The Long Road to Baghdad (2011) Read online

  ‘Like a girl in the Rag.’

  ‘Rag?’

  ‘Brothel,’ Maud clarified. ‘Command set them up wherever the regiment goes. They’re a military institution. All the officers use them. John, Harry …’

  ‘Peter?’ Angela was shocked by the idea of her husband and men she knew consorting with loose women.

  ‘If he didn’t, he’d be the only officer in the regiment who abstained. Remember your wedding night. Was he as nervous as you?’

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘But I bet he knew what to do and he’d done it before.’

  ‘And John?’ Angela ventured.

  ‘Was an expert,’ Maud said flatly.

  ‘Everyone says it’s different for men. That they need the private side of married life more than us.’ Angela sought Maud’s hand under cover of the blankets. ‘It’s obvious John still loves you.’

  ‘He’ll never admit it.’

  ‘Perhaps you could have this baby adopted.’ Embarrassed by Maud’s silence, Angela continued, ‘Theo told me you were raped but only because he wanted me to understand your situation. There’s been such awful gossip.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘It’s odd to be talking to you like this. Peter and I never discussed anything intimate.’

  ‘Did you try?’

  ‘Yes, but Peter became so uncomfortable every time I tried to mention it, I gave up. Americans are different to Europeans. My mother explained about sex and love when I was 12.’

  ‘My mother only talked about love in the poetic sense. Everything else came from John and, unlike Peter, he liked to talk about sex – and put his ideas into practice. It was dreadful when he left. I didn’t know what to do with myself. If there had been a Rag for officers’ wives I’d have been first in the queue.’

  ‘Maud!’

  ‘Haven’t you missed Peter that way?’ Maud asked.

  ‘It sounds dreadful to admit it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because no respectable woman ever talks about sex. Mrs Butler leaves the room if anyone as much as hints a mare is in foal.’

  ‘You could talk to Theo. He is a doctor.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly talk about the private side of married life with my brother.’

  Maud slipped her hand around Angela’s waist. ‘I had a friend in India, Louisa. We used to talk about it. Even comfort one another sometimes.’

  ‘Comfort?’ Angela echoed, in confusion.

  ‘Help one another.’ Maud conveniently forgot to mention that Louisa had been living with her husband and brother-in-law. Or that Louisa’s brother-in-law, Miguel, had generally made a threesome with the two of them and occasionally expanded their “sessions” to include one or more of his male friends.

  ‘Isn’t it sinful?’ Angela gasped when Maud moved her hand lower, lifted both their nightdresses, and slid her hand between Angela’s legs.

  ‘Making love to another man would be sinful.’ Maud moved her fingers lightly, expertly. ‘How can it be wrong for two women to take pleasure this way?’ Moving closer, she kissed Angela on the lips. Her free hand moved to Angela’s breast. Moments later, she was surprised at the response she’d evoked.

  But then, as Miguel had frequently said, sex was a primal urge. And what could possibly be wrong in satisfying a basic, God-given need?

  The Karun Valley

  Furja tossed on her mattress in Ali’s harem, dreading her husband’s return. It wasn’t that Ali physically mistreated her. She had no scars to show her father when he visited. Ali was outwardly solicitous at all times, the embodiment of the perfect Bedouin husband. But there were a hundred ways of killing a wife’s spirit without lifting a hand against her. And, during the six months of their marriage, Ali – and his mother – had discovered every one.

  She frequently wondered why Ali had asked for her. At first she’d felt like a trophy he’d brought back from a battlefield and didn’t know what to do with. When she announced her pregnancy six weeks after their wedding, all he could talk about was his coming son. Using her health as an excuse, he’d insisted she stop weaving carpets and spend her days resting within the confines of the harem.

  Imprisoned, she began to dream of sky. Brilliant, daytime summer sky, washed blue and gold. Deep purple, velvety desert night sky, lit by a huge, golden moon. Every time the tent flap opened, she started, hoping to catch a glimpse of the outside world. She rarely did. Instead, she wasted her days in the gloomy heat of the tent, listening to Ali’s mother and sisters berate her in terms too subtly phrased for her to raise objections.

  She’d never thought making love to a man could be so difficult. Before marrying Ali, she’d assumed that if she closed her eyes it would be no different to lying with Harry.

  But everything was different. The feel of Ali’s skin beneath her fingers, the texture of his hair, his smell, the thoughtlessness that made no concessions to her mood or pregnancy and, above all, the lack of empathy between them. She and Harry had communicated in every way, not just words. Ali merely used her to satisfy himself, and when he’d done with her; there was only emptiness, lightened by thoughts of the coming baby and memories of Harry.

  Her mother-in-law talked incessantly about the baby, and how she would take charge of him as soon as he was born. Her sisters-in-law delighted in combing through her jewellery and wardrobe until she was forced to hand over most of her possessions. The sovereigns Harry had presented her on their marriage and the gold and pearls he had given her on the day of their divorce she’d smuggled out to Gutne in her daughters’ clothes.

  Her Aunt Gutne was her saviour. She visited every day and brought fresh fruit Mitkhal bought from the traders who plied the Karun River. There was enough left for her, even after Ali’s sisters had taken their share. But, more important than the presents of food, was the support Gutne gave her. She’d lived as a slave in a Turkish harem, and while her condition in Ali’s harem was not exactly slavery, there were similarities.

  As soon as the girls were weaned, Gutne kept them in her tent overnight. Given the advanced state of Gutne’s pregnancy, Furja protested, but she pointed out she had a slave to share the responsibility if the girls woke and, unlike Furja, a quiet tent and all the time she needed to catch up on her sleep during the day. Gutne’s kindness deprived her in-laws of the opportunity to complain about their sleep being interrupted by the whining of the Ferenghi brats – their usual description of the twins.

  She feared for the future of her children because they were dependant on Ali’s goodwill. Every day the girls grew fairer, and she worried about her son, and what Ali’s reaction would be if the baby should look remotely like Harry in feature or colouring. She pressed her hands over her swollen abdomen. Only four more months –

  A footstep in the outer tent put her instantly on the alert. She pretended to be asleep, hoping Ali would leave her alone. She heard him stumble and wondered if he’d been smoking weed. The curtain moved. She kept her eyes tightly closed when he sat on the ground beside her. Then she choked, opening her eyes wide as a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Mitkhal, wearing Ali’s abba and head cloth, was beside her. He released his hold. Her mother-in-law moaned in her sleep. Mitkhal put his finger to his lips and pulled her through the curtain into Ali’s sleeping alcove. Bound hand and foot, Ali lay unconscious on his mattress. Taking her hand, he led her outside. Keeping low, they crept to the wadi where the horses were tethered. Crouching between the animals, she breathed in deeply. Despite the smell of horseflesh, the desert air was strong and sweet, making her head swim.

  ‘Stay low, the watchmen are over there.’ Mitkhal pointed to their left.

  ‘Gutne and the children?’

  ‘Are in a fruit seller’s dhow on the river. I took them there when most of the men were eating in your father’s tent.’

  ‘Mitkhal, you won’t be able to return. You and Gutne will be outcasts …’

  ‘We know.’

  ‘Harry won’t want me …’


  ‘Harry will take you back however you come to him. Without you, he’s like a boat without a rudder. That’s enough talk. If we’re to escape your father we must be in Ahwaz by morning.’

  ‘Not Basra?’

  ‘Your father will expect us to go downstream. He’ll have every boat heading that way stopped and searched. When Shalan has stopped looking for you, we’ll go to Basra, not before.’

  Basra, Monday 30th August 1915

  ‘What a wonderful surprise.’ Maud kissed Harry’s cheek. She was beautiful even with her thickening waistline and the shadows beneath her eyes. But the sparkle of the Maud he remembered from pre-war Basra days had gone, as had her fashionable clothes. She was dressed in a sober grey dress that could have been Angela’s. ‘Where have you sprung from?’

  ‘Nasiriyeh.’

  ‘Poor Harry. You look dreadful. I prescribe rest and good food.’

  ‘For me and every other man in the Force?’

  ‘I can’t invite every other man in the force, but I can invite you. Have breakfast with me.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve come to see Angela.’ He followed her into the dining room where the maid had laid out bread, butter, cold meats, cheese, and fruit.

  ‘She has her breakfast in bed. Do sit down.’ She set out a place setting for him.

  ‘Is Angela ill?’

  ‘She has been but she’s making a good recovery.’

  ‘Nothing serious I hope.’

  ‘No.’ Maud dismissed the subject and he assumed Angela, like Maud, was pregnant. He picked out some dates from the fruit bowl and laid them on his plate.

  ‘It’s good to have company. Theo and Doctor Picard get up horribly early to go to the hospital. The Reverend and Mrs Butler are visiting one of the villages today. There’s only Angela and me here and as she’s not well enough to work we planned to spend the day gossiping and knitting.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a day’s activities for the Maud I remember.’

  ‘I don’t think the Maud you remember exists any more. Oh Harry, I’m so glad you’re here.’ She stared at him for a moment. ‘I need to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘Mother always used to say it was better to ask men for favours after a good meal. I think I’ll take her advice.’

  In between mouthfuls, Harry talked about Peter, Grace, her father, Crabbe: in short, everyone except John. When he finished, he pushed his plate aside, allowed her to pour him another cup of coffee and pulled out his cigarettes.

  ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’

  ‘I don’t mind, but I won’t join you. I can’t smoke any more. Not since …’ She glanced down at her stomach.

  ‘Now is the time to ask me what you will.’ He shook out a match. ‘I haven’t eaten like that since before the war.’

  ‘I have some jewellery I want to sell. Rubies and diamonds set in gold. Could you see to it for me?’

  ‘I’m no expert when it comes to jewellery, and the market in luxury goods has slumped. You’ll get a better price for them after the war.’

  ‘I can’t wait. I need the money to keep myself and the baby until I can work again.’

  ‘Surely John’s salary …’

  ‘I told John I can manage without his money.’

  ‘Aren’t you being naïve?’

  ‘I prefer to think of it as fair. Why should John support me?’ Taking a deep breath, she met his steady gaze. ‘I assume John’s told you about my situation. He used to tell you everything.’

  ‘He mentioned the child wasn’t his.’

  ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘The father?’

  ‘Isn’t in a position to help.’

  ‘If you know where he is you should contact him,’ Harry advised.

  ‘The fault and the child are mine,’ Maud said briefly. ‘Will you sell the jewellery for me?’

  ‘I’ll try, but what are you going to do after it’s born? Basra’s not the best place to bring up a child. Haven’t you any relatives back home?’

  ‘England isn’t home. I’ve never been there. I have an aunt in London. I don’t even know her address. But please, don’t concern yourself. The problem is mine. After the baby’s born, I’ll think of something. Theo said I had the makings of a good nurse, and nurses will always be in demand out here.’

  ‘But the wages won’t support you and a child. Besides, what would you do with it when you’re working? And there’s the risk of carrying disease.’

  ‘I haven’t made any firm decisions. I can’t seem to think further than the birth. Afterwards, there’ll be time enough to make plans.’

  ‘You could contact your father.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Amara, last I heard. But a letter with his name, rank, and number should get through.’

  ‘If I’m desperate, I’ll remember that.’

  ‘John will help you –’ he began.

  ‘That’s why I offered him a divorce, Harry. I want to release him from his obligations to me.’ She rose from the table. ‘I’ll see if Angela’s dressed.’

  Angela was darning a pile of men’s socks when Maud showed Harry into the mission sitting room. Her hair was loose, hanging around her face, and although it was nearly three weeks since she’d visited Peter, the damage he’d inflicted was still evident. Time had lightened the bruises from black to blue and yellow, but her jaw was still stiff and painful and Harry couldn’t help noticing she was very nervous. A clatter of dishes from the kitchen was enough to startle her and when he stood in the doorway and exclaimed, ‘Good God, what happened to you?’ she almost burst into tears.

  ‘Angela fell against a carriage wheel in Qurna when she visited Peter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you two to gossip while I get those things for you, Harry.’

  ‘Maud told me you’d been ill.’ Harry sat on a chair opposite Angela. ‘I had no idea it was an accident. Does Peter know?’

  ‘He was there. I’d rather not talk about it.’

  ‘You are on the road to recovery?’ His voice was full of concern.

  ‘Fit as a fiddle, and, as you see, using my bruises as an excuse to laze around. When did you get in?’

  ‘Early this morning.’

  ‘And you came straight here, how kind. Are you going to be in Basra long, because if you are, you must dine with us? Theo and the Reverend Butler would love to see you.’

  ‘I won’t know how long I’ll be here until I get my orders. I had an ulterior motive in coming here. Have you any messages for me?’

  ‘No,’ she replied in surprise. ‘I saw Peter in Qurna. Major Mason, Major Crabbe, and Lieutenant Grace were with him, but they didn’t give me any messages. Should they have?’

  ‘I told my Arab orderly to contact you. I hoped you wouldn’t mind, but I didn’t want to risk any communication going astray at HQ.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind, but I’m sorry, Harry, there’s been nothing.’

  ‘Would you know if anything had come while you were in Qurna?’

  ‘Of course. Maud hasn’t left the mission in weeks.’

  Harry sat back while she continued to plan the dinner party they’d hold in his honour. After a few minutes, he ceased to hear a word she said. His mind raced across the miles that separated Basra from the Karun. Had Shalan discovered what Mitkhal intended to do and killed him and Furja?

  *……*……*

  Harry remained in Basra for two weeks. He haunted the mailroom, visited the mission daily, and plagued the life out of Abdul to the point of accusing him of withholding his mail. He received letters from Michael, who, to escape Lucy, was living and working almost exclusively on the Western Front as a journalist; Georgiana, who’d plunged headlong into her work in an attempt to come to terms with her grief; even his father sent him a congratulatory note on his acting lieutenant-colonelcy. Postcards arrived from Charles’s father and John’s parents but he barely glanced at them. He couldn’t summon any interest in what was happening in Engl
and. Only the Karun.

  According to the dispatches he devoured, apart from the eternal scrapping of the Bawi the valley was quiet. The victories at Nasiriyeh, Amara, and Shaiba had driven the Turks and Germans further up the Tigris. What disturbed him was there was no mention of Sheikh Aziz Ibn Shalan or his tribe. It was almost as though they’d been wiped from the face of the desert.

  In between reading intelligence reports, he dealt with the mountain of paperwork that found its way to his desk. Being deskbound added to his depression. Days merged, followed by nights spent gambling in Abdul’s. Maud’s jewellery had been as impossible to dispose of as he’d predicted. The set was valuable but not to Arab taste, and there wasn’t a European in Basra who wanted them. He tried them all before telling Maud it would take time to sell the rubies. Meanwhile he kept the set in Abdul’s safe, using it as an occasional gambling stake in the hope that the stones would whet a Sheikh’s appetite. They didn’t, and as he was a careful gambler, they were always returned to the safe when the tables closed at dawn.

  Basra teemed with rumours. Two distinct and warring factions emerged in the Expeditionary Force. The one that held sway in the mess supported HQ at Simla, the Indian Office, and General Nixon. They believed they were in Mesopotamia to annex it to the Indian Empire. But no one could answer Harry when he asked what they intended to do with the place once the British ruled. Apart from the oil wells and a few date palms there wasn’t much worth taking, but that didn’t deter Nixon’s supporters from advocating an advance on Baghdad.

  The political officers countered the arguments by pointing out an advance on Baghdad would mean doubling their existing supply lines, and they didn’t have enough troops to hold Nasiriyeh, Basra, Amara, and Ahwaz, let alone start a new campaign. The natives were unpredictable and capable of carrying out cold-blooded murder, especially on wounded, solitary soldiers and small patrols. Even as he joined in the arguments, Harry knew it was a futile exercise. Decisions about Mesopotamia’s and his future were being made elsewhere.