Rosie Thomas 2-Book Collection One: Iris and Ruby, Constance. Rosie Thomas
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While she devoured the food he told her that he worked at night as a telephonist in a big hospital. ‘Very good job,’ he said.
He was also trying to improve his English, and saving up to pay for a computer study course. Nafouz was helping him, but they had to give money to their mother and younger brothers and sisters. Their father had died more than two years ago.
‘May he rest with God,’ Ash added.
Ruby put her knife and fork down on a clean plate, and picked up the bill the waiter had brought. She frowned at the blurry blue numerals.
‘I would like to pay for you, but this place is not cheap,’ Ash said awkwardly.
‘Why should you pay for me?’
‘Because I am a man.’
‘I can pay for myself. For now, anyway,’ Ruby said. ‘And you haven’t eaten anything. Shall we go?’
They left the café and Ash led the way back to the underpass. It was surprisingly and disorientatingly close at hand.
Ash’s bike was locked to a grille in the wall at the end of the narrow street leading straight to Iris’s house and the big mosque.
‘What’s it doing parked right here? You are following me,’ Ruby accused. ‘Did you tail me all the way round that bloody bazaar?’
He only grinned and straddled the machine’s seat, sliding his hips forward to make room for Ruby on the pillion. ‘You are coming?’
‘I suppose so. Just for half an hour. Then you’ve got to bring me back to check how my grandmother is, right?’
She sat primly upright at first, but then the little machine shot forward and she had to grab Ash round the waist in order not to fall off the back. He sped into the traffic, weaving in and out of taxis and buses. Ruby ducked her face behind his shoulder, too afraid to look where they were going. The dusty sides of cars flashed past an inch from her thigh and clouds of gritty blue exhaust fumes made her eyes sting. When they stopped at traffic lights she put her feet on solid ground with a gulp of relief, but only a second later they would lurch forward again in a surge of metal and revving engines. Cairo appeared to be one solid mass of overheated chrome and steel.
‘You like?’ Ash howled at her over his shoulder.
‘I hate,’ she screamed back, but he only laughed.
They emerged into a vast square set about with tall buildings and with an inferno of endlessly revolving traffic trapped within it.
‘Midan Tahrir,’ Ash mouthed at her.
‘Is that so?’
He waved a reckless arm at a low pink block. ‘Egyptian Museum. Very famous, I take you soon.’
‘Can’t wait. Are we going to stop?’
‘Maybe.’
A moment later they shot out into slightly clearer air. Ruby saw branches and leaves against open sky as Ash swung the bike in a flashy circle and cut the engine to bring them coasting up against the kerb. Ruby sprang off, coughing and rubbing her eyes, and Ash locked the bike to a puny sapling rooted in the wide pavement. They were in a boulevard lined with trees. On the other side, beyond several lanes of traffic, was a low wall and then seemingly empty air.
‘Come,’ Ash commanded. He took her wrist and they darted into a gap between thundering buses.
Below and beyond the wall, there was water. It was a wide, swirling, grey-brown river and on it sailed a dozen little boats with slanting masts and graceful sails like unfurled handkerchiefs. Ruby leaned far out over the wall, looking at the vista of bridges spanning the water, towers and distant trees.
‘Nile river,’ Ash said at her side. She gazed at the ripples and reflections. Tall buildings on the opposite bank and humid grey clouds swam on the moving surface.
‘That way’ – he gestured – ‘Alexandria. Then Europe. And that way’ – he swept his left arm in a stately arc along the river – ‘Egypt.’ For Ash, it seemed, the name was enough to convey the magnificence of his country. He took her hand to emphasise the importance of what he was showing her.
‘Yeah.’
Her unwillingness to be impressed annoyed him. He began jabbing his finger towards nearby landmarks. ‘See, Cairo Tower. El Tahrir Bridge, up there 26 July Bridge. Gezira island. Sheraton Hotel.’ The last was a hideous cylinder on the tip of a tongue of land opposite.
‘No, really? Amazing.’
He jerked her wrist sharply and she stood upright, startled and defensive.
‘Watch it,’ Ruby snapped.
They faced each other, glaring. The breeze off the unfamiliar river was humid, and the sprawl of an unknown and hostile city stretched away on every side. Suddenly Ruby missed the clatter and roll of skateboarders under the concrete spans of the South Bank, and the smell of hot dogs, and all the damp, foggy chill of London. She heard Lesley’s voice and shut that off inside her head.
It was important not to piss Ash off because he was the only friend she had here.
But it was Ash who began laughing first.
‘You make a frown like a monkey,’ he told her.
She corrugated her face even more elaborately and crossed her eyes until they were both laughing. Then she nodded at the river. ‘It’s beautiful. I like the boats.’
‘One evening I take you sailing in a felucca. At sunset. Very romantic.’
‘Great. I’d rather that than the fucking museum.’
‘Ruby,’ he sighed.
‘Sorry. Gimme another brown?’
‘What?’
‘A ciggie. A cigarette, for God’s sake. I’ll buy some if you show me where, if that’s the problem.’
‘No problem,’ he said politely.
They began walking, their hands occasionally brushing together. Ruby noticed the top of a grand pillared building behind a high wall guarded by a couple of armed and uniformed men. She was surprised to see the Union flag hanging limply from a central flagpole.
‘What’s that place?’
He shrugged. ‘British embassy.’
‘Oh.’ Ruby wasn’t very interested.
They passed beneath a huge, ancient-looking tree, its trunk a mass of writhing tendrils for all the world like dun-coloured snakes. In its thick shade the air was almost cool.
‘Banyan tree.’
They stopped and looked up into the canopy of coarse leaves. Taxis cruised and honked a few feet away, a couple of passers-by glanced incuriously at them. Ash’s throat was smooth, his skin pale brown. Ruby stepped up close, put her hands behind his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him hard, flicking her tongue between his lips.
She saw the flash of dismay and disbelief in his eyes before he stepped sharply backwards.
‘Why you do that?’ he demanded.
She had done it without thinking, just because she felt like it.
‘Didn’t you like it?’
He had liked it, of course, but it was not what he had planned.
Ash had intended to make a play for the English girl, that went without saying, but he had expected to chase her until she was cornered and when she finally gave way the triumph would all have been his. Now she had taken the initiative and he felt diminished. He had no idea what to expect next.
They were now both aware of the breadth of experience and expectation that separated them, and they were uncomfortable.
‘You