They gathered on the other side of the canal. The pyramids were now all but hidden behind the wall of sand that had practically invaded Giza, and in the years to come would no doubt cross the canal and eventually reach the Nile itself.
She looked back, towards Cairo.
An impenetrable concrete barrier ten feet high cut across all four lanes of the main road into the city, joining two large buildings on opposite sides of the road and sealing off the outside world. A hundred-metre wide band of scorched-earth had been created between the wall and the rest of Giza. Rubble, the remains of all the buildings that had been demolished to create the flat-zone, had been piled up in a neat border on the side nearest them. Cairo was a fortress.
“I don’t think they want visitors,” Jake said.
“It’s a good thing we don’t want to visit then, isn’t it?” Gail commented, turning back to their path and patting him on the shoulder.
Her protective nature towards her son, and everything she had said the day before about Jake and Cairo, still stood. But the main reason she didn’t want to give him the time of day to look at Cairo was the most non-maternal instinct of them all: spite. To her the pyramids, along with countless other sites in the country, epitomized what had been great, and what was to this day still so intriguing, about the ancient Egyptians. That her own son had failed to recognise that, or even vaguely share her interest, to look at the pyramids in all their glory and gasp, made the anger well up in the pit of her stomach.
Only three steps on and the anger subsided. As emotions went, it was one of the short-lived ones, mainly because of the overwhelming guilt she felt at being spiteful towards her son.
She turned round and looked at him.
“One day, Jake,” she began, then sighed in that tired sort of way only a mother can. “One day, you’ll come back. When things are better, when things have had more time to settle down.”
He caught up with her in one stride and put his arm round her. He glanced over his shoulder at where the pyramids hid behind the sand. “They look amazing, Mum,” he said in English with a glint in his eye.
They walked on for several minutes, George falling into step beside them.
“You mean we,” Jake said, breaking the silence.
“Sorry?”
“You mean we. We’ll come back and see Cairo, and the pyramids, when things have settled down a bit.”
They pushed on in silence.
They carried on along the road to Alexandria, towards the sea, until nightfall. Along the way, they were challenged once by a group of old boys sitting atop a broken down tractor, who quickly gestured for them to keep going on their way after looking the donkeys up and down a couple of times.
Howsorry must we all look Gail thought, that even the robbers and brigands don’t want us!
The campfire talk, as usual, was of the road ahead.
“A day’s walk along this road and we should be able to find any number of fishing villages along the coast,” Ben said eagerly. “Diesel will be a problem, of course, so sail boats are our first target. The smaller the boat, the more we need; nothing less than twenty feet for crossing the sea.”
A large number of the party had sailing experience, but mostly from the river. Even George, who had sailed along the coast of Britain throughout his youth, had no real sea-skills, save for a quick trip across the Channel. In comparison to that, the Mediterranean was an ocean.
Gail looked across at her husband as the plans were drawn out, for the twentieth time, in the dirt around the campfires. Their eyes met across the flames. He understands, she thought with relief. She didn’t want to have the conversation with him or anyone just yet, the argument, the tears. There would be plenty of that when the time came.
A twenty-foot sailing boat might carry four people comfortably enough to Italy. Six at a squeeze. Any more, with the great distances involved, would be uncomfortable indeed, and probably dangerous. She didn’t even dare to imagine the lack of water and food that such cramped conditions might create, should the weather turn out to be anything but favourable.
Maybe she was misjudging the type of boat they might find. Maybe they would find a yacht capable of taking them all in luxury, like some modern-day Noah’s Ark, donkeys and all.
But she doubted it.
Chapter 94
Shortly after passing the pyramids of Giza, Gail had made her decision to stay in Egypt. George, of course, would stay behind with her.
But Gail had known her husband now for the better part of forty years, and there was little he could feel that she wasn’t aware of; she knew he had an overwhelming desire to go back to Britain, to see his home and the country he loved, to see if anyone or anything from their old life was left standing. Yet he would sacrifice all of that to be with her. She only wished that she had something left to give him in return.
After two more days of marching along the dusty road north-west, towards the sea, she was starting to have second thoughts. She was on the verge of having a let’s-wait-till-we-see-what-kind-of-boats-we-find conversation with George.
“We will stay behind with you,” Ben suddenly said out of the blue. Along with Zahra, he’d fallen into step with them, behind the main group of travellers. Gail and George now tended to make up the rear of their human caravan; because of their age, certainly, but also because it made her see the community as ‘us’ and ‘them’. The self-detachment would make it easier to say goodbye when the time came, particularly to their son. Plus, they enjoyed watching him with his friends from a distance.
Gail tried to feign ignorance. “Thanks, Ben,” she smiled after a brief hesitation, “but you don’t need to worry about us, we’re happy to walk at the back.”
He looked across at her, and then at George.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said in English. Of the entire group, the four of them spoke the language better than anyone, with Jake coming in a close fifth. To his credit he sometimes made efforts to talk with them in their native language, even though it was next to useless in their community. “Zahra and I have decided to stay behind with you, in Egypt.”
They walked on in silence for a dozen or so steps.
“Why?” George asked. They had tried to be discreet, to hide their plan from the rest of the group, in particular from Jake. Clearly they hadn’t fooled their friends.
“Because if we cannot persuade you to come with us, then we will stay with you. This is my country, and while you are here, you are still my guests.”
Gail giggled at Ben’s mock bow. “You don’t need to worry about us, we’ll be fine. We’ve lived here long enough now, and besides you and Zahra are the heart of the community, you belong with them.”
Ben looked across at Zahra, walking next to George; one of those looks that only a couple completely in tune with each other can exchange, like an unspoken conversation.
“Gail, you are funny,” he said without a hint of humour. “There’s always been something funny about you.” George was about to make a joke, but stopped when Ben raised his hand. “You came to Egypt on a whim, arrived at a well organised archaeological dig and within hours instinctively found what had eluded the best Egyptologists in the world for more than a century.” He accentuated the instinctively. They stopped walking, and Ben faced her. “Professor al-Misri knew there was something different about you. Somehow, even before you arrived in Egypt, he was genuinely excited to see you, like you were the most reputable archaeologist in the world, come to inspect his work, instead of a struggling post-grad student,” he put his hand on her shoulder. “And now, instead of going back to your home country, instead of taking that opportunity, you are going to walk all the way back to Amarna, aren’t you?”