Rose of the Desert (13 page)

"That's nice."

"It was necessary." As she didn't query this he added, "I thought you were putting up at the Warners. What happened ?"

"I didn't want to be a nuisance."

He nodded, his mouth straight.

"Ted told me you preferred the Victoria. Isn't that where Rahmid stays?"

"That's right."

"I take it he's still around?"

Julie nodded, keeping her eyes straight. "He's been showing me something of Tripoli."

"And what's happening to the medical career? If you can call it that."

"He's going to be ship's doctor on the
Terrana."

"God help the passengers! "

Julie stopped and turned to him her, blue eyes aflame. "You enjoy being hateful, don't you?"

"And you enjoy supporting the milksops of this world." The old familiar twist tugged at his mouth. "Too bad you can't trade in a little of that sweet gullibility in return for a slice of good solid judgement."

She knew he was referring to Alan Moore now, and as she had already suffered enough on that subject, she was sorely tempted to hit him. Perhaps she would have if he hadn't swung away at that moment, leaving her to the line of bathing cabins.

She emerged some minutes later, cool in the copper linen, though inwardly churning. It could only have been the model in her that enabled her to move with a casual indifference she did not feel. As Tamara hadn't been in the sea, she had been able to slip the white dress over her swim suit, and refasten the line of buttons running down from the shoulder. Looking as if she had been decorating an English garden party all afternoon, she draped back in a beach chair, and pulled languidly on a cigarette with unconscious poise.
Clay,
who was sitting close to her in an adjoining chair, hardly glanced up from his conversation as Julie passed.

The offer of a lift back to town was still going, it seemed, and Julie accepted the arm of the most persuasive of the American airmen without a backward glance. Her breathing didn't really return to normal until they were well on the way to the centre of Tripoli.

It was later, much later when she was about to slip into bed with a book. The sound of a car drew her to the window. In the gathering shadows she saw a tall figure help Tamara from her seat and across the pavement. As hereturned to the car his smile gleamed a farewell. He waved briefly and drove off. Clay, of course, playing the perfect, host. Julie climbed slackly into bed, the book forgotten.

Doctor Rahmid arrived early next morning. There was a new light in his eyes and a spring in his step. Julie had never seen him so alive. He was positively aggressive with good spirits.

"I rang up Nidja when you left that afternoon."

"Good heavens I" Julie was incredulous. "It must have cost you a fortune."

"It did, but it was worth it."

"All the way to Bombay. What a fete!"

The doctor grinned, "The telephone was a good invention." Julie gave him a knowing nod and smiled.

"Well, Gopal, what are we going to do today?"

"Ah, that is what I must tell you." The doctor looked apologetic. "Nidja is coming in on the ten o'clock flight. I must be at the airport to meet her."

"Nidja coming to Tripoli?" Julie gave him a surprised smile. "You're a quick worker, Gopal, once you get moving!"

The doctor beamed. "She will sail with me on the
Terrana.
We dock in Madras in about one week's time."

"Giving you plenty of time to get things sorted out."

Doctor Rahmid nodded. "Nidja is happy. It is only my father." He studied for a moment and then shrugged optimistically. "My father is a good man. He will understand."

"And what about your position as ship's doctor?"

"The contract is for three months, just a relief position, you understand." He looked just a little downcast. "Three months is not such a terribly long time, would you say?"

^v
It will pass before you've had time to make plans for the wedding," Julie consoled him. After a silence she added, "So this is goodbye, Gopal?"

"Yes, I came to say goodbye." He took her hand between his own. "But I am sorry to leave you. You have been a good friend, little Julie, with your ..." he laughed "... philosophising!"

Julie smiled. "You would have made the break yourself, I'm sure."

"No. And do you know why? Because I never had the courage to put it into words as you did."

"And now it's action, not words?" She raised an eyebrow and the doctor squeezed her hand.

"If you are ever in Bombay you must come and visit Nidja and myself."

"I doubt it, Gopal. I shall be flying home to England in a couple of days' time, but I'll bear it in mind." As he left her she called, "I'll look out for that art shop in the Khala- bud Road."

The doctor laughed and waved and ran lightly down the steps into the sunshine. Julie watched him disappear into the crowd, an ache in her throat. How she hated goodbyes!

After some time standing there it occurred to her that she hadn't yet had breakfast. With a sigh she turned and hurried up to the dining-room. It was in a sunless portion of the building. The tables w
^r
ere empty and the chairs askew, and Julie entered with a feeling of quiet desolation. Suddenly a voice rang down the length of the room.

"The coffee's still hot. Bring yourself a cup." Taking a clean cup and saucer from an unused table, Julie went in search of the voice. She found Tamara reclining at a table for two within a bay window.

"Who was the dusky attraction I saw you with in the corridor?"

"Doctor Rahmid, you mean?" Julie sighed. "I have this horrible habit of becoming attached to people. I feel positively flat."

"Is he leaving?" Tamara poured the coffee.

"Yes. On the
Terrana
tomorrow." In between rolls and butter Julie told her about Doctor Rahmid and Nidja. Lighting up a cigarette afterwards, she asked,

"Do you think it's possible for a doctor to cut dead his career and start up in something else?"

"It has been done." Tamara glanced pointedly at Julie's clenched fingers on the arm of the chair. She remarked indolently,

"Don't try and live other people's troubles, honey. You should be conserving yourself for your own."

Julie relaxed with a smile. "I suppose it's this finger-crossed yearning for everything to come out right for Gopal and Nidja." She thought for a moment about- Tamara's remark and asked quietly,

"Is that what you do? Conserve yourself for the trouble to come ?"

"Not me, sweetheart. Mine are all through." Tamara stared for a long time at the end of her cigarette. When she did speak the usually resonant voice was curiously subdued.

"I knew a boy once. He was in the Navy ... destroyers. He got badly burned in an explosion." Julie gasped, wondering what was coming, and Tamara laughed bitterly.

"Oh, he lived. They brought him home and I went to see him in hospital..."

There was another interminable silence and Julie heard herself asking in a low voice, "What happened?"

"That was it!" Tamara drew in her lips between small teeth. "I took one look at him and ... couldn't marry him as I had promised. He just gave up and died."

"You shouldn't blame yourself too much." Julie felt her reply was hopelessly inadequate.

"I could have pulled him through, you know," Tamara said flatly, squashing out her cigarette. "I knew it then, and I know it now. Perhaps that's why I've never been able to give anything of myself to another man. Guilty conscience, I guess." The tones were light now, but Julie knew there was something much deeper going on inside.

"How old were you then?" she asked.

"Me? The ripe old age of eighteen. It must be all of ten years ago now."

"That's a very long time," Julie replied pointedly.

"You're right." Tamara gazed out beyond her own thoughts. "It is a long time. I was just telling myself that when you came up. Could be I've been penitent long enough."

There was a silence then in which an uneasiness crept under Julie
's
skin. She could hear the sounds of the traffic and the street calls below. A scent-laden wind pushed fitfully through the open window. Tamara crossed a leg and rested her arms along the arms of the chair, and Julie waited. The next sentence was it.

"Clay drove me back last night. I had a grip to pick up at the air base. We stayed on for a drink at the club and then he dropped me right outside the door."

"That was nice of him."

"He's picking me up this morning. We're going over to the polo field."

"That should be nice."

Tamara gave her a sideways glance. "If I'm trespassing on government property, honey, just let me know."

Julie put on a bright smile.

"My sights are set on England, and then a basement flat in Dumfries. The last time I heard from my father he had finally got round to allowing a cleaner to dust round his clutter. Who knows? This time I might even be able to get in the door." With a forced cheerfulness she jumped to her feet. "Well, I suppose I'd better do something about booking that air ticket."

Back in her own room she knew a queer little tightness about the heart. So that was how it was going? Clay and Tamara.... The rest of the day was spent in seeing to the formalities of her return home. She went to bed that night with the sure knowledge that the day after tomorrow would see her skimming away from the shores of Tripoli.

She spent a restless night and awoke to the realisation that there was still one day left. What should she do with it? The ideal answer seemed to be to hunt for souvenirs. It might help in the coming years to have some memories of her stay here.

In a dress of white sprinkled with tiny blue forget-me- nots and a pair of reasonably heeled shoes, she prepared to do battle with the hot streets of town. Her handbag was on a chair, and as she walked to get it a light knock sounded on the door. She opened it to find Clay standing there. Tall and bronzed in a linen suit, he smiled lopsidedly and cast an appraising glance down the length of her.

"Good morning."

"I was just going out . .." she picked up the handbag.

"I hear you're leaving Tripoli." He walked into the room and stared around. Julie shrugged.

"News travels."

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"I see."

She walked to the door. "If we're all through with the cross-examinations I'll be on my way."

"Why the acid?" Clay caught her shoulder and turned her to him with a cool smile.

"We didn't exactly part on cooing terms, did we?"

"Oh, and I thought it might be because the doctor's left town. He had his girl flown in, didn't he? No wonder you're cut up."

"My we do have an ear for gossip, don't we!" The blue eyes lowered lest he should see the effects of his touch on her shoulder. After a pause he dropped the hand.

"Where are you off to now?"

"To the markets, or the shops, I'm not sure ..."

He studied her. "You shouldn't be alone, you know." There was another silence and then he added, "If you want to see some real scenery before you go, I'm going over to the island of Yanra. The chief of the Berber fishermen is a friend of mine. I usually look him up about this time. Like to come along?"

The idea of spending a whole day with Clay flooded the grey world of her heart with sunshine. If only he weren't doing it because he thought she missed Doctor Rahmid!

"I've got packing to do." She hesitated.

"That can wait." He took her arm and glanced at her feet. "You'd better put on some sandals. And you'll need a hat"

At least he hadn't mentioned Alan Moore. That was something, Julie thought as she stepped into the black convertible. They sped along the coastal road, skirting miles and miles of sandy beaches. The only sign of life was a string of camels stepping through the shallow waves. Presently in the distance she saw a group of palm trees etched against the sky, and a strip of shimmering sea that separated them from the mainland.

Clay pulled in at a small white building, from which two olive-skinned policemen emerged. The formalities over and still no sign of the boat, Julie and Clay were invited into the courtyard to partake of the customary three glasses of tea. Even in the heat of the day the drink proved remarkably refreshing.

At last a sail appeared and a boat drifted over from the island. There was a bearded man swathed in white at the helm, and half a dozen bare-chested Berber boys turning the oars. They waited until the guests had stepped into the boat, and then set to work in perfect rhythm. They were soon nosing their way back to the island. Just as well, Julie mused. With the wind practically non-existent there was little hope of the sail doing any work.

Clay stepped ashore and swung Julie down beside him. She winced at the hot sand beneath her feet.

"Are you all right?" He gripped her. "We've got a walk ahead of us."

Julie nodded. "The soles of my sandals must be thin. Which way is it?"

"Over here."

He led her over the sands and through the forest along a grassy track. Though the heat was a solid glare along the beach, here the coolness reached down and caressed her cheek. Clay walked a little ahead, his fingers, curled lightly around her own. After probably ten minutes in this way they emerged into a dune valley. There was shell- pink sand and the indigo shade of luxuriant palm trees. A low roof had been woven from their upper fronds and beneath were scattered vivid handwoven rugs and cushions There was a spicy aroma in the air that Julie couldn't define, and beyond the valley she could hear the whisper of the waves upon the shore.

A huge mountain of a man stepped forward to greet them. His burnt bronzed face was wreathed in smiles, the i skin over the dark eyes gathered as a permanent shade against too many sunlit skies. Briefly he performed the Arab salutation of placing a hand over his heart, and then he pumped Clay's hand vigorously western fashion. Later he took Julie's hand and held it less energetically. With 4 a proud smile he led her towards his wife. She was a small plump woman with soft brown eyes set in an amazingly white skin who received Julie with queenly dignity. Her greeting was murmured in quaint halting English. The other women, however, were not quite so restrained.