Whispers in the Sand by Barbara Erskine Page B

and retribution, she slowly managed to distance herself from Andy and Charley in the darkness. By the time they had reached the inner pillared hall, she had lost sight of them entirely.
    It was as she was walking back, her concentration on the ceiling with its wonderful paintings, that her arm was seized. “What do you think you are playing at? You hardly know him!” Charley’s hiss in her ear was full of venom. “Why? Why are you doing it?”
    Anna turned in astonishment. “Doing what? Look, Charley, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m not trying to do anything, I promise.”
    “You’re encouraging him!”
    “I’m not. Andy is a kind man. He has seen that I’m on my own, and he is trying to make me feel welcome. So is Ben.” She paused for a fraction of a second. “And Toby. And your friend, Serena. That is all it is. They are nice people, and I appreciate their kindness.”
    She glanced round, hoping to see Andy nearby, but there was no sign of him. A long queue of people was shuffling past them as they stood at the centre of the corridor leading from the depths of the tomb back towards the light. Someone jostled her slightly, and she stepped back. “We’re in the way, Charley. We have to move on with the others.”
    “I’ll move on. As for you, you can get lost!” The viciousness of Charley’s remark left her speechless. For a moment she didn’t react, and Charley, hurrying swiftly ahead, was soon out of sight behind a sea of slowly processing backs. Anna shivered. The attack had been so swift and unexpectedly unpleasant that she wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to run after her, to argue, to defend herself, but at the same time, some defiant corner of her mind was telling her to take no notice, to talk to Andy and, as long as she found him attractive, and she realised suddenly she did find him extremely attractive, to give Charley a run for her money. It was only a small corner of her mind, though. A far larger portion was all for keeping the peace.

3

    O keep not captive my soul. O keep not ward over my shade
    but let a way be opened for my soul and for my shade
    and let them see the great God in the shrine on the day of judgement…

    Rejected by their gods and fleeing retribution, the two priests sleep in the darkness of the tomb. The scent of oil, of cedar and myrrh and cinnamon, hangs in the hot, dry air. There is still no sound. Far above them, the cliff is the haunt of kite and vulture. The call of the jackal rends the night sky as the stars fade, and the sun disc returns from its voyage beneath the earth to rise again over the eastern desert. In the darkness, time is without meaning or form.
    On the shelf between the pillar and the wall, the small bottle sealed with blood lies hidden. Inside, the life-giving potion, dedicated to the gods, made sacred by the sun, thickens and grows black.

    Tired and dusty, they returned to the boat late in the evening to be greeted by fragrant hot towels, handed out at the door to the reception area by one of the crewmen from a steaming metal platter. Next they were given fruit juice and then at last their cabin keys. Anna made her way to her cabin without glancing round to see if Andy and Charley were nearby. On the coach she had sat at the back with Joe, relieved to be excused from talking by his instant somnolence. In her cabin she threw her bag on the bed, and as exhausted as Joe had been, she kicked off her shoes and began to pull off her dress.
    Abruptly she stopped. Her skin was prickling. The cabin had grown cold, and for a split second she had the feeling that there was someone in there close to her; watching her.
    “This is stupid.” She said the words out loud, staring at herself in the mirror. The cabin was a scant ten feet by eight. The tiny shower had room for barely one person. There couldn’t be anyone there. She pushed the door open with her foot, and it swung back to reveal basin and shower, fresh towels ready on the