The Desert Castle (5 page)

H
is head shot round to look at his niece.
‘
Marion? How come you
’
re so highly favoured
?
’

L
ucasta managed a tired smile.
‘
The impertinence of youth,
’
she said.
‘
I didn
’
t bother to ask her, but she can hardly go on being Miss Shirley if we
’
re to have any fun together.
’

‘
Brat,
’
her uncle said with real affection.
‘
What makes you think I didn
’
t ask to have you
?
’

L
ucasta
’
s eyes shone.
‘
Did you
?
’

‘
Yes,
I
did. I thought you
’
d be better off roughing it in the desert with me than sitting in that house in London waiting for your eighteenth birthday. Besides, you
’
re old enough now to keep out of my way when
I
’
m working. I won
’
t have my routine disturbed—even for you
!
’

‘
Tell that to Marion,
’
Lucasta laughed at him.
‘
Isn
’
t that what
sh
e
’
s here for? That
’
s what Mother told her, along with her usual lecture not to get ideas about snaring her defenceless little brother.
’

‘
And how did you take that
?
’
Gregory asked Marion drily, dr
umming
on the back of the front seat with his fingers.

M
arion sat up very straight.
‘
I wondered that your sister should
think
it necessary under the circumstances.
’

‘
What circumstances
?
’
he asked blandly.

L
ucasta said calmly,
‘
She means Judith
!
’

‘
Oh, that
!
’
Her uncle sounded more than a little amused.
‘
You ought to know, Miss Shirley, that Judith Cameron is a friend of my sister
’
s. I see her sometimes when I
’
m in London, but any plans for our marriage remain strictly in the fertile imagination of my sister Felicity.
’

‘
But, Gregory, you have to admit you said Judith is the most luscious piece Mother has found you yet. She dotes on you, you know she does
!
’
Lucasta challenged him.

‘
She
’
s charming,
’
Gregory smiled.

‘
Don
’
t you love her at all
?
’
Lucasta pressed him, disappointed.

‘
I enjoyed her company—in London. Hothouse flowers should never be transplanted from their own environment, though. Their brilliant colours fade and even their perfume is apt to disappoint.
’

L
ucasta chuckled.
‘
Poor Judith. I hope you let her down lightly
?
’

‘
That, infant, is something you
’
ll never know. I fancy we understand one another.
’

I’
ll bet! Marion thought. She forgot that she hadn
’
t liked the sound of Judith Cameron when she had been told about her in London, and burned with indignation
on her behalf. Apparently Gregory Randall didn
’
t care whom he hurt as long as he got what he wanted. Well, he needn
’
t look at her! In fact he
’
d better not come anywhere near her, or she
’
d teach him a lesson he wouldn
’
t forget in a hurry!

‘
Are you getting out, Miss Shirley
?
’

M
arion started and leaped to her feet, hitting her head on top of the door.
‘
I didn
’
t mean for you to call me Miss Shirley all the time,
’
she mumbled, confused by the inelegance of her arrival.

‘
I can wait until you ask me to be less formal,
’
he taunted her.
‘
Have you your passport? They
’
ll need it at the desk for tonight. You
’
ll get it back tomorrow before we leave.
’

S
he surrendered it without a murmur, hardly aware that she had done so, for there, directly opposite the entrance to the hotel, was a complete Roman theatre, looking magnificent in the floodlighting.

‘
Is that real
?
’
she asked dreamily.

‘
Of course,
’
Gregory said.
‘
Amman is a very old city. It
’
s the Rabbath Ammon of the Bible, the capital of the Ammonites. It was when David sent Joab against the Ammonites that he arranged to have Uriah the Hittite killed in the heat of the battle so that he could seize his wife Bath-Sheba for himself. Then Alexander the Great came this way; and the Romans, and the city came to be known as Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love. And then in
modern
times King Abdullah, the present King
’
s grandfather, made it his capital and called it Amman.
’

‘
Oh yes,
’
said Marion, smiling,
‘
I remember now. Moses went up against Bashan, and Og came out against him. “For only Og king of Bashan remained of the remnant of giants; behold his bedstead was a bedstead of iron; is it not in Rabbath of the children of Ammon? Nine cubits was the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it—
” ’

‘
Highly exaggerated, no doubt,
’
Gregory cut her off.
He put his hand beneath her elbow and hurried her up the steps and into the hotel.

‘
You would think so
!
’
she said crossly.
‘
I don
’
t suppose you believe in giants—
’

H
e put his hand on the top of her head.
‘
Nor in the power of the little people
!
’
he assured her.
‘
Go and sit down over there with Luca
s
ta and I
’
ll see about our rooms and order some
drinks
for us. What will you have
?
’

S
he eyed him thoughtfully, about to protest at this overbearing behaviour. Instead, she shrugged.
‘
I
’
ll have a fruit juice,
’
s
he said.

‘
Nothing stronger
?
’

S
he shook h
er
head. She walked across the reception area to where a number of tables were laid out, each one surrounded by its complement of chairs. Lucasta had already chosen a
s
eat facing the entrance and Marion sat down opposite her, pushing her chair back into position after the rough handling it had received at Gregory
’
s hands.

‘
Mother would be pleased with you,
’
Lucasta told her with an impudent grin.
‘
One would almost think you didn
’
t like him.
’

‘
You
’
ve all spoilt him,
’
Marion repressed her.
‘
It
’
s quite obvious no one has said no to him about anything all his life. No one should have their own way all the time.
’

T
he first indication
sh
e had that he might have overheard her was when he slapped her drink down in front of her and sat down negligently between the two girls. She turned her face away from the steely glint in his navy-blue eyes, hoping that he would ignore her.

‘
I
’
ve booked you into adjoining rooms with a bathroom to yourselves. I
’
m just down the corridor if there
’
s anything either of you want
.
’

‘
Thank you,
’
said Marion, still not looking at him.

‘
What could we want
?
’
Lucasta demanded.
‘
We
’
re not helpless
!
’

‘
You might find a scorpion in the bath,
’
he said casually.

M
arion looked at him then all right
.
A scorpion!
That she could not face by herself. She couldn
’
t even face up to a tiny spider that she knew wouldn
’
t do her any harm, let alone a scorpion!

‘
Do you get many scorpions in your castle
?
’
she asked him in a voice that trembled.
‘
Or any other creepy-crawlies
?
’

‘
I
’
ve learned to cope with them,
’
he answered.
‘
No doubt it
’
s been good for me to have to fend for myself. Insects are no respecters of persons.
’

‘
I don
’
t think I could,
’
Marion confessed, swallowing hard. She suspected he was getting his own back, but she couldn
’
t be quite sure. He couldn
’
t have known that the mere sight of a spider was enough to reduce her to jelly.

‘
Well, you only have to call and I
’
ll come,
’
he said, and his mouth relaxed into a blinding smile that caught her well below the ribs and made her wonder if it was only the thought of scorpions and their like that could knock the stuffing out of her.

Marion had to admit that Gregory Randall had looked after their comfort pretty well. She couldn
’
t fault the standard of their rooms, or the appetising dinner that was
s
erved to them in the dining-room downstairs. He had even waited patiently while she and Lucasta had exclaimed over the souvenirs that were on sale in the small boutique at the foot of the stairs. Lucasta had wanted to buy everything in sight, including an elaborate model of the Golden Mosque in Jerusalem, the Dome of the Rock, where Abraham is believed to have made his sacrifice to the Lord, and the place from which the Prophet Mohammed made is nocturnal ascent into Paradise. Marion gently dissuaded her, turning her attention to the carved figures in olive wood made by the Christian Arabs of Bethlehem.

‘
But I want something from Amman,
’
Lucasta had protested.
‘
I
’
ve quite made up my mind
!
’

‘
Then you
’
d better think what it is going to be over dinner,
’
Gregory had insisted. And it had been he, in the end, who had chosen a small piece of Bedouin jewellery for them both, and who had paid for them too.

Indeed, Marion was quite sorry in the morning when Gregory brought his T
o
yota Landcruiser round to the front of the hotel, telling his niece to wipe the sleep out of her eyes as, while it did feel like six o
’
clock to her, in his book it was already gone eight and it was time for them to be away.

By daylight, Amman looked even more untidy than the night before. Small specialised shops lined the fantastically steep streets that climbed up and down the seven main hills of the city. In places there were breaks in the houses to reveal a sandy cliff which had not yet been built up, and everywhere there were television aerials; receiving not only Jordanian programmes, but from Syria, Lebanon, Israel, and Saudi Arabia as well. Marion thought the disordered charm of the place was an elusive quality that she would never be able to describe to her mother when she wrote to her. What could one say? That here one could still look into the crowded shops and see tailors making bespoke suits, and shoemakers actually making shoes by hand in their doorways. It lent an old-fashioned note to streets that were as remote from the supermarkets and department stores of the West, as was the almost complete absence of women from the scene.

It didn
’
t take them long to leave Amman and Zerqa, the only industrial town in the country, behind them. Ahead stretched the desert turned to gold in the early sunlight, though the soil was more pink than brown or yellow in colour, and this was intensified in the distant hills, Slashed by blue and purple shadows which gave away how far away they really were. It seemed one could see for miles in any direction. Mile upon endless mile of wilderness: no wonder the desert was supposed to be so satisfying to the spirit
.