I pulled on a pair of shorts, a sweater, and my sneakers, carefully sliding my still swollen foot into the shoe, and crept down the stairs, my handbag with its unpleasant contents over my shoulder. If I'd thought I could slink out undetected, I was mistaken. The staff was setting up for breakfast, and Sylvie waved cheerily to me. Several members of the group were already up, Catherine reading a romance novel in the lounge, a cup of tea at her side, and Cliff at the front desk asking if the previous day's International Herald Tribune had come in. Emile stood at one of the bay windows, just looking outside. From the upstairs hallway I could hear Jimmy railing away at some issue that concerned him, his wife quietly murmuring by his side. "We're still setting up, but we can get you a coffee," Sylvie called to me.
Despite the tempting aromas of warm croissants, pain au chocolat fresh from the oven, and hot coffee, I had my insalubrious task to accomplish before I could indulge. "Thanks, but I'm going for a morning constitutional," I told her. "I'll be back soon."
"Don't tell me you are getting into this jogging," Sylvie said disapprovingly.
"Ah, Lara," Briars said from behind me. I started at the sound of his voice, the notebook in my shoulder bag making me nervous. "Sorry to startle you," he said, as I turned to speak to him. He was accompanied by the young man I had seen the previous evening. "I was just about to leave you this note. Can we talk privately for a minute?"
"Good idea," I said. There were things I wanted to say to him, too.
"I'm sorry to do this, but I have to leave for a few hours. Hedi here--sorry, have I introduced you two? This is Hedi Masoud, Lara. He's the supervisor at the project I've been working on, and has been filling in as director in my absence. Hedi, this is Ms. McClintoch." We shook hands briefly. "Hedi has just told me about a problem at the site which requires my attention," Briars continued. "I've talked to Jamila: She's perfectly capable of doing the guiding we need this morning. It's just the scenic tour of Cap Bon. I'll rejoin you at the Punic city site, Kerkouane, this afternoon to explain that to everyone. I'm sorry about this. I really am, but it can't be helped."
"That's fine, Briars," I said. "As long as you meet us at Kerkouane by about two, it won't be a problem. There is one thing, however, I'd like to talk to you about," I added, drawing him aside a little so that Hedi couldn't overhear us. I realized I was still very angry with Briars. "About that rather unpleasant conversation you were having with Rick Reynolds last night . . ."
"I was afraid you'd overheard that. It won't happen again, I can assure you," Briars said.
"But--" I wanted an explanation.
"It won't happen again," he said firmly, and turned away. It appeared our conversation was at an end. Annoyed, I would have liked a fuller explanation of his behavior, but with the task at hand preying on my mind, I just watched him leave with Hedi, and then continued out the door to do the evil deed.
It was just about dawn, a sliver of pink on the horizon, and the haunting chant of the muezzin for the first call to prayer drifting across the town from the mosque's tower. I shivered a little in the cool of the morning, then stepped out briskly, looking the part of a morning exercise enthusiast. I'd gone only a few steps when I met Aziza, returning to the hotel. It surprised me that everyone was up, but of course, I was the one who had told them we would be on our way early that day. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" Aziza said. "And this is such a delightful spot. I must go and wake Curtis. He's missing the best part of the day."
Didn't she think that Curtis might need a little more beauty sleep after all that wandering about late at night? She must know he'd been out. They were in the same room. An unbidden thought surfaced: Perhaps she was drugged up to her lovely eyeballs, and wouldn't have a clue as to whether her husband was in their room or not. I dismissed the idea with some annoyance. That was the trouble with people like Kristi Ellingham, wasn't it? They dropped these ugly little hints, allegations that would never have occurred to you, and then suddenly you found yourself looking for evidence that would support them. Aziza wasn't on drugs. Anyone on the tour could tell you why she was so slim. She didn't eat. She was always just picking at her food, saying it was delicious, but that she wasn't terribly hungry. Anorexic, maybe, but no drug addict. Kristi was wrong. Not that anybody had seen the accusations but me, of course, and I shouldn't have. Get rid of that horrible diary, I told myself, just as soon as you possibly can. And forget everything that's in it, I added.
As I neared the gate, I looked about me very carefully. I did not, after all, need one of my charges to come running after me, telling me I'd dropped something. Nor did I want to see Briars. My righteous anger at his deportment of the previous evening wouldn't stand up very well if he knew what I was up to. Seeing no one, I tossed the notebook into a bush beside the path; then, without looking around, headed right out to the road toward town, testing my ankle, which I found, to my relief, much improved. As I reached the main street, I saw Nora streak by. She waved briefly as she churned past me and up the hill, barely breaking a sweat. Lagging far behind her was little Susie, her flaming-red hair now plastered to her head, her T-shirt clinging wetly and unflatteringly to her body, puffing slowly up the hill. I moved in beside her. "If Nora can do it, I can, too," she gasped. "Do you know," she said stopping abruptly, "Nora lost forty-five pounds in one year. Forty-five!" Susie exclaimed, wiping sweat out of her eyes. "Just by taking up jogging. She runs marathons now. That's twenty-six miles or kilometers or something, isn't it? Don't you think that's amazing?"
"Amazing," I agreed.
"She lifts weights, too. Have you seen her arms? And when she has so little time for it," Susie went on, gasping for breath. "Looking after Cliff all the time. She's devoted the last year of her life to him, you know, since his wife died. Cancer, the poor thing. She lingered for months. I'm glad that Arthur went so fast. It was a terrible shock at the time, what with him being so much alive one minute, and stone-dead the next. But better that than what happened to Cliff's wife. He was lucky to have Nora as a neighbor. They both were. She saw them through the last few weeks of the wife's life, moved right in with them to stay at her bedside day and night, and then took care of him, too, when he developed heart trouble. The strain of seeing his wife go, I expect. That's why she's always telling him to rest. She had to give up her job, you know, to care for them both. And her apartment. It can't be much of a life for her, I wouldn't think. She's at least twenty-five years younger than him. But she doesn't complain, I'll give you that. And he's promised to look after her. They have a legal agreement of some kind. She's moved in with him permanently. He has a really large apartment. She told me," Susie whispered, "it's strictly platonic, you know. The relationship. I asked her."
"You didn't!" I exclaimed, in spite of myself. This woman was incorrigible.
"I certainly did," she replied. "I had to, didn't I? I think my roomie is sweet on Cliff, and so I had to get the lay of the land. Oops," she giggled, putting her hand to her mouth. "Bad pun. Well, I better shove off. I'll never get thin talking to you. If she can do it, I can, too," she repeated. "Gotta get myself a new man, you know. Can't stay a widow forever. You don't think Arthur would mind, do you?"
"No," I replied. "I don't." Still, there was no question in my mind that Susie would do better to find a man who would appreciate her as she was, rather than one who would go for the more streamlined version that I suspected Susie might never become.