Rose of the Desert (6 page)

She forced herself to relax. What was there to feel guilty about? Even though they would have to wait for the cool of the evening before they could travel back she was well ahead with her work, and quick enough to whittle it down again should it have piled up during the day. Just because the camp was run on the strict disciplinarian lines that Clay Whitman adopted, that was no reason to feel he had any hold over her, except from a working point of view. And everyone took time out from a job once in a while.

She had never permitted herself to dwell on the moments in the hut when the fire had raged outside and Clay had held her close in his arms. He had only done what any oil boss would have done; made sure she wasn't a liability to the firm. Even though it was her own fault for being there, he had considered it his duty to haul her out. And that's all there was to it.

With an inward sigh she decided to forget everything but the pleasures of the day, one of which was their entry into Jalna.

They followed a rough walled track that rose gently and led through a beautiful arched gateway. Within the dappled sunlight of the palms, groups of children chattered and laughed and rolled in the dust, their attire a kind of long cotton shirt which she learned was called a
djellabah.

Occasionally a loaded camel strode haughtily by, and masses of birds, mostly sparrows, chirruped and rustled in and out of the feathery palms above. The sun spread warm shadows across the foliage and along the courtyard to the hotel walls where Murray drew in.

"There's just time for a bite to eat and a freshen up, and then we'll have to be off. In another couple of hours it'll be too hot to move."

Reluctantly Julie stepped from the Land Rover. She didn't feel in the least like dashing about, and to her mind it was hot enough now. She wished Murray wouldn't be quite so enthusiastic about his locusts, but as they were only eight miles away it shouldn't take long.

After a whirlwind meal, a wash and a touch of powder, Julie emerged in the apple green linen feeling fresher and slightly less exhausted.

Dr. Rahmid politely declined the offer to accompany them, preferring instead to wait in the cool of the hotel for his transport. He took Julie's hand in his and clasped it gently, without a word, and then turned to go indoors, but as the engine revved and they moved slowly away he hurried after them, waving a white topee.

"It is one I have not used," he said, offering it to her. "You will need something for your head out there in the hot sun. Please wear it."

Julie slipped the helmet on her head. It was a reasonable fit.

"Thank you," she smiled, "and Gopal," as he turned, "good luck!"

He went inside with the look that said he doubted it.

"Queer fish, isn't he?" Murray grinned, starting the motor up again.

"Not really." Julie sighed. "But he doesn't belong out here."

"Do any of us?" Laconically he swung the Land Rover out on the track towards the desert.

After a few minutes they came upon a spring, a patch of water reflecting the blue of the sky, and looking like a vivid splash of colour from a paintbox. In the distance there were clumps of vegetation looking incredibly green to Julie's eye, but as they approached she knew why.

Every conceivable leaf, branch or twig was crawling with young green locusts.

"Hoppers!" said Murray almost proudly. "A female can lay up to seventy eggs at a time. They're yellow at first and then green at this stage." Julie watched in fascinated horror as the mass of green rippled, pulsed and throbbed with life.

"You couldn't possibly hope to do anything about these," she reasoned. "There's millions!"

"We're pretty effective." Murray shaded his eyes to cast a challenging glance over the bushes. "I work with a truck and a dozen Arabs. We've got two machines that spray a fine powdering of insectide on every square inch, practically under the blighters' eyelids. They're young now, and if we can catch them at this stage, we've got ninety per cent chance of success."

As he spoke the young locusts started to drop off the bushes and advance erratically over the sand. In a few minutes they were marching in green columns, each hopping a few inches at a time.

Murray had to stay to weigh up the situation from all angles, but Julie preferred to keep her distance. She walked to the water hole and found shade beneath a squat palm. Even there she had the eerie feeling that the locusts were not far behind, and any minute would be scrabbling greedily at her feet.

It was some time before Murray could drag himself away. When he finally approached he called out buoyantly,

"Well, what about it? Was it worth the trip?"

"It's a sight I wouldn't have missed," she replied brightly. "I hope you can stop them reaching Jalna."

"A piece of cake!"

Jauntily he started the car and headed back, and Julie thought she had never met anyone with such a red-hot enthusiasm for his job. He whistled meditatively under his breath, blissfully unaware of any discomfort, though by now the heat was terrific.

Julie's head ached and a dull throb beat out a rhythm at her temples. Even Dr. Rahmid's pith helmet seemed scant protection from the glare of the sun. If they hadn't turned into the gates of Jalna at that precise moment she was sure she would have just melted on the seat.

There was another Land Rover outside the hotel. Dusty and sprayed with sand, Julie thought at first it looked vaguely familiar, and then realising that all Land Rovers looked alike decided it must be Dr. Rahmid's transport.

With one thought uppermost in her mind, to get out of the searing rays of the desert sun, she groped through the door and stopped to let the coolness envelop her. Her eyes focussed beyond the shadows within, to a figure approaching.

Dimly she made out a tall frame, wide shoulders, arrogant carriage ...

"Well, fancy meeting you here!"

There was no mistaking that voice or the heavy sarcasm that went with it.

"Greetings, O great one," Murray said breezily, coming up from behind. "We've just got back from locust colony."

"Yes, I heard about your proposed adventure from Mohammed," Clay returned drily, never taking his eyes off Julie.

"There's millions of the greedy little monsters about eight miles from here." Murray lit a cigarette and puffed happily. "Did you see anything of my men on your way up?"

Clay nodded. "They should be in in about an hour."

"That so. Well, I'm for a drink. Anyone joining me?" As they both declined he gripped Clay's shoulder in a friendly gesture, and murmuring absently, "Good to see you, Clay old son," departed for the bar.

As they moved along the long cloister and into the hall Julie was able to see Clay more clearly. There was dust in his hair and he was unshaven. She thought that she had never seen him look so weary, and it was only when she saw him eyeing her rather keenly that she realised she presented no better a picture.

"You look all in," he said curtly. "Purnell's inclined to think that everyone's got the constitution of a rhinoceros."

Julie smiled feebly. "We stayed out in the sun rather longer than I expected."

"Of course."

Once again his voice was weighted with sarcasm and she felt annoyance stir beneath her weariness. Before she could think of a suitable reply he tossed her a key.

"I've booked you a room. You'd better go and bed down for a couple of hours. I'll see you this evening. You'll find your case up there with all that's necessary for a night's stay, if Mohammed has done his job."

He turned to go and, Julie finding her voice, asked spiritedly,

"Why am I staying the night?"

"Because I have no intention of driving back today."

"You needn't have come," she retorted, her annoyance giving her strength.

"Needn't I?" His eyes were flecked with steel. "You forget I brought you out to the oil field, and until I hand you back to the Tripoli offices, you're
my
responsibility."

"I'm not a brown paper package, you know."

"No, but you're one hell of a headache."

He turned and left her and then, apparently realising that she wouldn't know where to go, he swung back and took her arm.

"I'll show you to your room."

As he closed the door behind her Julie found herself inside a spacious sweet-smelling chamber with an adjoining creditable bathroom. The furniture was a dark unpolished wood, and the bedcover was wearing paper-thin, but to find such a place after the rigours of the morning was nothing less than a miracle.

She sank on the bed, thankful to close her eyes, which seemed to be boring twin holes in her head. She heard a faint hum of voices, the gentle splashing of water, and the subdued chirrup of a bird, but soon the sounds merged into senseless trail of noise and she fell into a deep relaxing sleep.

The sun was no more than a pink glow along the wall when Julie awoke. She stretched blissfully, feeling refreshed and hungry, her eyes roaming around the room to rest on the small brown case.

What had Mohammed thought fit to pack for an overnight stay? Curious, she stirred from the bed and found that the case held toilet articles, night wear, and oh, bless the man! a clean skirt and blouse. Admittedly the skirt was severely tailored in white linen, and the blouse one that §he had declined to wear so far, being of the military flavour with epaulettes and pleated flap pockets, but anything was better than the creased jaded dress that she wore now.

After a tepid bath she stepped into the fresh clothing, feeling rather like a nurse in a tropical hospital, but the blouse was a good fit and she found if she left it open at the neck and rolled the sleeves well above the elbows, the result wasn't too bad.

One thing she could thank the sun for, it had given her a golden rose complexion that needed little make-up. A touch of peach lipstick seemed sufficient. She turned her attention to the flaxen hair swinging on her shoulders. Definitely not in keeping with the rest of her outfit. With the box of hair-grips that Mohammed had so thoughtfully included she folded the hair into a soft pleat at the back of her head, not realising that the severity she sought fled as the smooth curve of her chin and throat were revealed.

The small ears and strands of gold drawn back from her temples rejected all ideas of the stern look and presented instead a picture of vulnerable demureness.

Happy in the knowledge that she presented a fairly respectable picture, Julie left the room to seek out some kind of life. She found herself back in the hall with the buff- coloured tiles, passed the bar and then the dining-room to the lounge where Clay, obviously rested and relaxed since the morning and clad in dark slacks and cream shirt, stretched out smoking a cigarette. Another man, rather resplendent in silk Turkish trousers and a patterned waistcoat, was talking to him in fluent French.

As she entered Clay stirred himself to flicker a glance over her. The Frenchman uttered a couple of sentences and seeing Julie gave her a toothy smile and hurried away.

"Miss Nightingale, I presume?" Clay said lazily with a humorous twinkle. Julie felt rather like a spiral staircase as his eyes started at the top and swung round to the bottom.

"I think Mohammed sees me as a recruit for the nursing auxiliary," she smiled, feeling unaccountably shy.

"The outfit was my idea."

"Of course, I forgot," she returned lightly. "You don't care for frills and lace. While I'm here in the desert I must look as uniform as the oil rigs."

He didn't reply to this, merely looked at her for a long time and then got slowly to his feet with a dry smile."I shouldn't worry. The femininity is bursting through at the cracks. Let's eat."

The meal was good, consisting of fresh green beans, veal," cheese and coffee. The black waiter who served it looked rather sad, probably because the tourist season was almost over and he had only one table to attend. Clay told her that the hotel, going by the name of El Fondouk, was run by two French brothers, Charles and Raoul Pagniet, and meeting them later she thought she had never seen two such complete opposites.

Charles, the one she had caught a brief glimpse of in the lounge, was plump with a round clean-shaven face, and a mass of tight black curls. Raoul was tall, incredibly thin, with a balding head and a thick black moustache, but whatever their outward appearance they apparently shared the same jolly nature and sense of fun.

In the bar, with Charles tapping his plump fingers on the counter, and Raoul pushing glasses along its chipped surface, they recited endless experiences of life in a desert hotel. Their antics and gesticulations said much more than mere words, which was just as well, for they talked most of the time in voluble French. Julie felt as though she had a front seat at a variety theatre and laughed until her eyes shone with tears. Clay lay back, a drink in his hand and a lazy smile on his face.

Later he showed her the entrance to the hotel, with its inscription in Arabic on either side, and told her it had once been an ancient hostelry for camel caravans. From the courtyard he led her to an upper terrace where the roofs were washed in the pink pearl of afternoon sunlight, and as they watched a young woman a short distance away hung washing on a line. With a slight turn of her head she saw she was being observed and stepped discreetly back into ^he shadows, only half a garment hanging.

Julie waited eagerly for her to appear again, hoping to get a better view of the golden-skinned heart-shaped face and majestic carriage, but Clay smiled and led her away.

"The ladies of Jalna prefer not to be seen. All but the lower"*social caste keep to the rooftops."

"A town without women," Julie pondered. "What a restricted life they must lead."

"They're happy enough. They exchange gossip after dark by singing in a language that only they understand. You'll probably hear them tonight sending messages from quarter to quarter discussing our arrival in Jalna."

As they walked along the dusty road in front of the hotel Julie saw that Murray's Land Rover had gone. Following her gaze, Clay commented lazily,

"Purnell had to pull out," and then with an attempt at a smile that somehow fell short and presented instead a sour line he added, "I'm to tell you he hopes to run into you again some time."