streets of the ancient city were a far cry from what they would have been in the glory days of Egypt, although it did feel like we had stepped back thousands of years in time.
Flies swarmed around the masses of dirty, half-naked, sore-eyed Arab men and the donkeys, yelping dogs and camels bustling around the long range of bazaars that lined the way to the Frankish part of town.
We were forced to barge our way through the commotion behind our guide, who seemed to take all the bustle, stench and noise in his stride. For a time I clean forgot that there were such things as obelisks, pyramids and ruined temples; my sole mission was to find some space, and air to breathe. Suddenly, I was a lot more apprehensive about threats of plague and Mr Devere passed me his handkerchief so that I might cover my mouth and nose.
When we eventually cleared the crush, we found ourselves in front of a whole row of fine buildings that were shops stocked with European goods. These were followed by other renovated dwellings dedicated to lodging, business, restaurants for dining and salons for drinking. Amid these were fine country houses, displaying beautiful gardens that grew upon barren sands.
‘What an improvement.’ I couldn’t believe how pompous that statement was, but the Englishwoman in me was completely delighted to find the comforts of home in such an ancient city. ‘What should we do first? Find a room? Go shopping?’
‘I would see Mr Banks, the English consul,’ Cingar suggested. ‘You are required to sign the consular book as a record of your arrival and presence in the East.’
‘But we don’t wish to announce our presence here. What if Molier was to see it?’ I posed.
‘Molier would see the French consul,’ Cingar pointed out, and yet the prospect still made me feel uneasy.
‘Perhaps tomorrow, just before we leave,’ I suggested. ‘What I need right now is a bath.’
The temperature was unbearable and my green velvet attire was not helping.
‘Done,’ Cingar agreed, leading off down the road. ‘As we wish to avoid attention, might I suggest you bypass the more popular hotels and guesthouses of the French, English and Americans. I know an Italian gypsy trader who would be happy to accommodate us. His home is not as grand or prestigious as some, but I guarantee it is more hospitable and comfortable than any in the city.’
As expected, Cingar’s boast did not fall short of expectations. The European part of Alexandria is located in the outlying section of the city and it was in a quiet little back street that we came to the dwelling of Mr Frinkulo Maximoff. Mr Maximoff was a coppersmith by trade and, by fortune, a trader in Middle Eastern exotica to the West. Silks, soaps, statues, spices and scents: his large dwelling was filled with them. The front room of the house was also his store and showroom. Born in Italy, the Maximoffs were gypsies who became too successful to risk displaying their wares and carrying their fortune on the road. They did the unthinkable and quit the nomadic life to settle on the edge of the desert, where they had lived happily and prosperously for over twenty years.
The Maximoffs did adore having guests, however, and as friends of Cingar, we were warmly welcomed, fed and given the best guestroom in the house. A sunken tiled bath had been hand-filled by the staff with warm water and sweet scented oils whilst we ate. Hence, our room was filled with heady fragrances when we were ready to retire and refresh ourselves.
Our balcony overlooked a large garden courtyard, in which many of the herbs, spices and scents sold by Maximoff were cultivated. I gazed across the rooftops toward the burning sands of Egypt, wafts of scented water from our room mingling with the perfume of the garden carried upon the hot breeze, and I felt myself seduced by the pleasurably unfamiliar atmosphere. This would remain with me for the rest of my life. Whenever I remembered the East, I would be swept back to this magical moment. ‘I think I shall adore this city after all,’ I called to Devere, who was preoccupied inside our room.
‘Me too.’
I returned inside to find my husband had already stripped naked and was submerged in the large bath with a cigar in hand.
‘You look very content, in
‘There’s plenty of room,’ he grinned.
I decided to indulge his invitation, as I was just as eager to remove my immensely constricting and inappropriate attire. ‘We have to buy some local clothes for the journey,’ I said, tossing aside the green velvet items. Naked below the torso, I walked into the tub toward Devere and then turned and knelt down beside him so he could undo my corset.
‘It doesn’t get any better than this,’ he commented, admiring my behind as I stood to cast off my last item of clothing.
‘Now we don’t want to destroy our host’s lovely home.’ I sank into water all the way over my head, to surface a very invigorated woman. ‘Praise my foremothers, that feels fabulous!’
Devere ran his hand down my wet, oil-scented skin. ‘If we just take it real slow, maybe the damage can be controlled?’
‘Wouldn’t that mean we’d have to divide our attention between the world outside us,’ I slid my way on top of him, ‘and the world inside?’ I lowered myself to sit upon his already eager member.
‘Not at all,’ he grinned confidently. ‘I guarantee my want of you will overcome any obstacle.’ His kiss encouraged me to forget about the consequences and seize the moment.
In fact, we seized the whole afternoon, and evening found us still lounging on the bed, our bedcovers wound around us.
‘Our host must think us awfully rude,’ I raised myself to dress, as I was feeling rather famished, ‘and this is certainly not getting us any closer to the Sinai.’
‘Are you aware that you have a tiny chakra system growing inside your own?’ Devere placed his hand over my lower stomach. ‘Right about here.’
My heart skipped a beat and jumped into my throat—I must have appeared so guilty.
‘When were you planning on telling me?’ he queried calmly, but with a tinge of accusation and hurt.
‘I wanted to be sure.’ My defence was transparent.
