Palace Circle Part 27

"It isn't only the British we need to expel," Sadat said bluntly. "We have to overthrow the monarchy. As long as there is a king, Egypt will remain poor and backward. All our country's wealth from cotton, from the ca.n.a.l, goes into the pockets of a handful of self-indulgent and corrupt men. The King has to go. The great landowners have to go. Parliament, as it exists, must be stripped of power and a new congress reelected."

The future Sadat painted-where the old feudal estates were broken up, where the wealth from cotton was used to build a modern state-was beyond anything Darius had ever dared to hope.

By the time Sadat had left the houseboat, Darius had decided on his future. Along with Sadat, Na.s.ser, and the idealistic young officers they had gathered around them, he was going to be instrumental in the rebirth of Egypt. He would ensure that she was never again subordinated to another nation.

"And that includes Germany," Sadat had said, stuffing tobacco into a pipe. "I know that at the moment it looks as if the tide of the war is turning against her, but it won't be so for long. Hitler will send in German troops under Rommel. It is imperative we have direct contact with him when he arrives. We can't stage an uprising that will help him take Cairo without a guarantee that when the war is over, Egypt will be independent."

"What kind of contact?" he had asked. "Wireless?"

"Only to arrange the meeting," Sadat had said, lighting his pipe. "Our intention is to fly one of our officers across the desert for a personal meeting. It's risky, of course. When the British realize he's heading for enemy lines they'll try and shoot him down. Unless the Germans offer cover, the RAF will blast him from the sky before he can land. Constantin is already in touch with Berlin and they will tell him the wavelength needed for their headquarters in Libya. When the time is right, we'll be able to make contact."

Darius lit another cigarette and poured himself some more arrak. Golden light was now streaking the sky and gilding the surface of the Nile. In a few more hours Davina would arrive.

He wondered how much he could safely tell her.

And he wondered if it was fair to tell her anything at all.

"I didn't break the news to my mother of Aileen and Fergus's death until breakfast," Davina said sitting down wearily on one of the lounge chairs. "I just couldn't bring myself to do it last night when she was having such a wonderful time."

"And this morning?"

She winced. "It was terrible. She admired both of them so much and had grown very fond of them, particularly Aileen."

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face etched with grief.

Seeing her pain was a knife to Darius's heart.

"Would you like a coffee?" he asked, wishing there was some way he could comfort her.

She nodded. "Yes, please. But not Turkish."

He went down the companionway to the galley. Though he hadn't been to bed he had changed out of the Western clothes he had worn to Delia's party, and into a gal.a.b.i.a. It was black trimmed with narrow silver braid and he was quite sure that he had never looked-or felt-more Egyptian.

When he returned to the sundeck, he said, "I've met the most remarkable young man, Davina. His name is Anwar Sadat and he's an Egyptian army officer."

He described Sadat's vision of an Egypt without foreign domination and without a self-indulgent monarchy and a corrupt Egyptian elite. He told Davina that Sadat envisioned a place for him in the new republican government. He knew he should tell her how difficult their future would be, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. At least not while she was so distressed over her friends' death.

Always able to read each other's minds, she did it for him.

"I doubt if the Free Officers envision a future minister of justice who is married to an Englishwoman." Her voice was filled with despair. "And my adopting Andrew only complicates matters further, doesn't it?"

He wanted to say that no, it didn't. But because they had always been truthful with each other, he couldn't.

She put the tips of her fingers to her forehead as if trying to ease a pain that was too much to bear. "Perhaps we should end things now, Darius. Perhaps it would be easiest-"

He seized hold of her arms and pulled her roughly to her feet. "No," he said fiercely, knowing it was something he couldn't, yet, survive. "Nothing has to be done now. It will be years before the Free Officers' dream comes to fruition. And it could be a long time before you are able to adopt Andrew. Who knows how long this bally war is going to continue? Who knows who is going to win it and what the circ.u.mstances will be? For now, we go on as we've always done. Together."

She sagged against him with relief.

His arms closed around her and as he hugged her to him, he knew he was only forestalling the day when she would leave his life forever.

A month later a Romanian diplomat was expelled from his legation on suspicion of spying. The legation, however, was not closed down.

"Can't be, old boy," Archie Somerset said in his infuriating English public-school accent. "You have to remember that Egypt's not at war with Romania-or anyone else for that matter. Much as Amba.s.sador Lampson would like to close the Hungarian and Romanian legations, he can't. Getting rid of a spy was the most Lampson could do. It must make him crazy with rage."

Archie was the kind of jovial Englishman that most annoyed Darius. Always jolly, always joking, he would disappear from Cairo for weeks on end and then turn up again with pale marks around his eyes left by sand goggles and no explanation of his absence other than that he had been "in the blue"-British slang for the Western Desert.

When he was in Cairo, Archie was everywhere. No matter what the party, Archie was a guest. And Darius regularly ran across him in places British soldiers normally never visited. One day Archie said, "How about a party on your houseboat, Darius? That's what houseboats are for, aren't they? A bit of music, a lot of dancing. Have you got a radiogram? I've got plenty of records you can borrow."

Darius replied stone-faced that he never held parties, but he increasingly wondered if Archie was Constantin's British contact.

British euphoria over the collapse of the Italian advance changed to an atmosphere of tension in February when General Rommel landed in Libya with two crack panzer divisions.

Even before the month was out the Afrika Korps launched into an engagement with British troops at El Agheila, the point in Libya where, a couple of months earlier, the British had defeated the Italians. There was no running German troops to a standstill, and the prospect of Rommel striding into Shepheard's and commandeering the best suite suddenly seemed a very real possibility.

Sadat, using Constantin's wireless transmitter, contacted Rommel's headquarters in Libya from the Egyptian Queen, but to his great consternation, there was no reply.

In March, as more successful attacks were launched by the Germans, Britain's foreign secretary, Anthony Eden, flew into Cairo in order to give a firsthand report to Churchill. He was accompanied by the chief of the imperial general staff, Sir John Greer Dill, and Sir Jerome Bazeljette.

Though nearly every moment of the three men's time was spent in discussions with the military hierarchy, Jerome did manage to squeeze in an appearance at a party thrown for him by Delia.

Darius and his father were among the many guests.

Their hostess was radiant. Wryly Darius wondered if he was the only person-apart from her husband and Jerome- who was aware of the reason for Delia's glowing happiness.

"Sylvia and Girlington are at s...o...b.. for the duration," he overheard Jerome say to Lady Tucker, the wife of an army general.

He hadn't a clue who was being talked about.

Aware he was eavesdropping, Davina glided past him and whispered helpfully, "Sylvia is the former Lady Bazeljette. Girlington is her husband, the Duke of Girlington. s...o...b.. is one of their many homes, a castle in the north of England."

His lips twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt which quickly vanished when Fawzia entered the room on their father's arm.

She looked ravishing, as always. Her blue-black hair was coiled in an elaborate chignon. Her c.o.c.ktail dress was ruby-red brocade and she was wearing magnificent diamonds at her ears and throat. He regarded them cobra-eyed, certain that whatever she may have said to their father, they were not a present from her husband.

He remembered Sadat's pa.s.sionate promise that when the Free Officers Movement liberated Egypt, Farouk and all he stood for would have to go. Darius looked at the waterfall of diamonds hanging from his sister's ears and felt that day couldn't come soon enough.

"Did you forget that Sir Jerome is my father-in-law?" Fawzia said when their father had moved off to speak to Ivor. "Unfortunately he has no more news of Jack than I have. The last we heard he was in Palestine."

Darius said nothing. Palestine was too close to Egypt for comfort. Now that Sadat was attempting to contact Rommel from a wireless transmitter onboard the Egyptian Queen, the last thing Darius needed was a British intelligence officer turning up in Cairo-especially when that intelligence officer was both a brother-in-law and a friend.

Behind them Delia, who had become temporarily detached from Jerome's arm, was saying cheerily to Lady Tucker, "It's so dandy getting reliable news of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess. When I heard the Duke had been given the governorship of the Bahamas my heart sank. It's so far from Europe I couldn't imagine either of them feelin' it was anything but a form of exile, but apparently the Duke is doing a cracking job and Wallis, who is just as sweet as she can be, has thrown herself into Red Cross work."

Lady Tucker's face was a picture. He had long ago realized that no one in the British community had a good word to say about the woman for whom King Edward VIII had renounced his throne, but Delia never left anyone in doubt as to where she stood on the issue of Wallis Simpson. Wallis was her friend and, as she said often, "a grand gal."

Lady Tucker stiffly changed the subject to Delia's highly successful club for noncommissioned troops and Darius watched Davina as she threaded her way through the guests. Her pale-blue c.o.c.ktail dress was simply cut, her shoulder-length fair hair held away from her face by a mother-of-pearl comb. Though she was twenty-five, she looked barely twenty and he was strongly reminded of an ill.u.s.tration he had seen of Alice in the children's storybook Alice in Wonderland.

Jerome immediately gave her a bear hug. Petra, he noted, was keeping her distance, though he also noted that her eyes followed Jerome wherever he went. Hard as he tried to read her expression, he couldn't. All he could a.s.sume was that she was aware of the nature of Jerome's relationship with her mother and wanted as little to do with him as possible.

The conversation between Jerome and Davina had become earnest. He heard the words "Shibden Hall" and "Andrew," and tension churned his guts. He turned away, not wanting to be reminded of the devastation that would take place in his life on the day Davina adopted Andrew.

Leaving the party early, he arrived back at the Egyptian Queen not long after midnight to find Constantin seated on one of the deck's loungers.

"What's the matter?" he asked abruptly, not in the mood for a late-night chat. "I thought I'd told you I'd be at the Conisborough party this evening."

"Did you? I'd forgotten. Still, if you're not in the mood for a drink I'll wander off." He waited for Darius to dissuade him and then, as Darius remained silent, he heaved himself to his feet. "Noapte buna," he said, wishing him good night in Romanian.

"'Night," Darius said, knowing he'd been inhospitably churlish.

By April Rommel was advancing on Egypt at such a pace that the British, fearful that the Egyptian army units stationed near the frontier would surrender, replaced them with Allied troops.

"And our generals acquiesced!" Anwar said explosively to Darius. "If only Rommel had contacted us, agreeing to meet with one of our officers and sign the treaty, it would have been the perfect time to stage an uprising. As it is, there is still no word from Rommel. Why, Darius? Why?"

By May the war in the desert was being conducted on such a vast scale that the streets of Cairo were clogged with dispatch riders and trucks packed with equipment and men. The talk in the Long Bar at Shepheard's was that the Germans could be expected to arrive at the pyramids within the week.

Tobruk, a coastal town of great strategic value because of its deep harbor, had been encircled by Rommel. Darius didn't expect talk of anything else, but was wrong. The news Davina brought superseded even that of Tobruk, at least in the British community.

"My parents are divorcing," she said, white-faced, as she stepped aboard the houseboat.

"Sit down," he said. "I'll make coffee."

Only when the coffee was made did he allow her to begin talking again.

"My father is going to marry Kate," she said dazedly. "And the incredible thing is, my mother doesn't mind. She says that as Kate is thirty-nine and is desperate to have a baby, it's best they marry now before it's too late for her to have one."

Davina pa.s.sed a hand across her eyes. "I feel so odd, Darius. Knowing Kate was having an affair with my father was one thing. But I never dreamed my father would divorce my mother so that he and Kate could marry. He and my mother have always been so close. He tells her absolutely everything. And that is how my mother says it will stay. She says that they will always be each other's best friend."

She took a sip of her coffee and added, "My mother seems relieved by the divorce. She says it is something that couldn't have happened when my father was an adviser to King Fuad. A divorce then would have meant his immediate recall to London and the end of his career. Now, even if their social life suffers, I don't think either of them cares. And it probably won't because the war has changed everything. People think differently now."

"Where will Kate and your father marry?" he asked, bemused.

"I don't know. In the Church of England, people who have been divorced can't have a church wedding. My mother is hoping-as it matters to Kate so much-that after a civil marriage ceremony they will be able to have a blessing on their marriage in the English cathedral."

"If that's what your mother is hoping for, then I daresay it will be what your mother gets," he said, aware that Davina was soon going to have to face the even more profound shock of learning her mother was in love with Sir Jerome Bazeljette.

"Who is going to be the one to move out of Nile House?" he asked, wondering how the three protagonists were going to survive the deluge of gossip.

"My father. He's already moved into a house here, on Gezira Island, close to the sporting club."

She looked exhausted and he said abruptly, "Let's go to Fleurent for lunch. You can tell me about Petra's reaction to the news over a gla.s.s of wine."

According to Davina, Petra hadn't revealed even a glimpse of what she was feeling. Instead she had affected great indifference. It wasn't a reaction shared by anyone else in the British community. Wherever he went, Darius heard about the Conisborough divorce and Lord Conisborough's intended remarriage. For any another couple it would have been social death. The Conisboroughs, however, rode out the storm with admirable elan, thanks mainly to Delia, who behaved as if nothing very extraordinary was happening. She continued to give the best parties in Cairo at Nile House.

In order not to prejudice the proceedings, neither Ivor nor Kate was present at any of the parties, but even the most blinkered of Cairenes realized that if Delia could have had them there, she would have.

"Of course, she's American," Darius often overheard in Shepheard's or Groppi's, but it was always said with admiration.

"She's sa.s.sy," he once heard Lady Lampson say, using an American expression often used by Delia.

It had amused him. He'd wondered if Lady Lampson also regularly told her husband that the jig was up.

As the first shock waves died, conversation reverted to the continuing siege of Tobruk. The garrison there consisted of the Australian Ninth Division, under General Morshead, and British troops who had withdrawn there before the start of the siege.

"They make a total of twenty-five thousand men," a brigadier said in Shepheard's Long Bar.

It was the kind of careless talk Constantin would have been euphoric to overhear.

Two days later the Free Officers received a coded message from Rommel. He was agreeable to meeting with one of them and would give consideration to the treaty. To guarantee the safety of the plane flying the officer over German lines, he requested the date and time of his flight.

Sadat called Darius, saying, "I'll be at the houseboat tonight at midnight, to transmit."

Darius had a party to go to that evening-in Cairo there were always parties to go to. He and Davina had been invited by Momo Marriott, wife of Brigadier Sir John Marriott. Momo had transformed the bas.e.m.e.nt of her house into a lavish private nightclub and was nearly as popular a hostess as Delia.

Even though it would mean leaving the party early Darius didn't consider not going. All the usual crowd would be there, which would include Bruno Lautens. Darius knew that Lau-tens was smitten with Davina and that there was nothing he would like more than to be able to spend time with her when Darius wasn't around.

The moment they stepped into Chez Marie, the name Momo had given her nightclub, they were swallowed up in a glittering throng, for Momo went out of her way to play hostess to many European royals who had sought sanctuary in Egypt when their countries had been overrun by the Germans.

King Zog of Albania was dancing with his wife, Queen Geraldine. King Victor Emmanuel of Italy was also dancing, though not with his wife. Prince Wahid al-Din, Princess Shevekiar's son, was standing by the bar talking with Petra. Jacquetta, Lady Lampson, was laughing at something Sholto Monck was saying. Winston Churchill's son, Randolph, who was in Cairo as a press officer, was flirting with Momo.

There were a score of glamorous fishing-fleet girls; an entire contingent of British officers on leave from the front; a rowdy bunch of New Zealanders, also on leave, and an even rowdier bunch of Australians. The singer Momo had purloined from the Scarabee Club was singing Johnny Mercer's "Jeepers Creepers" and Archie Somerset was doing an energetic quickstep with Boo Pytchley.

"Squeeze through the crush and get a couple of gla.s.ses of champagne!" Davina shouted to him over the music. "I'll wait for you here!"

He launched himself into the fray and as he did so Princess Shevekiar accidentally b.u.mped into him. She was elderly and he immediately steadied her.

"Thank you so much," she said regally, not seeming to recognize him. Then, looking in the direction where he had left Davina, she said, "Lady Russell Pasha has just pointed out to me what a wonderful match Bruno Lautens would be for Davina Conisborough. He's a widower with a seven-year-old son, did you know that? His little boy would make a perfect stepbrother for the child Davina is going to adopt."

Darius swung around. Several couples now separated him from Davina, but she was no longer standing alone. Lautens was with her. Seeing them together it was as if he had been transported in time to the future; a future where the war was over and he was part of the government of an independent Egypt. A future where Andrew Sinclair was Davina's son. A future where she and Lautens were married and Darius, as Egypt's minister of justice, was doomed to seeing them together at every social occasion he attended.

As pa.s.sionately as he loved his country, he knew in a moment of blinding revelation that high office would never compensate for losing Davina. She was as essential to him as breathing. So what if her father was English? And what if her adopted child was Scottish? It was something the Free Officers Movement would simply have to accept.

And if they didn't?

If they didn't, he would still have Davina and as long as he still had Davina then his life would be worth living.

As the singer began singing "All the Things You Are," he understood for the first time why King Edward VIII had renounced his throne rather than give up Mrs. Simpson.

Darius weaved a way through the dancers to Davina. He saw Lautens turn toward him and ignored him.

Davina smiled. It was the smile that had entranced him when she had been little more than a child. It was the smile that would entrance him as long as he lived.

He took her hands and held them tightly in his. He knew that if Petra asked him now if he intended marrying Davina, the answer would be "of course." Any alternative to the two of them being together was totally unthinkable.

Part Five.