For days afterward Pagan sat in her mother’s apartment looking out over the leafy treetops of the square but seeing nothing. She didn’t cry: she wouldn’t see anyone: she wouldn’t go to Cornwall and she wouldn’t leave her bedroom. Her self-assurance had been shattered by Abdullah’s behaviour and it was as if one of the guy-ropes holding her upright had been cut. He had deliberately broken their special bond of intimacy and trust and seemed to consider that their friendship—which Pagan had treasured—was at an end.
Pagan only roused herself from her lethargy when it was time to pack for their trip to Egypt.
Robert met them at the Cairo airport and Kate flew into his arms. As the three of them climbed into the back of his Cadillac, Pagan gave Robert a swift, sidelong look. He was certainly good-looking, but perhaps a bit dull?
But Cairo wasn’t dull, it was a dusty, beige, hot, urban tumult. Camels and donkey carts trotted alongside swaying trams and automobiles. Pagan saw a tent pitched next to a modern apartment building, by a clump of palm trees. The skinny brown men on the sidewalks wore black skullcaps and what looked like crumpled pajamas or white, vaguely biblical nightgowns. Fatter men were draped from head to toe in white sheets; hurrying women were shrouded to the eyes, downcast in dusty black. Fly-covered beggars hunched on the sidewalks, newsboys shrilled and sweetmeat vendors crouched, languidly wafting a fly-swatter over their wares. Some shops sported neon signs, others were grimy with peeling, sun-faded paint. Any spare wall space was plastered with posters of General Naguib, the new military governor of Egypt.
Robert’s widowed father’s apartment hung above the city. High, cool, white rooms led into high, cool, white rooms. The servants, all male, wore white uniforms with a dark red fez, and had all been with the family for years. From the roof garden, the girls could gaze down upon the languid Nile as it wriggled through the desert on its way to the sea. Faintly from across the river they could hear the sounds of Cairo: the whine of traffic, ululations, klaxon shrieks; the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer over the P.A. system on top of every mosque. Above them, black kites swooped over the apartment buildings, the mosques, domes, tombs, the palaces and slums of the dusty city.
Soon Kate wore a marquise diamond engagement ring that she flashed as much as possible. She doted on Robert, repeated everything he said, followed him around like a faithful spaniel and was terrified of playing bridge with him in case she didn’t bid correctly. Pagan thought this very bad for Robert, who was self-satisfied enough as it was.
Every night Kate nipped along the passage to Robert’s bedroom where, to her sorrow, not much happened. Robert was out almost before he was in. She didn’t even have time to feel frustrated. So she faked. Then she went to the bathroom and masturbated.
Apart from that drawback Kate loved the leisurely life of Cairo. In the afternoon the girls played tennis at the club, where all the British gathered, swam in the pool, then played bridge for very small stakes until it was time for dinner. There were dances or parties almost every night: once they went to a ball at the British Embassy, surrounded by traditional Britishers of the sort that look like film extras: peppery old colonels, balding diplomats, dowagers shrouded in black taffeta.
Naturally they visited the pyramids as soon as they could and were duly photographed on camels. Having discovered that horses were for hire, Pagan immediately mounted one of the depressed-looking nags and, much to its surprise, galloped off into the desert. When she returned, Robert was furious and said that never, ever were they to go anywhere alone. When he took them to the bazaar he warned them to stay very close to him. They sniffed the scent of goat, tanning hides, tobacco, mint tea, cheap jasmine and patchouli oil.
All the narrow, winding alleys looked exactly the same as the streets leading off them. Robert led the way and their driver walked immediately behind. Nonetheless, the girls were pinched and pummeled, as they threaded their way down through rows of stalls and shops smaller than a hotel bathroom. Inside, they listened to the clack of Arabic and gazed at Persian carpets, delicate wood carvings, beautiful teak boxes inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory, high-piled bales of brilliantly coloured gauzes. Much to their initial embarrassment, Robert bought nothing at the bazaar without haggling.
Robert didn’t talk about money, but he thought about it a lot. He was a human calculator; everything he did and spent was balanced in advance against possible return; he kept a little notebook in which, unknown to Kate, he recorded every penny he spent on her—the original orange tree; every bunch of roses; every generous tip at the Savoy.
Pagan had lots of beaus. She was making a determined effort to distract her mind from Abdullah by never giving herself time to think about him. In one frenetic burst of energy she decided they ought to learn Arabic and produced a suitable phrasebook. “You can learn in only eighteen lessons,” she explained to Kate, “and we can practice on the butler. If we turn up late, we can mutter Kulli shayy fiyid Allah (everything is in God’s hands) . . . hey, listen to this. Ma takhafush, ehna asakir inkelizi, that’s ‘do not be afraid, we are British soldiers.’ It’s followed by akhad el-kull we-addi lek bih wasl—that means, ‘I will take everything and give you a receipt.’ No wonder the British Empire crumbled. This might be useful, ma kuntish azunnek ragil gabih kide. That’s ‘I did not think you were such an untrustworthy man.’ Oh, dear. . . .”
Pagan made sure she was occupied from morning until night, although there were many times when she lay on her back, tears dripping from the corner of her eyes and trickling onto her damp pillow. She couldn’t sit still and she couldn’t stand being alone. When Robert and Kate went off by themselves, she immediately picked up the telephone and organised an impromptu party on the terrace; the engaged couple would return to the clink of glasses and laughter as Pagan imitated a belly dancer or whirled on the roof garden in a satirical Highland reel. She quickly became one of the most sought-after girls in Cairo, and it was obvious that Robert’s father, a sardonic man with eyes like small black pebbles, was intrigued by her exuberance. In contrast to most of the languid small-talking women of Cairo, Pagan played wild tennis, wild bridge, laughed and danced through the night, was never seen on a darkened balcony. She had more style than the rest of the women put together, he decided, watching her move along the terrace with her impatient, long-legged walk, half-stride, half-swoop. By contrast, Kate trotted adoringly behind Robert, agreed with everything he said—especially if she didn’t understand it—and looked a little insipid.
Eventually, Robert’s father took his son to one side and, without preamble, said, “I’ve made a few inquiries in England and I don’t know whether you realise it, but Pagan would be a far more suitable wife for you than Kate, you know. She’s far better connected, and although there’s no money, she owns a manor house in Cornwall.”
Robert looked astonished. “That belongs to her mother, doesn’t it? The health farm?”
“No, it belongs to Pagan. Her grandfather left it outright to her, and her mother pays her a token rent for the place. There’s quite a lot of land with it. Poor Kate doesn’t seem about to shine in society as your wife should. Have a think about it.”
When Robert’s father said “Have a think about it,” he was giving an order, as Robert well understood. None of his Cambridge contemporaries would have stood for such parental interference in their love life, but Robert was neither surprised nor resentful. If his father felt that interference was necessary, then it probably was; he and his father thought in a surprisingly similar way. Besides, Robert’s future depended upon his father.
A few evenings later, under the green palms of the roof garden, the two men talked again. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Dad, and I see that perhaps you’re right,” Robert said, as he slowly sipped his whiskey and gazed at the dust-veiled citadel, a twelfth-century mountain fortress on the horizon. “Perhaps I was unwise.”
His father was pleased. He wouldn’t have to stop Robert’s allowance and he wouldn’t have to send both girl
s back to England.
“Well, of course, it leaves one in a slightly embarrassing position,” said his father, “but I have a plan.”
The following weekend, both girls had been invited to Alexandria by a rich Levantine widow with a great reputation as a hostess. At the last minute, Robert announced he wouldn’t be able to go. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up with after an unexpected rush this week,” he explained. He also made it clear that he did not want Kate to leave him, so eventually Pagan set off alone for Alexandria.
That evening Robert drove Kate out to the Auberge des Pyramides for dinner. They watched belly dancers gyrate in their oddly determined manner to the rhythmic tinkle and clash of the gold and silver coins that hung in ropes around their rotating rumps. Then Robert suggested they watch the moonlight falling on the pyramids, as lovers have done since travel brochures first were written.
When the car drew up before the famous and now familiar tombs there was no moon. Kate looked across the car expectantly, waiting to be pounced upon. Robert thought he might as well get it over with. Adopting a pained expression, he said, “Darling, uh, I’ve been thinking a lot about us—and, darling, I hope this isn’t going to hurt you dreadfully—but I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
Kate didn’t absorb what he was saying. “What isn’t a very good idea?”
“Us getting married, that is. You’ve been here two months now and I felt—almost as soon as you arrived—I felt that I’d made a mistake. Although at first I thought that I should go through with it.” He looked sideways at her.
She was stunned. “You mean wait longer? To get married you mean?”
Slowly, firmly, Robert shook his head. “I mean, call it off, darling.”
Kate was bewildered, disbelieving. “What have I done? What’s different? What’s happened?”
“It’s nothing that you’ve done or that I’ve done, darling, it’s just that, well, the chemistry isn’t there,” he said looking at her with rather theatrical regret, a touch reproachful almost.
Kate was stunned. She was also ashamed and humiliated. She didn’t know what to say or do.
“I’ve already spoken about it to my father some time ago,” Robert continued with smooth sorrow, “and he suggested that I wait until I was quite sure before talking to you about it. I know it’s hard on a girl when a man changes his mind, but it’s just as well I found out before we got married. Dad says he’ll do anything he can to help. He was awfully decent about it, awfully thoughtful. He said you might find it humiliating to stay in Cairo when everybody knows that we’re . . . well, that we’ve both . . . that I . . . that I don’t want . . . that we’re not. . . .” He didn’t have to continue.
“I want to go home,” said Kate in a whisper. “I want to go home as fast as possible.” Suddenly Kate longed to be with her mother, someone simple, loving and undemanding. She felt soiled, rejected.
The next morning Robert came to Kate’s bedroom. Her face was white and she lay limp on the bed. Robert was calm but concerned, rather as if Kate had flu. He had no idea that it would be so easy. Once again, Dad had been right. “Dad’s been able to pull a few strings and he’s arranged for you to fly back today if that’s really what you wish,” he said, “but there was only one seat on the plane, so perhaps it’s just as well if you let Pagan stay here until the end of the week. After all, this isn’t her fault. . . .”
Oh, he does know that I faked, thought Kate, he knows I’m frigid.
“And it won’t look as odd as if you both suddenly disappeared. We don’t want people to talk. Pagan can say her good-byes and explain that you were suddenly called back on a personal matter.”
Home. Oh, God. Kate dreaded breaking this news to her father. She could already hear him—“So you made a mess of it? Let him make a bloody fool of you! You went all that way just to be made a bloody fool of, eh? I hope you realise that everybody’s going to think you’re a bloody fool.”
All she could think about on the long plane journey back to Britain was how her father was going to take the news. Her dread of his reaction even outweighed the misery and shame she felt as a result of Robert’s behaviour. And Kate was right.
Both her parents were standing waiting at the airport barrier, her mother looking sad and her father scowling. He barely said anything to Kate until they had climbed into the Rolls, when he slammed the glass panel shut so the chauffeur couldn’t hear, turned to Kate and said, “I hope you realise you’ve made a bloody fool of yourself!”
But for once Kate’s mother stood up to him. “Don’t you dare say another word to that poor girl,” she said quite loudly.
And for the first time since she’d heard Robert’s news, Kate burst into tears.
24
TO HER ASTONISHMENT, Pagan returned from Alexandria to find that not only had Kate disappeared but that she had left no message. Robert was looking desolate. “She’s chucked me,” he said. He unclenched his fist to show the marquise diamond ring. “She even insisted on giving me the ring back.”
Pagan gasped at it. “I can’t believe that Kate did that, it’s not like her at all to be so hasty and unkind. Did you have a row?”
“No, it came as a total surprise. She just coolly told me over a drink that she’d decided the whole thing was a mistake and that she wanted to leave immediately.”
“And she didn’t leave a letter for me?”
“No (sigh), and although I’m deeply hurt, I can’t help thinking that if this is the way she behaves, then it’s just as well she did so before we were married, rather than after.”
In fact, Kate had left a letter for Pagan, but Robert had opened it and read her painful, unhappy, accurate account of what had happened between them. He tore up the letter.
“And she didn’t want me to go back to London with her?”
“No, she said she was sorry she had to hurt me, but she didn’t want to spoil your holiday. She said that she had deliberately waited to tell me until you were out of the way.” He put his head in his hands and his shoulders shook. Pagan felt wildly embarrassed and walked to the edge of the terrace. She couldn’t stand seeing men cry.
Robert’s father thought it might be more tactful if Pagan didn’t telephone England; Kate would telephone if she wished to do so. It would perhaps be better to respect her wishes and leave her alone as she had asked. He thought that Pagan ought to wait for a letter from Kate before writing to her. So Pagan waited, but no letter arrived.
At the end of the week Pagan wrote to Kate as tactfully as possible telling Kate how upset Robert was and asking Kate to reconsider her decision. Robert offered to post the letter for her at the bank. After a bit, Pagan wrote more letters to Kate and one worried scrawl to Kate’s mother, but she received no reply because, of course, instead of posting the letters, Robert tore them up. It never occurred to Pagan that when Robert offered to post her letters from his office—which meant that they would go by special express courier—he did this in order to check her correspondence; and it certainly never occurred to Pagan that her letters were being destroyed. With calm ruthlessness, Robert also intercepted Kate’s letters to Pagan and tore them up; this was a simple matter of getting up in the morning before Pagan, who was always served breakfast in bed.
At first, Pagan was puzzled by Kate’s refusal to write to her or even to send a postcard acknowledging the letters that Pagan wrote in her large, generous, long-looped scrawl. Then Pagan felt hurt by Kate’s neglect of her and—finally—she felt worried. As Pagan was totally straightforward and honest, she never dreamed that Robert would suppress her letters and trap her in a net of lies. When Pagan asked again whether she shouldn’t perhaps telephone to make sure that Kate was all right, Robert gave her a pained look and asked her whether it had occurred to her that Kate might be ashamed of herself? Otherwise, she would surely have replied to at least one of Pagan’s letters.
From the moment Kate left, Robert made a determined play for Pagan, subtly supported by his father. Wherever
they went they had the maximum attention, the best service and the best seats; flowers were showered upon her, and whatever Pagan wanted, Pagan had. She appreciated these attentions and tried to forget Abdullah in this leisurely round of pleasure. Cairo was as heavily romantic as a magnolia blossom and she was being delightfully spoiled. Pagan couldn’t think of anything that urgently needed her attention in England, unless it was to work as a shop assistant in Peter Jones’s department store: she wasn’t academically qualified, she wasn’t trained to do any job, she was too tall to be an air hostess, she wasn’t thin enough to be a model.
Not only was Pagan bewitched by the luxurious life of Cairo, but Robert-in-Cairo was a much more beguiling proposition than Robert-in-London, where there was plenty of competition from other men. Cairo lacked eligible young European bachelors and the few who found themselves in the city were fiercely fought over by hostesses and flattered in the most outrageous way. Women hung on Robert’s every word and responded to every joke he made with tinkling laughter. Pagan started to look at Robert with more appreciative eyes.
Robert bided his time until one evening after they’d been to a Christmas dance at the Semiramis. The creamy moon hung like a lotus in the sky. He had ensured that Pagan’s champagne glass was never empty, and she was definitely giggly as they drove home. She swayed slightly as they walked toward the elevator, and Robert put his arm around her in protective fashion as they waited.
“Merry Night! Happy Night! Good Christmas!” chortled Pagan, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him goodnight. Then she went to her room, threw all her clothes on the floor, fell on the bed, and immediately went to sleep.
Farther along the passage Robert adjusted the Japanese kimono that he affected as a dressing gown, pulled the sash firmly into place, then moved purposefully into Pagan’s bedroom.