Iris and Ruby: A gripping, exotic historical novel. Rosie Thomas

waistcoat stepped in front of them.

      ‘I am staying in the hotel. Room 806,’ Ruby said firmly.

      ‘Good evening,’ he murmured and stepped back again.

      Heads up, they walked past the brocade armchairs and the fountain to the lifts. Ash was chuckling.

      ‘Are we nicking something?’ she demanded as the lift doors closed.

      ‘What is that?’

      ‘Stealing.’

      ‘Of course not. A view is free, belonging to everyone.’

      They swept up to the top floor and stepped out into a mirrored lobby. There was a murmur of voices, tinkling piano music and glasses.

      ‘Please close your eyes,’ Ash ordered.

      He took her hand and led her from carpet to paving. They were outside again, with a breeze fanning Ruby’s face. A little spasm of fear ran down her spine as she wondered how close the edge was.

      ‘You are safe,’ Ash breathed in her ear. He steered her a few more steps, then halted. ‘Now, open.’

      She looked. They were in a garden on the roof of the hotel. Below them, far below, was the dusk-blue higgledy-piggledy mass of Cairo. Lights shone in the crowded tower blocks, chains of traffic lights blinked and neon signs flashed all the way to the western horizon. The sun had set but the sky was blazing gold and orange.

      ‘Do you see?’ Ash murmured. His arm was round her shoulders, she could smell his skin.

      ‘Yes.’ She thought he meant just the view. But then, at the exact point where the dusty glitter of the city met the fiery sky, she saw three sharp triangular cut-outs pasted against the glow. ‘Oh.’

      Ruby leaned forward, hands on the rooftop rail, taking in her first glimpse of the Pyramids. They looked so close, almost part of the city itself. It made her think of how these buildings and domes and streets had crept from the banks of the Nile all the way out into the desert. She had always imagined the Pyramids surrounded by empty seas of sand, but seeing them like this made them seem even stranger and more unreal.

      ‘You like it?’

      ‘Yes. I like it very much.’

      The sky was fading. The pianist in the rooftop bar played more loudly and guests in evening dress drifted out to look at the view.

      ‘We have to go,’ Ash muttered. A man in a black tailcoat headed briskly towards them.

      ‘Hello.’ Ruby grinned at him.

      ‘I am afraid this is a private party, Madam.’

      ‘Sorry. Lost our way. We’re just leaving.’

      As they reached the lobby a waiter carrying a silver tray of drinks passed them and with a smooth movement, flashing him a smile at the same time, Ruby helped herself to a tall glass. In the lift, they leaned back against the padded wall. The glass was beaded with condensation, decorated with a straw and mint and rattling with chunks of ice. She handed it with a flourish to Ash. He gave it a longing stare and then the day’s thirst overcame him. He sucked down two-thirds of the Coca-Cola with a single swallow, then politely handed the glass back to Ruby.

      ‘No. It’s all for you,’ she told him.

      Outside again, it was night-time. Darkness descended here like a curtain falling.

      Hand in hand, Ruby and Ash walked back to the bike. She felt quite comfortable this time, sitting close up to Ash with her arms tight round his waist, as they swooped through the traffic on the way home.

      He stopped where Nafouz had drawn up in the taxi, only forty-eight hours ago.

      ‘Thank you for a nice day,’ Ruby said, realising with a shock just how long she had been out.

      He touched her cheek with his fingers.

      ‘I will come again?’

      ‘Yeah. I mean yes, I’d like you to.’

      ‘I am your Cairo boyfriend?’

      When Nafouz made the same suggestion she had laughed at him. But Ash’s wanting to set out the terms in this way made Ruby feel modest, and also shy in a way that she hadn’t done since she was twelve.

      ‘If you want to be.’ I am blushing, she realised.

      He leaned over and kissed her in the same tentative way. As if she might break.

      ‘How will I hear from you?’ she asked.

      His eyes widened. ‘I will be here. I find you.’

      ‘See you, then.’

      She rapped hard on the sun-blistered door of Iris’s house, and heard Ash accelerating away.

      The door swung open.

      At the sight of her Mamdooh moved fast. He propelled Ruby into the house and locked the door, dropping the key out of sight in the pocket of his galabiyeh.

      ‘Miss. You have been away many hours.’

      ‘Sorry. I …’

      ‘Sorry not good enough. You make Mum-reese worry, Auntie worry, and myself.’

      He was breathless with anger.

      ‘I …’

      ‘Cairo people not bad, but you are young woman, know nothing. Some places dangerous for you.’

      He didn’t know anything either, Ruby thought. She couldn’t deal with being treated as if she were ten years old. London wasn’t a safe place, but she knew how to look after herself. She was here, wasn’t she? It was Jas who had gone under, Jas who was kind and friendly to everyone, and just a bit fucked up.

      Auntie came down the inner staircase and darted straight at Ruby. Ruby braced herself for another rebuke, but Auntie took her hands and lifted them, pressing the knuckles to her own mouth. Her eyes were almost hidden in the fans of wrinkles but there were tears at the corners. Awkwardly, Ruby detached one of her hands and put it on Auntie’s shoulder. She was so small, it was like comforting a child.

      ‘I’m really sorry,’ Ruby began.

      She had said the same words often enough before, but Auntie’s tears made her feel something different. Or maybe it was remembering Jas, or all the impressions of the day piling up inside her. Without warning she started crying again herself, beginning with a dry sob and then with her face puckering and the tears breaking out as if something hard had burst inside her.

      Instantly, Auntie gathered her in her arms. She held Ruby like an infant, murmuring in Arabic and patting her hands and rubbing her arms. Mamdooh put a very big, clean and folded handkerchief into her hand.

      ‘You have had trouble today? Someone has tried to hurt you?’

      ‘No, no. I made a friend. His name is Ashraf, his brother is the taxi driver, and he … he works in the Bab al-Futuh Hospital. He showed me Garden City and a view of the Pyramids from the top of a hotel. I didn’t mean to stay out so long. How is my grandmother? What did the doctor say?’

      Auntie said something in Arabic and Mamdooh nodded.

      ‘She is resting.’

      ‘Can I go up and see her?’

      The old people held her between them now, one on either side.

      ‘First you must have food. After, you can take some tea for her. It is better you are not crying.’

      Ruby understood the sense of that. And the breakfast of two eggs she had eaten in Khan al-Khalili was a long time ago.

      The kitchen was quite cosy in the light from a pair of oil lamps, and there was a good smell of food. Ruby noticed how Mamdooh and Auntie moved between the table and a wood-fired oven as wordlessly as if they were part of the same organism. Mamdooh laid out spoons and three brown