'It is very old. More than three thousand years. From the time of a king who is hardly known, Tutankhamen.'
For a moment the angle of the boat changed and the shadow of the sail fell across them. She gave an involuntary shiver.
'Open it.' His voice was very quiet.
Slowly she reached for the knotted string which held the paper closed. Untying it she let the string fall. The paper crackled faintly 60.as she pulled it away. Inside was a tiny blue glass bottle. With it was a sheet of old paper, crumbling with age, covered in Arabic script. 'It is glass. From the 1 8th dynasty. Very special. There is a secret place inside where is sealed a drop of the elixir of life.' Hassan pointed to the piece of paper. It is all written there. Some I cannot read but it seems to tell the story of a pharaoh who needed to live for ever and the priests of Amun who devised a special elixir which when given to him would bring him back to life. It was part of a special ceremony. The story on the paper says that in order to protect the secret recipe from evil djinn their priest hid it in this bottle. When he died the bottle was lost for thousands of years.'
'And this is it?' Louisa laughed with delight.
'This is it.' Hassan's eyes had begun to sparkle as he watched her pleasure. 'Then it is truly a treasure and I shall keep it always. Thank you.' She looked up at him and for a moment their eyes met. The seconds of silence stretched out between them, then abruptly Hassan stepped back. He bowed and turned away from her.
'Ha ssan -, Louisa's voice was husky. The name came out as a whisper and he did not hear her.
For a long time she sat still, the little bottle lying in her lap, then at last she picked it up. It was little taller than her forefinger, made of thick opaque blue glass decorated with a white, twisted design and the stopper was sealed in place with some kind of resiny wax. She held it up to the sunlight, but the glass was too thick to see through it and after a minute she gave up. Slipping it into her watercolour box, she tucked it safely into the section where the brushes and water pot lived. Later in her cabin she would put it away in the bottom secret drawer of her wooden dressing case.
Picking up her brush again, she turned back to her picture, but she found it difficult to concentrate. Her thoughts kept returning to Hassan.
61.Anna laid down the diary and glanced at the slatted shutters over the window. The boat had given a slight shudder. Then she heard the steady beat of the engines. climbing to her feet she went to the window and pushing back the shutter she opened it. Already they were moving away from the bank. She watched the strip of dark water between the boat and the shore widen slowly then the note of the engines changed and she felt the steady forward thrust of the paddle wheels. They were on their way. She stood for several minutes watching the luminous darkness, then leaving the window open she went back to her bed and sliding under the cotton quilt she picked up the diary again. So, the bottle lying there in her bag, had originally been a gift from Hassan. And what a gift! It wasn't a scent bottle at all. It was some kind of ancient phial, a holy artefact from the time of Tutankhamen, whose tomb of course had not yet been discovered in Louisa's day, and it contained nothing less than the elixir of life! She shuddered. For an instant she was back in that dark inner burial chamber looking down at the mummy case of the boy king and she remembered how she had become instantly and totally aware of his body lying there before her, and how she had dropped her bag and the bottle - virtually at his feet.
Pulling the quilt more closely under her chin she picked up the diary again, soothed by the gentle rumble of the engine deep in the heart of the boat, and she began to read on.
62.
That night, dressed in her coolest muslin Louisa lingered at the saloon table after Augusta had retired to her cabin. Sir John raised an eyebrow. 'We sail as soon as the wind gets up a little. The reis tells me that should be with the dusk. The wind comes in off the desert then.' He reached for the silver box of cheroots and offered it to her. Louisa took one. She had never smoked before coming to Egypt. To know how shocked her mother-in-law would be to see her was enough reason. The scandalised lift of Lady Forrester's eyebrow had been a second. With a silent chuckle she leant forward and allowed Sir John to light it for her.
'Can I ask you to translate something for me?' She reached into her pocket for the paper which had been wrapped around the little bottle.
Sir John took it. Leaning back he inhaled deeply on his own smoke and rested it on a small copper ashtray. 'Let me see. This is Arabic, but written a long time ago, judging by the paper.
He glanced at her for a moment. 'Where did you say you found this?'
She smiled. 'I didn't. One of the servants found it in the souk with a souvenir he bought for me.'
'I see.' He frowned. Laying it down on the table he smoothed out the creases and peered at it in silence for several moments. Watching him, Louisa could feel her first casual interest tightening into nervous apprehension. He was frowning now, a finger tracing the curling letters over the page. At last he looked up.
'I think this must be a practical joke. A piece of nonsense to frighten and amuse the credulous.'
'Frighten?' Louisa's eyes were riveted to the paper. 'Please, will you read it to me?'
He was breathing heavily through his nose. 'I needn't read it exactly. Indeed it is difficult to decipher all of it. Sufficient to say that it seems to be a warning. The item it accompanies -' he looked up at her, his blue eyes shrewd - 'you have that item?'
63.'A little scent bottle, yes.' 'Well, it is cursed in some way. It belonged once to a high priest who served the pharaoh. An evil spirit tried to steal it. Both fight for it still, apparently.' His face relaxed into a smile. 'A wonderful story for the gullible visitor from abroad. You will be able to show it to people when you go back to London and watch their faces pale over the dinner table as you recount your visit to Egypt.'
'You don't think it's serious then?' She tapped ash from her cheroot onto the little copper dish.
'Serious?' He roared with laughter. 'My dear Louisa, I hardly think so! But if you see a high priest on the boat, or indeed any evil djinn, please tell me. I should very much like to meet them.'
He moved his chair closer to hers as he laid the paper down on the table between them. 'There are real antiquities to be bought if you have the contacts. I could arrange for some to be brought to the boat when we return to Luxor. There is no need for you to send servants to the bazaar.'
'But I didn't -' She bit off the words before she could finish the sentence, realising suddenly that it would not be wise to tell Sir John that the bottle had been a present from her dragoman.
He leant closer to her. 'I have been looking at some of your watercolours.' He nodded towards the corner of the cabin where she had left a folio of sketches. 'They are very good.'
It was extremely hot in the cabin. She could feel the heat from his body so close beside her; smell his sweat. She edged away from him. 'That is kind of you to say so. And yes, I should like it if it were possible to have some antiques brought to the boat. I have as you know very little spending money, but if I saw something I liked I could at least sketch it.'
He let out a roar of laughter. 'First rate! Good idea! I shall look forward to seeing you do that.' His hand came down on top of hers, suddenly, as she rested it on the table and he gave it a squeeze. 'First rate,' he repeated.
Louisa pulled her hand away, her anxiety not to offend him fighting with her desire to stand up and put as much distance as possible between them.
A sound in the doorway made them both turn. Jane Treece stood there, her eyes on the table where, a moment before, their hands had lain together on the piece of paper with its Arabic script.
'Lady Forrester wondered whether Mrs Shelley would like me 64.to help her get ready for bed.' The voice was a monotone. Cold. The woman's eyes strayed to the ashtray where Louisa's cheroot lay, a thin wisp of smoke rising up towards the cabin lamp hanging from the ceiling beams.
'Thank you.' With some relief Louisa stood up. 'Forgive me, it has been a tiring day.' She moved away from the table, her black skirts rustling slightly. She could feel Sir John's eyes on her and her face grew hot again.
'Your note, my dear.' He picked up the piece of paper and held it out to her. 'You had better keep it safe. Your grandchildren will no doubt enjoy the story.
Anna stopped reading for a moment. Beneath her she could feel the steady movement of the boat as it forged its way south. In the diary Louisa too was making her way over exactly the same stretch of river, heading towards Esna and Edfu. With her scent bottle. A scent bottle with a curse, haunted by evil djinn. In spite of the heat of the cabin Anna shivered.
She lay looking up at the shadows on the ceiling thrown by the small bedside light, the diary propped open on her chest. What had happened to that piece of paper with its story, she wondered.
Her eyes wandered over towards the little dressing table, where she had left her bag. It was dark there; she could just see the outline of the mirror, the glass faintly echoing the light the lamp threw onto the ceiling. She stared at it sleepily and then suddenly she frowned. Deep in the mirror had she seen something move? She caught her breath as a shaft of panic shot through her. For a moment she couldn't breath. She gripped the quilt tightly to her chest then she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. This was nonsense. She was dreaming, frightened by a fairy story. She pushed herself up against the pillows and groped for the switch to the main cabin light as the diary slid to the floor with a crash. In 65.the harsh clarity the overhead lights threw on the scene she could see clearly that there was nothing there. The key was still in the cabin door. No one could have come into the room. Her bag was lying untouched where she had left it - or was it? Still trembling with shock she forced herself to push her feet out from under the sheet and, standing up, she went over to the dressing table. Her bag lay open, the scent bottle in full view on top of her sunglasses. Cautiously she touched her scarf. It had been wrapped round the bottle in the bottom of the bag, she was sure of it. Now the scarf lay across the dressing table, a swathe of fine scarlet silk against the dark-stained wood.
She stared at it with a frown. Across the silk lay a scattering of some kind of brown papery stuff. Curious, she reached out to touch it and rubbed some of it between her fingers. Then she swept it to the floor. Under the scarf lay the hairbrush she had used before she climbed into bed, the hairbrush she had taken from her bag last thing before she rezipped it and put it on the shelf. She was sure of that too. She had closed it and put it away. She glanced round. There was nowhere for anyone to hide in the room; nowhere. She threw open the shower room door and rattled back the curtain, still damp from her shower only a couple of hours or so earlier. She looked under the bed, she shook the door handle. It was firmly locked. But already she knew there was no one there. How could there be?
With another shiver she made her way over to the bed and bent down to pick up the diary. It had fallen open when it hit the floor, cracking the spine lengthways. Forgetting the scarf she ran her finger sadly over the leather. What a shame. It had lasted so long undamaged and now it had been broken. It was as she was preparing to climb back into bed that she noticed that an envelope lay on the floor where the diary had fallen. She bent to pick it up and saw that the strip of sticky brown paper with which it had been stuck in the back of the diary had torn away. The thick woven paper told her at once it must be contemporary with the diary and turning it over she saw a crest embossed on the flap. It depicted a tree with a coronet. She smiled. Forrester? Had it been she wondered part of the stationery they used on the boat? Forgetting her fright in her curiosity she opened it. Folded inside was a flimsy piece of paper. Already she had guessed it was Louisa's Arabic message.
66.If you see a high priest on the boat, or indeed any evil djinn, please tell me.
The words from Louisa's entry echoed for a moment in her head.
A high priest who served the pharaoh .. . an evil spirit . . . both fight for it still Anna found that her hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, she put the paper back in the envelope and opening the drawer in the bedside table slotted it into her slim leather writing case.
Climbing back into bed and pulling her feet up under her she drew the covers up to her chin. The cabin was cold. A stream of sharp, night-scented river air came in from the open window.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and resting her chin on her forearm, she shut her eyes.
She sat there for a long time, her eyes straying every now and then to the bag still lying on the dressing table. At last she could bear it no longer. Climbing to her feet again she pulled the little bottle from the bag. Holding it in her hand she stared at it for a long time, then reaching down her suitcase from the top of the cupboard she rewrapped the bottle in her scarf, put it in the suitcase, tucking it into an elasticated side pocket where it would be safe, closed the lid, turned the key and hefted the case back into place. Helping herself to a glass of water from the plastic bottle on the table she stood for several minutes sipping the cold water, staring out at the blackness of the night as it drifted by, then snapping off the main cabin light she climbed back into bed.
Louisa was not sure what had awakened her. She lay looking at the ceiling in the darkness, feeling her heart thumping against her ribs. She held her breath. There was someone in her cabin. She could sense them standing near her 'Who's there?' Her voice was barely more than a whisper but it seemed to echo round the boat. 'Who is it?' Sitting up she reached 67.with a shaking hand for her matches and lit her candle. The cabin was empty. Staring into the flickering shadows she held her breath again, listening. Her cabin door was shut. There was no sound from the sleeping boat. They had moored as night fell, against a shallow flight of marble steps, where palms and eucalyptus trees grew down to the edge of the river. Water lapped against the steps and in the distance, against the fading twilight she had seen the outline of a minaret.
A sharp crack followed by a rattling sound made her catch her breath. The noise had come from the table in front of the window. It sounded as though something had fallen to the floor. She stared at the spot, straining her eyes in the candlelight then, knowing she would not rest until she had looked more closely, she reluctantly climbed out of bed. She stood for a moment in her long white nightgown, the candle in her hand, staring at the floor. One of her tubes of paint had fallen from the table. She picked it up and stared at it. The slight movement of the boat as it lay against its mooring must have dislodged it and allowed it to roll from the table. Her eyes strayed to Hassan's scent bottle. She hadn't seen him to speak to since he had given it to her that afternoon. While she dined with the Forresters he had been sitting on the foredeck with the reis, smoking a companionable hooker, both men deep in conversation.
She had tucked the piece of paper with its Arabic warning into an envelope and slipped the envelope into the back of her diary. Joke or not, the message made her feel uncomfortable.
The little bottle was standing on the table with her painting things. She frowned. She had surely tucked it into her dressing case? She remembered distinctly doing so before dinner. Perhaps Jane Treece had moved it when she tidied away Louisa's muslin gown and, not recognising it, had assumed it was part of her painting equipment. She reached out to pick it up and at the last moment hesitated, almost afraid to touch it. What if it were true? Supposing it was three or four thousand years old? Supposing it had been the property of a temple priest in the days of one of the ancient pharaohs?
Drawing in a quick deep breath she picked it up and taking it back to her bed she sat down. Leaning back against her pillows, the little bottle cradled between her palms, she lapsed into deep thought, her imagination taking her from the high priest who followed the scent bottle, to Hassan. Why should he have given her 68 a present at all? She pictured his face, the strong bones, the large brown eyes, the evenly spaced white teeth and suddenly she found herself remembering the warm dry touch of his hand against hers as he passed her the flaring torch in the tomb in the valley. In spite of herself she shivered. What she had felt at that moment was something she had never thought to feel again, the intense pleasure she used to feel at the touch of her beloved George's hand when he glanced at her and they exchanged secret smiles in unacknowledged recognition that later, when the children were asleep, they would keep an assignation in his room or hers. But to feel that with a comparative stranger, a man who was of a different race and one who was in her employ? She could feel herself blushing in the light of the candle. It was something too shocking, almost, to confide even to her diary.
Anna awoke to find the sunlight flooding across her bed from the open window. The boat was still moving and when she climbed to her feet and went to look out she found a breathtaking view of palms and plantations streaming steadily by. For a few moments she stood still, transfixed, then she turned and pulling off her night- shirt she headed for the shower.
Toby was just sitting down to breakfast as she arrived in the dining room. 'Another late arrival? I believe most of the others have already finished. Please, join me.' He pulled out a chair for her. 'This morning we go to the temple of Edfu. I gather we will be arriving fairly soon.' He beckoned the waiter with his coffee pot over to the table as Anna sat down. 'You look tired. Did the Valley of the Kings prove too much of an exciting start?'
She shook her head. 'I didn't sleep well.'
'Not sea sick, I trust!'
She laughed. 'No, though I must admit I noticed the movement. It did feel odd.' She reached for the cup.
69.'I expect it disturbed you when we went through the lock at Esna. It must have been some time in the early hours. It certainly woke me, but not enough to make me want to go up on deck and watch.'
She shrugged. 'Would you believe, I missed that. No, actually I was reading Louisa's diary until late and I think it gave me nightmares. I kept waking up after that.'
'What on earth was she describing?'
'She was talking about a scent bottle which her dragoman bought for her in a bazaar. It had the reputation for being haunted.'
'The scent bottle or the bazaar?' His eyes crinkled rather pleasantly at the corners, she realised, although he kept all traces of laughter out of his voice. 'The bottle. I know it sounds strange. A haunted scent bottle!'
'What haunted it? A genie, presumably. They seem to favour living in bottles.' 'She called it a djinn. Is that the same thing?' She smiled, hoping that would show she didn't believe it herself, that she could laugh it off as he had.
'Indeed it is the same. How intriguing. Well, you mustn't let such imaginings disturb your sleep again. Perhaps you'd better not read such sensational stuff at bedtime.' He stood up, pushing back his chair. 'What can I get you from the buffet?'
She watched as he made his way across the dining room and picked up two plates. She saw him carefully select two of the largest croissants from the basket on the counter, then he was on his way back. 'We've arrived. Do you see?' Putting down the plates he gestured towards the windows. 'Just time to eat, then we'd better go and claim our places in a suitable caleche. We drive to the temple of Edfu in style.'
A line of four-wheeled open carriages, drawn by an array of painfully thin horses was drawn up on the quayside waiting for them, each driven by an Egyptian in a colourful galabiyya and turban. Beside each driver a long, formidable whip rested against the footrail. Every so often one was cracked loudly as the horses milled about, jostling for position. The shouting was deafening, as around the caleches and between the horses' feet a dozen little boys shouted for baksheesh, and urged the tourists towards their own particular choice of vehicle.
70.As they assembled on the quayside, Anna found herself standing next to Serena and it was with some relief she saw that they were both bound for the same caleche. She became aware that she had been scanning the crowds for Andy and Charley almost without realising it, but there was no sign of either of them; with them when they were finally settled into their seats were Joe and Sally Booth. Their driver, whose name, so he informed them, was Abdullah, could have been any age between seventy and one hundred and fifty, she decided as she quailed beneath his toothless grin. His skin was especially dark, gauntly drawn into deep creases and his missing teeth rendered his smile particularly piratical. Anna settled beside Serena with a fervent prayer that they were not going to be whisked off into the desert and never seen again. They set off at a canter, passing the other vehicles and heading into the centre of town where the horses challenged lorries and cars with no fear at all. Holding frantically to the side of the carriage Anna wished she had a hand free to take out her camera. There was something deeply primitive in this mode of transport which appealed to her greatly.
The caleche lurched into a pothole and Anna fell sideways against her companion. Serena laughed. 'Isn't it wonderful? I am so looking forward to seeing Edfu Temple. It's very special you know. It's not nearly as old as somewhere like Darnac which we shall see next week. It was built in the Ptolomaic period, but it is famous for its inscriptions and carvings and they were faithful still to the old Egyptian gods even in Roman times.
Anna found herself wishing suddenly she had spent less time reading up about the scent bottle and more on Louisa's diary entry on her visit here. As the caleche hurtled up the main street and over a crossroads she pictured Louisa and Hassan together in just such a conveyance. There was a shout from behind them. She turned in time to see another vehicle, drawn by a grey horse with hips that stood out like coat racks draw level with them. Its driver cracked his whip in the air above the horse's head and gave a shout of triumph as Andy leant forward to wave at them. 'Last one there pays for the beer!' His call rang in their ears as his caleche drew ahead.
Serena laughed uncomfortably. 'He's like a child, isn't he?'
Anna raised an eyebrow. 'I suppose you see a lot of him if he and Charley are together.'
Serena shrugged. 'Not that much. Not as much as Charley would 71.like.' She broke off and they both watched anxiously as a woman crossed the road in front of them, a watermelon balanced on her head. Abdullah cracked his whip just behind her with a malicious grin, clearly hoping to make her jump and she turned, melon still firmly in place, to shout and swear at him without losing an iota of poise and grace. It was impressive to watch.
'Aren't they wonderful?' Serena glanced at the camera which had finally appeared in Anna's hands now that they were in the thick of the crowds and the pace was less breakneck. She watched as Anna focused and pointed it at the departing woman. 'I wonder why we don't carry things on our heads. I don't know that it's ever been a western tradition, has it?'
'Perhaps it's the damp. Our belongings would get wet in the rain and we'd all develop arthritic necks.' Anna laughed. 'It could be a sign that global warming is with us for real - when all the people at the bus stop one morning put their briefcases and bags on their heads.'
Both women laughed. They fell silent again as a small boy passed them, a trussed turkey tucked beneath his arm. The bird's eyes were crazed. It was panting with fear. Anna raised her camera as Serena shook her head. 'I find it hard to cope with, the cruelty. That bird. These horses.
'They don't seem to actually hit them,' Anna put in. 'Most of the whip cracking is for our benefit. I've been watching. My guess is that they know jolly well it would upset the effete western tourists if they hit the horses.'
'While we are here, perhaps not, but what happens when we've gone?' Serena did not sound convinced.
'At least they feed them.' Bags of bright green fodder were hung from every vehicle.
They left the caleches in the shade at the back of the temple and walked the final distance, its full length, towards the entrance. Anna stared up in awe. The temple was huge, a vast squat building, rectangular behind the enormous pylon or monumental gateway, forty metres high, carved with pictures of Ptolemy defeating his enemies. They stopped in front of it, their group forming obediently around Omar, as they listened to his summary of two thousand years' history and the temple's place in it.
A white robed figure stood near the entrance, beside the statue of the god Horus as a huge hawk and Anna found herself watching 72.him. A black line of shadow cut across the dazzling white cotton of his galabiyya as he leant silently against the wall with his arms folded. She had the sense that he was watching them and she felt a sudden tremor of nervousness.
'What is it? Is something wrong?' Serena was watching her face.
She shook her head. 'Nothing really. I keep getting this strange feeling that there's someone out there watching me...' Behind them Omar took a deep breath and continued his story. Neither woman was listening.
'Not someone very nice, judging by your reaction.'
'No.' Anna gave a small laugh. 'I think Egypt is making me a bit neurotic. Perhaps we could have a drink before dinner this evening and I could tell you about it?' About what? A nightmare? A feeling that someone had unpacked her bag in the dark of her cabin and moved her little scent bottle? A scent bottle haunted by an evil spirit. She shook her head, aware that Serena was still watching her curiously. It might sound stupid in the cold light of day, but after all, Andrew and Toby knew about the diary. Why not someone else? And someone in whom she sensed she could confide without feeling embarrassed. Wasn't it Toby yesterday who had suggested she speak to Serena about her strange feelings in the Valley of the Kings? He had thought she might understand.
They were late back to the boat, exhausted and dusty and hot after their visit. Warm lemonade and scented washcloths were followed by lunch and then as the boat cast off and headed once more upstream, the passengers retired either to their cabins or to the sun beds on the upper deck.
It was there that Andy found Anna a couple of hours later. He was carrying two glasses. Sitting down in the chair next to her he offered her one. 'I hope you haven't been to sleep without your hat.'
'No, as you can see. It was hanging from the chair-back. She pulled herself upright and sipped the fresh juice he had brought her. 'That was lovely. Thank you.' The deck was deserted, she realised suddenly; while she had been asleep, one by one, everyone else had disappeared. 'What time is it?'
'No such thing as time in Egypt.' He grinned. 'But the sun disc is getting low in the west. Which means it will soon be time for another meal.' He patted his stomach ruefully. 'I suspect our 73.excursions ashore, strenuous though they are, are not going to be sufficiently energetic to make up for all the food we eat.' He paused for a moment. 'Would this be a good time to let me see the diary?' The abrupt change of subject startled her. He was, she realised, looking down at her bag, which lay on the deck beside her chair. 'It's in my cabin. Maybe later, Andy, if you don't mind.' 'Sure. No hurry.' He leant back and closed his eyes. 'Have you shown it to anyone else?' 'On the boat, you mean?' She glanced at him over the rim of her tumbler. It was impossible to read his expression behind his dark glasses.
He nodded.
'No. Toby is the only one who has seen it. On the plane.'
'Toby Hayward?' Andy chewed his lip for a moment. 'I've been thinking, I know his name from somewhere. He's a bit of a loner from what I gather.'
'As I am,' she pointed out gently. 'At least on this cruise. He is a painter.'
She did not miss the raised eyebrow. 'Indeed. Is he well known?'
Anna smiled. 'I've no idea. Perhaps that's why you know his name? I don't think I've heard of him, but that doesn't really mean anything.'
Andy drained his glass. 'Tell me to mind my own business, if you want to, but I do think you should take care of that diary, Anna. Apart from being worth a lot of money it's a piece of real history.'
'Which is why I have left it locked up.' She spoke perhaps more firmly than she had intended, but his tone was beginning to irritate her. There were shades of Felix in his manner. And it was patronising.
He laughed, which infuriated her even more. Putting his arms across his face he pretended to duck sideways. 'OK, OK, I'm sorry. I surrender. I should have realised you are perfectly able to take care of it and of yourself. You are after all, Louisa's great-great- granddaughter!'
A fact she reminded herself about later when she met Serena in the bar and they settled into one of the comfortable sofas in the corner of the room. Outside it was dark. They had moored alongside a stretch of river bank which was, so they understood, within walking distance of the great temple of Kom Ombo. Around them the 74.others were assembling a few at a time. She could see Andy perched on a stool at the bar. Charley stood near him and they were engaged in a noisy conversation with Joe and the barman.
'So, tell me about these strange feelings of yours.' Serena leant back against the cushions, her glass in her hand. She scanned Anna's face intently for a moment then she glanced back at the bar where a particularly loud shout of laughter erupted from the group standing around Andy.
'It sounds a bit silly talking about it in cold blood.' Anna shrugged. 'But someone mentioned you were interested in sort of psychic stuff.'
Serena smiled. 'Sort of? I suppose so. I gather this is to do with the man we saw at Edfu this morning?'
'Not him especially. He was real. But for some reason he made me feel nervous. He was watching us, and I keep getting this feeling that I'm being watched by someone. It's nothing specific...' She broke off, not knowing quite how to go on. 'Start at the beginning, Anna. I find things are much more clear that way.' Serena was giving her her full attention now. 'There is clearly something worrying you and that's a shame on what should be a lovely carefree holiday.