Chapter Fifty

London, July 1973

Eve walked around the apartment opening all the windows to try to get a breeze blowing through. Brograve had gone for his walk but she found it too hot to venture out these days until late afternoon when the sun was less intense. It wasn’t like the heat in Egypt, the dangerous kind that pressed down on you like a lead weight, but it still gave her a headache if she stayed out for long. She felt anxious when he went outdoors, in case anything happened, but he was never gone for more than an hour.

The buzzer rang and she answered the entry phone, but it seemed to have a loose wire and all she could hear was muffled crackling. The buzzer rang again. It was probably the postman. She pressed the door entry button to let him leave any post in the hall downstairs.

Next she heard the clank of the lift approaching their floor. Could it be Patricia? But she had her own keys and wouldn’t have needed to ring the buzzer. None of their friends dropped by unannounced. They’d always telephone first. She froze on hearing a knock on the door. The visitor was just a few feet away.

Eve opened the door, remembering as she did so that Patricia had told her always to look through the peephole first.

“My goodness!” she exclaimed. Ana Mansour was standing outside, wearing a tailored white summer dress, with sunglasses balanced on her head and a tan leather shoulder bag hanging by her side.

“Lady Beauchamp,” she said, with a smile that looked forced. “I wonder if I might have a word.”

There was no apology for turning up without warning, no explanation. Eve thought the intrusion was odd but she couldn’t think of a polite reason not to invite her inside. If only Brograve were there, or Mrs. Jarrold . . . but she was entirely alone.

“I was about to have a nap,” she prevaricated. “This heat is exhausting.”

“It won’t take long,” Ana replied, and swept past her, heading for the sitting room.

Eve followed and hovered near the doorway, reasoning that if she sat down, it would take longer to persuade Ana to leave. She had a brisk air about her today that was making Eve feel uneasy. Ana didn’t sit down either but stopped by the window and turned to face Eve.

“I thought you and I were friends,” Ana said. “I confided in you about my problems. I trusted you. But I found out recently that most of what you told me is a pack of lies.”

Eve gasped. “That’s not true.” Feeling suddenly wobbly, she edged toward the nearest chair and sank onto it with a bump. “What makes you say that?”

Ana spoke with an accusing tone. “Your uncle, Mervyn Herbert, left his journals to Oxford University, where they became available to scholars last week. In one journal entry he writes that you told him that you, your father, and Howard Carter sneaked back to the tomb in November 1922, two days before the official opening, and that the three of you entered the burial chamber that night.”

Eve was stricken with horror. She had expressly told Mervyn that her confession was to remain confidential. Could this get her into trouble? Might she be arrested? She couldn’t decide how best to answer without incriminating herself.

Ana folded her arms. “According to Mervyn Herbert, you all took souvenirs from the burial chamber that night. I suppose that explains the items you found at Highclere, but where are the rest, Eve? And why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Eve couldn’t think of what to say. If only Brograve were there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in a whisper, and could feel her cheeks flush at the lie.

“When I described the gold unguent container, you seemed startled, as if you recognized it. Was that because you know where it is? Maybe you have it here, hidden away somewhere.” Ana glanced at the corner cabinet that contained some china knickknacks.

Eve began to feel giddy and became aware of a pounding in her right temple. “Please, I can’t talk to you today,” she said. “I’m not well. Can you come back another day?”

Ana sighed in exasperation. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time, Lady Beauchamp. According to Mervyn Herbert’s papers, you were the first person to squeeze into the burial chamber. Didn’t you think to tell me that? You’ve made me look a fool. The very least you can do is be honest now.”

“I don’t know where the container is,” Eve whispered. “That’s the honest truth.”

“What else did you take, Eve?” Her tone softened. “You can tell me. No one is going to mind after all this time. We just want the truth.”

“That was all I took,” Eve said. “Just that. Please, I don’t feel well. I need to lie down.” The headache was worsening by the second, making it hard to think or speak.

Ana walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up a photograph. “Are these your grandsons?” She turned it around so Eve could see. “Handsome boys. The elder looks like your father, don’t you think?”

To Eve, it sounded as though she was threatening the boys. “Is that a trick question?” she asked.

Ana shook her head. “I was just trying to be friendly. Look.” She pulled a wallet from her shoulder bag, extracted a photograph, and came over to show Eve: a girl and a boy with dark hair and brown skin. “These are my children, Layla and Masud.”

Eve nodded, not sure what she was supposed to say.

“I haven’t seen them for over a year now,” Ana said. “I thought you wanted to help me be reunited with them, but instead your lies have wasted my time and kept me from them.”

“If I knew anything, I would tell you,” Eve said. “I’m sorry. Thank you for stopping by. If you don’t mind . . .” She pushed herself up from the chair and staggered out to the hall. Where was her walking stick? She must have put it down somewhere. She was always mislaying it.

Ana didn’t follow straightaway. When Eve glanced back, she could see her checking inside the china cabinet, then perusing the shelves in the alcove. Was she planning to steal something? Had Brograve been right about that? How could she stop her? Should she ring the police? She couldn’t remember the number, although she knew it was a really obvious one with three digits.

Eve opened the front door and held it wide. “Thank you for shtopping by,” she said, and noticed that her tongue was heavy in her mouth. “I hope you have a g-good journey.”

Ana came out to the hall and there was a moment when she considered saying something else. Eve saw the thought flicker across her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked instead. “You look a little strange.”

“G-go!” Eve said. “P-please.”

Ana turned on the threshold, as if she had another question, but Eve was too quick for her and slammed the door shut. Her heart was beating hard and she felt as if she might throw up. She meant to try and reach the sitting room sofa for a lie-down but suddenly her legs gave way and she slid down the door onto the hall carpet. The pattern in the wallpaper was dancing in a most peculiar fashion and she felt as if she were seasick, or tipsy. It was the oddest sensation.

There was a little jug of sweet peas on the hall table and she could smell their scent, a strong, choking sweetness. The grandfather clock chimed. And then she had a vivid memory of holding the gold unguent container, trying not to inhale that strange musky scent, her heart racing as she decided where to put it so it couldn’t do any harm.

Eve felt very odd now and opened her mouth to shout for Brograve but her face was too heavy and the sound wouldn’t come. She tried to push herself along the floor but her arms had no strength. Blackness was closing in like thick fog and she had no choice but to let it engulf her.