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‘Miss Welland,’ he replied testily. ‘It’s your name, isn’t it?’
Catriona slowly shook her head and looked at him unhappily. ‘No. It isn’t. I think—I rather think that there has been a mistake.’
It was the Egyptian’s turn to stare. Then he said, ‘Are you or are you not Miss Welland, of London, who applied for the position of English teacher to my children during the summer?’
‘No, I’m not.’
His voice sharpened. ‘Then just who are you—and what are you doing here?’
‘I’m Catriona Fenton. I was waiting at the airport for someone to pick me up and your driver came and asked if I was from England and had come to work in Luxor. So naturally I said yes, and—well, here I am.’
‘And did it not occur to you to ask the driver who had sent him?’ the Egyptian demanded angrily.
‘Didn’t it occur to you to tell the driver to ask for this Miss Welland by name?’ Catriona countered. ‘He didn’t ask who I was and he didn’t speak much English.’ The man stiffened, obviously unused to a woman standing up for herself, but Catriona didn’t notice. Remembering her wait at the airport, she added, ‘And anyway, it was a natural mistake on both sides because I was the only woman waiting from that flight.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘There was no one else? No other English woman?’
Catriona shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’
He muttered a sharp imprecation. ‘What has happened to the woman? I have heard nothing from her.’
Catriona didn’t know and didn’t much care. Her thoughts were filled with dismay; presumably the transport from the dig had arrived at the airport after she’d left. Dr Kane must have thought that she, too, hadn’t turned up and be cursing her as this Egyptian was now cursing his lost governess. If she wanted to stop Dr Kane sending out for someone else from England she had better get in touch with him at once, although how she was going to explain away being lost for almost a day, Catriona hated to think.
But the Egyptian gave a dismissive gesture and said, ‘It is no matter. You will teach my children instead.’
Catriona laughed, unable to believe what she’d heard. ‘That’s ridiculous! I’m not a teacher.’
He frowned when she laughed, but said, ‘You are English and you speak well. It is all I want. And you will be well paid. I agreed to give Miss Welland fifteen thousand pounds for two months here, plus her air fare, of course.’
Her mouth falling open, Catriona exclaimed, ‘Fifteen thousand pounds!’ But then she realised. ‘Oh, you mean Egyptian pounds.’ She did some rapid mental arithmetic; it was still a lot of money, far more than she’d been promised at the dig. But she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr... What is your name?’
The Egyptian seemed to square his shoulders and there was inherent arrogance in his voice as he said, ‘My name is Omar Rafiq. And this house is the Garden of the Nile—my country house.’
‘Yes, well, Mr Rafiq, I’m sorry, I can’t work for you because I’m already committed to work at an excavation site.’
‘You are not a travel courier?’
‘No. I’m a textile expert. I came out here at short notice to take the place of someone who had to fly home for family reasons. I couldn’t possibly let them down.’ Even as she said it Catriona wondered if Dr Kane was at this moment on the telephone to England, furiously demanding to know where she was.
‘You would not find the house where you live at the excavation site pleasant,’ Rafiq told her. Adding imperiously, ‘It is much better here, so you will stay.’
Even if Catriona had wanted the job, she would have objected to the way he issued such peremptory orders. Her mouth had dropped open at his insolence, but now it hardened. ‘I’ve already said no. I’m sorry about the mix-up, but it was your driver who made the mistake, and I must ask you to take me to the excavation site straight away.’
He frowned angrily, but then shrugged and reached for a telephone on his desk. ‘Where is it?’
‘A place called Mem Habu. I believe it’s to the north-west of Luxor and...’ Her voice trailed off as she saw Omar Rafiq’s head come up in surprise and his eyes widen.
‘Are you talking of the excavation under the leadership of Lucas Kane?’
She nodded. ‘Dr Kane. That’s right. Do you know him?’
‘We have—met.’ He took his hand from the phone and leaned back in his chair. ‘So you are Kane’s new textile expert.’ And he suddenly began to laugh.
Catriona didn’t like the sound of that laughter. It had no humour in it, was more a triumphant peal. ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.
Rafiq stopped laughing but there was still a mocking twist to his lips as he said, ‘Just that you should be on your way there, of all places.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It is no matter.’ Rafiq gave her a contemplative look, his eyes again running over her tall, slim figure, settling on her face. Catriona had seen that assessing look in men’s eyes a thousand times before, and it certainly wasn’t the way Rafiq had looked at her when he’d thought her to be his children’s tutor.
Her chin lifting, she said. ‘I’ll go and pack. Please tell your driver to take me to the site in half an hour.’
Again Rafiq looked amused. ‘You would not be happy there, Miss Fenton. The site house is very primitive. And Dr Kane...’ He spread his hands in a descriptive gesture and there was scarcely concealed dislike in his voice as he said, ‘He is a quick-tempered man. You would not find him sympathetic, especially after going to the wrong place. I assure you, you would be much happier here.’
‘No, thank you,’ Catriona replied firmly. ‘Will you tell your driver to take me or not?’
‘I’m afraid he is busy today.’
It was a lie and they both knew it. Catriona glared at him, but Rafiq merely gave her a mocking, arrogant look in return. Anger filled her, but Catriona merely said, ‘In that case I will take a taxi.’
He gave a sardonic smile. ‘By all means.’
‘Please call one for me.’
‘If you wish to take a taxi, Miss Fenton, you must telephone yourself. Here is the directory.’
He took a thick book from a drawer in his desk and passed it to her. Catriona took it, her eyes on his face, not liking his expression one bit. Glancing down at the phone book, she began to flip through the pages but soon came to an angry stop. The whole book was, of course, in Arabic script, the loops and whirls completely incomprehensible to her western eyes. ‘You know I can’t read this,’ she said shortly. ‘Just what are you trying to do?’
‘To keep you here, of course.’ Standing up, Rafiq came round the desk. His smile losing its mockery, he turned on the charm and said persuasively, ‘My children like you, Miss Fenton. And it would be a great inconvenience to send to England for another teacher for them. This house is, I think you’ll agree, very comfortable, and the pay is good. In fact I will increase the amount, if you will stay, to—’ again he looked at her contemplatively ‘—to twenty thousand pounds.’
Catriona had been short of money for so long that the offer was very tempting, but she had recognised that assessing glance and was pretty sure that the extra money was also a sweetener that might help to persuade her to become something more than just his children’s tutor. But she definitely wasn’t into that. She had the instinctive feeling that he was the kind of man who used women, who had no real respect for her sex and looked on them as there merely for his amusement or service. And besides, his overbearing arrogance, his calm assumption that she should just drop all her plans and do what he wanted, had aroused a stubborn anger in her that no amount of smooth charm could overcome, so she said firmly, ‘I’ve already said no. Please don’t ask me again. I’ve promised to work at the dig and I intend to keep that promise. So please phone for a taxi.’
But Rafiq merely gave a small smile. ‘Why don’t you think about it? Look round the house. There is a swimming-pool outside. The children will show you. And we will talk again over dinner.’
Becoming angry, Catriona said, ‘Mr Rafiq, will you please listen to me? I have to get to Mem Habu as soon as possible. Dr Kane will be worried about me. He will have phoned to England to see where I am.’
To her surprise he looked amused again, and she could only guess that there was some sort of enmity between the two men. ‘I am sure Dr Kane can wait.’
She went to argue again but he had pressed a bell on his desk and the children came back into the room. He spoke to them in Arabic and they laughed and caught Catriona’s hands, eagerly pulling her out with them. For a moment she tried to resist, turning to look at their father, but Rafiq came up behind them and closed the door, shutting her out with the children so the door received the fuming look that had been meant for him.
Allowing the children to lead her round the house, Catriona was shown the swimming-pool, the indoor tennis court and gymnasium, was taken round the courtyard garden, and finally up to a big sitting room on the first floor which had a wide veranda. From it there was the most marvellous view of the River Nile, only a couple of hundred yards away. It was her first glimpse of the famous river, and Catriona stood in fascination, watching a small fleet of feluccas, their sails bleached by the sun, sail slowly by.
Mrs Aziz came into the room and spoke to the children. Nadia turned to Catriona. ‘We go...’ She mimed washing her face and hands.
‘To wash,’ Catriona supplied.
The little girls repeated it after her and ran out of the room. Mrs Aziz went to follow but Catriona caught her arm. ‘Please. You speak English?’
The woman shrugged. ‘Little.’
There was a phone on a table by the wall. Gesturing to it, Catriona said, ‘You telephone for me. Ask for a taxi.’
But the housekeeper shook her head vigorously. ‘No. Pasha Omar, he say no taxi.’
‘Please,’ Catriona pleaded. ‘I shouldn’t be here. I must go.’
But the woman was obviously intimidated by her employer; she refused to be persuaded and pulled away, then hurried from the room.
Catriona bit her lip in vexation; this was starting to get out of hand. And she couldn’t understand why. She was sure that Rafiq had accepted her refusal and had been about to let her go, but then she’d mentioned Dr Kane and everything had changed. For a few minutes she felt helpless, a stranger lost in a strange land, but then her natural confidence returned to her; this was almost the twenty-first century, and there was no way anyone could keep her here against her will. Crossing to the phone, she picked up the receiver, then realised she didn’t know what number to dial to get the operator, but she tried various combinations and at last got a ringing tone. A voice came on the line and Catriona said quickly, ‘Please, do you speak English?’
The operator didn’t, but eventually found someone who did. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Can you give me the number of a taxi company? I need a taxi.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Near Luxor.’
‘Dial this number.’ The operator read out a list of digits which Catriona hastily wrote down.
Again she had to wait while someone who spoke English was found, then she asked for a taxi to take her to Mem Habu. ‘Where do you wish to be picked up?’
‘At the house of Omar Rafiq. It’s called the Garden of the Nile.’
‘What district?’
‘I don’t know the district. Can’t you look the address up in the phone book?’
‘How can we come if we do not know the address?’
‘Please try,’ Catriona begged. ‘It is most important. An emergency. I must have a taxi.’
‘We will try,’ the voice conceded, then the line went dead.
Catriona put the phone down with a sigh of relief. At last she was getting somewhere. She had no idea how long it would take the taxi to get here, but she went immediately to her room and repacked all her things, but was afraid to take them downstairs in case Rafiq saw them and guessed what she was doing.
At one, Nadia came to take her to lunch and she thought it best to go, to allay any suspicions Rafiq might have. But he wasn’t there; only Mrs Aziz and the children were waiting in a small dining room. Throughout the meal, while she was trying to talk to the children, Catriona listened for the sound of the doorbell, ready to rush out and grab the taxi, make him wait while she collected her things. But the bell didn’t ring. She tried to find out the exact address of the house, but Mrs Aziz had evidently been ordered not to tell her, and stopped Nadia from doing so.
The meal ended and the children went to their rooms for a siesta. Catriona went down to the entrance hall and sat down in one of the Italian chairs to wait for the taxi, no longer caring whether Rafiq saw her or not.
She waited all afternoon but still it didn’t come.
Around four-thirty Omar Rafiq came into the hall and stood in front of her. He looked amused. ‘There is no point in waiting any longer, Miss Fenton. I rang the taxi company immediately after you had made the call and told them that you had made a mistake.’
‘You mean you listened to my call?’
He smiled unpleasantly. ‘Of course. I told them that you were ill—with sunstroke, and that they were to ignore you if you made any more calls.’
Catriona had expected as much for the last two hours. She got to her feet, her eyes bitter. ‘Are you aware of the penalty for kidnapping—because that’s what this is?’
Rafiq laughed contemptuously. ‘Nonsense, Miss Fenton. I am only trying to persuade you to accept the post I am offering you.’
‘Not persuade—coerce,’ she corrected him.
He gave a small smile. ‘You have proved my point; your command of English is excellent.’
‘So is yours. Why don’t you teach your children yourself?’
‘Unfortunately I do not have the time. My business is in Cairo. I come here for only a few days at a time.’
Deciding to have one more go at persuasion, Catriona said, ‘Look, Mr Rafiq, I’m sorry your English tutor didn’t turn up, but maybe I’ll be able to help you; I have several friends in England who might be interested in this job. If you like I could phone them and—’
‘But I want you to teach them, so there is no point,’ he interrupted impatiently. Then, using moral blackmail, he said, ‘Don’t you like my daughters?’
‘Yes, of course, but—’
‘Don’t you like this house? Is your room not comfortable?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Aren’t the wages I am offering you more than those you would earn at the excavation?’
Fearing another interruption, Catriona said firmly, ‘Money isn’t of the first concern. The job at the site would be a great help in my career; teaching your children wouldn’t.’
‘Your career? Of what importance will that be when you marry?’
‘I’m not about to get married.’
‘You will in time. All girls get married,’ he said sweepingly. Catriona gave a gasp of astonishment; the man was still in the Dark Ages! ‘So, Miss Fenton,’ he repeated, ‘I insist that you stay.’
‘No!’
‘But you have no choice, do you?’
‘This is—this is white slavery!’ Catriona exclaimed furiously.
That made him laugh, which made her feel slightly ridiculous, but then even more angry at her own helplessness. Suddenly Rafiq seemed to become bored by the whole thing. ‘Why do you not play with the children?’ he said impatiently, but it was in the tone of an order, not a suggestion.
Having nothing else to do, Catriona went to find the girls. OK, she thought, I’ll wait till it’s dark and everyone’s asleep, then I’ll sneak out and walk to the nearest town and get a taxi from there. She took the children to the pool and, in order to safeguard them while they played in the water, had to put on a swimsuit and go in herself. It was OK until Rafiq arrived, but she didn’t much like the idea of having on only a swimsuit with him around. When he took off his robe, obviously intending to join them in the water, Catriona quickly got out and wrapped a large towel round her waist, sarong-style.
Rafiq dived in and swam a few lengths in a strong crawl, then came to play with the girls. That he adored his daughters was plain enough; he was great with them, pretending to chase them until they shrieked, but very gentle when he caught them. Catriona couldn’t help but smile, but she caught him looking at her and remembered that the games he played with little girls could be quite different to those he played with big girls. She wondered what had happened to the children’s mother, but maybe she was still in Cairo, awaiting her husband’s return.
Mrs Aziz came to take the children away and Catriona went to go with them, but Rafiq, standing at the pool’s edge, water trickling down his body, caught her arm and said, ‘You will dine with me tonight.’ And it wasn’t an invitation.
She looked at him, wary, and becoming very apprehensive. No way was she going to spend another night in this house. Catriona decided to try to sneak out before dinner. But it would be better not to let him suspect, so she merely said, ‘OK. Where’s the dining room?’
‘I will show you.’ He put on a robe, led her into the main entrance hall, and pointed to a door opening off it. ‘At eight-thirty,’ he told her.
