‘Tamuz. I think.’
‘Ah, yes. Tamuz. Yes, I think he comes tomorrow.’
‘But some of the boxes are already here?’
‘That is so, Effendi. Most of them are already here. The ones Tammy brings are but a small part.’
‘It is a big load, then.’
‘A big load, as you say, Effendi.’
‘But all is in hand, then, is it?’
‘All is in hand, Effendi.’
The next day, at noon, when the sun was at its hottest and the huge encampment was still, Selim came running.
‘The men, Effendi!’
‘They have come?’
This first visit had obviously been in the nature of a reconnaissance. A man had come and nosed around. He had gone inside, Selim thought to the back of the temple, probably to the chamber he had pointed out to Owen. Then he had come out and stood waiting and then another man had joined him and they had both gone inside. Apparently what they had seen had satisfied them for, said Selim, they had both looked pleased when they reappeared.
They had stood there talking for a little while longer and Selim had crept forward behind the columns to eavesdrop. What they were discussing was speed. How quickly could it be done? They had wanted to be sure that it would not take long.
The first man had assured the other man it wouldn’t. The donkeys could be brought right up to the temple and even inside. They wouldn’t be exposed to the risk of being seen for more than a couple of minutes. The boxes could be unloaded and taken to the chamber. And if they were brought when it was getting dark the chance of being observed was even less. They could do their business and then slip away again undetected.
The second man had remained uneasy. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘Are they good marks? Or the work of the Devil? I mean, this place is … It’s not exactly holy, is it?’
‘It wasn’t holy when they built it. It was built in the days of the Giants and they didn’t know God’s word. Our people came along later and sort of took it over. The old caravans used to pass close to here, at Kuft. And what I reckon happened was that they looked at this place and thought it ought to be made decent. So they painted our signs up there.’
‘Yes, but are they our signs?’
‘Oh, yes. You can see that. There’s the moon and the stars — all the signs of the heavens! The work of the sages.’
‘In line with the Koran?’
‘Oh, definitely!’
‘This must be a holy place, then.’
‘Oh, it is. That’s what I’ve been telling you. Put up by our holy men to show that the place was now decent. And that means it’s all right for us to put our things here.’
‘I suppose it does, yes.’
‘And at the same time it keeps people off.’
‘Well, it would.’
‘Giants and sages! That’s a pretty powerful combination.’
‘I’m not that keen on it myself.’
‘That’s just my point. No one is. So the boxes will be all right.’
‘Has the boss seen it?’
‘Came here himself just to take a look.’
‘And he thought it was OK?
‘Just the place,’ he said. Mind you, there was a bit of a worry. There was a kid around when he came and he didn’t like that. He worried that she might have seen something or heard something. But Ali said, “What could she have seen? There weren’t any boxes here then.” “Yes, but she might have heard something,” says the boss. “What could she have heard?” asked Ali. “And would she have understood anything?”
‘But the boss still fretted about it. He’s like that, you know. Worries about everything. Doesn’t like to leave anything to chance. Wanted to know who this girl was. “Maybe we ought to do something about her,” he said. I think, as a matter of fact, he did do something about her.’
‘He didn’t …?’
‘No. Just saw that she was taken care of. But then it went wrong somehow. And now he’s worried about her again. Thinks we ought to do something. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for her.’
‘Well, I haven’t seen any signs of a kid.’
‘Nor have I. But I’m just telling you. In case you do see her.’
EIGHT
Mahmoud’s daughter, Maryam, went to school. This was uncommon even among his colleagues at the Parquet. Having themselves got where they were by education, they were all in favour of it for their own young. For their sons, that was. Even among the relatively liberal Parquet lawyers, valuing of education and ambition for their offspring did not extend as far as educating their daughters, too.
Or in any case, only a bit. When their daughters grew old enough for their fathers to notice their existence and to start planning for their marriages a few of them were sent to special European-style finishing schools so that they might not be totally boring to their husbands when they got married, who were also likely to be bright Parquet lawyers.
Mahmoud, however, thought differently. Only the best was going to be good enough for his children, male or female, and he meant to see that right from the start they received an education along progressive Western lines. There were in Cairo one or two kindergartens chiefly for the children of well-to-do Europeans. It was to one of these that he decided to send Maryam.
When he learned what it was going to cost him he almost changed his mind. Young Parquet lawyers, no matter how bright, were not highly paid. Aisha, however, his strong-willed and equally liberal wife, who was just becoming aware of some of the arguments about the ‘New Woman’ that were currently occurring in France, did not agree. Equality of the sexes had to begin very early — indeed, from birth — and her adored Maryam was certainly going to receive as good an education as any brother.
Mahmoud, logical to the last, had to admit the force of this point of view: so Maryam went, hand in hand with her mother, to the kindergarten every morning.
And where she went, could not Leila go too? Or so Zeinab thought. Aisha was not sure about this. Leila was an adorable child, but was she as capable of benefiting from advanced education in the way that her own perfect daughter certainly would be able to?
And then there was the question of cost. Owen was barely richer than Mahmoud and Leila, damn it, was not even their daughter. Zeinab hadn’t the faintest idea about money except that she knew Owen hadn’t got any; so she applied, as she usually did, to her father. Nuri Pasha didn’t know much about money either — he left all that sort of thing to his steward — but he did know that he had less than he thought he did. However, he was interested in the latest French fashions when it came to ideas. He had brought up Zeinab very much au courant with them and had made no difference between her and his son, a decision much assisted by the fact that he couldn’t help noticing that Zeinab was about twice as bright as her brother.
So he saw no reason why Leila shouldn’t be educated, and the fact that she was the next best thing to a slave’s daughter was no problem to him. Hadn’t Zeinab’s own mother started off as a slave? And she had developed into the most beautiful courtesan in Cairo. It may be that Leila could do the same! She was a bright little girl, according to Zeinab. Why not? Stranger things had happened. So he didn’t mind paying for Leila to go to the kindergarten; it could even be looked upon as an investment.
So off now went Leila every morning, hand in hand with Maryam, usually with Aisha or Zeinab but sometimes with Musa’s wife in attendance.
The warehouse clerk and the Greek were by now great buddies. Rare was the morning when Georgiades did not drop in to take the clerk round the corner to the coffee house they favoured. The clerk felt that he was doing the Greek a good turn by lending a sympathetic ear to his tales of marital woe; and, besides, as he confessed to Georgiades, there wasn’t much happening in the warehouse at the moment. ‘But it will all be different next week,’ he said.
‘How’s that?’
‘Well, Clarke Effendi is returning and bringing with him many goods, which will all have to be put in their right places and accounted for — and, no doubt, there will soon be billing to be done.’