Unwrapped

The heat! It was a slap in the face. No, it was like walking into a wall. "It's no wonder they worshipped the Sun!" Marjorie Carnforth thought as she adjusted the strap of her travel bag and took a firmer grip of her Duty Free. She had experienced the same sensation of overwhelming heat as a newly-wed when she had opened her oven door to check on one of her inexperienced attempts at baking back home in Oxted, Surrey. It had knocked her head back then. It knocked her head back now.

It made her husband Simon 's nostril hairs crackle as he descended the steps from the 757 behind his wife. He was already perspiring freely as he stepped onto the concrete of Aswan airport behind her.

"Like being in a monstrous hair-dryer!" he observed to her as they took seats on the transfer bus. The bus soon filled with other package tourists. Marjorie hoped that none of this particular bunch would be sharing The Sobek with them. They looked as if they'd be more at home doing "the birdie dance" in Toremolinos than cruising the Nile in an elegant paddle steamer.

"And it's like this at four-thirty!" she rolled her eyes at him as the bus lurched off towards the terminal building.

"What will it be like around noon?" he softly voiced her own thoughts.

They smiled at each other. They were both extremely pleased with the contrast between the Sahara and Oxted, Surrey.

The Carnforth's bore the inefficient and wearisome immigration formalities with a spirit of acceptance. They'd soon be on The Sobek , away from the pink and complaining herd of their fellow countrymen. As the line inched forwards to receive their visa stamps, Simon tried to single out the people who had also signed up for a week's luxury cruise on the Upper Nile.

Perhaps that tanned gentleman in the Panama hat and worn-in tropical jacket and slacks? He and his wife appeared to be taking the heat in their stride. Simon noted with interest that the man had responded to a remark from one of the airport officials with an impressively fluent stream of Arabic. He'd be on The Sobek for sure. Now the immigration machine moved with a sudden sense of urgency.

******

The Carnforths stepped from the gangway onto the steel deck and through the double doors into the Sobek's foyer, leaving a bright, hot, raucous and faintly maloderous world for one of delicious cool, attar of roses, hints of polished brass and wood and deep pile carpetting in luxurious shadow. Silhouetted by the low sunlight lazing through the art deco stained glass behind them, uniformed figures in Fez welcomed them in Arabic and English. One held out a silver tray with drinks as the Carnforths waited their turn to register at the desk- they saw their luggage whisked by them and up the stairs on their right. It was all over very quickly, a man with their key led them up the stairwell to B deck . It was all very dream-like. The door to B4 swung open for them and they walked in with eyes wide and broad smiles - it was better than the picture in their brochure. The polished wood, the basketwork chairs, the tasteful lack of hieroglyphics. It was simple, but very comfortable - perfect. There was just time to freshen up before the orientation meeting in the bar.

While the guests enjoyed karkadi tea in the Sobek's sumptious bar, the chief Steward descended to D deck with the passenger list on a clipboard. From the landing he passed the swing doors to the busy kitchen without a sideways glance and stepped out on to the open deck. Running his hands along the guard rail he walked briskly the short distance to the engine room's sliding metal door. Beside him the dark brown waters of the Nile flowed Northwards like some vast oily invertebrate, its smooth surface marred only by the minor idiosynchratic eddies and swirls of a great river - a sacred river. He knocked on the door, three times, once with the palm, twice with the knuckles in the agreed code.

Moments later the door slid open a crack and a gloved hand thrust through the aperture and opened impatiently to receive what he had brought. Abdul proffered the clip-board, it was quickly grasped and withdrawn from his view.

The engines were quiet now, as the Sobek was not due to cast off for another hour. Abdul heard a brief rustle of papers and then the clip-board was thrust back to him with the harshly sibilant injunction "Khefnet Sarhduhl!" Serve the Gods.

Few men could have recognised, let alone have understood the archaic Egyptian. The dry scratchy sibilance of that voice would have instilled a horror in any other listner, but for Abdul it was as sweet to his ear as honey-dew melon was to his mouth. The door was already sliding shut as he touched his right hand to his chest, bowed his head and answered "Sarduhl Khefnet." The Gods be served. Abdul skimmed the passenger list carefully. Three names had been circled, those of Dr and Dr. Lyons - Room A2, and that of Professor Martha Saddleflake - B6. Unsmiling he returned to D landing and pushed through the swing doors into the kitchen to harangue the cooks with a long stream of venal Arabic.

Upstairs in the bar on B deck, the guests sat entranced as their tour guide, Achmed, finished his description of the vessel and the week's itinerary. It was impressive. The Sobek had belonged to King Fahrouk and was the only genuine paddle steamer left on the Nile. Refurbished in the spirit of its original 1920's decor it was a window not only into the life-style of the rich and famous then, but also onto the wonders of ancient Egypt. Though familiar with the itinerary from their tour literature the guests relished his colorful descriptions of what lay before them. Karnak, The Valleys of The Kings and Queens, the spectacular Abu Simbel - it was all waiting for them. Tomorrow they would wake in Khum Ombo. The tea was delicious.

After summing up with a brief description of the billing system and staff gratuities, Achmed asked them to enjoy forty minutes getting to know each other and the ship before dinner would be served in the dining room on C deck. There was only one question from the guests. A plump, genial lady in cornflower blue suit by the grand piano asked whether any more guests would be joining the Sobek. Achmed's answer pleased one and all. No, there would be just the 12 of them.

A soft hum of conversation rose from the tables as introductions were made. The passengers shared a common excitement at the prospect of a week's cruise and the Karkadi tea, rose-water sunset and subdued comfort of the bar combined to ensure pleasant banter.

The Carnforth's shared their table with Drs. George and Elizabeth Lyons, he a boisterous ex-professor of Architecture, she a suave and slightly distant Mathematician. It quickly became apparent that their personalities were mutually complementary in the sense that they differed to such a great extent. Both were witty - his wit was a warm daring sledge-hammer, hers was a needle of cold steel. They discussed their respective work, Simon described his Plumbing firm, Marjorie waxed interior designer. The Carnforth's discovered that they not only posessed considerable knowledge of Egyptian antiquities, but that they had cruised the Nile before. Not in such luxurious circumstances as these, but on one of "those modern package-holiday pleasure palaces that take 200 at a time." The Carnforths nodded sympathetically as if they knew about such things and had avoided them deliberately.

"I am very pleased that I suggested this trip." George blustered.

"As if this was his idea!" Elizabeth turned to Marjorie with feigned contempt. "The fact is, we won this holiday as part of some promotion scheme."

"Really? So did we. Gateway Tours, you got a call and had to call another number back right away?" Marjorie beamed happily. "Then you answer some questions about your work and income?"

"That's it!" George roared with glee "I encouraged her to go through with it, and now look where we are."

"The gate was opened. I was the Opener of The Way." Elizabeth quipped proudly.

"Well, whatever, shall we take a Sundowner on the upper deck?" George asked.

"All right, let's check out the sun set and see the rest of the ship." Simon said enthusiastically.

The sun set was delightful and their stroll around the vessel further confirmed the quality of the cruise ahead of them. On the top deck was a circular swimming pool with loungers set on synthetic grass matting to prevent wet feet from slipping. The railings and funnels gleamed white with fresh paint. The polished wooden deck boards glowed, the sky above was a smoothe gradient from deep blue through shell-pink to golden orange - the Nile, reflecting this glory, flowed inexorably northward. Two Ibises flew past over the far bank. A Muezzin's haunting call resonated through the otherwise still evening air. It was magical. Some time after the sun sank behind the low mountains to the west, they repaired to their rooms to freshen up for dinner.

Their first dinner was charming. Before eating, the Chief steward introduced their captain, a beaming old fellow in white robes and skull cap - it was explained that navigation of the Nile's shifting channels could only be entrusted to such a wily old bird. The guests applauded him and he bowed and departed, eyes twinkling. Shortly afterwards the Sobek cast off and the great paddle wheels began their work as the passengers tucked into their dinner.

The Carnforths sat between the Lyons and some new aquaintances - Mr. and Mrs. Firth. The Firths were a dry couple. Mr. Firth introduced himself as a Spice merchant for Shwartz, his area was Cinnamon purchasing, and his wife Anne, advised upon insulation and dry courses. The Lyons' anecdotal flow made up for the Firths' defficiencies, but the Carnforths resolved to avoid their company henceforth.

After dinner there was a slide show talk on Khum Ombo and courtesy cocktail in the bar. Lulled by their Blue Niles - a blend of Blue Curacao, herbs and Creme de menthe, and the hum of the engines everybody turned in before nine thirty, heads full of fuzzy expectations for the morrow.

*****

"Good Morning. Welcome to Khum Ombo. Is 7:15. Breakfast soon." crackled the speaker by everybodys' bed stead.

Breakfast from 7:30 to 8:30 was quite exciting. The Sobek had sailed all night and come to rest at Khum Ombo. Views through the polarized glass revealed sand and palm trees on their starboard side and the quayside and glimpses of ruins upon their port side.

The Lyons came late to table as the Carnforths were lingering over their second coffee - the other guests were finishing up too, all save for Prof. Saddleflake who made an even later appearance, bleary eyed and slightly dishevelled.

"May I join you? I am Martha Saddleflake . I don't suppose I must have slept very well." She excused herself, sitting down to her omelette and hash browns. "Busy dreams."

"It always takes us some time to get used to a new bed, new surroundings, you know." Elizabeth.Lyons stifled a yawn and held out her cup for a second coffee.

"That's a shame. I must say that we slept like logs." Marjorie said excitedly.

"We had jet lag or something of the sort. I expect this coffee will revive us." George grunted. Sure enough it did."Had the queerest dreams. Must have been the new potatoes and thoughts of ruins I suppose. I dreamt that I was on some sort of consulting job - damnably difficult. First they wanted advice on repairing the ceiling of a vaulted passage from the inside, on a 37.5 degree incline." He paused to heap sugar onto his grapefruit, then they asked me for help on some sort of cantilevered sliding door - using limestone blocks of all things. I told them that they were mad not to be using galvanized steel, but would they listen?"

"Oh shut up, George. Honestly, nobody's interested in the results of your overeating." His wife rebuked. Marjorie thought that she looked rather uncomfortable. Indeed her thoughts were troubled by the fast fading memories of having been faced with some awesomely complex calculations involving some bizarre calendrical system devised to establish dates for obscure astronomical conjunctions. She shook her head to clear her memory of it all.

"I had odd dreams too," Martha rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I work for Proctor and Gamble, you know. In their preservatives and additives section of their foods division. I pioneered the P 35 preservative matrix amongst other things. You all will have eaten it at some stage I'm sure - its a complex compound used for canned meats, you know. I dreamt that ... well it was most odd, I dreamt that I was working on a new additive based upon the P 35 matrix. Then ... I ..er.. well, then I was coating an old body with it. "

"Ha ha ha!" George wheezed "Those spuds were indigestible." Just then he noticed that the steward was watching them rather intently from the doorway. "Or... perhaps it was just the ... er... I say, it's nearly twenty to nine!"

"So, it is! We'd better get ready for the tour." Marjorie observed.

So it was that they hurriedly finished whatever they were eating and drinking and returned to their cabins to prepare.

At nine o'clock eleven of the twelve were gathered in the foyer giving off the strong scent of various sunscreens. At 9:07, Prof. Saddleflake joined them, wearing a floppy hat that reminded all assembled of Paddington Bear. Achmed led them off the gang plank and up the gently rising road to the entrance of Khum Ombo.

The ruins were delightful, they offered everything that you could want in the way of looming pillars and walls covered with hieroglyphics, plus slab-like altars, queer nooks and crannies, a small museum with some mummies and a fascinating Nilometer.

The gentleman who had spoken arabic at the airport snorted at Achmed's description of the Nilometer. After the guide had finished and was moving towards the small museum he said something that stopped the Carnforth's in their tracks."Don't you think it odd that they would invest so much time and effort digging that enormous hole and facing it with all that worked stone - just so that they could measure the rivers' rise and fall?"

"Well," Simon pondered, "The river was obviously very important to them. What Achmed said seems to make sense. I mean they could easily check the level here."

"Yes." The Gentleman conceded, "But couldn't they have just put a long stick in the river. You can see the river easily from here anyway. The level looks a lot lower. I bet the pipe's bunged up."

Elizabeth Lyons peered down at where the bright green water lapped at the stonework, "See how the sides are angled, spiralling down like that. It is peculiar."

George wiped his pink brow and muttered, "There's very little that they did that wasn't peculiar or excessive in some fashion. I dare say that they ..."

He was interrupted by a southern drawl at his elbow."Y' know, that puts me in mind of a gator hole."

The company stared at the man who spoke. "Ah seen 'em in the Bayous. Bright green like that from all the gator sheat."

The party stared at him. "Jeb Renquist, Ahm from Florida." he introduced himself, "Ahm a Gator wrestler by profession. This is ma wife Jessie - she wrestles gators too."

Jessie beamed at them and curtsied.

"Escuse please!" Achmed's voice rose behind them with a hint of irritation. "First we go to the Museum then you have 40 minutes free to explore the ruins at your own pace."

The museum was a small affair. It had just one room and just one display case there. Peering in through smeary glass the party could see two swaddled forms.

"What diddly little gators!" Jessie excalimed. "Ain't they cute all wrapped up like that."

"These are mummified crocodiles - four thousand years old." Achmed announced sombrely. "The crocodile cult was centred at Khum Ombo." Cameras flashed, glass reflected and the party moved out into the bright light again.

"Were those crocodiles kept in the Nilometer?" asked Marjorie.

"No. As I said before, that Nilometer was just used to measure the rise and fall of the Nile. Now.." Achmed checked his watch. "You have forty minutes to explore the area further, take your pictures and then we sail on for Luxor."

The tourists spread out amongst the ruins, explored them and returned to the cool of The sobek.

At eleven thirty the Sobek sailed again. Over lunch the tourists were plied with plenty of Karkadi tea. At noon it was too hot out doors for sunbathing.With full bellies and a morning of clambering over ruins behind them they repaired to their cabins for a lie down. Martha Saddleflake had sufficient energy to post a card before bedding down.

*******

By one o'clock the Sobek was steaming South again to Khum Ombo. Abdul took the passenger list back down to the engine room. After knocking in the agreed manner, the steward stepped back as the door slid open."Khefnet Sarhduhl!" hissed the voice with increased vitality. Abdul handed over the clipboard. The unwrapped one scanned the list again and circled two names - the Carnforths and the Renquists.

A mosquito hovered briefly over his ear as his pen scratched across the paper. It settled on one wizened ear, sucked and then fell to the deck - one leg kicking feebly before it lay still. He returned the board and then slid the door shut, even as Abdul muttered "Sarduhl Khefnet."

Abdul nodded smiling as he read the encircled names. They were on schedule, the whole passenger contingent lay sedated as the staff set back their watches, alarm clocks, the quartz date backs on cameras and videos, everything date sensitive. Video was erased and rewound, used films were exchanged for new. The Tana leaf dosage in the karkadi tea was sufficient to erase all memory of the day.

*******

"Good Morning. Welcome to Khum Ombo. Is 7:15. Breakfast soon." crackled the speaker by everybodys' bed stead.

The Carnforths came late to table as the Lyons were lingering over their second coffee - the other guests were finishing up too, all save for an American couple who made an even later appearance, bleary eyed and slightly dishevelled.

"Mind if we join you? Jeb and Jessie Renquist, we're from Florida." he introduced themselves, "Ahm a Gator wrestler by profession.Jessie too. Must be the time difference or somethin, but I feel like i worked all night."

"Know what you mean, honey." His wife agreed with a yawn. "That coffee sure smells good."

"It always takes us some time to get used to a new bed, new surroundings." Elizabeth Lyons smiled freshly, " but George and I slept like babies last night." George grinned happily.

"Wish we could say the same. I must say that we slept rather poorly." Marjorie said wearily as she held out her cup for a second coffee. "I dreamt that I was comissioned to touch up some fading murals. It must have been the slide show that triggered it. Strange dream. I painted over hundreds of fading hieroglyphs - it was exhausting."

"Ha,ha,ha." Jeb snorted "Must have been those tough lil potatoes we had last night, but Ah dreamt that we wrestled some prize gators, right out the river here and hog-tied them for transport to some place. All these natives were clappin' and cheerin' an all."

"Well, honey! Ah had the same dream as you. Sweet Lord they sure were ornery." Jessie yawned.

"Perhaps we are all too tied up with our work, eh? I'm a professional plumber. I dreamt that I was working on some old piping system" Simon smiled tiredly. "I have never seen such blockages - what a nightmare. I don't think they'd been seen to for years. Centuries, maybe. The water stank like .... like....the stench of hell."

"Oh Simon. We needed this break more than we realized." Marjorie rubbed her bleary eyes.

Martha Saddleflake ignored the multi-colored grubbiness under Marjorie's nails and chuckled at their accounts, "Gator wrestling, hieroglyphic painting, drain clearing. There's no escape from the past is there? " Just then she noticed that the steward was watching them rather intently from the doorway. "Or... perhaps it was just the excitement of sleeping in a new bed, rather? Dear me, it's nearly twenty to nine!"

"So, it is! We'd better get ready for the tour." Marjorie observed."I'm looking forward to seeing Khum Ombo."

At nine o'clock eight of the twelve were gathered in the foyer giving off the strong scent of various sunscreens. Five minutes later, the stragglers joined them. Achmed led them off the gang plank and up the gently rising road to the entrance of Khum Ombo.

With undisguised pride he showed them the full tour along with restored murals and the lower chambers threatened by rising damp. The tourists especially loved the sacred crocodiles in the Nilometer.

*****

"Good Morning. Welcome to Khum Ombo. Is 7:15. Breakfast soon." crackled the speaker by everybodys' bed stead.

The Firths were late down for breakfast, but the gentleman in the Panama hat even later. During the idle chatter at table, it became apparent that he, a specialist in Chemical stimulation, behavioural manipulation and hypnosis at Portland Down had had a busy night of dreams. Something about doing a voice over for a video about Luxor, Karnak, the Valleys of Kings and Queens, Aswan dam etc.He looked thoroughly tired. Mr. Firth had been ordering large consignments of Cinnamon and his wife had been damp coursing some peculiar tunnel complex. They greatly enjoyed Khum Ombo that day. At lunch they all agreed that if that was anything to go by, the rest of the tour looked to be extremely promising.

*****

"Good Morning. Welcome to Khum Ombo. Is 7:15. Breakfast soon." crackled the speaker by everybodys' bed stead.

The Simpson's of Johnson and Johnson Medical KK were late down for breakfast, as was Susan York, elegant young architect noted for her design of the Carlisle museum Millennium pyramids. Their companions were amused to hear of busy dreams involving bandaging an old body and ambitious reconstruction plans, before they realized the time and hurried off to prepare for the excitements of Khum Ombo.

*****

When Monarch Airlines flight E 315 came to a standstill at Gatwick. The small party on The Sunshine Sobek tour were unanimous in their praise of the trip. It was just so sad that all their bags had been stolen like that - all their film gone. The insurance had paid up promptly and at least they had their happy memories. Such vivid memories of so many places. So good of the company to offer them a free return trip for next summer as special compensation. Yes, they'd all be there.

*****

Madge Saddleflake received a rather odd set of post cards from her sister, Martha in Egypt, who had taken a week's holiday cruising the upper Nile. Seven identical cards arrived on the same day, and all described how much she had enjoyed her day at a place called Khum Ombo. Though the descriptions became more enthusiastic and detailed, she was undoubtedly describing the same day trip. Each was clearly marked August 14th, our first day. It must have been excellent, Madge thought.

The End.