Scorpion Sunset (32 page)

‘Thank you, Abdul. It is a heavy loss to us all.'

‘A fine man and a fine English gentleman.'

Kalla touched Michael's sleeve. ‘I will go up and check the rooms.'

‘They have been cleaned regularly, Kalla. If anything is amiss come and find me.'

‘So you can beat the maids? No, Abdul,' she shook her head. ‘There's no need for me to trouble you, I will beat them myself.'

‘I will lend you my stick,' he shouted after her.

‘I have my own,' came back.

‘She is getting cheeky, that one,' Abdul said as Daoud disappeared into the back room and Kalla ran up the stairs. He pulled a chair out from ‘his' table for Michael, then clicked his fingers and a waiter appeared with fresh coffee, glasses, and brandy.

Michael looked through the window at the wharf. ‘There are more boats than usual berthed on the quayside.'

‘With General Maude demanding more and more supplies be sent upstream the river traffic's never been so heavy, except perhaps when the wounded are sent downstream after a battle.'

Michael lowered his voice. ‘You sent a message?'

‘Mitkhal is back in Basra. He called in last week and said he wanted to see you. Urgently.'

‘What did you tell him?'

‘That I could get a message to you, as I did. If I hadn't you wouldn't be here.'

‘Is Mitkhal staying here?'

‘No, at his brother-in-law Ibn Shalan's house.'

‘I don't know where that is.'

‘I do.'

‘You will take me there?' Michael knew just how careful most Arabs were to keep the whereabouts of their family secret from all but a few trusted people.

‘No. but I can get a message to him as I did you.'

‘Tell him I will wait for him here all day tomorrow.'

‘Not tonight?'

‘I need to visit Mrs Smythe and my sister. I have letters for them.' Michael opened his pocket watch and checked the time.

‘Do you want me to order you a carriage?'

‘Please. To be at the door in ten minutes.' He finished his brandy and went upstairs, knowing ten minutes in Abdul time equated half an hour to an hour of normal time. The door to his rooms was open and Kalla was laying fresh linen on the bed.

She turned as he came in and shut the door. ‘Do you want me to order a meal for later?'

‘Just for yourself. I'll probably eat with Angela and Georgie. They're bound to have a hundred and one questions about Peter and David.' He stripped off his shirt, tipped water into a bowl, and washed his hands and face. ‘I wish you would come with me. Angela and Georgie are dying to meet you.'

‘A native girl visiting military ladies, don't be silly. Even if the guards manning the compound gate allowed me through, Angela's servants would think it bizarre.'

‘Why? You're as good as my wife in all but name.'

‘Really?' she smiled.

He soaked a sponge in water, rubbed soap on to it, and started washing. ‘More of a wife than my British wife ever was.' He leaned over and kissed her. She pushed him playfully away.

‘You're wet.'

‘I should have taken more notice of the letters my brother Harry sent me after he married his Arab wife. As a race you're far more loving, understanding, and easy-going than English women.'

She handed him a towel. ‘I'll wait up for you.'

‘You don't have to.'

‘I want to.'

He finished drying and took the linen shirt she handed him. He looked around. ‘Where did I put those letters?'

‘If you mean the ones Major Smythe and Major Knight gave you, they're in here.' She opened his briefcase, took them out and handed them to him.

He glanced out of the window. ‘For once Abdul was as good as his word. The carriage is already here. See you later.'

She walked him to the door.

‘Lock it behind me.'

‘I will, but if there are any problems all I have to do I shout for Abdul or Daoud.'

‘See you soon.' He kissed her on the lips, a long lingering kiss he was reluctant to end. ‘I suppose I could visit Angela tomorrow …'

‘You promised Peter you'd see her tonight.'

‘Heartless woman.' He left.

Kalla locked the door behind him and leaned against it. There was knock at the door that connected with Daoud's room.

‘It's open, Daoud,' she picked up the sheets and carried on making the bed.

‘The cook is making lamb stew. Do you want me to bring some up for you?'

‘Please, and some bread flaps, and just enough for me. Michael has gone out.'

‘He has more energy than me, after three days of sailing downstream in rough water.'

‘You know Michael.'

‘Has he said anything to you about leaving me here when he goes back upstream?' she asked.

Daoud looked at her in surprise. ‘No.'

‘You're telling me the truth?'

‘I am, but if you have any doubts you should talk to him.'

‘You do know that the fighting will start again very soon?'

‘Everyone knows that the British Army is almost ready to advance, and as I can't see the Turks up and decamping to allow them through to Baghdad I think there'll be fighting.'

‘Michael says he doesn't want me near any battles. You would tell me if he said anything to you about leaving me here?'

‘No, I wouldn't, but Michael would.' Daoud adjusted his kafieh. ‘Michael's only really happy when you're with him, Kalla.'

‘You mean that?'

He smiled. ‘You'd be a fool not to believe it.'

Turkish Prisoner of War Camp

December 1916

John left the building that housed the senior officers, crossed the garden and entered the hospital. The kitchen door was open and Mrs Gulbenkian, Hasmik, and Rebeka were in there, washing the patients' evening tea glasses and dishes.

Hasmik ran to him and offered him a basket.

‘What have we here?' he asked lifting her in his arms.

‘Turkish Delight,' she giggled, ‘look, it's very good.' She took a piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

John didn't like the sickly cloying sweet but he smiled as he ate. ‘Did you make it, Hasmik?'

‘No the guard with a limp gave it to me. His wife made it.'

‘And you have eaten quite enough of it, little one. Any more and you will be sick. Time you were in bed,' Mrs Gulbenkian ushered the child towards Rebeka. ‘Say good night to Rebeka and Major Mason.'

Hasmik dutifully offered both of them kisses.

Mrs Gulbenkian picked up Hasmik. ‘I'll come down and finish the dishes after I've settled her.'

‘No, there's hardly anything left. I'll finish, it,' Rebeka volunteered. ‘Get a good night's rest. You look tired.'

‘Thank you, I am. Good night, Major Mason. See in the morning.'

‘Good night,' John called after them as he sat down.

‘Did you have a good game of chess?' Rebeka carried on washing and drying the tea glasses.

‘No, I lost three games to the colonel.'

‘You must give me a game sometime.'

‘You play? Why didn't you tell me?'

‘My father taught all of us to play. I was never as good as him although I could beat all my sisters.'

‘I'll check on Bowditch; if he's stable I'll get my set and board and we'll have a game now.'

‘You haven't had enough for one night?' she asked.

‘I'd enjoy playing someone I could beat.'

She laughed. ‘I meant to tell you when you came in but Hasmik couldn't wait to give you her Turkish Delight. When I took the orderlies tea earlier Private Williams told me that Lieutenant Bowditch's temperature had dropped to normal.'

‘That is good news. I hope it would. It was almost normal when I left. I won't be long.' John left the kitchen and toured the wards. Everything was clean, all the men were sleeping and Williams was sitting next to Bowditch's bed.

John examined Bowditch. ‘I thought Dira was on duty tonight.

‘Dira's been sitting here night and day, sir. Now Bowditch is finally showing signs of recovering I persuaded him to go to bed.'

‘Thank you, Williams. If Dira has fault, it's tendency to work himself too hard.'

‘Like you, sir?'

‘Like all the orderlies,' John corrected.

‘It's impossible to take it easy when the men need help, sir. Do you think Lieutenant Bowditch will recover now, sir?'

‘I hope so. The signs are good but it could be a long haul. Blood poisoning is the devil to get over. Is anyone relieving you?'

‘Corporal Baker at two, sir.'

‘I'll be round again before then, but if Lieutenant Bowditch wakes or there's any change in his condition come and get me. I'll be in the kitchen.'

‘Yes, sir.'

John went to his room, picked up the chess set and board a patient had made him, and returned to the kitchen. Rebeka had finished washing the dishes and set out two glasses of water and a plate of crackers. He put the cloth board and pieces on the table.

‘You and Mrs Gulbenkian have turned this room into a warm and welcoming domestic oasis.'

‘The orderlies like to come here, sir. It's somewhere for them to sit and talk when they have a few spare minutes.'

She opened the box that contained the chess pieces and looked at them.

‘Not your conventional set. One of my patients made it from two walking sticks so all the pieces are the same shape if not the same size. It's as well he drew pictures of what each piece is on the top or we wouldn't recognise them.'

‘But the set is perfectly playable,' she said seriously.

‘Perfectly,' he concurred, watching as she set out the board. ‘You can take white which in this case is red as he had no white paint.'

She set up the pieces and made the first move.

‘You must have been close to your father if he taught you languages and chess. Did he teach you anything else?'

‘Sketching, painting, literature, and music. He was passionately fond of music. We had a gramophone at home and he always spent more than we could afford, or so my mother said, on recordings.'

‘What did he like?'

‘Mozart, Beethoven, and the later composers like Chopin and Tchaikovsky.'

‘I can imagine your evenings at home, with literature and music, you sitting at the table making jewellery.'

‘I never worked at home, only in the workshop. We kept all the jewels and precious metal there.'

He moved a piece, and they played in silence for a few minutes.

‘Like my brother you're a careful player who places pawns meticulously. I, on the other hand am reckless.' He moved his queen out into the middle of the board.

‘How did you spend your evenings in England?'

‘Much the same as you, reading, talking, listening to music. Playing chess and other games. We had a billiards room and a room with a gramophone so the girls were always nagging the boys in the family to dance.'

‘Girls?'

‘My sister and my cousin.'

‘Sounds fun.'

‘It was. Our upbringings couldn't have been that different.'

‘Check.'

He looked down at the board. ‘I haven't been paying attention. No matter what move I make, you'll checkmate in three moves.'

‘My father was a good teacher, and you've had a long day and you're tired,' she said diplomatically. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?'

‘Not at this hour, but thank you for the offer.' He thought of the letters from Maud that were still waiting to be answered. ‘I have a few things to do in my room before I make my next round.' He watched her pack away the chess set. ‘You seem restless.'

‘I can't stop thinking about the future.'

‘Who knows what it holds for any of us.'

‘I can't imagine any kind of a future without my family. Yet I have to.'

‘Do you want to carry on making jewellery?'

She thought for a moment. ‘I was good at it.'

‘That's not the same thing as wanting to do it.'

‘It's a way of earning a living, but since Mrs Gulbenkian and I have been working with you and the orderlies and I've seen the difference we can make I've realised there are more useful things to do with my life than make jewellery.'

‘You've certainly made a great deal of difference to the men who've had to come in here.' He rose to his feet and without thinking held his arms out to her. She went to him and he hugged her.

Then she did something totally unexpected. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He looked down at her. Her eyes stared back into his. Dark, enigmatic pools that gave away none of her thoughts. She stood on tiptoe again, and that time he bent his head to hers and kissed her. She tensed in his arms and he suddenly realised what he was doing.

‘I am so sorry.' Overcome with remorse for taking advantage of the girl, John stepped back from Rebeka. ‘I have no excuse. I simply wasn't thinking. If I had I would never have kissed you.'

‘I shouldn't have kissed you, sir.'

‘After what you've been through you have every right to come to me for comfort. I took advantage of you, which is unforgivable.'

‘I …' tears started in her eyes.

‘Sir,' Private Williams opened the door. He stepped back surprised to see Rebeka there. ‘Didn't mean to interrupt, sir.'

‘You're not, Williams,' John hadn't meant to snap.

‘Lieutenant Bowditch is awake, sir.'

‘I'll be there now, Private.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Williams left and John looked at Rebeka who was standing at the sink, drying a clean tea glass. He reflected it wasn't the time to talk to her, not with Bowditch needing attention. He picked up his bag and left for the ward.

Chapter Twenty-two

Smythes' Bungalow, Basra