“Really? It might be fun.”
“We never go into an unknown chamber. Now come – we’re here to get water, remember?” Ruth bent and dipped her jar into the stream. “Like this. Go on, you try.”
Ruth watched Natasha filling her jar. Two days had passed since the public execution, and the atmosphere had changed from celebratory to fearful at a single stroke. Now the writing was on the wall. Kadesh’s headship had turned from inspirational to dictatorial. And yet no one had crossed him. No one dared. Ruth’s fear for her child hostage grew with each passing hour. She lived for the moment, expecting at any time to hear the footfall at her door that would reveal Kadesh’s intentions for her charge. To make matters worse the girl asked questions constantly, questions that had no answers. Why? When? What next?
Mad thoughts chased through Ruth’s dreams. She would take the girl and escape. They would leave in the early hours and find a hiding place. Perhaps they would be picked up by the Americans, or the British. By anyone who would protect them from Kadesh. There were vehicles hidden above, she knew. She would make enquiries, find a way to take one and drive into the wilderness. She would hand herself over to insurgents, to anyone except him. Perhaps they would even make it to the city, board a plane, fly away to – anywhere. America, perhaps. They would start a new life under assumed names. And, and – Ruth covered her eyes with her hand. It was all impossible. She could never leave him. Not while there was hope. His feelings could change. Perhaps he was distracted, confused, preoccupied by his responsibility. He could love her, surely. And with her gentle spirit, she could change him. He would see how wrong he had been. There would be forgiveness – not without repentance, of course. But he would see. She would be his saviour. He would rule them justly, with her steadying hand on his shoulder, guiding, supporting.
“What’s the matter?” Natasha held up her jar. “Look. It’s full. I can hardly lift it.”
“I’ll carry it.” Ruth took the jar and let Natasha dip her toes into the water.
“It’s freezing!”
“It comes from the mountains – underground all the way. It sees no sunlight until it joins the river.”
“Can we go to the river? Is it beautiful?”
“Yes, very beautiful.” She smiled at the child’s unsullied enthusiasm. “But it is a long way and very dangerous. We cannot come and go as we please.”
“What else can we do? I don’t expect I’ll be here long, will I? I want to see everything.”
A male voice spoke. “Has she seen the paintings? She would enjoy those.”
Ruth turned to see her brother, Jassim, watching them calmly. His head was uncovered and he wore a long, loose-fitting dishdash with colourful, embroidered cuffs. His beard was short and oil gleamed slickly in his hair.
“Hello brother. Natasha is enjoying the waterfall. She wanted to help me carry the water.”
“It’s all right. I’m not checking up on you.” Jassim smiled and sat informally on a boulder. He threw a pebble into the stream, making it skip across the surface. Ruth relaxed and sat next to him.
“Can I try?” Natasha scooped a handful of stones and began throwing them into the water.
“Not like that. Look.” Jassim repeated his trick and guided Natasha’s next effort with his own hand. The pebble skipped obligingly across and rattled against the rock face on the far side of the stream. Natasha laughed delightedly.
“So you’re Natasha,” Jassim said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“She’s a good girl,” Ruth said. “No trouble.”
“I’m sure.” Jassim smiled and chucked the girl under her chin. “Very pretty, too.”
Natasha giggled. “That’s what my dad says.”
Jassim nodded seriously. “Well, he’s quite right. He is obviously a discerning man.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he can recognize what is beautiful, what is ugly and what is good; what is right and wrong,” Ruth said.
Jassim looked away, avoided her eyes. “Yes, that’s it.” He bent and drew a line on the soft ground, parting the pebbles with his fingers. “Tell me, Natasha, what would your father do if he lost something? Would he look everywhere for it until he found it, or would he become frustrated and decide to do something else instead?”
“Frustrated means angry and annoyed at not being able to do something,” Ruth said.
“I know that,” Natasha said indignantly.
“See – she is a bright girl,” Jassim said.
Natasha chewed her thumb thoughtfully. “He would keep looking until he found it. Once he pulled the carpets up in the lounge to look for his cufflinks. Mummy was very cross. She said he was stubborn and he wouldn’t find them there.”