Birds of the Nile by N E. David Page A

everything else, there were no birds to be seen and as they’d ascended the valley, he’d become progressively more and more agitated. Now, driven to the edge of despair, it had all boiled over at once. And to top it all off, here was that damned girl, come to annoy him again.
    By contrast, Miss Malaysia appeared cool and calm and looked round the group, assessing what action to take. Her first move was to produce a water bottle from her small backpack and thrust it in the direction of Mrs Biltmore.
    “You should drink. Here, take this.”
    While the American took in fluid, she turned to address therest of them.
    “You want to see tombs? This one’s no good – it’s closed.” She pointed at the nearby notice. “Come with me. I can show you some tombs.”
    Far from pursuing Blake, it seemed she had other intentions.
    Blake caught Keith’s enquiring look. Who was this girl? Blake shrugged his shoulders and smiled blithely back. Beyond the scene at the temple when she had so affected him, he had no more idea than Keith did. And yet because of what appeared to be her relentless pursuit of him, he’d become curious. Why was it that this young woman should suddenly seek to take command like this and offer to show them around? What possible motive could she have?
    Well, whatever it was she was after, he decided he didn’t much care. If she knew something they didn’t, well good for her, he was happy to go along with it. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem interested in birds.
    “Lead away,” he said. “I’ve no objection.”
    “Fine with me,” said Keith who looked happy to relinquish his self-imposed responsibilities.
    “We’ll go in here,” said Miss Malaysia, indicating an opening immediately to their right. “Ramses I. Follow me.”
    They began to move off – all except Mrs Biltmore who remained rooted to the spot and declined to rise from her seat. Now that she’d made herself comfortable, the determination she’d displayed in getting as far as she had seemed to have deserted her.
    “I think I’ll stay here,” she declared, mopping her brow. “That all looks a mite too difficult for a body like mine. Ira’ll tell me about it later, won’t you, Ira?”
    “Yup,” said Ira. “Sure will.”
    For a brief moment Miss Malaysia stared at Mrs Biltmore with the same look of contempt she had visited on Blake earlier. Then, realising that the American was a lost cause and in no waypresently susceptible to a lesson in culture, she thrust her parasol into her chubby hands.
    “Take this. We’ll be ten minutes. Wait here.”
    This last command seemed rather superfluous as, given her current state of exhaustion, it was not as though Mrs Biltmore was planning on going anywhere.
    Blake took the opportunity to donate a bottle of water, Miss Malaysia having recovered hers.
    “And this – you might need it.”
    Remembering to remove his Panama, he ducked down into the tomb.
    The first thing to do was get used to the light. After the blinding glare of the sun, the interior seemed dim and badly lit – but as the outline of the corridor and the walls became clear, pictures and paintings began to emerge from the gloom. Here were men and women, gods and goddesses with strange-shaped heads, chariots, horses, cattle and much to his delight, birds. He instantly recognised them – herons, egrets, geese – the same today as they had been three thousand years before. Since then man had moved on, built engines, rockets and travelled to the moon. The world had changed around them, but the birds had remained constant. And when he looked at them now, they somehow brought the past to life.
    Further down in the burial chamber itself, Miss Malaysia was making a speech regarding its contents. It was noticeable that her attention to detail and manner were clearly an imitation of the young Egyptian guide. Keith listened intently to every word.
    “How fascinating…”
    Janet was not so engaged and looked distinctly edgy in the