Flora's War (4 page)

Fa had a competitive gleam in his eye. Each season, he and Professor Travers had a bet running as to who would uncover the most interesting objects from their excavations. Last year, Professor Travers had won with an intact funerary statue of a high official from the pharaoh’s court. Fa was on his mettle this year.

Mrs Travers turned to me. ‘Flora, I wonder if you’d be willing to help with a little project of mine,’ she said. I glanced at Gwen. I knew Mrs Travers’ little projects of old. They were often improving, educational visits to museums and libraries. Gwen raised her shoulders slightly. Clearly, she hadn’t been warned about this one.

‘If I can,’ I said warily. ‘What is your little project?’

‘Lady Bellamy is setting up a committee of British ladies to help the soldiers,’ explained Mrs Travers. ‘She has asked if I can suggest some ladies to staff a rest and recreation centre for soldiers.’

I knew of Lady Bellamy. She was married to a high-ranking British officer and was very much a social leader in Cairo. ‘The soldiers need rest and recreation?’ I asked.

‘They do indeed,’ said Mrs Travers. She was clearly enthusiastic. ‘Lady Bellamy wants men on leave to have the opportunity for
wholesome
rest and recreation when they come to Cairo. Some pleasant place where they can play sports, write letters, read magazines and newspapers and borrow books. A place to have tea and conversation with British ladies, rather than –’ Mrs Travers stopped short, glanced sideways at Gwen, and coughed.

‘Rather than what, Mama?’ asked Gwen, innocent as a kitten.

‘Rather than frequenting bars and being cheated in the bazaar,’ said Frank. He gave Gwen a warning look.

‘Yes. Exactly. Rather than, uh, things like that.’ Mrs Travers looked at Frank gratefully. ‘Lady Bellamy has procured a pavilion in the Ezbekieh Gardens suitable for the purpose,’ she went on. ‘Would you be willing to help, Flora? Most of the soldiers are a long way from home, and they’re very young.’ She turned to my father. ‘Of course, the girls would be suitably chaperoned at all times.’

‘Well, I suppose,’ I said. I looked at my father. ‘But I do have work on the excavation.’

Mrs Travers rode over my objections. ‘Oh, it would only involve a morning or two a week. I’m sure your father can spare you for that.’ She smiled at Fa sweetly. ‘You will have no objection, will you, Mr Wentworth?’

It wouldn’t really have mattered if he had, I thought. Mrs Travers was highly experienced in getting her way. And it seemed she was very keen on assisting Lady Bellamy.

‘Did you know about this?’ I muttered to Gwen when I could.

Gwen shrugged again. ‘It’s a new scheme to me,’ she said. ‘But Mama only had tea with Lady Bellamy today, they must have discussed it then. I rather wish she’d
ask
me before she gets me involved in these schemes, but she always wants to please Lady Bellamy and keep in with her crowd.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll ask Frank sometime exactly what unwholesome activities the soldiers get into, the ones Lady Bellamy wants to save them from.’

‘Do you think he’ll tell you?’

Gwen giggled. ‘Probably not. But it’ll be fun watching him trying
not
to tell me.’

‘I wonder if the soldiers actually want to be saved from their unwholesome activities,’ I said.

‘I wouldn’t expect so. Tea and conversation sounds awfully slow to me,’ said Gwen. ‘Maybe no soldiers will come to the rest and recreation centre and we’ll have nothing to do. They’ll all be too busy having a good time doing who-knows-what.’

That seemed likely to me. Whatever the soldiers got up to, I was sure it had to be more entertaining than tea and magazines and polite conversation with heavily chaperoned girls.

When we’d finished dinner, we all moved out onto the terrace. Professor and Mrs Travers, Frank and Fa sat down in cane chairs around a low table, and a waiter brought coffee. Gwen and I strolled towards the far end of the long terrace, watching the lights shivering and trailing across the surface of the river as dusk deepened.

‘It’s lovely to be back here,’ sighed Gwen. ‘Just think, it’d be freezing in Boston.’

‘It’s cool here, too,’ I pointed out. The temperature had dropped sharply from the warmth of the day and we were both glad of the light shawls we’d wrapped around our shoulders.

‘Yes, but it’s not cape-and-galoshes-and-gloves cold,’ Gwen said. Suddenly, she stumbled. I caught her arm to steady her. ‘Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!’ Gwen apologised. I looked down and saw she’d tripped over a pair of boots sticking out from a tall cane settee with a protective sun hood over it.

‘Damn!’ a woman’s voice said.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Gwen went on. ‘I just didn’t see you. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, no, not at all,’ the voice said. ‘And I can’t blame you for not seeing me. I didn’t mean to be seen!’ The person the voice belonged to was moving hurriedly in the darkness. She seemed to be trying to hide something. What
was
she doing? I wondered, intrigued. A small light appeared and a wisp of smoke curled around us. In the light of a match, a young woman’s face looked up at us.

‘Oh!’ said Gwen. There was a long pause. ‘You’re a girl,’ she said. ‘And you’re
smoking
,’ she added accusingly.

The face lit up with a broad smile. ‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ the girl said. ‘Isn’t it utterly shocking?’

‘You’re Australian, aren’t you?’ I said, noting the sober grey dress. ‘And you’re a nurse?’

‘Sssh,’ the girl hissed. ‘Don’t tell the whole world! Why do you think I’m down here in the dark? If I get caught smoking in public I’ll be on the next boat home before I can blink. Look, just stand in front of me, will you, while I finish this?’

‘Oh. Oh, of course,’ I said. Gwen and I moved between the girl and the people at the far end of the terrace. She drew deeply on her cigarette and looked up at us again.

‘You’re Australian yourself,’ she said to me. ‘But you’re not,’ she said to Gwen. ‘American?’

‘Boston,’ confirmed Gwen. She watched, fascinated, as the girl took another puff and blew a cloud of scented smoke. ‘Look, uh, could you – that is –’

‘Yes?’ the girl said. ‘What?’

‘Could you teach us to do that? Please?’

The girl threw her head back and laughed. ‘I could,’ she said. ‘But I doubt your parents would be pleased. You are here with your parents, aren’t you? How old are you?’

‘We’re sixteen!’ I said indignantly. ‘And we’re very modern girls!’

The girl laughed again. ‘Oh, well, in that case,’ she said. She glanced down the terrace. No one was watching. No one was near us.

‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Quick.’

We sat down beside her on the settee, our backs to the terrace, and watched her breathlessly. The girl pulled a small silver case from her pocket. Gwen and I looked at each other. She had a real cigarette case of her own!

The girl held it out to us. Inside was a row of cigarettes encased in pastel-coloured paper: blue, pink, lemon and lavender. A faint scent of dusky rose came from the case.

‘From Paris,’ the girl said. ‘They’re French.’

How sophisticated! Carefully, Gwen and I took one each.

The girl demonstrated how to hold the cigarette between our fingers and how to put it to our lips. ‘As I light it, draw in,’ she said. ‘Just a little, mind.’

I was so tentative I was surprised my cigarette caught alight at all. I held it nonchalantly between my fingers as I’d seen the girl do. ‘Um, now what?’ I asked.

‘Just draw on it, not too deeply or you’ll choke the first time. Then blow the smoke out.’

We followed her instructions and managed to avoid choking and coughing. We blew the smoke out delicately.

‘There you go!’ the girl said. ‘You’re smoking!’ Then she frowned at us mockingly. ‘But I must warn you it’s not at all a ladylike habit!’

‘Thank you, we’ll remember that,’ I said, triumphantly blowing out a small cloud of rose-scented smoke.

The girl laughed again. ‘I’m Lydia Herschell from Newcastle,’ she said. ‘I’m here with the Australian Army Nursing Service. And you are?’

We told her our names, and shook hands.

‘And what are you doing in Cairo?’

We explained about our families and the work our fathers did.

‘So you’ve been travelling here for years?’ said Lydia. ‘How marvellous! This is the first time I’ve ever been overseas.’

‘What do you think of it?’ I asked.

Lydia made a face. ‘I joined up because I wanted to nurse wounded Australian soldiers. All I’ve come across are cases of malaria, measles and pneumonia. Oh, and a few thrilling cases of tonsillitis.’

‘What did you expect?’ Gwen asked.

‘When we left Australia we thought we might be going to France and we knew there’d be plenty for us to do there. We were on the ship and halfway here, though, when we were told we were going to Egypt. We weren’t happy, I can tell you. There’s very little for us to do here.’

‘What do you do, then, when you aren’t looking after measles and tonsillitis?’ I took another puff on my cigarette. Smoking was really very easy, I decided. Nothing to it.

‘Oh, we’re having a good time,’ said Lydia. ‘I haven’t been here very long, but I’ve been to Shepheard’s, as you can quite obviously see, and to that Luna Park place to roller-skate and go on the water splash ride. I’ve been shopping in the bazaar, and I’ve seen the pyramids and the Sphinx. But we didn’t come here to have a good time! We came to work.’

A shadow fell across us. We all looked up, startled. Frank stood over us with folded arms. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘And just what might you be up to, Gwen?’

Both Gwen and I caught our breaths in horror, drawing in great lungfuls of smoke. We coughed and choked and gasped.

Lydia, laughing uncontrollably, took the cigarettes from our hands and threw them into the river. She pounded our backs. ‘I’m afraid I’m leading these young ladies down the slippery primrose path,’ she said. ‘I take it you’re a relation?’

‘Gwen’s brother,’ said Frank. ‘And I don’t think Gwen needs anyone to persuade her onto a slippery, primrose path. She’s more than capable of finding the way all by herself.’

Lydia stood up and held out her hand. ‘Lydia Herschell,’ she said. ‘Are you an archaeologist?’

‘I hope to be,’ said Frank. ‘I’m Frank Travers.’

‘Interesting work,’ said Lydia. ‘I wonder – do you let people visit the place where you’re working? Some of my friends and I are very keen to see a dig.’

‘Not often,’ said Frank. ‘My father really prefers to keep visitor numbers down. Tours interfere with the work, you see.’

‘Frank!’ said Gwen. ‘That’s not very gracious.’

Gwen and I had stopped coughing, though our eyes were still streaming. Frank handed Gwen a handkerchief. ‘You’d better mop up,’ he said. ‘Before Ma sees you.’ He turned back to Lydia. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming. But, you know, I’m a student, and it’s not really my site.’

‘Oh, not to worry,’ said Lydia cheerfully. ‘I’m sure I’ll get to see one.’ She glanced down the terrace. A group of nurses and young Australian officers stood near the doors. A nurse waved in our direction. ‘It seems my party is preparing to go,’ Lydia said. ‘I’d better join them.’ She turned to Gwen and me. ‘I hope you don’t get into any trouble,’ she said. ‘Just stay here for a minute and the breeze will blow the scent of smoke away. And remember, for the future –’ she grinned suddenly ‘– smoking really
is
a very unladylike habit. Goodbye.’

She moved away. Frank hesitated, then went after her, reaching into his breast pocket. He caught up with her and they talked for a moment. He handed her something and Lydia smiled and went to join her group.

‘What did you give her?’ Gwen wanted to know when Frank came back.

‘My card,’ said Frank. ‘I felt bad. I’ll try to see if I can arrange for her to see Pa’s excavation. It’s just you know how he is about visitors.’

‘If it’s a problem, I’m sure she can visit Fa’s excavation once he gets going,’ I offered. ‘He’s all right with visitors. Usually.’

‘Thanks,’ said Frank. ‘I’ll let you know if she gets in touch. Mind you,’ he looked at us severely, ‘I’m not sure she’s a proper person for you to be associating with – encouraging you to smoke!’

‘She didn’t exactly encourage us,’ I said. ‘We might have, um,
pressured
her a little. Did you know she could get sent home if she’s caught smoking in public?’

‘And she’s a
nurse
, Frank!’ said Gwen. ‘How can you say glorious, ministering angels like nurses aren’t proper people for us to associate with? Especially,’ she whispered loudly to me, grinning at Frank, ‘if they’re pretty ones, like Lydia.’

‘Oh, I give in!’ said Frank, grinning back. ‘It won’t stop at smoking with you, I know. Next you’ll want me to convince Ma to let you cut your hair short and wear your dresses up above your ankles, like the girls in New York.’

‘Well, actually, now that you
mention
it …’ said Gwen.

We strolled back down the terrace, arm in arm, perfectly in accord. Every time I saw Frank and Gwen together I realised how much I’d missed by not having brothers or sisters. I loved being able to join in Gwen and Frank’s easy, joking, friendly relationship.

The group of officers and nurses was just leaving. ‘Goodbye, Lydia,’ I called after her. ‘I hope you have lots of real work soon.’

The nurses and officers looked back at us and laughed.

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ someone said.

Chapter 4

Fa was positively itching to get started on his excavation. It was a third dynasty tomb, which meant, I knew, that it dated from the Old Kingdom period, about four-and-a-half thousand years ago. Giza plateau tombs from the Old Kingdom period were built in mastaba style; flat-topped, rectangular buildings with sloping sides, usually constructed of mud brick or, less often, of stone.

‘As it is stone I am hoping that the tomb may have been built by a member of the royal family,’ Mr Khalid said as we drove across the Giza plateau. ‘A lesser member, of course, not a pharaoh. But at the very least, it will have belonged to a member of the nobility.’

‘I’m expecting some significant contents,’ Fa said, his eyes lighting up.

‘Hopefully,’ said Mr Khalid. From his position in the front seat, beside Mr Hussein, he glanced back at us. ‘Miss Flora is looking very interested,’ he observed.