Little Egypt (Salt Modern Fiction) Read Free

the water Mary had added to make it stretch. Peas and cubes of carrot floated on the surface. It was a grudging soup – you could always tell Mary’s mood from the way her food came out.
     
    Victor was trying to have a conversation with Osi. ‘Been out and about?’ he said.
    Slurping, Osi shook his head.
    ‘Have a fine time when the folks were home?’
    Osi nodded eagerly and opened his mouth to tell him all about Herihor, but Victor held up his hand and grinned at Isis, almost like his old self for a moment. ‘No Egypt over lunch, if you don’t mind old chap?’
    ‘Hear, hear,’ said Isis.
    Osi scowled at her. ‘Have you got your medal with you?’ he asked Victor. ‘Why aren’t you wearing it?’
    ‘Prefer to leave all that behind me.’
    Isis saw that the tablecloth was jumping where he sat. He saw her looking. ‘My bally leg,’ he said, a note of panic in his voice. ‘It jerks and jumps, I can’t . . .’ He was leaning on it and pressing with all his weight.
    ‘It’s all right,’ Isis said. ‘Have a slice of ham, Cleo’s having kittens, perhaps you’d like one? There’s dates in the pantry, Mary makes a lovely date and walnut loaf but she says there’s enough dates there to last us till judgement day . . .’
    Victor snorted dryly. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘No need to gabble.’ But he continued to press down on his leg and pushed his soup aside. He said nothing more and they sat in silence except for Osi’s terrible slurping.
    ‘Don’t take any notice of me,’ Victor said at last. ‘Didn’t mean to be so sharp.’
    ‘It’s quite all right! After luncheon perhaps we could go for a walk? Or perhaps a drive? It’s a lovely motor Osi, you should go and look.’
    Mary came in, pushing the door with her hip and carrying a bowl and jug. ‘I’ve resurrected a bit of stewed apple for you, and there’s cream,’ she said. ‘And I expect you’d like some coffee.’
    ‘And a spot of brandy,’ Victor added.
    ‘Very good, Sir .’ The door banged a little too emphatically as she went out and Isis darted a look at Victor to see if he minded, and saw that his eyes had gone lost again, and cloudy.
    ‘It seems unfair of Evelyn not to wait and see me,’ he said. ‘It was an arrangement.’ His leg began jumping again.
    ‘They’d booked their passage,’ Isis said. ‘Will you take some apples? And she really was upset to miss you.’
    ‘Nothing’s as important as their blessed expedition though,’ said Victor.
    ‘No,’ agreed Isis. ‘Never.’
    Osi pulled a gruesome face at her. He was eating with his mouth open as usual and she saw the churn of apples on his tongue. ‘Don’t be so putrid,’ she said.
    ‘Don’t be so stupid then.’
    ‘I’d rather be stupid than putrid and anyway I’m neither.’
    ‘Are.’
    ‘Not.’ This was unspeakably childish but Isis could not help it. ‘You bloody idiot,’ she said.
    ‘Now then.’ Victor’s face had gone ghastly grey. He picked up a spoon but it dropped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. He bent to retrieve it but couldn’t reach. He was half under the table, contorted, arm stretched out towards the spoon, panting with frustrated exertion – as if it mattered!
    When she bobbed beneath the edge of the tablecloth to re trieve it for him, Isis saw how his leg was jumping and caught the awful frightened tang of his sweat. ‘Forget the blasted spoon,’ she said as she emerged. Her heart flowed out to him, this ruined man, her uncle. ‘Oh Victor I’m so sorry about your neck,’ she blurted. ‘About your leg, poor Victor.’
    He gulped, jaw twitching, his whole being trembling with the effort of control, but it was too much. Something in him broke apart and he began to shake. Tears spurted shockingly from his eyes and Isis darted a panicked look at Osi, but he was concentrating on spooning up his apple.
    ‘ Osi! Wake up you fool !’ she shouted.
    Victor began to jerk all over now as if he was having a