The mist gradually lightened and a gleam of warmth softened the blackness of the mountain sides. A wind sprang up, the mist swirled streamers over our heads, and then abruptly it cleared and we were in bright sunshine. All the wet, glistening landscape of rock smiled at us. But above and behind us the sky was black with storm.
And then we saw the bus. It was caught on a bend far below us. The sound of its engine, revving violently, came up to us faintly on the wind, an angry sound like a buzz-saw. But we lost it almost immediately in the roar of a small avalanche of stone on the other side of the gorge.
‘The sooner we’re out of these mountains the better,’ Jan panted.
We had reached the section that had only just been repaired. All along under the cliff face little cascades of rock had built themselves up into small piles and the outer edge of the new-made piste was already sliding away into the gorge. Kasbah Foum was picked out in sunshine as we had first seen it and from far below came the steady, insistent roar of water.
We finally found the bus at the next bend. It had slewed half across the track, its wheels deep in mud. Karen was kicking rocks under the spinning tyres as Julie revved the engine. The engine died away as they saw us coming down the track towards them. Karen stood quite still, almost breathless, as though she couldn’t believe it was true.
Jan had stopped. I glanced back over my shoulder. Bilvidic and his assistant weren’t in sight yet. They knew we couldn’t escape. ‘Listen, Philip.’ Jan gripped by arm. ‘I’m going back to Kasbah Foum. The whole valley is cut off now. It may be several days …’ He was staring down towards Karen. ‘In two days we might have that shaft opened up.’
‘That won’t do you much good,’ I said. ‘Not now.’
‘Who knows?’ He looked up at me and he was smiling. He seemed suddenly to have found himself. It was as though at this moment, with his wife standing there waiting for him to come to her, anything was possible. ‘I’ll take Karen with me,’ he said. ‘At least we’ll have a little time together….’ He glanced back up the track. The rain was closing in again and visibility was lessening. Then he started down towards the bus. ‘Karen!’ he called. ‘Karen!’
She came running to meet him then. They were both running and he was calling her name and she was answering him, her eyes shining, her face suddenly quite beautiful. They met in the rain and the mud there and he caught her in his arms, hugging her to him.
And then they parted, almost guiltily, as though they hadn’t a right to be so happy. They stood there, looking at each other a little shyly, their hands locked, talking quietly.
I turned away, looking down towards Kasbah Foum. I could just see the top of the watch tower. The tumbled rocks of the mountainside would be hard going. Then the rain swept over the tower, blotting it out. ‘You two had better get going,’ I said. ‘It’s a goodish way to the camp.’
‘Oh, we’ll make it before dark,’ Jan answered. He said it as though he were going on a picnic, his voice was so full of happiness.
‘What do you want me to tell Bilvidic?’
‘Tell him Monsieur Wade has gone down to Kasbah Foum.’ He laughed, but I knew he meant it. He was looking up at the curtain of rain that was sweeping over us and there was an obstinate set to his mouth. Then he called to Karen who had run back to the bus and was speaking urgently to Julie. Jan ran down to her and took her hand, and together they crossed the Piste and dropped on to the steep slope of the mountainside.
‘Don’t forget, please,’ Karen called back to Julie.
In a moment the two of them had disappeared into the driving mist of rain. ‘What happened up there?’ Julie called out to me from the cab of the bus. ‘Couldn’t you get through?’
I climbed in beside her and was in the middle of explaining to her about the crash and the piste being washed away when a voice hailed us out of the rain. It was Bilvidic. He was panting and his thinning hair was plastered down by the rain. ‘Where’s Wade?’ he demanded, his eyes searching the roadway and the limited area of mountainside visible in the downpour. He wrenched open the door of the bus. ‘Where is he?’ he demanded angrily.
‘He’s gone to Kasbah Foum,’ I told him.
‘I don’t believe you. Why should he do that? He cannot go down the mountain in this weather. Georges!’ His assistant came running and he ordered him to search the vicinity. ‘The fool!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘He cannot go far in this rain. He cannot sleep on the mountain.’ He looked at Julie. ‘And where is Madame Kavan? Why is she not with you?’
I started to explain, but Julie stopped me. ‘She’s not very well,’ she told him. ‘She’s resting.’
‘Where?’ Bilvidic demanded suspiciously and he began to climb into the bus.
‘Non, non, monsieur,’ she said quickly. ‘I cannot allow you to disturb her. She is lying down on my bed in the rear compartment. She is quite exhausted, poor thing.’ And then she added, ‘It was a great shock to her to discover that that man is not her husband. She had hoped … You understand, monsieur?’
Bilvidic nodded, clicking his tongue sympathetically. ‘Of course, mademoiselle. I should have realised.’ He jumped back on to the piste and began to walk up it, shouting, ‘Wade! Wade!’
I turned to Julie then. ‘Why did you say that, about Karen?’
‘She asked me to. Bilvidic would be suspicious if he knew she’d gone off to Kasbah Foum with a man who is supposed to be a stranger to her.’
‘It’s madness,’ I said.
Julie shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was what she wanted, anyway.’
That meant it was what Jan wanted. ‘So he’s determined to go through with it,’ I said and leaned back in the seat, staring at the water streaming down the piste and wondering what would be the end of it all. The storm was passing now and in a moment there was a gleam of sunshine. Bilvidic abandoned the search then. ‘He cannot get out of the valley, unless he walks. And if he does that one of the Military Posts will soon be notified.’ He stood for a moment staring down towards Kasbah Foum. Then he turned abruptly. ‘Now we will go back to the Post. I must phone the Chef de Territoire.’
With him guiding me, I started to back the bus down the hill. There was no room to turn and I had to go on backing until we reached the level sand at the foot of the mountains. And there we bogged down. The piste was a sea of mud, and even the sand beside it was impassable, for it was layered with two inches of glutinous paste that filled the treads of the tyres.
Finally Bilvidic left with his assistant for the Post. It was beginning to get dark and Julie and I watched the two Frenchmen go, sitting in the bus in our stockinged feet, thankful we hadn’t got to trudge three miles through that mud.
We spent the night where we were, and in the morning the sun shone out of a clear sky. The air was clean and fresh after the rain. We did the chores and then sat around waiting for the piste to dry, not talking much, just enjoying the sense of being alone. It was the first time Julie and I had been alone together and I think we both felt that these were precious, stolen hours. ‘You might have been in Casablanca now,’ Julie said once. ‘I loathe Casablanca.’
Everybody loathes Casablanca. The thought of the place emphasised the clean beauty of this desert country. The fact that we were cut off here gave it an unreal quality. I glanced at her, seeing the smooth, clear-cut line of her features, the black hair swept back and softly curving to her shoulders. She looked as fresh and sparkling as the day. ‘When we’ve got ourselves out of the mess we’re in, I’d like to come down here again and travel through this country.’