The Golden One Read Free Page A

France; Margaret, newly
engaged to a young officer; even Willie, on leave from France, who tried, dear lad, to make twice as many jokes to compensate for the absence of his twin brother, Johnny, who had been killed in
action the year before. There were tears as well as laughter; the war was too much with us; but we carried it off, I think, and there was one moment of genuine hilarity when Emerson asked David if
he had considered coming out later in the season.
    ‘Up to you, of course,’ he added hastily. ‘But little Dolly is fit and healthy, and Lia – ’
    ‘She is doing very well,’ said Nefret. ‘All things considered.’
    She smiled at David, whose candid countenance betrayed his relief at her intervention. He had difficulty in refusing Emerson anything, and he had not known how to break the news.
    I, of course, had known the moment I set eyes on Lia.
    Emerson’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, good Gad!’ he shouted. ‘Not again! Just like her mother! It must be a hereditary – ’
    ‘Emerson!’ I exclaimed.
    The reminder was sufficient, for Emerson is really the kindest of men. He managed to choke out a few words of congratulatory import, but everyone had heard his bellow and most of them knew what
had occasioned it. Even Evelyn, who had not laughed a great deal since Johnny’s death, had to retreat behind the Christmas tree to conceal her mirth. She was well aware that Emerson had never
entirely forgiven her for abandoning a promising career as a copier of Egyptian scenes in favour of motherhood.
    We would miss David and Lia, and not only for their affectionate companionship; David was one of the best artists and epigraphers in the field and Lia had learned enough about Egyptology to have
become a valued assistant. Their absence would leave us somewhat shorthanded that season. I did not allow that to worry me. We would manage somehow. As I stood on the dock at Alexandria, the old
joy of being back in Egypt pervaded every atom of my being. We got ourselves and our baggage onto the train for Cairo with only the usual confusion, which was compounded by the presence of the cat.
Horus had to sit between Sennia and Nefret, since he refused to tolerate anyone else.
    Other members of our Egyptian family awaited us at the station in Cairo. We were soon the centre of a shouting, cheering mob, which included not only our friends but practically every Egyptian
who happened to be there, all greeting us by our Egyptian names. Emerson disliked formal titles and would not allow our workers to address him as Effendi, but he rather revelled in his
well-deserved sobriquet of the Father of Curses. Many Egyptians still called me Sitt Hakim, though a lady doctor I was not; however, in my early days in Egypt, when medical services for the
fellahin were practically nonexistent, even my limited medical skills were appreciated. The title should have been Nefret’s, but she had long been known as Nur Misur, ‘Light of
Egypt’; and Ramses was Brother of Demons – a tribute to his supposedly supernatural powers.
    Emerson was soon so enveloped by well-wishers that only his head (hatless, as usual) showed above the crowd, some of whom attempted to embrace him while others knelt for his blessing (and
baksheesh).
    All at once Emerson’s voice rose in a vehement swearword. ‘Stop him!’ he shouted, spinning round in a circle and swatting his admirers away with wide sweeps of his arms.
‘Where did he go?’
    ‘Why, Emerson, what is the matter?’ I demanded, hastening to his side.
    Red-faced and shaking with rage, Emerson invoked the Creator in a manner of which I thoroughly disapprove. ‘He was here a second ago. Dressed in rags, smelling like a camel, squatting at
my feet . . . Where is he?’
    ‘Vanished,’ I said, as the crowd again closed in. ‘Did he speak to you?’
    ‘Oh, yes, he spoke. “Welcome back, brother! And thank you.” ’ Said Emerson, between clenched teeth, ‘I had just given him fifty