The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [4]
Any woman can imagine the pleasure with which I contemplated our rooms at Shepheard’s, that most elegant of Cairene hotels. I was looking forwards to a real bath, in a genuine tub – to hot water, scented soap, and soft towels – to the services of a hairdresser and laundress – to shops, newspapers, and the society of persons of refinement. We had reserved berths on the mail steamer from Port Said, which went directly to London in eleven days. It would have been quicker to take a ship to Marseilles, but rail travel from that city to London, via Paris and Boulogne, was uncomfortable and inconvenient, especially for travellers with a great deal of luggage to transfer. We were in no especial hurry and looked forward to a leisurely voyage; but before embarking I felt I was entitled to a few days of luxury. I doubt that any woman could accept with more equanimity than I the difficulties of housekeeping in a tent or an abandoned tomb or a deserted, haunted monastery – all of which I had encountered – or relish more the beauties of desert life. But when comfort is at hand, I believe in being comfortable. Emerson does not share this view. He is happier in a tent than in a fine hotel, and he loathes the company of persons of refinement. However, we were only to be in Cairo for two days, so he endured his fate with resignation.
The afternoon of our arrival in the city found me splashing merrily in my tub, enjoying a rare moment of freedom from care. Ramses had gone off with Abdullah, our excellent reis, on some expedition or other. The cat Bastet, who rarely left the boy’s side, had refused to accompany him, which confirmed my suspicion that the trip, concerning which both Abdullah and Ramses had been vague, involved something of which I would not approve. No matter; Ramses was as safe in the company of Abdullah as he was in that of any man or woman. (That is to say, relatively safe.) He would return in due time, reeking and filthy and gorged with food that would have rendered any other child desperately ill, but that would not affect the cast-iron internal organs of my son. I would deal with Ramses in due time. In the interval, his absence could only add to my pleasure.
The cat Bastet sat perched on the rim of the tub, watching me through slitted golden eyes. She was fascinated by baths. I suppose total immersion in water must have seemed to her a peculiar method of cleansing oneself.
Though Dahshoor is not far from Cairo, we had not visited the city in the past few weeks. A sizable pile of letters and periodicals awaited us; at my request, Emerson left the door to the bathroom ajar and read the mail to me. There were several letters from Emerson’s brother Walter and his wife, my dear friend Evelyn. They congratulated us on our imminent return, and gave us news of our nieces and nephews.
The remainder of the mail was inconsequential. Emerson laid it aside and turned to the newspapers, of which there were several weeks’ accumulation. I listened with lazy amusement to the snippets he chose to read aloud, for his notion of what I might find interesting was rather curious. The progress of our forces in the Sudan – yes, I did take an interest in that, since it was so close to home (our home of the spirit, Egypt). But advertisements for Daimler Wagonettes (a novel vehicle propelled by an internal combustion engine of two cylinders) and the Lambeth Patent Pedestal Combination Water Closet failed to inspire me. I did not protest; Emerson’s deep baritone fell pleasantly on my ears and his pungent comments on ‘modern inconveniences’ added spice to the news itself. Dreamily contemplating my toes, as they