Seeing A Large Cat by Elizabeth Peters

Author:Elizabeth Peters
Language: eng
Format: epub

Seeing A Large Cat

Chapter Eight

It was not a sporting thing to do, but the alternative would have been less acceptable. suggestion that we attend church services next morning was received with a massive display of disinclination. In his bluff fashion Emerson summed up the general consensus by remarking, “Don't be absurd, Peabody,” and demanded another egg. His callused brown hands were marked by innumerable scrapes and bruises; I reminded myself to apply a few bits of sticking plaster, though I did not suppose he would leave them in place for long.

Ramses's eye sockets had the bruised look they got from lack of sleep, and when I taxed him with sitting up late over his texts he admitted he had not gone to bed until after two in the morning. My motherly lecture was interrupted by the appearance of Nefret, whose manners, as well as her appearance, showed signs of fatigue. Instead of greeting us with sunny smiles and affectionate embraces she dropped heavily into her chair and reached for the toast rack.

“You don't appear to have slept well either,” I remarked. “Was it another of your bad dreams?”

“Yes,” Nefret said shortly.

The dreams were infrequent, but disturbing enough to make it difficult for her to get back to sleep. I assumed they were prompted by childhood memories; heaven knows the poor girl's experiences in her Nubian oasis had been painful enough to provide material for a lifetime of nightmares. She claimed she could never remember the substance of them when she woke, though I had tried, tactfully and gently, to get her to recall them. I felt certain that if she could, they would stop.

“Oh, dear,” I said sympathetically. “I had hoped you were getting over them.”

“I doubt I ever will,” Nefret said. “Ramses, will you come to the verandah with me?”

He rose obediently. She picked up the piece of bread he had left on his plate and thrust it at him. “Eat it,” she snapped, and led him out.

David immediately rose and followed them. I did not ask what they were about, for I feel that children are entitled to their little secrets. The three of them were such good chums, they were always putting their heads together over some scheme or other.

Emerson was impatient to get to the Valley since, as he remarked sourly, he would be forced to stop early in order to attend a cursed party. In fact, as I believe I have said, many archaeologists left off work shortly after midday, not only because of the heat but because other tasks demanded their time. Keeping proper field notes was, by Emerson's own standards, as important as the excavation itself. Furthermore, the “cursed” parties were, in my opinion, not an unnecessary frivolity. It is necessary for great minds to enjoy periods of relaxation, and professional conversations at such social events could be illuminating. I had told Emerson this hundreds of times, so I did not bother repeating it on this occasion.

We left the house shortly after six.

The work went on even more slowly than it had the day before.

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