Scorpion Sunset Page 11

  Theo’s words resounded in her ears. ‘Frankly there are only two places a women like you can go, a whorehouse or a convent.’

  Then she thought of someone who would help her no matter what she’d done. Not because they loved her but from motives of pure charity.

  She would leave Basra after all, and go to the one place people would least expect to find her. She quickened her step and looked along the wharf. A white woman would attract attention but not a woman in a bourka.

  She saw a native opening his shop.

  A moment later she was inside it.

  Chapter Nine

  Mesopotamian Desert

  June 1916

  Rebeka sat up as the order to wake was shouted from gendarme to gendarme. The moon and stars were fading, the sky slowly lightening from dark to pale grey but the air was still uncomfortably chill. She looked around and realised they’d been corralled like sheep on to a tiny peninsula of rough ground that jutted out into the river. She studied the white, pinched faces that surrounded her and knew the same thought was in all their minds. They were in for yet another hungry, thirsty, burning hot day, long, painful, and full of humiliation.

  ‘Drink!’

  The moment the gendarmes gave permission, there was a stampede to the bank. Rebeka kept a tight hold on Mariam’s hand as they trailed behind the others. Even in the early morning gloom she could see the water at the river’s edge was thick with mud and rubbish.

  ‘Wait, Mariam.’ She untied the scarf from her head and strained water through it into the tin mug she’d threaded on to her belt. Trying not to think of the filth she hadn’t managed to filter out, she gave the water to her sister. Only when Mariam had finished did she fill the mug and drink herself, and by then the gendarmes were yelling at the women to move back from the water.

  Anusha pushed close to her. She looked up. Saw Mehmet watching them.

  ‘Anusha, Mehmet …’

  Anusha leaned forward, embraced and kissed her. ‘I love you, Rebeka. Take care of Mariam for both of us.’

  ‘I love you, Anusha, but …’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Anusha wrenched her hand from Rebeka’s and waded into the river. Within seconds she lost her footing and was swept out into the mid-stream.

  Mrs Gulbenkian, Rebeka, and Mariam screamed as the current carried Anusha swiftly away from them.

  ‘You don’t want to drown, do you, Grandma?’ A gendarme kicked Mrs Gulbenkian and Hasmik, who hadn’t left the older woman’s side since the night her family had been killed, back into the throng.

  A shot rang out. Anusha’s body jerked then sank.

  ‘Shut up, bitch.’ A gendarme knocked Rebeka, who was crying, on to the muddy bank. She reached out for Mariam, struggled to her feet, and moved close to Mrs Gulbenkian simply because it was reassuring to be in the company of someone familiar from better days. She closed her eyes and tried to retreat from what was happening.

  She pictured the bedroom she’d shared with her sisters. The patchwork eiderdown her mother had stitched from their outgrown dresses and stuffed with feathers from their poultry yard that she’d washed and dried and scented with herbs and lavender. The photographs of their grandparents in silver frames that hung on the walls. The rag rugs she and her sisters had inexpertly plaited. Their ‘best’ white Sunday shoes ranged in a row below the curtains in front of the window …

  ‘You! Ugly sister!’

  Mehmet knotted his fingers into her hair and hauled her close to him. Mariam’s cries escalated. Mrs Gulbenkian covered Mariam’s eyes so she wouldn’t see what was about to happen. As if her sister hadn’t seen it already so many times she’d lost count.

  Mehmet dragged Rebeka by her hair to the edge of the crowd. The pain of her hair being torn out by the roots was excruciating, the sound even more so. Her dress was ripped from her. Then, amidst savage, mocking laughter, Mehmet wielded a whip, bringing it down on her back, shoulders, legs and buttocks.

  ‘I forbade you to talk to your sister … you knew she was mine … you made me shoot her … You! … No one else. You … killed her …’

  She tried to think of home – safety – her grandmother – her father – her mother – but it was no use. She wanted it to be over. She wanted to die. To join Anusha and Veronika, but she couldn’t. Not while Mariam still lived and needed what little protection she could give her.

  Military HQ, Basra

  June 1916

  Charles stared at Maud’s letter for a few seconds before reading it a second time.

  If you are ever in position to help Robin and see fit to do so, I would be very grateful for his sake, not mine. He didn’t ask to be brought into this world.

  He folded it, returned it to its envelope, and glanced up at his aide.

  ‘When was this delivered?’

  ‘Early this morning, sir. A guard brought it up from the front gate because it was marked urgent. He said it was delivered by a native woman.’

  ‘Order a carriage to meet me outside the main entrance in ten minutes.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The private saluted and left.

  Charles reached for the letter he’d written to Maud, which was still in his in tray. He folded it into the pocket of his tunic, picked up his stick, rested his weight on it, and rose awkwardly from his chair. He walked slowly, testing the strength of his damaged leg as he limped down the corridor. He tapped a door at the end.

  Peter Smythe shouted. ‘Come in.’ He looked up from the maps spread out on his desk. ‘Charles, you’ve news about the advance?’

  ‘Nothing. I received a letter from Maud. Did she write to you or Angela?’

  Peter ran his fingers through his bright red hair, brushing it back from his face. ‘Not me. She might have written to Angela but nothing came before I left the bungalow this morning.’

  ‘Maud’s father has thrown her out.’

  ‘That would explain why she was so upset last night.’ Peter perched on the windowsill, leaving the single chair in his cupboard-sized office for Charles.

  ‘I didn’t like to ask last night in the club as Tom was so angry with Maud, but did you and Angela actually see her?’

  ‘No, like you and Kitty, Angela and I arrived at the Basra Club after Maud had left. Michael was the first to arrive for the dinner, then Tom, Clary, David, and Georgie. From what David told me we missed an ugly scene. Tom completely lost his temper when he saw Maud. Michael had found her standing outside the club. She was upset, so he took her in to try to calm her down. Then Tom arrived and gave her a hard time.’

  ‘Understandable after what Maud did to his brother,’ Charles sat and propped his stick against the wall.

  ‘I’ll not argue with you on that score. Michael offered to take Maud home. You were there when he returned and said he’d sorted her problems but with Tom breathing fire every time Maud’s name was mentioned I didn’t have a chance to ask Michael what he’d done.’ Peter looked up as the orderly knocked on his open door. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mr Michael Downe’s here, asking if you can spare him a few minutes, sir.’

  ‘Show him in.’

  ‘You’ve had a letter from Maud?’ Charles asked as soon as Michael walked in.

  ‘No.’ Michael frowned. ‘You’ve heard from her?’

  ‘I had a letter a few minutes ago.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Among other things, that she’s leaving Basra.’

  ‘Why did she write to you?’

  Charles suddenly realised just how incriminating Maud’s letter was, not only to her but him. ‘Possibly because I’m John’s oldest remaining friend in Basra and I was a friend to her mother as well as her.’ He hoped that neither Michael nor Peter would suspect just how close a friend he’d been to Emily Perry.

  ‘I was supposed to meet Maud outside her father’s bungalow at five o’clock this morning,’ Michael revealed. ‘I’d arranged to move her …’

  ‘To where?’ Charles interrupted.

  ‘When we talked, she didn
’t know. Maud’s father told her to leave his bungalow yesterday evening. I promised to find her somewhere. Last night I arranged for her to rent a house from one of the people who works at the French consulate. His wife has returned to France …’ Michael realised he was digressing. ‘Anyway, when I arrived at Colonel Perry’s bungalow this morning with a cart and carriage ready to move Maud, her baby, and belongings, she’d already left. Colonel Perry refused to allow me inside. I’d told Maud I was living in Abdul’s so I returned there in case she’d gone looking for me. She hadn’t. The only other place I could think of that she would have gone to was your bungalow, Peter, but the maid said you and Angela were out.’

  ‘Angela’s teaching at the Lansing,’ Peter explained. ‘What did Maud say in her letter?’ he asked.

  ‘That she was going to leave her baby at the Lansing in the hope that Mrs Butler would place him in an orphanage.’

  ‘Good God!’ Peter exclaimed. ‘Why on earth did she write to you, Charles, and not Angela? Angela’s her friend …’

  ‘Maud mentioned the effect military gossip was having on her,’ Charles divulged. ‘It was the reason her father ordered her to leave his bungalow. She probably didn’t want Angela to become tainted by association.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain why she wrote to you and not me after we talked last night,’ Michael protested.

  ‘As I said, I’m the last of John’s close friends in Basra,’ Charles persisted. ‘She doesn’t know either of you as well as me. Tom said some devastating things to her last night. She was probably concerned that you both despise her for being unfaithful to John.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  Charles avoided Peter’s question. ‘Perhaps she felt she couldn’t abandon her child in an orphanage without telling someone where she’d left him.’

  ‘Did she hint where she might be going?’

  ‘No.’ Charles left the chair. ‘I asked my orderly to arrange a carriage. I thought someone should go to the Lansing and talk to Mrs Butler. I doubt she’s happy at having the child dumped on her, even if it turns out to be on a temporary basis.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Peter volunteered.

  You don’t have to,’ Charles demurred.

  ‘I’ll grab any excuse to leave the office and see Angela, especially in the middle of the day. What about you, Michael?’

  ‘As I have nothing planned for this morning, I’ll tag on. Just as well Tom’s already left Basra.’

  ‘I agree, he’s best out of this,’ Charles observed.

  ‘I’m not sure what any of us can do,’ Peter followed Michael out of the door.

  ‘First we establish how Mrs Butler feels at having the child sent to her,’ Charles suggested.

  ‘And if she refuses to take responsibility for the baby?’ Peter ventured.

  ‘Someone else will have to.’ Charles picked up his hat and closed the door behind him.

  Lansing Memorial Mission, Basra

  June 1916

  ‘More tea, Major Reid, Major Smythe, Mr Downe, Angela?’ Mrs Butler beckoned to the maid who was manning the tea trolley.

  ‘No, thank you, Mrs Butler.’ Charles declined. The other guests followed suit.

  ‘Leave us,’ Mrs Butler ordered the maid. ‘Close the door behind you and ask the cook to find you something to do in the kitchen until it’s time to serve lunch.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘To return to your question, Major Reid,’ Mrs Butler continued after the girl left the drawing room. ‘Yes, I was shocked when Mrs Mason’s nursemaid arrived here with the baby before five o’clock this morning. Shocked and angry that Mrs Mason should think of imposing on us here at the Lansing. She’s lived among us. She knows how busy we are, but I could hardly turn the woman and child out on the street, which is why I’ve accommodated them, temporarily, in the room Mrs Mason used when she stayed with us as our guest. However, I have stressed to the maid their residence here can be only an interim measure.’

  ‘The maid has accepted responsibility for the child?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Hardly,’ Mrs Butler set her cup on a side table. ‘Before I found her the position of nursemaid to Mrs Mason she worked as a maid in our orphanage for native children. She has no home and no resources of her own beyond the money Mrs Mason gave her before she came here.’

  ‘Maud gave her money?’ Michael made an effort to sound casual lest anyone suspect his generosity.

  ‘A year’s wages, twenty pounds, but nothing whatsoever towards the woman’s or the child’s living expenses. Maud did, however, send this.’ Mrs Butler handed Charles the jewellery case Maud had given the maid. ‘I have no idea how valuable those pieces are or if indeed they have any value at all.’

  Charles opened the case. ‘This is a set Harry left to Maud. It’s valuable and its worth will probably increase after the war. Particularly if the gold is melted down, and the stones sold through a reputable jeweller.’

  Angela left her chair and looked at the pieces over Charles’s shoulder. ‘If those rubies and diamonds are real, few officers could afford them, and fewer wives would have the courage to wear the jewellery for fear of losing or breaking one of the items.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to begin to look for a buyer for them,’ Mrs Butler said. ‘As to taking the child, the Reverend and I are run off our feet between making improvements here, and opening the new orphanage and training facility for destitute girls. Our sister centre in Amara will be operational next month. It is taking up every minute of the Reverend’s time which makes my presence here more vital than ever. We’re simply not in a position to care for a child. It really was most irresponsible of Maud Mason to send the baby to us.’

  ‘Is the maid is capable of looking after the boy?’ Michael checked.

  ‘At the moment, when the child only needs feeding, changing, and nursing, but babies have a habit of growing and when they do, they need more attention than a nursemaid can give them.’

  ‘As it’s difficult for you and the Reverend to look after Robin, Peter and I could take him until Maud returns,’ Angela volunteered.

  ‘Steady on, Angela,’ Peter remonstrated. ‘We’re not in a position to adopt a child. You teach here and I’ll be going upstream as soon as the Relief Force regroups.’

  ‘No one said anything about adoption. It will only be until Maud returns. She will, and soon,’ Angela declared. ‘She dotes on that baby.’

  Mrs Butler snorted in derision. ‘I saw little evidence of Mrs Mason doting on that child when she was here.’

  ‘Maud doesn’t find it easy to show her feelings,’ Angela defended her loyally. ‘And the child won’t present a problem, not immediately. The nursemaid and the baby can live in our bungalow. I’ll bring them here with me here on the days I teach, and if you agree, Mrs Butler, they can stay in Maud’s old room. They’ll be out of the way there and I can check on them during my lunch break. When I’ve finished teaching I’ll take them back to our quarters.’

  ‘And when I go upstream? Peter asked.

  ‘The baby and the nursemaid will be company for me.’

  ‘You’re taking on a huge responsibility, not to mention expense,’ Peter warned.

  ‘A baby won’t cost much and Maud’s paid the nursemaid a year’s wages, so it will only be their food. Our cook always makes far too much. I doubt we’ll notice any difference in the housekeeping.’

  ‘In my opinion Maud won’t be back any time soon to reclaim the boy,’ Mrs Butler prophesised. ‘Frankly, given that Robin isn’t her husband’s child I doubt she’ll ever return.’

  ‘I’d like to contribute towards the upkeep of the child,’ Charles offered.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Mrs Butler enquired suspiciously.

  ‘Because John Mason is my closest surviving friend and no matter what happened between him and Maud, he wouldn’t want to see her or the child in need. He has enough problems being held captive by the Turks without worrying about Maud and her baby being left dest
itute.’

  ‘I heard that Major Mason intends to divorce Mrs Mason.’ Mrs Butler blatantly fished for information.

  ‘The last time I saw John we were at Nasiriyeh and too busy fighting the Turks to discuss our personal circumstances.’ Charles deliberately moved the conversation on from John’s marital problems. ‘There’s an innocent baby adrift in Basra, which in my opinion is not a suitable town for army wives, let alone children. If Peter and Angela are prepared to take the child on a temporary basis until something more permanent can be arranged, the least I can do is contribute to his upkeep. I’ll open an account in his name, make a monthly deposit, and arrange for Angela and Peter to draw on it so they can purchase whatever he needs.’

  ‘Then that’s settled, thank you, Charles.’ Angela smiled at Peter.

  Peter didn’t return her smile. ‘What about clothes and furniture? We don’t even have a child’s cot.’

  ‘Maud sent everything the child needs. I’ll ask the gardener to cart it to your bungalow,’ Mrs Butler offered.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Butler,’ Angela said gratefully. ‘We have two empty rooms in the bungalow so accommodating Robin and the maid won’t inconvenience us.’

  ‘Shouldn’t someone look for Maud?’ Michael suggested. ‘When I left her last night she was in quite a state. I doubt she was thinking straight.’

  ‘She most certainly couldn’t have been thinking straight. If she had been, she wouldn’t have sent her child here,’ Mrs Butler declared.

  ‘Are you volunteering to look for her?’ Charles asked Michael.

  ‘I’ll make enquiries, but I had a cable from my editor this morning. A source in the War Office has tipped him that the push to Baghdad is imminent. He asked me to head upstream and write a series of articles on the Relief Force’s plans to wreak revenge for the surrender at Kut al Amara.’