Part 27 (2/2)
”Who's there?” he demanded, reaching for his knife and realizing he didn't have it.
”Don't, don't hurt me! I'm sorry!”
She came out from behind a rosebush, an unidentifiable shadow in the darkness-but he had recognized her voice. At his shoulder Nefret said, ”h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation!”
”I'm not going to hurt you,” Ramses said in a strangled voice. He would almost have preferred armed attack to the embarra.s.sment that flooded hotly through him. How long had the wretched girl been hiding and listening?
”It was the cat,” Maryam said apologetically. ”I was just taking a walk, it's such a beautiful night, and he jumped at me, and I was startled and . . . I'm so sorry.”
The Great Cat of Re had followed her, his tail waving triumphantly. He had flushed an impressively large prey this time.
”No harm done,” Ramses said. ”But you shouldn't wander round alone at night.”
”I'm sorry. I won't. I only wanted-”
”Good night,” Nefret said.
”Good night.” She fled, stumbling, her hands covering her face.
The Great Cat of Re brushed against Nefret's foot, inviting admiration and praise. ”Oh, yes, well done,” she said. ”How much did she hear, do you suppose?”
”She'd have heard more if the cat hadn't taken a hand,” Ramses muttered. ”And seen more. I feel like a blithering idiot.”
”You didn't sound like a blithering idiot, darling,” Nefret said. ”But we may as well go in now.”
”Yes. d.a.m.n cat,” he added unfairly.
”He is a gorgeous creature, though.”
The Great Cat of Re preceded them into the house, taking his time, so that they had to wait, holding the door for him, and then headed toward the kitchen.
”Yes, he's beautiful. And the most useless cat we've ever owned. D'you want a nightcap or a gla.s.s of milk?”
A yawn was his answer. He laughed and encircled her waist with his arm. ”Come to bed, then. I'm ready to finish what I began, despite the interruption, unless you're tired. I almost wish you hadn't opened the clinic, you've been working too hard.”
”I love it, you know that. But dear old Uncle Sethos wears me out.”
”I thought you liked him.” He closed the door of their room. Nefret sat down at the dressing table and began taking pins out of her hair.
”I do. But when he's around I feel like a cat in a Cairo alley, trying to look in all directions at once. What was that saying of el-Gharbi's? He walks among naked daggers-and they follow him wherever he goes.”
”The same could be said of us. He's walked into our nest of daggers this time.”
She didn't answer. The quick, hard stroke of her hairbrush, and the way the long golden locks clung to her fingers told him she was in no mood for rea.s.surance or reason.
”When this is settled,” he began. A small silent voice in his head jeered, Oh, no trouble at all. Solve the murder of Martinelli, locate the missing jewelry, identify the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who sank Daoud's boat and the crazy woman who thinks she's Hathor . . .
”When all this is settled,” he went on, after a slight pause, ”why don't we get away for a few days, just the two of us?”
”And leave the children?” Nefret opened a drawer and took out a nightdress.
”They've got a dozen people looking after them.”
At that inopportune moment a hair-raising shriek split the silence. Nefret started violently and dropped the nightgown. Ramses s.n.a.t.c.hed up the s.h.i.+rt he had removed and slipped into it. ”I'll go,” he said. Charla was having one of her nightmares. The cries tw.a.n.ged directly into a parent's nervous system.
The children's nursemaid, Elia, slept in the same room. She was a competent young woman and the children both adored her; but she couldn't get through to Charla when the child was in this state. She was at the door when Ramses got there, wringing her hands in distress.
Ramses caught the screaming child up off her cot and held her tightly against him. She clung to him with hands like small claws, and the screams turned into sobs. ”Sssh,” he whispered. ”It's all right, sweetheart, I'm here.”
He had left the door open. Hearing hurried footsteps he turned, expecting to see Nefret. It was Maryam, her face drawn with concern. She hadn't paused to put on a dressing gown. The clinging silken nightgown must be one of Nefret's; it wasn't the sort of thing one would find in the wardrobe of a lady's companion.
”What's wrong?” she asked. ”I heard her-the poor little thing-what can I do?”
”Nothing,” said Nefret, pus.h.i.+ng past her. ”Go back to bed, Maryam, or put on some clothes.”
Her voice was, it seemed to Ramses, unnecessarily harsh. He smiled at Maryam. ”It was kind of you to rush to the rescue. As you see, she's all right now.”
Nefret went to Davy, who was sitting up in bed, his fair hair ruffled and his hands over his ears. He was a heavier sleeper than his sister and he resented being awakened by loud noises. When he saw his mother he took one hand from his ear and pointed at the window.
”Something she saw?” Ramses asked. ”Something looking in the window?”
He knew he wouldn't get an intelligible answer from either of them, but he kept hoping. It was only at times like this that the twins' slowness to speak really bothered him. Dream or not, the terrifying thing she had seen was real to her, and he could have dealt with it more effectively if only she could tell him what it was.
Davy was twittering helpfully and Charla, sobs reduced to snuffles, began to wiggle. She was over the worst of it now; the tight grasp and crooning rea.s.surances were what she wanted. He laid her back on the cot. Elia, smiling in relief, handed him a handkerchief. He wiped Charla's eyes and nose and brushed the tangled curls off her face.
”Tell Papa what it was,” he coaxed.
She told him, at length and with gestures. Something to do with the window. Her cot was under it, but surely she must have been dreaming; the aperture was barred and curtained.
Ramses drew the curtain aside and looked out. The window was unglazed, covered only by a loose netting to keep out insects. Moonlight bathed the distant cliffs and whitened the sandy waste that faced that side of the house. Nothing moved.
”All gone,” he said, bending over his daughter. ”I made it go away, and it won't come back, ever. Nothing can hurt you. Go to sleep now.”
He got a damp kiss (she was still leaking at eyes and nose) and a squeeze round the neck from Davy, who was now wide awake and ready to be sociable. He hugged his mother and held out his arms to Maryam.
”May I?” she asked timidly.
”Yes, of course,” Ramses said. ”I'm sorry you were disturbed.”
”I shouldn't have intruded,” she murmured. ”But her crying was so pitiful. I responded without thinking. Good night, darlings.”
All she got from Charla was a sleepy grunt. Davy was in a mood for conversation, but he submitted to having his mouth and eyes b.u.t.toned shut with the chuckles this game always induced.
The nightmares had begun only recently. According to Ramses's mother-the ultimate authority-a number of children suffered from them at this age, and got over them eventually.
Which was all very well, but Ramses realized there wasn't much chance of a romantic holiday while the nightmares lasted. He didn't flatter himself that he was the only one who could comfort Charla; it just happened that he had been first on the scene every time, and Elia, for all her admirable qualities, didn't understand that a tight grasp and a firm, rea.s.suring voice was what the little girl wanted. His father or David-or his mother-could probably act as effectively. However, it wouldn't be fair to ask any of them to sleep in a neighboring room while he and Nefret were absent.
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