The Bride Box by Michael Pearce Read Free Book Online Page A

And maybe it will get to him. Right, now what is it?” I asked. They spoke among themselves.
    â€˜â€œWhat is that to you?” they said. And looked at me threateningly.
    â€˜â€œNothing!” I said quickly. “But I need to know what sort of thing it is. Because I have to fix the price.”
    â€˜â€œPrice?” they repeated.
    â€˜â€œEverything has a price. Sending something by train costs money.”
    â€˜â€œOh, yes,” they said. “And who does the money go to? You, I suppose?”
    â€˜â€œNot me,” I said hastily. “It goes to the government.”
    â€˜â€œIt goes to Ali Maher, I’ll bet!” said one of them.
    â€˜â€œNo, no,” I said. “It goes to the government. To pay for the railway.” They spoke among themselves.
    â€˜â€œTell us how much it is,” they said at last.
    â€˜â€œThat depends on what sort of thing it is,” I said. “Which is what I asked you. Is it, for example, a piece of furniture – a table, say?”
    â€˜â€œTable? Are you mocking us? Anyone can see it’s not a table!”
    â€˜â€œI give you that as an example. What sort of thing is it? What class of thing? Is it, for instance, a present?” They laughed.
    â€˜â€œYes, yes,” they said. “It is a present.”
    â€˜â€œRight then,” I said, and told them how much it was to cost. They looked blue.
    â€˜â€œThat is a lot of money!” they said.
    â€˜â€œIt is the normal price,” I said. “The one the government determines.”
    â€˜â€œAnd what is the cut you get?” they asked. I told you, Effendis, they were ignorant men.
    â€˜â€œWithout the money,” I said, “it does not travel.”
    â€˜Well, they put their heads together, and there was much counting of
milliemes
. But in the end they found what was required. So I made out the ticket and gave it them. “This is to say that you have given me the money, lest anyone say you haven’t.”
    â€˜â€œIt would be a bad thing for them if they tried that!” one of them said.
    â€˜â€œKeep the ticket,” I said. “Then there can be no dispute.”
    â€˜â€œAnd now it can go?” they asked.
    â€˜â€œNow it can go,” I confirmed.
    â€˜â€œWhat a to-do about a small thing!” they said.
    â€˜And then they went away and I was glad. To tell the truth, I did not greatly care for them.’
    Denderah station was just a place where the train stopped to take in water for the engine. Its most conspicuous feature was the water tower that Leila had described. There was no platform and only the single building where the clerk presided. Apart from the Inglesi who came to view the temple, he said, there were few passengers.
    â€˜And the village?’ asked Owen.
    The clerk pointed over the long
halfeh
grass to some
doum
palms in the distance.
    â€˜So,’ said Owen, ‘you are Mustapha the basket maker?’
    Mustapha looked up, startled, from the reeds he was holding between his toes. ‘I am, indeed, Mustapha,’ he said uneasily.
    Owen crouched down to one side of him, a little to his front. Mahmoud had taken up a similar position on the other side.
    â€˜Tell us, Mustapha: are you a family man?’
    â€˜God has blessed me,’ Mustapha said warily.
    â€˜With children? How many?’
    â€˜Five,’ said the basket maker, not without pride.
    â€˜That is blessed indeed. And are they still with you?’
    â€˜Three are.’
    â€˜And the other two?’
    â€˜Have gone away,’ said the basket maker, hesitating.
    â€˜Oh, indeed? How so?’
    There was a pause.
    â€˜They married,’ the basket maker said, after a moment.
    â€˜Both of them?’
    â€˜Both.’
    â€˜How old were they?’
    â€˜Thirteen.’
    â€˜Both of them?’
    â€˜The oldest was thirteen,’ said the basket maker unwillingly.
    â€˜And