Whispers in the Sand Read Online Free PDF

illustrated the narrative.
    “Hassan brought the mules at first light so that we could escape the worst of the heat. He loaded all my painting equipment into the panniers without a word. I was afraid he was still angry at my lack of tact and understanding of his role, but resolved not to speak of it. Instead I allowed him to help me onto my animal without uttering a word either of apology or of remonstrance at his outburst. He looked up at me once, and I saw the anger in his eyes. Then he went to collect the lead rein of the pack animal and climbed onto his own. We rode all the way to the valley without speaking.” Anna glanced up again, wearily rubbing her eyes. It did not sound as though Louisa had had a good time with Hassan. She turned on a few pages.
    “I saw him again today—just a faint figure in the heat haze. A tall man, watching me, who one minute was near me and the next minute was not there. I called out to Hassan, but he was asleep, and by the time he had reached my side, the man had vanished into the strange shimmer thrown by the heat of the sand. The shadows where I set my easel were dark in contrast, but out there, on the floor of the valley, there was nowhere for him to hide. I am beginning to feel afraid. Who is he, and why does he not approach me?”
    That sounded exciting. Exciting and mysterious. With a small shiver, Anna looked up with a start to see the flight attendant hovering with a jug of coffee. Her neighbour, ignoring the woman, was looking down at the diary on Anna’s knee with evident interest. She closed it and slipped it into her bag, reaching for the tray in front of her and letting it down onto her lap. He had already looked away. Outside, the sun was slipping nearer and nearer to the horizon.
    Her neighbour appeared to have fallen asleep when she fumbled in her bag once again for the diary, and opening it at random, she was captivated immediately by the words which sprang from the page. “I begin to love this country…”

    Louisa set down her pen and stared out of the window at the dark river outside. She had pulled open the lattice shutters to allow the smell of it, the warmth of the night air, the occasional breath of chill wind from the desert to enter her cabin. It all captivated her. She listened carefully. The other cabins were silent. Even the crew were asleep. Gathering up her skirts, she tiptoed to the door and opened it. The steps to the deck were steep. Cautiously she climbed them and emerged into the darkness. She could see the humped forms of the sleeping men before the mast and heard suddenly a brief sleepy snore as one of them eased his head on the cushion of his arm. Another breath of cold air and she could hear the rustle of palm fronds on the bank. Above, the stars were violent sparks against the blue-black sky.
    There was a slight movement behind her, and she turned. Hassan’s bare feet had made no sound on the deck. “Mrs. Shelley, you should stay in your cabin.” His voice was no more than a whisper against the whisper of the wind in the reeds.
    “It’s too hot down there. And the night is too beautiful to miss.” Her mouth had gone dry.
    She could see his smile, his teeth white against the dark silhouette of his face. “The night is for lovers, Mrs. Shelley.”
    Her face burning, she stepped away from him, her knuckles tight on the deck rail. “The night is for poets and painters as well, Hassan.”
    With half an ear she was listening for sounds from below deck. Her heart was beating very fast.

    Her neighbour was looking at Louisa’s diary again, she could sense it. Anna sighed. He was beginning to irritate her. His glance was an invasion of her space, an intrusion. If he was not prepared to make a minimum of polite conversation, he had no business being interested in her reading material! Closing the diary, she forced herself to look up and smile at the seat-back in front of her. “Not long now.” She turned towards him. “Are you going on a cruise