Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [48]
Renisenb thought: ‘There is Kameni…and there is my grandmother.’
Kameni…? There was something pleasurable in the thought of telling Kameni. She could see his face quite clearly in her thoughts–its expression changing from a merry challenge to interest–to apprehension on her behalf…Or would it not be on her behalf?
Why this insidious lurking suspicion that Nofret and Kameni had been closer friends than had appeared on the surface? Because Kameni had helped Nofret in her campaign of detaching Imhotep from his family? He had protested that he could not help himself. But was that true? It was an easy thing to say. Everything Kameni said sounded easy and natural and right. His laugh was so gay that you wanted to laugh too. The swing of his body was so graceful as he walked–the turn of his head on those smooth bronze shoulders–his eyes that looked at you–that looked at you–Renisenb’s thoughts broke off confusedly. Kameni’s eyes were not like Hori’s eyes, safe and kind. They demanded, they challenged.
Renisenb’s thoughts had brought blood into her cheeks and a sparkle into her eye. But she decided that she would not tell Kameni about the finding of Nofret’s necklace. No, she would go to Esa. Esa had impressed her yesterday. Old as she was, the old woman had a grasp of things and a shrewd practical sense that was unshared by anyone else in the family.
Renisenb thought: ‘She is old. But she will know.’
II
At the first mention of the necklace, Esa glanced quickly round, placed a finger to her lips and held out her hand. Renisenb fumbled in her dress, drew out the necklace and laid it in Esa’s hand. Esa held it for a moment close to her dim eyes, then stowed it away in her dress. She said in a low, authoritative voice:
‘No more now. Talking in this house is talking to a hundred ears. I have lain awake most of the night thinking, and there is much that must be done.’
‘My father and Hori have gone to the Temple of Isis to confer with the Priest Mersu on the drawing up of a petition to my mother for her intervention.’
‘I know. Well, let your father concern himself with the spirits of the dead. My thoughts deal with the things of this world. When Hori returns, bring him here to me. There are things that must be said and discussed–and Hori I can trust.’
‘Hori will know what to do,’ said Renisenb happily.
Esa looked at her curiously.
‘You go often to see him at the Tomb, do you not? What do you talk about, you and Hori?’
Renisenb shook her head vaguely.
‘Oh, the River–and Egypt–and the way the light changes and the colours of the sand below and the rocks…But very often we do not talk at all. I just sit there and it is peaceful, with no scolding voices and no crying children and no bustle of coming and going. I can think my own thoughts and Hori does not interrupt them. And then, sometimes, I look up and find him watching me and we both smile…I can be happy up there.’
Esa said slowly:
‘You are lucky, Renisenb. You have found the happiness that is inside everybody’s own heart. To most women happiness means coming and going, busied over small affairs. It is care for one’s children and laughter and conversation and quarrels with other women and alternate love and anger with a man. It is made up of small things strung together like beads on a string.’
‘Has your life been like that, grandmother?’
‘Most of it. But now that I am old and sit much alone and my sight is dim and I walk with difficulty–then I realize that there is a life within as well as a life without. But I am too old now to learn the true way of it–and so I scold my little maid and enjoy good food hot from the kitchen and savour all the many different kinds of bread that we bake and enjoy ripe grapes and the juice from the pomegranates. These things remain when others go. The children that I have loved most are now dead. Your father, Ra help him, was always a fool. I loved him when he was a toddling little boy, but now he irritates me with his