‘It’s all very male,’ she thought to herself. ‘Nothing soft here. This is a world of nailed sandals, bugle calls, iron rations, binoculars and ceaseless watchfulness.’
They wound their way across the plain and Betty became aware of details as they approached the fort. She saw battlements, watchtowers loop-holed for rifle fire, perched like swallows’ nests against the side of the fort, a signal station manned with a heliograph, but amongst the unrelenting military dispositions of stone and dried mud there were the tentative beginnings of shy greenery. Very regimented greenery! Regimented but vulnerable in this harsh world. Recently planted fruit trees seemingly stood to attention where they had been put by a military hand. Vegetables stood likewise. An attempt had been made to establish a vineyard. The whole was efficient and promising ‘but,’ thought Betty with a lurch of the heart, ‘totally without imagination.’ Yes, this was James’s work all right. ‘If ever we live anywhere a civilized life is possible, I won’t let him within a mile of the garden, that’s for sure!’
She turned and said as much to Grace. ‘All the same,’ said Grace, ‘persistence! That’s what’s needed. And that is certainly what James has.’
‘It’s what you’re going to need over this next bit too, Grace,’ said Betty, suddenly concerned and frowning. ‘Look! If you look back the way we’ve come, what do you see? Civilization! Orchards, fields full of green crops, sparkling river, canals, the dome of Ismalia college and a froth of apple and almond blossom! It’s quite heavenly! And then turn quickly and look to the west. Now what do you see? Hell! All shades of brown and not a tree or a blade of grass in sight. And as for that gate to Avernus,’ she pointed at the black vertical fissure that marked the Khyber and shuddered, ‘wild horses wouldn’t drag me up there! I think you’re awfully brave, Grace, going all that way. They say it’s thirty miles from beginning to end. That’s a long ride!’
‘You kindly don’t add, “At your age!” ’ Grace eyed Betty calmly for a moment. ‘I’m not exactly a tourist,’ she said. ‘I know these people and – at last – they know me. I’d go further and say they trust me, and that trust hasn’t been easy to establish. Thirty miles! Yes, it’s a long way but Afghanis say, “Halve the journey – travel with a friend!” and that’s what I shall be doing.’ Her calm was impressive. ‘I’ve done it before,’ she added placidly.
‘I hope you won’t think I’m overstepping the bounds of decorum, Grace –’ Betty smiled, ‘which of course means that I’m about to! – if I ask why you should go to dance attendance on the Amir? We need you in Peshawar! I need you in Peshawar! Surely there must be a supply of competent doctors in Kabul?’
Grace smiled. ‘The Amir Amanullah has very particular requirements in a physician, the most important being that his doctor should not kill him! He doesn’t trust the home-bred ones not to be in the pay of one of his aspirant relatives. Too easy to administer a fatal dose! For this reason he never allows himself to be anaesthetized – not even to have a tooth removed. But he trusts me. He’s visited Peshawar several times to consult me and we get on well. He also appreciates my Western training. His country may still be in the Stone Age in many ways but Amanullah admires many aspects of Western culture. And so does his wife, Sourayah. Sourayah is a great beauty and her husband is very proud of her. She’s even been photographed wearing Paris fashions without her veil – what a scandal! And, more importantly,’ Grace leaned forward, her eyes shining with enthusiasm, ‘the royal pair have a notion to overhaul education in Afghanistan and insist that it be provided for all girls as well as for boys. There has even been talk of enfranchisement for women.’
Betty began to understand Grace’s reasons for taking on the dangerous employment. ‘So, you’ll get alongside Sourayah and encourage her to go in the right direction? But isn’t that a bit dangerous, Grace? They’re all firmly Muslim – you won’t exactly be doing this with the goodwill of most of the country, I’ll bet,’ said Betty shrewdly. ‘The Mullahs, surely, won’t be very happy with these schemes? You could run into some fearsome opposition.’
Betty looked again at the hills rising in jagged ranks, tier upon tier of rugged desolation until they reached the towering peaks of the snow-lined Hindu Kush, and she could no longer fight back a sense of foreboding. On an impulse, she reached forward and seized Grace’s hands. ‘Change your mind, Grace! It’s not too late! Don’t go up into that wilderness!’