Someone Like You (10 page)

‘They’d never swallow that,’ Emma replied.

Mr O’Brien had spotted his daughter with two women he didn’t recognize and marched over to their table, his wife in his wake like a tug boat following a liner into port.

‘I don’t have a wide circle of friends and if we pretended, my father would give you the third degree and soon work out you were lying.’

Leonie tapped her nose enigmatically. ‘I happen to be a superb actress. We’ll say we know each other through your work. What do you do, anyway?’

‘I work for KrisisKids Charity. I’m in special projects,’

Emma said.

‘That’s run by that retired politician, Edward Richards, isn’t it?’ Leonie insisted. ‘His family owns Darewood Castle and the stud farm.’

Emma was pleased that Leonie knew enough about the charity to know who ran the organization. It meant their public relations company were doing their job. But she couldn’t see how Edward fitted into this particular evening’s equation.

‘I’m a vet nurse,’ Leonie added. ‘Our practice used to be their vets. Very posh, I believe,’ Leonie said.

‘Hello there,’ boomed Mr O’Brien, sizing up the seating arrangements and noticing with displeasure that there was only room for three chairs at the small table.

Emma immediately got up, smiled a nervous goodbye to the girls and led her parents to another table.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?’ her mother asked peevishly.

‘I thought you wanted to sit down, Mum,’ Emma said, not wanting to ruin her new friendship by making Hannah and Leonie meet her father. Grumpy after the flight, lord only knew what he’d come out with. ‘You can meet them later. Will I order you a mineral water?’

Her mother immediately started fanning herself with her hand and looked faint. ‘Yes, it’s so hot, that would be lovely.’

‘Sit down, Emma, and stop fussing,’ ordered her father brusquely. ‘The waiter will come - eventually. These Egyptians don’t seem keen to work. At home, you’d have a drink in your hand within a minute of arriving at the bar, but here … oh no, it’s a different kettle of fish altogether.’

He glared around at the bar where the waiter was busy serving a group of people who’d just arrived and were clamouring for cocktails. ‘No bloody concept of service,’

said Jimmy O’Brien loudly.

A few feet away, Hannah and Leonie grimaced at his rudeness. Emma cringed in her bamboo chair. This was a disaster. It didn’t matter that she was sitting in the balmy night air with the vibrant city of Luxor yards away and the treasures of the Nile waiting to be explored: she was on holiday with her father and he was going to ruin everything.

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ she announced suddenly, thinking she just had to get away before her father said something utterly offensive about the waiter.

Watching Emma practically run to the bar, her face bright pink with embarrassment, Leonie nudged Hannah: ‘Poor girl isn’t going to have much of a holiday if he carries on like that all the time. The man’s a pig and she’s mortified.’

‘I know,’ Hannah nodded. ‘But what can you do? He’s her father and she’s stuck with him.’

Leonie grinned wickedly. ‘Maybe not.’

Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat and sailed across to the O’Briens’ table, one bracelet-bedecked hand outstretched.

‘Isn’t it a coincidence!’ Leonie trilled, shaking a surprised Jimmy O’Brien’s hand with the grace of a dowager duchess, flowing pink silk shirt rippling around madly. ‘Fancy Emma working with dear Cousin Edward in KrisisKids.

Now that’s what I call a small world. I’m Leonie Delaney, from the Wicklow branch of the family.’ She took Anne Marie’s limp hand and shook it gently, trying not to flinch at the cold-kipper sensation of the other woman’s handshake.

‘We’re the merchant banking side, rather than the political side. Daddy couldn’t have borne it if we’d gone into politics,’ Leonie added in a softer voice, as if this was some great family secret, ‘so low rent. Delighted to meet you all.’

Hannah watched her in astonishment. One minute, Leonie had been sitting quietly; the next, she was a human dynamo, her collection of brass and enamel bracelets rattling as she twirled her curls in her fingers and pretended to be a merchant banking toff. It was a bravura performance, Oscar-winning stuff.

‘Edward Richards,’ Leonie was saying to Mrs O’Brien, determined to get the message home. ‘Dear Cousin Edward - Big Neddy is what we’ve always called him.’

Hannah nearly choked as her new friend described as ‘Big Neddy’ the elegant and aristocratic man she’d seen in the papers when he was a politician.

‘Of course,’ Leonie drawled in her recently acquired posh accent, ‘he hasn’t been to Delaney Towers for months.

Daddy and Mummy do miss him.’

Realization dawned in AnneMarie O’Brien’s face. This flamboyant woman with the unsuitable heavy make-up and that bizarre metal necklace thing was actually related to Emma’s boss, the madly rich and well-connected Mr Richards. He came from one of Ireland’s most famous political dynasties. This strange Leonie woman must be one of his cousins on his mother’s side. Well, AnneMarie thought, arranging her face into a welcoming smile, the rich were allowed to be eccentric. Some of those computer millionaires wore nothing but jeans and desperate old Tshirts. You never knew where anyone came from any more.

And if Edward Richards’ cousin was on this cruise, then it must be one of the better ones, no matter what Anne Marie’s suspicions had been when she’d seen the size of her cabin.

‘So pleased to meet you,’ AnneMarie said in her breathy voice. ‘AnneMarie and James O’Brien, of O’Brien’s Contractors, you know. Emma,’ she added, as Emma arrived with drinks and a wicked smile on her face at the sight of Leonie sitting with her parents, ‘you naughty girl, you should have introduced us to Leonie and told us who she is.’

She waggled a reproving finger at her daughter. ‘Why don’t you and your companion join us?’ AnneMarie added.

‘We thought maybe Emma would sit with us,’ Leonie said deadpan, ‘and leave you and your husband to enjoy a romantic evening a deux.’

AnneMarie blinked at her, while Emma watched in a state of growing puzzlement. Her mother loved using French expressions, yet here she was staring at Leonie as if she didn’t understand a deux. How weird. Then again, this entire conversation was straight out of the XFiles anyway.

She felt bad about letting Leonie mislead her parents, but it would be blissful to have someone else to talk to on holiday. After an entire day with her father and no way of escaping him, she’d have gone off for a chat with someone in a straitjacket if they’d asked her.

‘That’s kind of you,’ said Jimmy O’Brien, who didn’t speak French but didn’t want to let on.

Emma’s mother was still staring at Leonie blankly.

‘What were we talking about again?’ she asked in a plaintive voice. There was something not quite right about her tonight, Emma felt. Something vague and distant. Her mother was never vague.

Leonie took charge. She relieved Emma of the two glasses of mineral water, put them down on the table in front of the O’Briens senior and slipped an arm through Emma’s.

‘We’ll leave you to it,’ she said sweetly.

‘What did you say to them?’ asked Emma when they were out of earshot, feeling as if she should scold a little bit.

‘I lied and said I knew your boss,’ Leonie said quickly, not wanting to get into a detailed explanation of her wicked ruse. ‘Said we wanted to chat. I mean, I know how it is with parents, they probably feel you’d be lost without them, when Hannah and I both know you’d like a bit of time out. And it gives them a chance to be on their own, second honeymoon stuff.’

Emma raised her eyebrows. Second honeymoon indeed.

Leonie stood in front of the Temple of Hathor and knew why she’d come to Egypt. Blazing white heat shone down on her, lighting the dusty scene with a burning white intensity.

The temple in front of her, carved by the fiercely proud Rameses II for his beloved queen Nefertari, was beautiful.

Rameses’ own temple at Abu Simbel was twice as breathtaking: towering figures of the great king himself looming over the tourists, majestic and exquisitely proportioned.

To stare up at the fierce face of the great ruler made the long trip in the bus worth it. Just standing there in the desert sun, listening to the age-old sounds of hawkers trying to sell their wares and the hum of insects droning lazily overhead, Leonie felt as if she could have stepped back in time. She wondered what it must have been like to be one of the archaeologists who’d discovered the fabulous temple after it had lain buried in the desert sands for three thousand years. Or even better, she clutched her golden Egyptian cartouche pendant to her chest, imagining what it would have been like to be the Egyptian queen, Nefertari, honoured by all, beautiful, covered with priceless gold jewellery and awaiting the grand opening of the temple.

Lost in her magical world of romance, Leonie felt exhilarated and dazed at the same time.

This was what people felt when they saw the Taj Mahal, she thought reverently. Stunned into silence by the physical proof of what mankind could do. For love. Like the Taj Mahal, built as the biggest love token ever, Nefertari’s temple had been built by her besotted husband because he loved his wife so much. No other Egyptian ruler had ever built such a monument, the tour guide had explained as the bus trailed slowly along the road in convoy from Aswan deep into the Nubian desert. They built temples in their own honour or richly decorated great tombs for their journey to the afterworld. But a temple dedicated to one they loved, never.

Imagine being loved so much by such a great king, Leonie thought dreamily. Imagine such a symbol of enduring love in your name …

‘Leonie, the tour’s starting. Are you coming?’

Hannah’s clear voice broke into her thoughts. Hannah and a relaxed-looking Emma were following their group towards the temple. As Leonie had discovered during the past two days on the tour, you could easily lose your group in the thousands who thronged around each Egyptian monument. She’d nearly lost them in the giant and confusing Edfu Temple and she was determined it wouldn’t happen again. Picking up her canvas bag, Leonie ran after them.

‘Wow,’ she gasped as she reached the shady spot to the left where Flora was waiting with the others, ‘it’s too hot to run.’

‘Too hot to do anything,’ Hannah agreed, pulling a strand of hair away from her damp forehead. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to cope with an hour of this.’

‘And then the bus journey back to the boat,’ groaned one of their fellow travellers, tired after the three-and-a-half-hour bus journey into the desert.

‘It’s wonderful,’ Emma said gaily. Her pale face was flushed in the heat and her hair was tied up in a ponytail to keep it away from her face. Wearing a little blue Tshirt and cotton Bermudas in a pretty madras check, she looked about twenty, and utterly carefree, Hannah thought fondly.

For the first time during the trip, Emma felt about twenty. Her mother was suffering from stomach problems and had decided she wasn’t up to the bus journey to visit Abu Simbel. Which meant that her father had cried off too, leaving Emma to enjoy the first Jimmy and AnneMariefree day since she’d got to Egypt. It was such a relief, like painkillers after a nagging, three-day toothache.

Neither of the O’Briens was enjoying the trip: her mother because she was in a state of high anxiety the whole time, even more so than usual. She’d behaved very strangely the previous evening at dinner, refusing to eat anything and sitting in a world of her own for the whole meal, staring into space. The heat was getting to her, Jimmy insisted. He, who’d instigated the trip to Egypt, was now telling anyone who’d listen that it hadn’t been his idea to come and muttering darkly about how Portugal had always done them very well up to now.

To make the day even more utterly delightful, Emma’s period still hadn’t come. She was pregnant, she knew it.

Every time she went near the loo, she panicked in case a tell-tale trickle of pale pink stained the white loo roll. But nothing. Bliss.

Sighing with happiness, she linked both Leonie and Hannah’s arms and led them into the temple after Flora, who was holding a royal blue Incredible Egypt clipboard above her head to make sure her busload of people could see her.

In her state of expectant happiness, Emma was one of the few people who wasn’t mildly put out when the bus broke down only half an hour after leaving the temple on the drive home. Crunching to a noisy halt on the outskirts of a dusty little town, it refused to start up despite much swearing and banging on the bus driver’s part. Buses and taxis to Abu Simbel always travelled in convoys, Flora had explained earlier, in case one broke down mid-desert. But they were unfortunately the second-last bus in the convoy back to Aswan and the only vehicle behind them was a crowded mini-bus which couldn’t take any extra passengers.

‘Don’t

worry, folks, it’ll be all right,’ Flora said bravely as the mini-bus driver and their driver riddled around with the engine and talked volubly with much irate hand waving.

Leonie, fascinated by the exotic signs of life around them, was happy enough to sit and look out of the window, but it did begin to get hot with the bus, and therefore the air conditioning, switched off. Emma was just happy full stop. Nothing could touch the blissful happiness inside her.

They’d get back eventually and she was quite content to sit there, one hand gently on her belly. Small, dark-eyed children waved up at the tourists on the bus and Emma beamed down at them, waving back. Soon she’d have her own darling child. Would it take after Pete or her? She’d prefer a dark-eyed baby, she decided. The vision of a dark eyed baby in cute denim dungarees lulled her into a contented fantasy.

As well prepared as ever, Hannah had an extra bottle of water in her small backpack and she shared it between the three of them. Emma had boiled sweets, which filled the gap in Leonie’s stomach.

‘I’m getting used to three massive meals a day on the boat,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’m ravenous.’

The too,’ Emma said. ‘But don’t worry, they’ll fix the bus,’ she added confidently.