They made love that evening in Bartlett’s hotel room above Jerusalem. With an ardour and understanding that they had never before experienced.
Then they slept. Two hours later Raquel awoke him. He turned to her and saw in her face that the other questions had to be answered now. He tried to divert them. ‘What did you think of my address?’ he said.
‘Very competent,’ she said. ‘You are a very clever man, Thomas.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘When are you leaving?’
Bartlett had not yet answered this and the other questions to himself. ‘I haven’t made up my mind,’ he said.
‘Yes you have,’ she said. ‘Even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself.’ She stroked his face. ‘Don’t lie to yourself or to me, Thomas.’
‘I suppose I’ll leave after the conference,’ he said. ‘In two days’ time.’
‘Ah.’
He put his hand on her breast but she pushed it away. He waited for the other questions.
She said: ‘Will you go back to your wife?’
At least he had answered this question to himself. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘What will you do then?’
‘I don’t know yet. You must make allowances for me – I was very set in my ways when I met you.’
She smiled sadly. ‘But not any longer, my Thomas.’
‘Not any longer,’ he said. ‘Shall we have a drink?’
‘A last drink already?’
‘I didn’t say that. I’ve got another two days yet.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘So we will have a drink. A whisky for me. A large one.’
He ordered the drinks and took them from the waiter at the door.
She sipped her whisky, grimaced and took a longer drink. ‘I have been thinking,’ she said.
Bartlett took a gulp of his drink to prepare himself for her thoughts. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Now that the Arabs have the map showing all the places where there isn’t any oil, it is the duty of us Israelis to find the places where there is oil.’
He nodded. ‘You’re already trying to do that.’
She ignored him. ‘And I think it would be very wonderful if you, with all your knowledge of the Sinai, helped them.’
He raised himself on one elbow and gazed at the stars shining down on Jerusalem. On the Dome of the Rock, on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, on the Western Wall. On Arab and Jew and Christian.
‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said. ‘When I go back to London I’ll go straight to Somerset House.’
‘What is this Somerset House?’
‘It’s the place where you can trace your ancestors.’
‘What are you talking about? Surely you are not making fun of me?’
‘No, I’m not making fun of you. I just want to find out if I’ve got any Jewish blood in me.’
‘It would be wonderful if you did,’ she said. ‘And then I shall be able to help you in your work in the desert.’
‘Aren’t you rather presuming that I will find I’ve got some Jewish blood?’
She smiled, lips against his. ‘Everyone can find Jewish blood in them if they look hard enough.’
‘Just one other thing,’ he said.
‘And what is that?’ Her voice was a murmur.
‘How can an expert on water irrigation help a geologist looking for oil? I’ve always been told that oil and water don’t mix.’
She pulled him down and showed him.
A few seconds later the phone rang. They stopped and Raquel picked up the receiver.
‘Who is it?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s a man. An American, I think.’
‘It’s probably the President of the United States,’ Bartlett said. ‘Hang up.’