Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 Hilary Vale drove through the Cairo traffic with one foot on the gas and one hand on the horn. She accelerated, braked, wrenched the wheel to take advantage of sudden tiny spaces that she could swerve into. "Get out of my way, you muppet!" she yelled cheerily out the window at anyone who dared to cut her off. Dan's eyes shone. "She's awesome," he whispered to Amy. Finally, she skidded off the main road, zoomed through a lovely section, and pulled into a driveway that wound through a garden thick with palms and flowering trees. She jerked the car to a stop in front of a gracious white house. They got out of the car, feeling a little dizzy

from the fast ride and their narrow escape. The house was cool and silent after the noise and heat of the streets. Hilary turned immediately into a small sitting room. It was furnished with rugs and deep sofas covered in chintz. A piano sat in a corner. Shaded china lamps sat on tables, and vases were heaped with masses of blooms. Hilary opened the shutters. As the sun poured in, Amy could see that the sofa cushions were frayed, and that a table had been placed to disguise a hole in the rug. Shabby but comfortable, a place to flop and read for hours. Her shyness ebbed a little, just being in this room. "Now, just take off your… uh, robes, and make yourselves comfortable," Hilary said. "I guess you forgot to pay for them, ducks. Is that why those awful beefy men were chasing you? You poor dears." "Right," Dan said. "We didn't realize they took robe theft so seriously here." She put her fingers lightly on Amy's chin and tilted her face to the light. "You look like Grace," she said. "Cute as a bug!"

"Hey. Check this out," Dan said. Amy saw that Dan was looking at a silver- framed photograph on the piano. She walked over. It was a black-and-white photograph of two young women in front of the Sphinx. She recognized Grace immediately. Her hair fell to her shoulders, wavy and dark. She wore a white dress and pumps. Her slender, tanned arm was linked with the blond, petite girl at her side. "Grace was my best friend," Hilary Vale said. She gently picked up the photograph. "We met at boarding school in the US. I was sent there when World War Two started— my parents stayed in Cairo. Grace was my family for many years, when communication was so difficult during the war. She took me in, even though I was younger and had a funny accent. After the war, I invited her back here to stay on holiday. She loved Egypt." The sadness left her gaze suddenly as Hilary clapped her hands. "But it's time for tiffin! You children get cozy-comfy, and I'll be back." "What's tiffin?" Dan whispered. "A cat?" "A snack," Nellie said. "That's always good

news." She put down Saladin's carrier and flopped on the flowered couch. "Did Grace ever talk about her?" "I don't remember," Amy said. "I knew she'd been to Egypt, but she didn't talk about it much." Well, she did and she didn't. It was all so vague. Cairo is a fascinating city. Have you been there, Grace? Of course, love. Many times. Oh, brrr, look at that cold rain. What do you say we go bake some brownies to cheer ourselves up? Deflection and disguise. Now Amy realized how often Grace had changed the subject when asked about her travels. Distrust snaked through Amy, tipping her off balance again. In the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were more photographs. Amy picked up one in a silver frame. Someone had written over the image with a white pen— Us, Luxor, 1952. Grace was dressed in trousers that looked dusty and a pale shirt with her sleeves rolled up. She was squinting into the sun. Hilary Vale wore a flowered dress and a broad-brimmed hat. It looked as though they were

standing in front of some kind of temple. Grace was jokingly making an Egyptian pose, her wrist bent and her hand flat. Just then Hilary came into the room carrying a large tray and set it down on a round polished table by the window. Nellie quickly moved to help her place the platters of pastries and sliced fruit in the center. "I see you're looking at those old photographs," Hilary said. "Hard to believe I was ever that young, isn't it? Grace came every year and stayed with me. For years and years." "Every year?" Amy asked. "She might have missed a few now and then. And of course near the end of her life travel became difficult. She told me about the cancer— she was very frank. But I was still so shocked when I heard. I never thought anything would defeat Grace." Hilary gestured at the chairs, and they all took their seats. Amy ran her hands along the polished wood of the arms. Maybe Grace had sat in this chair. She wished she could feel closer to Grace,

just from thinking that. But she couldn't. Hilary poured a milky liquid out of a beautiful silver pitcher. "This is called sahlab," she said. "They serve it in the cafés all over Egypt. I hope you like it." Amy took a sip of the drink to be polite. It was creamy and sweet, like nothing she'd ever tasted, but she could barely swallow. Her throat felt tight with tears that threatened to spill over if she mentioned Grace's name. "This is amazing food," Nellie said, crumbling a cookie and feeding it to Saladin. "So, you say Grace contacted you before she died. What did she say?" Amy threw Nellie a grateful look. Nellie had seen her shyness and had taken over for now. She could always count on Nellie. Dan was too busy scarfing down lemon cake to notice her. Hilary smiled and rose. "Yes, let's cut to the chase, as you Americans like to say. Grace sent me a letter and asked me to pass some things along." She went to a small cabinet and opened it. She took out several items and went back to her chair,