The Bride Box by Michael Pearce Read Free Book Online

afraid I—’
    â€˜As opposed to that in which the summer solstice was in Virgo and consequently the vernal equinox in Gemini.’
    â€˜
Most
interesting. Well, I must be getting along …’
    â€˜Champollion thinks—’
    â€˜Yes, yes, thank you. Thank you. I’m afraid I have to be …’
    He edged out of the door.
    They could be Leila’s ‘magic marks’! In which case, yes, the halt where she had got on the train was at Denderah. And Denderah was the village she came from.

THREE
    â€˜ A bride box?’ said the clerk at Denderah station doubtfully. ‘No, Effendi, I do not remember a bride box. And, surely, if there had been one, I would have remembered it. They are not things you see every day. And usually, Effendi, a bride goes with it. A woman does not like to be parted from her box. Surely if there had been a box, there would have been a bride. There would have been singing and dancing and much merriment. A thing like that I could not but have marked. But there has been nothing like that here!’
    â€˜I think it is possible,’ said Mahmoud, ‘that the two were separated in this case, the bride and her box. And you might not have recognized it as a bride box, for it was stitched into a bag. Like this one here.’
    He pointed to a package in the mail bag behind the clerk’s desk. ‘Only much bigger, of course. This big!’ He spread his arms.
    â€˜In that case it would not have been with the ordinary mail, then. All parcels have to be weighed, and that would be too big to be weighed on these scales. It would have to be weighed on the weighing machine I use for commercial packages: oil cakes and such things. And now I think I remember … Come with me, Effendis. It should be on the list.’
    He led them to a little goods shed, in which was a large weighing machine. Beside it was a list pinned to a board.
    â€˜Yes, I thought so. It was your mention of a bride box that led me astray. For this was no bride box, Effendi. A bride box must be treated with respect and the men who brought this had no respect. “This is to go on the train,” they said. “How can it?” I said. “When it does not even have a label!” “Label?” they said. “What is that?” They were ignorant men, Effendis. Fellahin from the field.
    â€˜â€œA label,” I said, “is to show where the parcel is to go to. It is a piece of paper,” I said, seeing that they still did not understand. “Like this.”
    â€˜â€œIt has writing on it!” they said.
    â€˜â€œWell, yes,” I said. “It would have.” They conferred among themselves. “Do it, then!” they said. For, Effendis, there was not one among them who could read and write.
    â€˜â€œVery well, then,” I said. “But you will have to tell me what to put. First, who is it to go to?”
    â€˜â€œThe Pasha,” they said.
    â€˜â€œWhich Pasha?” I asked.
    â€˜â€œOur Pasha.”
    â€˜â€œLook,” I said, “there are Pashas all over the place. What is his name?”
    â€˜â€œOur Pasha,” they said. “Ali Maher.”
    â€˜â€œRight,” I said. “And where is this to go to?”
    â€˜â€œHis house.”
    â€˜â€œHis house where? He has dozens.”
    â€˜â€œHis big house. In the city.”
    â€˜â€œCairo, yes?”
    â€˜â€œYes, Cairo.”
    â€˜â€œThe street?” I asked.
    â€˜â€œStreet?” they repeated.
    â€˜â€œThe name of the road in which he lives,” I explained. They looked at each other.
    â€˜â€œSurely if it says it is the Pasha Ali Maher, that will do?” they said. I sighed.
    â€˜â€œThere are hundreds of Pashas in Cairo,” I explained. “And hundreds of streets.”
    â€˜â€œHundreds of streets?”
    â€˜â€œLook,” I said. “I’ll put down
The Pasha, Ali Maher
.