Scorpion Sunset Read online

  ‘Plans,’ Charles smiled. ‘I can tell you what they are now. Two words will cover it. “Under discussion”.’

  ‘I was thinking of writing “Not yet formulated”.’

  ‘That will do just as well. When will you be going?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Early next week, so I’ll have a few days to look for Maud.’

  Charles glanced at Peter. He knew the same thought was in both their minds. ‘How long before they’d be ordered back into battle – and would they survive a ‘next time’.

  Chapter Ten

  Mesopotamian Desert, Ottoman Empire

  July 1916

  When the gendarmes shouted the order to halt at dusk, Rebeka sank to the ground without relinquishing her hold on Mariam. They were on the outer edge of the group, close to the police, but she lacked the energy to crawl deeper into the mass of bedraggled humanity.

  Mrs Gulbenkian and Hasmik were next to them. Rebeka looked to her old neighbour, but Mrs Gulbenkian was too sunk in her own misery to respond. Plagued by thoughts of Anusha’s horrific murder, none of them had spoken for days.

  They had left the river behind them over a week ago. Since then, the gendarmes had permitted the occasional stop at wells, but never frequently enough to assuage their thirst. The water bottles they shared were heavy to carry when full and never held enough to satisfy everyone’s needs.

  She was beginning to think her previous life had been no more than a beautiful dream. Every muscle in her body ached; her feet were cut and bleeding, and each footfall brought fresh agony. Her skin was on fire from a combination of sunburn, mosquito bites, and bruises, inflicted during the nights when – in Mrs Gulbenkian’s terms – ‘her honour was violated’.

  Her nerves were as shredded as her feet, and she only had to hear one of the guards raise his voice for tears to start in her eyes. Her dress was torn and hung so loose it was in danger of falling from her. Crippled by agonising stomach cramps she could no longer walk upright, but her craving was for water, not food. Her mouth and throat longed for one of the buckets of cool sweet water she’d drawn from the well at home. She’d stand in the garden, and after making certain neither her mother nor grandmother was watching, drink from the bucket. At the height of summer, she’d tip the rest of the water over her head, allowing it to trickle down her neck and on to her dress. Cool, wet, soothing …

  She raised her head, hoping to catch sight of a well or failing that a pool. But the desert yawned back at her, flat, dry, and gritty. The only visible plant life was an occasional clump of camel thorn that she suspected even the animals they were named for might reject.

  The gendarmes swaggered, an intimidating armed line of masculinity. She watched them nod to one another as they pointed to the women and children who’d stretched out on the ground. Holding Mariam close she was careful to sit upright. At a snapped command from Mehmet, four of the younger gendarmes moved among the women and children and picked up those who’d collapsed. They carried them away from the group and dropped them next to a shallow trench carved out by the rains during the wet season.

  Suspecting what was coming after the events of previous nights, Rebeka dug in her pocket for a crust of bread she’d hoarded from the loaves that had been distributed days ago by the last group of American missionaries who’d dared come near them. The bread was rock-hard but she gave it to Mariam.

  Mariam took it and whispered, ‘Water.’

  Rebeka shook the tin bottle she carried. ‘It’s empty.’ Like the bread, she gave it to Mariam anyway.

  ‘You, Beka …’

  ‘Not hungry or thirsty,’ she lied. ‘Put your head on my lap, it will be cold soon. I’ll wrap my skirt around you to keep you warm.’

  Mariam did as she suggested and Rebeka covered Mariam’s eyes as well as her back and shoulders. The gendarmes pulled out their knives. The women and children they’d taken from the group didn’t even cry out as the gendarmes slit their throats.

  Rebeka lifted her head and stared up at the blue-black sky studded with silver stars and a low hanging, enormous brilliant moon. The heavens were vast, infinite, beautiful – and indifferent. She found it difficult to imagine it was the same night sky that had watched over her home and family.

  She heard the gendarmes moving, but refused to look when she heard them flinging the bodies of those they’d slaughtered into the gulley. The corpses landed in a series of ominous thuds. When silence reigned again it was only to be shattered by a chilling scream.

  The gendarmes retreated into the black desert. Huge, terrifying, shadowy figures crept out of the gloom and swooped down on the captives. Rebeka watched, mesmerized as the giants moved among the women. They were massive – and strong. She saw one lift a woman from her feet and hold her high as another stripped the clothes from her.

  Mrs Gulbenkian wrapped her arms tightly around Hasmik. ‘Lie beneath me. Don’t look. Don’t make a sound.’

  Before Rebeka could follow suit with Mariam, she was grabbed by her neck. As she was swung from her feet, a man, his head half-hidden by a turban, materialised in front of her. He inserted the point of his dagger in the neck of her ragged dress and sliced it from her. She fought with all the strength she could muster but it wasn’t enough. After the man had stripped her of her clothes he threw her aside, picked up her dress and Mariam and tossed both to a shorter, slighter figure wrapped in a cloak and kafieh.

  The man caught Mariam, who was catatonic with terror. Rebeka saw her sister’s mouth open but if Mariam screamed, it was silent. Devastated at the prospect of losing the last member of her family, Rebeka charged towards the man. She was only vaguely away of the cries, bloodshed, and chaos around her. Young girls and children were being wrenched from the arms of their mothers and sisters. Women and children tried to fight as the clothes were ripped from their backs. Most ended up knocked to the ground. Rebecca tripped over them, falling more than once on to mounds of bare flesh.

  She didn’t even realise she was stark naked until she found herself running alone in the moonlit desert. Somewhere ahead was a resounding drumbeat of pounding hooves. That was the moment she realised the bandit tribesmen who had robbed her and the other women of their clothes and children were riding off.

  Even as she summoned the last of her strength to run after them she knew it was futile. That she could never hope to catch them. But she kept running and crying Mariam’s name.

  A blow rained on her back. She plunged headlong to the earth. A second blow sent coloured stars shooting across the horizon. One by one they burst into shards of light and when the last sliver fell to earth there was only darkness.

  Abdul’s Coffee Shop, Basra

  July 1916

  Georgiana knocked Michael’s door.

  ‘Enter.’

  Her brother was sitting, writing, his travelling desk on the table beside him.

  ‘Georgie,’ he left his chair and kissed her cheek, ‘this is an unexpected pleasure.’

  ‘No boat of Turkish casualties came in this morning. Dr Picard and Theo Wallace insisted they could manage without me, so I thought I’d come and torment you before you go upstream.’

  ‘How do you know I’m going upstream?’

  ‘Angela Smythe told me when she visited her brother in the Lansing this morning.’

  ‘Can’t keep any secrets in this town. I’m pleased to see you, but Abdul’s is no place for a woman.’

  ‘Some people would argue that point. From what I’ve heard it’s exactly the place for enterprising women. I’ve been curious about the opportunities it offers to both sexes for a while. Besides, your girlfriend seems to manage living here. Now what did Charles say her name was?’ she mused unconvincingly as if she didn’t already know. ‘Kalla, isn’t it?’

  ‘I supposed you’re shocked.’

  ‘If you’re happy with her, I’m very pleased for you, little brother. You should never have married Lucy.’

  ‘You did all you could to stop me.’

  ‘I’m only sorr
y I didn’t succeed.’ She looked around the room. ‘Where is Kalla? As I called in unexpectedly I was hoping to meet her.’

  ‘Visiting …’ He hedged. ‘An acquaintance.’

  ‘An acquaintance, not friend?’

  ‘Kalla belonged to a woman …’

  ‘Belonged? She was a slave?’

  ‘There are many in this country.’

  ‘Nothing about this place should surprise me, but that does,’ Georgiana answered.

  ‘I’m in the process of buying her, which is proving complicated possibly because Kalla insists on doing the negotiating with my orderly Daoud’s help. They didn’t trust me. Said I’d end up paying too much. Frankly I would have rather given double the money to have the business over with by now. I find the whole idea repugnant.’

  ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that most civilised people would?’ she asked in amusement.

  ‘Sorry, Georgie, I’ve been too long in this country and talked to too many people like Abdul who think it’s normal for one human being to own another.’

  ‘A word of caution: have you considered what you’re going to do with Kalla when you buy her?’

  ‘Free her, of course.’

  ‘That’s it? Just say, off you go, Kalla, you’re free?’

  ‘No, of course not. Kalla wants to go upstream with me. We’ve been arguing about it.’

  ‘She realises there’s going to be serious fighting up there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But she still wants to go?’

  ‘When the bullets start flying I could leave her behind the lines with the orderlies. She’d be safe – or relatively safe – there.’ He gave her a disarming lopsided smile that reminded her of Harry. ‘I’m still thinking about it, but,’ he shrugged.

  ‘From what you’ve just said I think she’s already persuaded you to take her.’

  ‘I think I love her, Georgie.’

  ‘Think?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘If you love her, and she’s prepared to risk her life just to be with you, take her.’

  ‘I didn’t expect that advice from you.’

  She laughed.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘Us. Me marrying a Welsh miner, Harry a Bedouin girl, and now you falling in love with an Arab slave girl. Our poor parents. They put such store by what the county thinks. Can you imagine the sensation you’d create if you turned up at mother’s next garden party with Kalla.’

  ‘They’d approve of David Knight,’ Michael commented.

  ‘They probably would.’

  ‘Is he serious?’

  ‘About what?’

  Irritated by her evasion, he snapped, ‘You, Georgie.’

  ‘Good Lord, no. David and I have fun together. Nothing more. Besides, David’s far too good-looking for any woman, especially me with my plain face, to take seriously. He’s like the flashy impractical gown you long to buy even though you know it’s going to disintegrate the first time you wash it.’ She went to the window and looked down at the wharf.

  ‘Do you love him?’ Michael asked.

  She turned to face him. ‘No, but I do love my post at the Lansing because it means I can stay close to you. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Not after Harry …’

  ‘It’s not as though you’re in the same situation Clary was,’ he broke in. ‘I could understand her refusing to marry Tom until he was sent home sick, because it would have meant her having to give up nursing, and she was doing important work in the Basra Hospital. But the Lansing’s a charity. They’re not even paying you. They’re so desperate for doctors they would keep you on, Georgie, whether you were married or not.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then why not marry David?’ he asked.

  ‘One, David hasn’t asked. Two, Gwilym may be dead but his death hasn’t stopped me from loving him and you can’t simply replace one husband with another. Then there’s the future – when I dare think about it. I married one man who went off to war and never returned. Gwilym promised me he’d be safe behind the lines as a stretcher-bearer. David’s a doctor with field experience. If he went upstream and was killed I …’ She turned back to the window.

  ‘Would it be easier if David was killed and you weren’t married, sis?’

  ‘Probably not,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t bear the thought of losing anyone else I know and love as a friend.’

  ‘What did you just say to me? “If you love her you should take her with you.” That applies to you too. If you love David you should marry him.’

  ‘I told you, he hasn’t and won’t ask me to. Are you expecting Charles?’

  ‘Is that your way of changing the subject?’

  ‘No, Charles just walked in downstairs.’

  ‘That’s his stick hitting the stairs.’ Michael went to the door and opened it.

  Charles hobbled into the room. ‘Georgie, I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘If you want to talk men’s rubbish, I’ll clear off.’

  ‘No, please. Not on my account.’ Charles removed his hat and dropped it and his swagger stick on a side table before lowering himself on the divan. ‘I heard you’re going upstream soon.’

  ‘I am,’ Michael confirmed.

  ‘Any news of Maud?’

  ‘None. Abdul and Daoud have had men out scouring the wharf and Basra. It’s as if she’s stepped off the earth.’

  ‘Not into the Shatt al-Arab, I hope.’ Charles fell serious.

  ‘Daoud checks the bodies with the civil authorities every morning. A female of Maud’s age and colouring would attract instant attention and there haven’t been any answering her description.’

  ‘I ran into Angela in the stores yesterday morning, She seems to be coping with looking after Maud’s child,’ Charles took the glass of whisky Michael poured for him.

  ‘I think she secretly loves having a baby to care for.’ Georgie nodded when Michael offered her a glass as well. ‘But Peter isn’t too keen. Like all men he wants his own children and he’s probably wondering how Angela will cope with two babies.’

  ‘Angela’s going to have a baby?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Not that she’s confided in me,’ Georgie glanced at Charles. ‘When are you going upstream?’

  ‘When HQ decides I should go.’

  ‘Peter?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this but he was given two days leave this morning. He went back to his bungalow so I assume he’s giving Angela the news now.’

  ‘So the push is coming and Peter will be going in three days?’ Georgiana sipped her whisky.

  ‘Peter will be leaving in three days,’ Charles confirmed, ‘the push to Baghdad will only happen when the new command believes we’re ready.’

  ‘New command?’ Michael picked up a pen.

  ‘General Maude’s been put in overall command.’

  Michael scribbled the name.

  ‘Before you go rooting around the Basra Club and the bars, I can tell you now, the men like him. He’s aggressive, a brilliant tactician, and controls every detail of his command. He never takes unwarranted risks, and performed miracles with the 13th Division after the Dardanelles fiasco. It was shot to pieces but within six months he’d transformed it into a fighting force second to none.’

  ‘You think he’ll take Baghdad?’ Michael asked.

  ‘In his own good time, and only when he’s ready,’ Charles qualified. ‘He won’t advance until he’s confident of success.’

  ‘Will David be going upstream?’ Georgiana asked.

  ‘To quote the senior MO, “Knight will be invaluable to the medical service because he has experience of conducting surgery on trestles.”’

  ‘Then he’ll be leaving on the same boat as Peter?’

  ‘Ask David that question,’ Charles evaded.

  ‘I don’t have to now, Charles.’ She set down her glass and went to the door. ‘Time to say a goodbye.’

  ‘I’ll walk you back to the Lansing.’ Charles reached fo
r his stick.

  ‘I walked down here perfectly well on my own. I’m equally capable of walking back among the natives, who are nowhere near as dangerous as British Military would like to have their womenfolk believe.’

  ‘I’m not offering protection, Georgie, just asking for your company and given the state of my leg the assistance of a doctor should I need it. I have to get back to the office so I’m going in your direction. Dinner tonight in the Basra Club for as many as can make it, my shout? I’ll pass the message on to Kitty, Peter, and Angela and book a table.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Michael agreed.

  ‘Neither David nor I are on duty so we’ll join you.’ Georgiana opened the door and strode ahead of Charles.

  Basra

  July 1916

  ‘Are you going to tell me why you really called on Michael, Charles?’ Georgiana asked after Charles had given in to her demand they hire a carriage for her sake, although he knew she wouldn’t have considered doing so if she’d been alone.

  ‘You heard me talk about the push upstream.’

  ‘Something Michael would have found out for himself as soon as he went down to the coffee shop.’

  ‘Dinner tonight …’

  ‘Was an afterthought and don’t try saying it wasn’t. Your first question was about Maud.’

  ‘I’m concerned for her. I recalled what Michael said, about her being upset. Mothers don’t abandon their children …’

  ‘Unless they have nowhere to turn to. Maud’s father had thrown her out. From what Michael told me about your visit to the Lansing, Mrs Butler wasn’t exactly enthralled at the prospect of having Maud’s child dumped on her, which makes me suspect she wouldn’t have given Maud house room – or in her case, mission room – if Maud had taken the child to the Lansing herself.’

  They were approaching the Basra Club and the turning to the broad avenue that swept up to the European quarter and the Lansing Hospital. The palm-lined boulevard was wide and almost devoid of people at that time of day as the military were working and the locals sleeping away the heat of the afternoon.