Desert Rapture

by Denise Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

Alexandra Forbes is a young and beautiful English girl working in wartime Cairo. When she decides to take a holiday in the magical old city of Damascus she has no idea of the dangers that await her there. Against an exotic setting worthy of the Arabian Nights Alexandra finds herself caught up in a whirlwhind of suspense and heart-breaking romance.

Release date: October 24, 2013

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 224

Sample

IT SEEMED TO MRS. FORBES this cold winter’s morning, as she set the breakfast-table for two, that her dining-room looked especially large and felt especially cold. That was, of course, because she and Robert were alone. Breakfasting alone for the first time for twenty-three years.

Grace Forbes looked at the big mahogany table. One end bare and shining. The other laid with a small cloth (one must save the laundry these days and those old damask tablecloths that had been bequeathed to her by her mother were far too big and took far too much washing and ironing). Her eyes were thoughtful and a little sad. She seemed to see this table as it had been three years ago, before Hitler’s frenzied attack against Europe and the maelstrom of his making which had shaken the world. Three years ago! What a lot had happened since then! In the summer and autumn of 1939 the whole family had still been at home. Alexa … her eldest child and darling daughter, named after the one-time Queen of England whom Grace Forbes had always imagined to be one of the most beautiful and gracious of women in her time … had been home then, aged nineteen, doing a Pitman’s course in London. Living at home, bless her; pretty sensible satisfying Alexa who adored her family just as much as they adored her. But she had been swept up into a Government job on the outbreak of war and directed to Blackpool. They only saw her back here in Beckenham for short holidays.

Then there was David, their one and only cherished son. … David had been at home then, too, and still at St. Paul’s. But now he was in uniform. In the Navy; their David who such a short time ago had been a shy schoolboy. David was away somewhere, sailing the seas! They had not seen him for four months now. They hoped he would soon get leave. They missed him horribly. But they were deeply proud of him and his uniform. He was not like Oliver Denson, Dr. Denson’s son: that effeminate young man who had ‘wangled’ a job at home. She would rather be David’s mother.

Then came the twins, Pam and Penelope, who were at day-school. She was lucky enough to have them still with her. But even the twins were away this week-end, staying down in Sussex with their Aunt Lil. Uncle Stephen ran a poultry farm. Lil and Stephen were a childless couple and devoted to the twins. And Mrs. Forbes was glad to get the young ones out of Beckenham sometimes, away from alerts and raids and the bombs which on occasions dropped only too close to ‘Mulberry House’.

The house was so named because of the mulberry tree which graced the small front garden. It was the pride and joy of the Forbes family. The only really nice tree they had, except the tall slender holly and a beautiful white lilac at the back. But for the rest, this was just an ugly, red-bricked Edwardian residence, far too large for their means and in a road which contained a dozen other similar residences. A road with a pillar-box at one end, and a few shops just round the corner. Nothing smart. Suburban and quiet and clean. The Forbes family had lived here since Alexandra first opened her large blue eyes, twenty-two years ago.

Oh, it was quiet, quiet and depressing without any of the children, thought Grace Forbes, and shivered and drew her well-worn cardigan which she wore for housework closer about her thin shoulders. As she passed the glass top of the sideboard, one her way into the kitchen, she glanced at her reflection, and grimaced.

A thin hag at forty-five she was, she thought. Hair, once as golden and crisp as Alexa’s, was now dull and streaked with grey. Rob was always telling her she was still good-looking—still had a lovely complexion and fine eyes. But she felt old. The war had done that. The anxiety of David being at sea, and keeping the twins here in a district which was always ‘getting it’ in the raids. But Rob wouldn’t leave his home. Couldn’t. He practised in Beckenham as a dentist. Across the hall was his consulting-room, with its intricate-looking chair, white enamel trolley and basin; all his equipment. He had a big solid family practice. Most of the kiddies round here came to Mr. Forbes to have their teeth stopped and straightened and scraped. And a lot of the older people who had known his father, old David Forbes, who had been a dentist here before him. One couldn’t be scared away from one’s home and work by that vile man, Hitler. And Grace wouldn’t leave her husband. Neither did either of them approve of evacuating a young family, like their friend Mrs. Erskine, for instance, who had sent both her young boys to Canada. No; they must all stay here and take their chance together. Nothing mattered so much when they were together.

Grace Forbes adored her husband and children. Robert and his work had to come first … then the children. But on a morning like this, when none of the youngsters was at home, it did seem queer and sad.

She yawned and blinked her eyelids as she made her way into the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil for the breakfast tea. Better give Rob an omelette made from dried egg. They had run short of bacon and no allocation of eggs this week. Good thing the twins had gone down to Lil and Stephen. They had plenty of eggs on the farm. Lil would send back a dozen, which was something to look forward to.

It was bitterly cold. The last week of November. A yellowish light hung over Beckenham. Grace had to turn the light on to see to her cooking. The place was so cold now they had cut down coal and coke and didn’t use the boiler. (There was a geyser for the bath, it was more economical than using fuel at the present awful price, even if one could get it.) And oh, how tired she felt. It was doing this big house and answering the telephone when Miss Morgan, Rob’s new secretary, was not here. Too much running about at her time of life, what with the shopping; standing in queues for groceries or a bit of fish for lunch. The twins generally lunched at their school, which helped.

Grace needed a maid here. It was a shame their good general, Dorothy, who had been with them three years and whom Grace had taught to cook so well, had been called up. Wrong of the Government, in her opinion, to take all the domestic servants. Doctors and dentists ought to be allowed a maid. Grace had to manage everything now except the hard cleaning which was done by the daily char. A good old soul, Mrs. Richards, but always complaining about her rheumatism and not being able to bend much longer. What would one do when even the ‘chars’ stopped coming?

She hurried to make the omelette. She could hear that Rob had turned off the geyser. He would be down soon. His first appointment was nine o’clock. He worked hard—poor Rob. Ten years older than herself, and not very strong (he had been badly gassed in the last world-war), he was looking old and careworn these days, she was afraid. But always cheerful. He had a wonderful spirit, her dear Robert. She was still as fond of him today as she had been twenty-three years ago when he had been young and handsome, with the engaging smile which David and Alexa had both inherited; but of course he had his irritating side. That interest he took-in Russia! Always talking about the Soviet and their Five-Year Plan and how sensible they were. Nothing Conservative about Rob. Sometimes Grace worried because he was so much a socialist. But she supposed he was right. It was no good trying to carry on in this country as one used to do. Some having plenty of money, some having none; Rob was right. Better for everyone to have a bit. Still, she had loved the old days … the royalty … she was devoted to the present Queen, and the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. And that beautiful Duchess of Kent. Grace always liked to snatch a look at the Tatlers and Sketches before they were put on the table for Rob’s patients, and see what the aristocracy were doing. After all, there was something very glamorous and picturesque about them. But Alexa laughed at her. She had more her father’s views. No ‘side’ about Lexa.

Grace Forbes was busy in her kitchen for a few moments. The milkman came to the back door. Robert’s Daily Herald and her Telegraph lay neatly folded together on the steps. She picked them up and a whimsical thought struck her that those papers resembled her life with Rob. Folded together; for ever together. At least that was how she liked it to be. She could never get used to his Fire Watching Nights when he had to go up the road and round to Bridelington Square and sleep there, away from her. It was bad enough when the children were at home, but last night when he had gone, and with all the family away, she had been horribly lonely.

She heard him coming down the stairs, and went into the dining-room and switched on the light. It was a ceiling-bowl light and when shining cheered up the room with its Turkey carpet and rather gloomy mahogany furniture, which had been left to Rob by his father. Personally, Grace had a more modern taste. She liked the bedroom which she had furnished for Alexa when she grew up and left school: pretty painted stuff from Peter Jones, and fresh chintzes. But one had to use the solid useful things one was given; it seemed wicked not to. And David’s schooling had cost such a lot. They had meant him to be a dentist, just to carry on with the family traditions; but the war had altered all that and he had gone straight into the Navy when he left St. Paul’s. He had always wanted to be in the Navy. Her darling son with his bright fair hair and the blue eyes that screwed up when he laughed. His letters, always beginning ‘Dear Mum and Dad’. Never anything else. But that ‘Dear Mum and Dad’ meant so much from David.

They had all had such fun on his last leave. Now he was at sea. Somewhere in the Mediterranean, they believed. It always made Grace Forbes’ heart stand still when she listened to the radio and heard about some ship being sunk; some submarine overdue. She seldom dared voice her innermost fears even to Rob. Her prayers were that their son would be spared to them.

Alexa might have been in the services; could have been. But somehow a uniform had not appealed to her, and she had trained for the Civil Service. She was a clever girl, particularly good at maths, like her father. Rob said she was a ‘throw-back’ to his grandfather who had been a chartered accountant. The twins were more artistic, like their mother. Pam played the piano and Penelope was learning the violin. They were so sweet practising together (hideous though the result at times!).

Alexa had gone up to some office connected with the Government in Blackpool. Lived out with a lot of other girls. She was quite content, she said, although of course she preferred being at home in Beckenham. She had an agile, inquisitive mind. She had always wanted to travel, to ‘see life’, if it was only as far afield as Blackpool.

Robert had said the other day that Alexa—rising twenty-two—would in all probability soon meet some nice young fellow and get married. A lot of girls were rushing into war-marriages. Grace did not want her lovely Lexa to do that. She hoped she would wait; make a wise choice. Passionately she desired her daughter to be as happily married as she, herself, had been. And as she always told Alexa, she had been engaged to Robert for a year and not married him until after the Armistice. She had been cautious. Grace believed in Romance, but she also believed in caution. She hoped Lexa would be the same.

She set the omelette down in her husband’s place, with a pot of tea and jug of hot water. No toast. They were doing as they were asked and saving gas. But Grace often grumbled and missed her toast. Sometimes the twins took it in turns to toast a piece of bread for their mother in front of the gas-fire. How it spluttered! It wanted cleaning, but the company seemed to have a shortage of men. Nobody would come. She kept asking.

‘Cold this morning, isn’t it, dear,’ said Robert Forbes, and rubbed his long thin hands together.

She smiled at him and sighed.

‘Horribly cold, darling. Eat your omelette while it’s hot.’

‘It looks mighty good. Thank the Lord I married a woman who can cook.’

She smiled fondly again. He was so good-looking still, her Robert. Tall, slight build, but well set-up. He was fast losing that hair which used to be so brown and curly. It was now scanty. But he still had fine deep-blue eyes and the long lashes which had won her girlish heart twenty-three years ago. Grace was an ardent admirer of her husband’s looks. She was proud, too, because she knew that in Beckenham they said ‘Mr. Forbes, the dentist, was so like Owen Nares’. She had had that repeated to her.

Mr. Forbes looked up at his wife.

‘Sit down, dear … sit down and eat something.’

‘I don’t want much this morning, Rob.’

‘Off your feed again, Gracie? What’s up?’

She gave a little laugh and put some margarine and a speck of marmalade on her bread. Surreptitiously she saved her butter for the twins. She believed that the young growing ones needed more cream and oil than they got.

‘Missing the children—that’s all, dearest.’

He nodded and tucked heartily, with a man’s good appetite, into his breakfast.

‘Does seem quietish without them. Post in yet?’

‘No. I expect one from Lexa. She hasn’t written lately.’

‘Why, darling, we heard on Monday.’

Mrs. Forbes gave a wistful smile.

‘It seems longer.’

He shook his head at her and for a moment put out a hand and took one of hers.

‘Such a fond mother. My dear Gracie!’

‘I’m an old fool about the children.’

‘Old hardly describes it. Look at yourself in the mirror,’ he said. ‘You’ve got the figure and complexion of a girl. Might be Lexa’s elder sister I always think.’

Grace Forbes cheered up.

‘You’re a dear, Rob,’ she said. ‘But you could hardly pass as my papa!’

He laughed with her as he unfolded the Herald.

‘Our bombers out over Germany again last night. Russian army pushing on. Grand fellows, those Russians. I …’

Grace Forbes interrupted, showing the dimples which still came and went so charmingly in her cheeks. (Alexa had those disarming dimples, too.)

‘Now, Rob, no rhapsodies on Russia. Lexy isn’t here to back you up.’

‘Lexa knows what’s good,’ said her father.

‘Oh, you’d marry her off to Stalin himself if you could!’

‘Hardly Stalin, my dear. He’s old enough to be her grandfather and has a large family of his own.’

Grace Forbes shrugged. She knew nothing about the Dictator of the Soviet and cared still less.

She was thinking now of the twins and whether Lil would remember to see Pam took her cough mixture. The child had a nasty bark. She was the weaker of the twins and the smaller. Penelope was a big sturdy girl. Grace dressed them alike, but they were not the proverbial twins to look at. Pam was thin and brown-haired like her father, and Penny was plump and had hair at fair as Alexa’s.

Rat-tat-tat.

Grace’s eyes brightened. She sprang up.

‘Posty-man, Rob. Now for letters from the children.’

The postman had more than a letter. He had a telegram for Forbes. That set Grace back. She paled and caught at her throat. Oh, how she hated the sight of an orange envelope these days. If it were David …

Her fingers shook a little with cold and nerves. Then, as she read the wire, the colour came back to her delicate face. She thanked the postman and said ‘No reply’, then ran into the dining-room, which was warming up now and pleasant with the light on after the raw cold morning outside.

‘Rob, such a surprise. Lexa will be here for lunch. She is coming home.’

He looked up from the table and took off his horn-rims.

‘Home? Lexa? But why?’

‘She does not say. Look …’

Mr. Forbes read the wire.

‘Home for lunch surprise for you love Lexa.’

‘Well, well. I wonder what the surprise is.’

‘Some kind of promotion. Alexa’s so clever,’ began Mrs. Forbes. Then paused and flushed as though at a painful thought. ‘Oh, dear …’

‘What, darling?’

‘I do hope she isn’t going abroad.’

‘Why should she be?’

‘Well, you know when we last saw her there was some talk of one or two girls going to some Government office overseas. They are sending them out. Several of Alexa’s associates have already gone. Oh, Rob!’

He stood up, coughing and shaking his head.

‘Don’t get all worked up till you know, dear. It may not be that at all.’

Her large blue eyes, faded but still beautiful, looked at him anxiously.

‘I wouldn’t like her to go abroad, would you?’

He looked doubtful.

‘I don’t know, Grace dear. The experience would be wonderful, and you know how the child has always craved to go abroad. But …’

‘But with David on the sea … and all these submarines about …’ Grace Forbes’ voice thickened.

Robert Forbes came to her side and put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Darling, you do get so worked up. Take it easy. It may not mean that Lexa is going overseas. Wait till she comes.’

She rubbed her face against his shoulder and laughed.

‘I am an idiot … I know … oh, dear, there’s the bell. Your first patient. We’re later this morning, Rob. Good thing I did the consulting room last night.’

Mr. Forbes hurried into the room across the hall and struggled into his fresh white linen coat while his wife opened the front door.

‘SO YOU SEE, Mummy, I can’t refuse. After all, it is the chance of a lifetime—isn’t it?’

Grace Forbes nodded at her daughter. She was subdued. The blow had fallen. Alexa had volunteered for service overseas and she was going. She was home now, an embarkation leave.

Mr. Forbes was in the consulting-room. A slight, nauseous whiff of anæsthetic had penetrated even upstairs into the drawing-room. Dr. Denson’s car sat outside Mulberry House. Some poor person was having a tooth extracted. But Miss Morgan was here to see to things. Lunch was over, and Grace would rest a bit and concentrate wholly on her daughter.

Alexa was going overseas. Her Lexa … who such a short time ago had been a schoolgirl with fair pigtails and a plump figure, at St. Paul’s with David. Then she had fined down and developed what most people thought a lovely figure. Not too slim, and exquisitely rounded. (Lexa had lovely long legs and ankles and was a head taller than her mother.) Now she sat there, neat and most attractive, thought her mother, in her greyish-blue tweeds; fair hair (it was wheaten rather than gold), done in the latest style, curving into a long ‘page-boy’, as Alexa called it, to the nape of her neck, and done in a little bunch of curls on her forehead. She had blue, long-lashed eyes, like her father’s; a sweet firm mouth and chin; a short nose—a little broad for beauty, perhaps—but the general effect that Alexandra Forbes gave was of a beautifully proportioned and charming English girl. Unusually pretty for one with such brains, Grace Forbes thought. Lexa might easily have gone to Girton, if they could have afforded it, and if she had wanted to be a ‘blue-stocking’. But unfortunately, being one of such a big family and with not much money available, she had had to take up a different kind of career. She had passed a number of difficult examinations before she qualified for her present job.

Mrs. Forbes said:

‘Where will it be, Lexa!’

Alexa showed her dimples. She seemed in high spirits.

‘Hush-hush, Mummy. Security forbids me to say. I think I know … but I can’t tell even you.’

Grace’s face fell.

‘Oh, dear!’

Alexa pulled a packet of Players from her bag and lit a cigarette. (Grace had never quite got used to the sight of her daughter smoking. Neither she, Grace, nor Rob smoked.)

‘Never mind, Mummy darling,’ she said, ‘I shall be quite all right. It will be tremendous fun and I’m wildly thrilled. Honestly. I’m just about sick of Blackpool.’

‘But there are so many dangers at sea, darling …’

‘And in Beckenham,’ interrupted Alexa cheerfully. ‘Honestly, Mummy, I might be bombed tonight, here. Just as much chance as being torpedoed, and we’re getting on top of those U-boats, you know.’

‘Are we, dear?’ murmured Grace Forbes. She never knew anything about the war. She hated it … all that it meant. It was a cruel, senseless thing … a monstrous invention … taking her children one by one away from her.

First David. Now Lexa. If the horrible thing went on long enough, the twins would go. Thank God they were only eleven.

‘Oh, well, darling,’ added Mrs. Forbes in a voice of resignation, ‘I’ll just have to get used to it. And you might go somewhere where David is. How wonderful if you could meet.’

The girl smiled.

‘Wouldn’t it just! But that would be too much of a coincidence.’

‘So you’re on embarkation leave,’ said her mother, uttering the word fearfully. ‘How strange that seems.’

‘Simply super. Mummy. Ten days to a fortnight. I’ve got lots to do. My kit to buy.’

‘What sort of kit?’

‘For the tropics, we were told. A girl called Daphne Medway and I are both going. She’s a year older than I am. They chose the unmarried ones. One girl was awfully fed up as she has a husband in the Middle East and she was dying to go out.’

‘Will it be the Middle East?’

‘Probably.’

‘Oh, dear … all this security and secrecy. It’s so awful not to know where one’s children are going.’

Alexandra bent forward and touched her mother’s cheek with her lips.

‘Darling, don’t fuss. I’ll be okay. And you’ll know as soon as I land. I’ll be able to cable my address. If you like to keep it absolutely to yourself … it may be Cairo … I only say may be because we aren’t told ourselves. But Daphne knew someone out there who says they are wanting accountants in one or two of the Government branches in Cairo, and as I’m a good accountant … voilà!’ She tapped her chest and stuck her head in the air with a gleeful smile.

Mrs. Forbes tried to be as cheerful as her daughter.

‘It will be a great experience for you, darling, I know. What about these clothes? We must go shopping. What about coupons?’

‘We get given some, darling, and there are my summer frocks … the two best linen ones … that blue, and the pale green … we can use those …’

The two women got down to the subject of shopping and sewing. But Alexandra Forbes was not really interested in her clothes. She was an imaginative young person and her imagination at the moment was leading her far away to the most glamorous and glorious fields. She could see herself thousands of miles from dear old dull grey Beckenham … across the Mediterranean … in Egypt. In Cairo. . .