Chapter Thirty

Luxor, February 19, 1923

Two days after the opening of the burial chamber, Eve’s maid, Marcelle, developed excruciating stomach pains. A local doctor came to examine her and said he thought it might be appendicitis. Marcelle begged Eve to let her return to London; she was terrified at the thought of being operated on in a foreign country. Eve telegrammed her mother, who replied that Marcelle should come back as soon as possible for treatment at her hospital.

Brograve was sailing to London the following day to take care of business matters and said he would accompany her and make sure she was comfortable on the journey. Eve traveled on the train with them both to Alexandria and booked a first-class cabin on the steamer for Marcelle, then said her goodbyes. She would miss Brograve terribly but at least she knew her maid was in safe hands.

Eve stayed overnight in Alexandria and when she returned to Luxor the following day, she found her father in his suite, stomping around in a foul mood.

“Bloody Howard has suddenly got airs above his station,” he told her. “He thinks he’s the only one in charge of the tomb and we’re all supposed to bow to his will.”

Eve was surprised. Howard and her father had never fallen out before, at least as far as she was aware. She sat in the armchair under his ceiling fan.

“This is not like you, Pups. What on earth did you argue about?”

Pups gave an exasperated sigh. “He thinks I shouldn’t have done the deal with The Times, and complains it’s made everything twice as hard for him because it’s got the Egyptians’ backs up. But I had no choice! Last September I told him I couldn’t afford another season’s excavation, and now there are many more expenses to cover than I ever dreamed of back then. It’s my right to seek sources of revenue wherever I can find them.”

“He must see the logic in that.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He shook his head. “He’s also complaining about the dignitaries who turn up wanting to be shown around the tomb, saying they interrupt his work. I replied that I’m afraid it is part of his role for the foreseeable future.”

Pups was red in the face. The argument had clearly bothered him.

“I’m sure you’ll kiss and make up tomorrow,” she said. “It’s just a spat, and it only happened because you’re both under pressure.”

“I think it might be rather more than a spat.” Her father frowned. “He has banned me from setting foot in Castle Carter ever again.”

“Oh dear,” Eve said. “He has a fiery temper, but I expect he has calmed down and is already regretting his hasty words. I’ll call on him later.”

“Tell him he’s an employee of mine and that he should bloody well know where his bread is buttered,” her father snapped.

Eve decided she wouldn’t pass on that exact message.

She traveled across to the Valley on her own for the first time, feeling slightly nervous about dealing with the Egyptians in a language she didn’t understand. As it happened, she managed just fine, apart from being vastly overcharged by the donkey cart driver, but when she reached the tomb, Pecky Callender told her that Howard had gone home with a “gippy tummy.” Eve got her driver to take her back down the road to Castle Carter.

Howard opened the door, looking rather green around the gills. In response to Eve’s inquiry, he said he had been suffering from stomach problems for some months now and would seek a second opinion at her mother’s hospital in the summer. Nevertheless he invited her into his sitting room and called for the houseboy to bring some tea.

“I’m sorry to hear you and Pups have fallen out,” Eve began. “He can be a tad brusque when he is stressed and you seem to have borne the brunt, but you must know he doesn’t mean anything by it. He has the greatest respect for you.”

Howard leaned back in his chair, linking his hands in his lap. “You say that, Eve, but he is not showing me respect. I have given him my considered opinion, based on twenty-five years’ working in Egypt, and he is dismissing it because it doesn’t suit him.” He shrugged. “I may have a certain responsibility as his employee—as he was at pains to remind me—but I have a greater responsibility to archaeology. I must make sure this tomb is properly preserved and recorded for posterity, and that is my top priority.”

Eve hastened to reassure him. “It’s Pups’s top priority too. The difference between your positions is negligible. He’s very upset about falling out with you.”

Howard glanced out the window, his expression stony. “I don’t have time to be upset with him. I have work to do.”

The houseboy brought in a tray with a pot of fresh mint tea and two tall glasses painted with gold and purple swirls. He poured one for each of them, then bowed before leaving the room.

“Can I assure Pups that you will carry on the good work?” Eve asked, picking up her glass and blowing on the tea.

“Of course! He knows I’m not the type to walk out on the job.”

Eve struggled to find wording that would appease her father without making Howard feel as if he had backed down. “Can I say that you are sorry the argument happened?”

He glared. “Please don’t report the word ‘sorry’ as coming from my lips. I stood up for what is right and I’m not sorry about that.”

Eve decided it was going to be easier to get Pups to apologize. His temper cooled quickly after a flare-up and he never held a grudge.

“Is there anything I can send to help your stomach?” she asked. “I have some Andrews liver salts and Bayer aspirin in my medical chest.”

“There’s no need,” he insisted. “But thank you all the same.”

When Eve returned to the Winter Palace, she found her father in the salon chatting with Arthur Mace, the Egyptologist from the Met, and his charming wife, Winifred. Pups looked rather more relaxed than he had earlier.

“We’ve had a top-notch idea,” he told her. “We thought the four of us might charter a boat and cruise up the Nile to Aswan, just for a week. I’ve never been that far upriver before. Will you join us, Eve?”

She clapped her hands. “I’d love to!” she cried. “How marvelously exciting!”

Arthur hired a boat with three luxury cabins, and staff on board to look after them.

“Before we go,” she asked Pups, “please will you send a note to Howard? I suspect he is not the type who finds it easy to apologize, so why don’t you do it?”

“You’re right, little Eve,” he said. “I will.”

Later that evening he showed her the letter he’d written, and she was impressed by its warmth and humility: “Whatever your feelings are or will be for me in the future, my affection for you will never change,” it said. “I’m a man with few friends and whatever happens, nothing will ever alter my feelings for you.”

“Well done, Pups,” she said, kissing his cheek before she took it to the concierge to be dispatched straightaway.