Tommy raised his glass, declaring, ‘I’m a dodgy character too. Don’t forget me.’
‘You’ll have to wait,’ she said. ‘I only have time for one dodgy character at a time.’
The evening was a big success. Freya would gladly have stayed later, but she could see Amos trying to suppress a yawn and not succeeding. When Janine squeezed his hand he rose to follow her without protest.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Freya said. ‘Goodnight, everyone.’
‘Goodnight,’ Jackson said. ‘Sleep well. We’ve got a heavy day tomorrow.’
Debra, sitting beside him, giggled and clutched his arm. Freya turned quickly away.
Upstairs, she and Janine worked at making Amos comfortable, to which he responded with the comment, ‘Stop fussing, you two. I’m all right.’
‘Of course you are,’ Freya said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
She kissed her mother and departed. Now she badly wanted to be alone and it was a relief to escape to her room. Once inside she didn’t put on the light, but opened the glass door onto the balcony and went out into the night air.
A soft light still gleamed on the pyramids, making them glow faintly. Entranced, she stood watching, enjoying the feeling that she was witnessing a mystery that stretched back centuries. It was a sweet, magical feeling that seemed to take her back to another time, when the world itself had seemed imbued by magic.
But what folly that had been. And how quickly, how brutally it had ended.
She was swept by a strange mood; deep inside her there was a kind of anguish—not for Dan himself, but for what he had seemed to represent: hope, wonder, a belief that life could be beautiful.
For a while after the disaster of her wedding she’d been able to continue believing. Jackson had reached out to her, and while she’d been able to cling to him the world had still been a good place. The discovery of his betrayal had been a blow over the heart that had affected her as much as Dan’s. Perhaps even more.
Now the comfort that Jackson had seemed to offer was gone. Gone for ever. For how could she ever believe in anyone again?
She dropped her head, covering her eyes with her hand, seeking escape, forgetfulness, while her body trembled with sobs.
‘No,’ she told herself sharply. ‘I said I wasn’t going to give in to this again. And I’m not. I’m going to have a new world that I’ll build myself, without anyone’s help.’
But somehow strength and resolution were no help to her now. She gazed yearningly at the pyramid, looming high and peaceful as it had done for thousands of years—as it would do for thousands more. How petty seemed human problems against that monument and the ancient wisdom it represented. How many humans had stood before its magnificence feeling their own triviality?
‘If only I knew what I—’ she whispered. ‘If only I could tell—’
But there was only silence and the awesome, unyielding beauty that seemed to come from another universe.
At last she turned away and moved inside, where she went to bed and lay sleepless for several hours.
* * *
For several minutes after Freya went inside, the man standing on the next balcony stayed silent and motionless, relieved that she hadn’t discovered him.
Jackson wasn’t proud of himself for watching Freya while she hadn’t known he was there, but her entrance had taken him by surprise. He remembered that day several weeks ago, when she’d discovered his innocent deception about Dan and attacked him furiously. A few hours later he’d spotted his father standing outside the door, secretly listening to Freya and her mother talking inside. Without being able to make out the words, Jackson had guessed what was being said.
Seeing his son, Amos had placed a finger over his lips and shaken his head. When Jackson had tried to make him leave he’d refused. Nor would he discuss what he’d heard.
‘And don’t you tell them that you saw me,’ he’d demanded. ‘There are things a man should keep to himself.’
Jackson had agreed, though reluctantly. Having concealed the truth from Freya once, it hurt him to deceive her by concealment a second time. It had been a relief to leave for Egypt soon afterwards. Now a malevolent fate had tricked him into spying on her. Leaving the balcony had been impossible. The door to his bedroom was too noisy to risk. He’d had no choice but to stay and see things his conscience told him he had no right to see.
Like father, like son, he thought bitterly. He always said he wasn’t like Amos, but then something like this happened and—oh, hell!
The quarrel with Freya had hurt him. When he’d first tried to help her through the misery of her cancelled wedding it had been partly from kindness, partly from guilt. Gradually he’d come to enjoy their relationship. The sense that he could bring her comfort had made him feel good about himself in a way that had been new to him.
Which just went to show how conceited he could be, he told himself wryly.
The pleasure of protecting her had been real, and her fury when she’d discovered the truth had been a blow to his heart. Then she’d seen him off at the airport and demanded a hug, giving him a moment of hope. He’d dared to think next time they met the past would be forgiven, their friendship restored.
But then had come his call to England about Amos’s health, and the things he’d said to Freya thinking he was speaking to Janine. He’d said nothing that could offend her, but he’d adopted a pleading tone that now embarrassed him. How foolish he must have sounded.
When they’d met again earlier that day she’d been coolly affable, full of calm good sense. No sign of hostility, but no pleasure either. It was as though the old, friendly Freya no longer existed.
But she’d returned tonight at the dinner table. Chatting with Larry, she’d burst into delighted laughter, then indulged in a bout of teasing backchat with him.
Debra, sitting beside himself, trying to lure his attention away from Freya, had murmured, ‘Those two are really on each other’s wavelength, aren’t they?’
‘Are they?’ he’d responded with a fairly convincing display of indifference.
‘No doubt of it. He took to her from the first moment. You’ve got to admit she’s a looker.’
‘Is she?’ Freya’s personality had always appealed to him more than her looks. Studying her at that moment, he’d had to admit she was at her best—much as she had been on her wedding day.
‘Oh, come on!’ Debra had exclaimed. ‘She’s really pretty, but Larry likes them best when they laugh with him.’
‘Would you like some more wine?’ he’d asked with a fixed smile.
He would have offered her anything to shut her up.
Now there was no doubt. The Freya he’d once known hadn’t disappeared after all. She was reappearing, as lively, jokey and fun-loving as always.
