A Canopy of Rose Leaves (6 page)

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ Roger demanded. ‘Have you no sense, Deborah Day?’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘Where
on earth did you spring from?’ she gasped.

‘I was passing by when I saw you,’ he answered grimly. His hold on her arm was of a bruising strength and didn’t relax at all no matter how she wriggled to free herself from his grasp.

‘I’m surprised you recognised me—’

He laughed harshly. ‘I’d recognise you anywhere!’

‘I don’t see how.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But you have to admit that everyone looks alike wearing one of these things. Even Maxine!’

‘Not to a man,’ he said with quiet certainty.

‘But—’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, girl, don’t be so naive! I’d know you from the way you walk, and the way you hold your head, and the way your feet are shaped—’

‘I don’t believe you!’

His grip became a little less severe. ‘Do you always fly in the face of the evidence of your own senses?’

Deborah rubbed her arm defensively. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I’ll bet! But that hasn’t answered my first question, has it? What did you think you were up to, going to the Shah Cheraq on your own? You might have caused a riot I Did you think of that?’

‘I wanted to see it,’ she said defiantly.

‘Isn’t that a rather childish reason?
You
wanted! What about the wants of the people who revere the shrine and don’t want it desecrated by the presence of unbelievers?’

‘They shouldn’t be so fanatical,’ she muttered. ‘Anyway, they didn’t all mind. The Mullah said he didn’t object himself!’

‘And how did you find him?’ he asked in withering tones.

Deborah rubbed her arm again. He had no right to question her actions and, if she had had any sense, she would have pointed this out to him in a calm, adult manner that would have shown him once and for all that she was no child to be berated by him. It was silly to be hurt by his displeasure.

‘I nearly kicked him in the face when he was saying his prayers.’ She sounded quite as cross as he did.

‘And you came out alive? Your guardian angel must have been working overtime! Little fool!’

‘He was very nice,’ Deborah said, lifting her chin to show that she was not easily going to be squashed by him. ‘If he didn’t complain, I don’t see why you should,’ she added pugnaciously.

‘Then I’ll explain it to you,’ he bit out. He became aware that she was not listening to him but was searching the crowded street around them, and made an impatient sound. ‘I’d prefer to have your whole attention when I do, though—if that isn’t too much to ask?’

‘I can’t see Maxine anywhere!’ she exclaimed.

‘Were you expecting to? It’s something she had enough sense to wait for you outside. At least one of you listened to my warning—’

‘No, she didn’t! Really, why should she? Why don’t you mind your own business? We can manage quite well without you, thank you very much!’

For a wild moment she thought he meant to strike her, but all he did was to take her arm in his again and lead her with more firmness than she liked up the street towards the back entrance to the bazaar.

‘We can’t leave here!’ Deborah protested. ‘I have to find Maxine first!’

‘When she can manage quite well by herself?’

‘Don’t be absurd! Anything might have happened to her! The Mullah said someone had been put out of the shrine and I’m sure it must have been her! Only she’s not here, so where is she?’

‘Wherever she is, it’s her own fault!’ he retorted. ‘I told her clearly enough for an imbecile to understand that life is different here and she couldn’t do just as she pleased, when she pleased, as seems to have been her habit in California. I even got Howard to tell her that she had to be careful—’

‘
Howard
? You must be mad! If Howard told her not to do something, it would be the very first thing she would do! He may be her brother, but he has the most disastrous effect on her even when he’s not telling her what to do!’

Roger was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘And what’s your excuse?’

‘
Mine
?’

‘Whose attention were you trying to attract? I can’t believe that Howard has the same unfortunate effect on you, so who were you trying to impress?’

Deborah couldn’t believe her ears. She felt suddenly weak at the knees. She told herself it was reaction after her adventure at the shrine.

‘Well?’ he prompted her.

‘I wasn’t trying to impress anyone!’ she denied, although she didn’t sound particularly convincing to her own ears. She tossed her head, losing all control over her
chador
and swept it back angrily, making bad worse, for then it trailed in the dust behind her.

Roger took it from her, lifted it off her shoulders and folded it neatly into a small, square parcel that he tucked away under his arm.

‘No?’ His tone was disbelieving. For some reason
she came
closer then to losing her own temper with him than at any time during their encounter.

‘No! Why should I? I certainly wouldn’t try to impress you, Mr. Derwent, because I already know what you think of me. If you want to know, I was trying to be obliging, no more than that! And give me back my
chador
!’

‘Yours? It isn’t right for your image, my dear. I prefer you without it.’

‘You
prefer—?’ She felt deprived of breath. The sheer impertinence of it! ‘What are you going to do about finding Maxine?’ she demanded.

The corners of his mouth kicked up into a smile. ‘Nothing. What would you have me do?’

‘We can’t just abandon her!’

‘Why not? Under the same circumstances she would undoubtedly abandon you to make your own way home. You don’t have to worry about Maxine.’

She came to an abrupt halt, digging in her heels with a suddenness that made him take a step backwards too. ‘That’s just the sort of beastly thing you would say!’ she cried out. ‘You don’t like anybody but yourself and you can’t be bothered to make any effort with people who happen to like you—unless they’re a walking encyclopaedia of useless knowledge. You don’t care if they’re
nice,
and if they have feelings that can be hurt, or just a bit silly! Well, let me tell you, they may be silly, and female, and not a bit clever, but they know much more about living and life than you do!’

He put his head on one side, his face expressionless and his light grey eyes veiled from her by his lashes. ‘Like yourself?’ he suggested smoothly. ‘Do you know all about life, Deborah Day?’

She stared back at him, then swallowed. ‘Me?’

‘I thought not,’ he went on drily. ‘You don’t know the first thing about it. You ought to know better than to make speeches just for effect, my girl. Did Ian teach you nothing at all when you thought you were engaged to him, or are you a slow learner?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she whispered.

‘I’m warning you that where I’m concerned you should mind your step, or you’ll learn more about life than you’ll like. Now are you coming?’

She hesitated, her eyes wide. ‘Where to?’

An exasperated look broke up the serious lines of his face and he smiled at her. ‘I ought to take you home, but I have an hour or so before I need to leave you. I thought you might like a cup of tea?’

‘If you’re sure you can spare the time,’ she shot back at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘I shouldn’t want to upset your priorities—’

‘
Deborah!
Another word and you’ll get a great deal more than you bargained for! Or is that what you want?’

She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. ‘I want to wait for Maxine,’ she told him. ‘I’m worried about her. Besides, she’d be upset if you were to have tea with me and not ask her as well. You know she enjoys your visits, yet you didn’t come the other evening. She was terribly disappointed.’

‘I doubt that. Maxine and I understand one another far too well for such wasted emotion.’ He looked amused. ‘You can’t tell me that she hasn’t got half a dozen men trailing after her hoping for a kind word?’

Deborah shook her head. ‘Only Reza—and he doesn’t count.’

‘Why?’ he laughed. ‘No, don’t answer that. He comes round to see you, not Maxine, and you try to pretend that he doesn’t.’

‘I don’t have to pretend,’ she denied. ‘He’s nice, but he could never be special as far as I’m concerned. He’s promised that he and his mother will teach me Farsi.’

‘His mother? That sounds serious,’ he said.

She shook her head again. ‘His mother’s an American. Better still, she has a lot to do with the Qashgai tribes and Reza is taking us out to meet her. I’m hoping she’ll put me in the way of some business. I need a break like that. It’s difficult to get things going without any previous contacts.’

‘I know her,’ Roger said with disapproval. ‘Your Reza must be Dr. Mahdevi. How did you meet him?’

‘At the
chai khane
in the square by the bazaar.’

His hand closed about her arm again. ‘Then I shan’t take you there now,’ he said. ‘I know of another place that I infinitely prefer.’

‘What’s the matter now?’ he asked when she fell behind, intent on her own thoughts.

‘I’m not sure I ought to go with you,’ she told him. ‘All I seem to do is annoy you—’

‘Yes, and you know why!’ he retorted.

‘But I don’t!’

He turned and faced her. ‘I could slap you—’ he began. Then he broke off and his expression softened. ‘I keep forgetting how young you are,’ he said, and it didn’t sound like a compliment. He made her sound like an adolescent and not a very bright one at that! ‘Growing up can hurt like hell—and I don’t want to hurt you, Deborah. But don’t trade on my good nature, there’s a love. I’m not used to denying myself any of the goodies that your sex cares to offer me, especially when they’re as pretty as you are!’

‘I grew up a long time ago!’

He dismissed that as easily as if she had been the child he thought she was. ‘You’ve hardly begun,’ he said with a sudden smile.

‘I’m as old as Maxine—’

‘And?’

And nothing! Her heart missed a beat and then made a rush to catch up. ‘And I’m no more foolish than she is,’ she said.

‘Which isn’t saying much,’ he told her.

‘As a professor you ought to make a better teacher than Ian,’ she went on. ‘If you think I have so much to learn, why don’t you teach me?’

He strode down the street without answering and she had to run to catch up with him. Even then he didn’t wait for her. He turned to the right inside the rear entrance to the bazaar and she thought he meant to take her straight home after all. But then he turned sharply left, down one of the narrowest streets Deborah had ever seen. She was afraid she would lose sight of him altogether and ran the harder, tripping over the uneven ground. He disappeared into a doorway on the right-hand side and she stumbled after him, down some steps and through a blanket-covered doorway which led into a dimly-lit room that was full of clutter of every description. It was quite unlike any
chai khane
she had ever seen.

She hesitated in the entrance, uncertain of herself and still a little afraid of him. She looked about her and her eye fell on some illuminated Korans locked away behind the glass doors of a casement bookcase.

‘Oh, they’re beautiful!’ she exclaimed. She crossed the room in a rush to see the delicate brushwork that lit the pages the better. ‘They’re not very old, but they’re very fine! I wish the light was better. One can’t see much, can one?’

He was looking at her and not at the Korans. ‘Do you know anything about Perso-Arabic calligraphy?’ he. asked her.

‘A little,’ she acknowledged. ‘Not nearly enough. I wish I knew more.’ She smiled at him over her shoulder. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are being able to read it and everything. All I can do is admire it as an art form, which is something, but I’d love to be able to write it myself!’

‘If you stay around for long enough, I’ll teach you,’ he offered. For a minute she wasn’t sure if he were serious. His negligent attitude told her nothing and it was too dark to see the expression in his eyes.

‘I’d like that,’ she said a little shyly. ‘I was trying to learn something about it in London by myself. I know that in the eleventh century there were six basic styles of writing in common use. Aglam al-Sitta, the six hands, they were called.’

‘And can you recognise any of them?’

She shook her head sadly. ‘I can recognise Kufic—’

‘But that isn’t one of the six. Can you recognise Ta’liq and Nasta’liq? They didn’t appear until the fourteenth century, but by the fifteenth and sixteenth Nasta’liq became the predominant style in use in Iran. It derived from Ta’liq.’

‘Ta’liq,’ she considered. ‘Oh, yes, I do know it! A “hanging” script with short thin verticals and broad horizontals. I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘Quite right,’ he agreed. ‘You seem to have taken in something about the subject after all.’

‘Well, really!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m not a complete fool!’

‘No?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘I’m a fool to rise to your bait. I don’t think I want you to teach me about it after all.’