I want to email Jennifer and refute everything Riley said. Tell her how wrong she is. How unfair this is. But Jennifer closes her email with instructions to be in her office at eight am on Monday of the week before uni starts. Until then, she’s on holiday overseas with her wife and children, and as per her usual practice, she will not be checking emails or taking calls.
Fabulous.
I’ve been upgraded to business class. I’m not sure who’s responsible, but I have my suspicions. I refuse to be disarmed by this thoughtfulness because, honestly, it’s the least he could do.
At least I’ll be miserable in comfort.
“Champagne?” asks the perky flight attendant as I burrow into my seat while the cattle class passengers board and we ready for take-off.
I take a deep breath. Part of me wants to wail that champagne won’t fix what has happened to me. Nothing will. But I might as well take advantage of the luxuries. It’s unlikely I’ll ever experience them again.
“Thank you.” I take the glass and a ubiquitous hot fragranced towel and turn to the window for a last glimpse of my hopes and dreams.
At least I’ve finally found a worthwhile use for twenty-plus hours in a tin can. Stewing and brooding.
I close my eyes and dissect every moment of my time in Egypt. Everything Ethan said or did. Every interaction with Riley. My father’s visit.
I try not to think about my find. Who knows if I’ll ever see my pot again.
I think about what Mum will undoubtedly say. I shouldn’t care, but she’s still my mother, and to hear ‘I told you so’ when I’d been so sure, so adamant I’d never give any man that kind of power over me is … well, it’s humiliating.
By the time we’re passing over the Red Centre, I’ve calmed down enough for a small part of me to acknowledge, at least to myself, that Ethan was in a tough position. Sending me home wasn’t his only option. But it was probably the least bad for the greatest number of people. Not to mention Riley has put his career in jeopardy with her other accusations. I can see why he felt he had to do what he did. Which is cold comfort.
The grown-up, trying-to-be-a-professional Sadie mostly gets it. But the broken, abandoned little girl inside? She’s still wailing. Will anyone ever put her first? Because no more than a few days ago, she thought maybe Ethan would. She thought perhaps she was safe with him. But it didn’t turn out that way. He said he was Team Sadie, but at the first hurdle, he cracked. He let me down.
And if nobody else is going to protect that little girl, grown-up Sadie needs to.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ethan
The day after Ashraf returns to the dig, having seen Sadie off, I make a flying visit to Cairo myself. Dealing with the Department of Antiquities can be tricky, but I draw on all the goodwill and friendship I’ve built up over the years to arrange for a change to the concession. My goal is to finish the dig a week early. Which means working weekends and longer days, but I need to get back to Sydney as quickly as possible and fix this problem.
When I get back to the boat, I call a team meeting on deck.
“The reason I went to Cairo was to make some changes to the dig. If you’re all in agreement”—I look at everyone except Riley because her opinion is of no consequence to me—“I’d like to finish a week early. I need to get back to Sydney and sort out the complaint that’s been made.”
Riley shrinks a little from her place at the back of the group when all the guys turn and give her the stink eye.
“Absolutely.” Bart claps me on the back.
“No problem,” Jeremy adds. “Maybe we could sneak in a few days snorkelling in Hurghada before we head home?” He looks at the other Cambridge students, who all nod.
“Sounds good. I’m in,” Simon agrees.
“Anything we can do to help?” Garret asks.
Nobody looks at Riley. Or invites her to Hurghada. My granny would say she’s been sent to Coventry. Well and truly. Just desserts.
I knew the guys would be more than happy to do whatever they could to help. Riley has enough sense of self-preservation to remain silent.
“This will mean only taking one day off each week and no more trips to town.” Heads nod. “Tarek says the local team are happy with this. So, going forward, Friday will be our day off. Let me or Ashraf know if you have any problems.”
It’s not much, but I feel like I’ve at least made some progress towards making this right.
Since they’re the most adept at reading both hieroglyphs and hieratic, Bart, and Jeremy work in the rubbish pit, which isn’t as awful as it sounds. The pit was excavated early last century, but there’s more to find, and we’re more meticulous about documentation now. It’s still full of ostraca—ancient notes written on pottery—some of which may be helpful to Sadie in her thesis. I don’t even have to ask. Anything they think could help her is automatically put aside and photographed.
Nothing else we find causes the joy we all felt when Sadie found her pot, which sits securely in the portable safe, ready for transfer to the Cairo Museum for thorough cleaning and documenting when we pack up. The dig is now all work and very little play, although the boys—even Garret—still play cards every night.
