soon. It looked like they were going to be a
threesome
.

There was no reason to make an issue. Alexander wanted her but would never have her. Instead he would love her always. She took herself off his lap and stood there, not knowing what to say.

He lifted the coverlet to the bed and told her to get back in. “You are to have a lazy and lovely day. It is my treat today until I give you away. I am in charge.”

She slipped into bed and pulled the light coverlet over her legs. He scooped up handfuls of the petals from where they had fallen when he had moved the coverlet and showered her with them.

She was laughing, and as she looked up into his face, he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “It is all right, isn’t it? My love for you is to give you more pleasure, not to make you unhappy. I will never abuse it, you have my word for that. You do understand, I hope.”

“It is all right, Alexander,” Isabel murmured. “Thank you for loving me. I will never abuse it either.”

“Ah, that is good. Now we both know where we stand and that makes it perfect.” He sat down and poured more coffee, then buttered another
broiche
and offered it to her. When she refused, he said, “Open your mouth,” and fed it to her.

They laughed, and all through their breakfast conversation they talked about many things. He told her that he had a penchant for whores and that he derived great pleasure as a voyeur. She must understand that as much as he would like to have her sexually, he enjoyed watching her and Alexis and their life together; he was not a masochist.

“As a matter of fact,” he told her, “you might just as well know that I am more a sadist than a masochist. So, my dear, you must never worry that your love for Alexis will make me suffer.”

Eventually he left her, saying that he expected her at the pool for a swim before lunch, which was to be at one o’clock.

After Alexander had left Isabel’s bedroom, she remained in bed luxuriating in her own laziness. Never had she felt so pampered and spoiled, decadent and depraved. She thought of Alexis and the fact that this was his life, the life that he had always lived. She thought of all the good and constructive things that he had done and still did for so many people. He was living proof that with love for yourself, confidence of who and what you are, and knowledge of what you want in life, you can accomplish great things.

Her mind drifted between the rose petals and jasmine blossoms to her Meredith Montagues and how much she enjoyed writing them. In her new life she would be able to carry on with her writing as Alexis pursued his work. How lucky she was that writing could be done anywhere and would never interfere with Alexis’s work or plans.

She thought about Kate and Ava, about herself and her relationships with them. When there was the chance of offering them a rose, she had, but they refused even to take the scent. Still, Isabel had never given up on them. Now that there were flowers in such abundance in her life, she would try again. Surely Ava and Kate would not refuse her now?

Thinking about them usually depressed her, but today, lying among the cushions and blossoms, she had none of those feelings. She just knew that Kate and Ava, wherever they were, would never change. If any change had taken place, it was that she herself was no longer pushing to be accepted. At last someone had seen her and her worth. Thank Alexis for that.

The very thought of Alexis, and what he had done for her by accepting her exactly as she was, made her feel warm and wet inside. She wanted to open her legs and be there waiting for him. She turned on her side, tucked the pillow under her cheek, and thought about how much she loved him. She dozed off. When she woke she saw the last of her cases being taken from the room.

Eventually Isabel left her bed and changed into a lightweight, simple cotton galabia. Taking a white, one-piece swimsuit with her, she went down to the pool.

There was no one there, so she went into the bath
house, changed into her suit and dived in. Slowly she swam the length of the pool a few times. The water felt like liquid satin. She lifted herself out of the pool and took off her wet suit, slipping again into the galabia. She stretched out on a chaise under the striped awning.

She heard a splash and opened her eyes to see Alexander swimming. He remained in the water for about fifteen minutes, floating on his back. When he had had enough, he took the chaise next to her, telling her that the swim had done him good, he was quite revived. After lunch, when he had delivered her to the hammam, he might go down and have a sauna and a sleep so that he would be in top form for giving her away.

He asked if she was nervous. All that she could answer was that she was beyond being nervous. “After all, what can happen, Alexander? At the very worst he can jilt me, and then I will go back to my old life. I have always done the best that I could with what I have. I suppose that I would do the same again.”

He touched her wet hair, laughing. “You silly thing, he is not going to jilt you.”

“Well, then, there is nothing for me to be nervous about, is there? Listen, Alexander, if we start talking about him and me, I’ll get nervous and over-excited. So what say we while away our time with a little gin rummy before lunch?”