The Moses Legacy

Chapter 61

‘Are you awake?’ asked Gabrielle.

It was night and the Bedouin were sleeping in what their patriarch had humorously described as a ‘thousand-star hotel’.

‘Yes,’ Daniel replied. ‘You?’

‘ No, I’m talking in my sleep!’

Daniel and Gabrielle were supposed to be sleeping. They only had seven hours from their ten p. m stop to their pre-sunrise start. But they both had a lot on their minds, and sleep did not come easily to either of them.

‘Sorry, I’m not at my best at midnight.’

He turned in his sleeping bag to catch Gabrielle’s face. It was illuminated by the merest sliver of the moon crescent, giving her a strangely vulnerable look.

‘I was just wondering what Charlotte would think if she could see you now.’

‘What on earth made you think of that?’

‘It’s just that you… you seem to like roughing it. Those outings with your nephews… and that time we were on a dig together in Scotland.’

‘When you tried to come into my tent… yes, I remember. But what’s that got to do with Charlotte?’

‘Well, she was so spoiled and pampered, with all her creature comforts, and you’re the exact opposite. You like the outdoors, you spent six days on a felucca without complaining. Now we’re camped down here in the desert under the stars. Charlotte wouldn’t have lasted an hour doing anything like this.’

‘She never really wanted to give it a try. It wasn’t her world.’

‘So why did you marry the bitch?’

‘Oo, miao.’

‘No seriously, Daniel. Why would you want to hook up with that scion of Pennsylvania aristocracy with an olive up her ass? Her ancestors would probably have blackballed yours if they’d applied to join the golf club. You’re so down-to-earth and family oriented. If you’d had children, you’d probably have fought over whether to keep them at home or send them to boarding school.’

‘I guess it’s lucky we didn’t.’

He felt a stab of regret as he said these words. Gabrielle’s probing questions brought back a flood of memories and endless speculations about what could have been.

‘Was that what led to the break-up?’

‘What?’

‘Children – or rather the lack of them. Were you a George and Martha couple?’

‘Not by choice.’

‘That’s what I mean. Neither were the original George and Martha. But the difference is that they both wanted children. Not having them was a source of mutual frustration and regret. I don’t think it was like that with Charlotte.’

‘Maybe I was the one who didn’t want kids?’

‘Are you pulling my leg? I’ve heard you talking about those camping trips with your nephews and impressing your nieces with magic tricks. I think I can read between the lines. You’ve got it in you to be a great father. Was that what set you apart? You regretted not having children: she was quite happy that way.’

‘That might have been part of it, but the real problem was that I could never fulfil her sense of ambition.’

‘That’s bullshit. You’re academically ambitious.’

‘Well, thanks for that vote of confidence. But Charlotte thought ambition was something I lacked.’

‘What planet was she living on?’

‘I guess it’s a question of how you define success, not how you measure it.’

‘Are we talking academic success or social success?’

‘Both. Charlotte measured success by how high you rise through the relevant hierarchy.’

‘Is there another way?’

‘I prefer to live by the motto of my old grammar school: “ Rather use than fame ”.’

‘ Rather use than fame? That’s kind of clever.’

‘It was the quality of my ambition rather than the quantity that set me apart from Charlotte.’

‘Now why don’t I believe that?’ asked Gabrielle, rolling over on to her back and looking up at the stars.

‘You tell me… Miss Sceptic.’

‘The fact that you had virtually nothing in common. It wasn’t just your ambition. It was everything. You love the academic life. She liked the high life. Your world is the ivory tower. Hers was the salon. You’re at your happiest when you’re pushing forward the frontiers of knowledge and driving back the boundaries of ignorance. I got the impression that Charlotte was never happy except when she was shopping at Harrods or Bloomingdales.’

‘You’re making it sound as if she was spend, spend, spend and I’m all work and no play.’

‘No, you know how to enjoy yourself. But you find pleasure in doing interesting things. I remember once seeing you teaching your nephews how to make a radio out of household items, using information you downloaded from the Internet.’

Daniel was thinking about this. Gabrielle’s assessment had been remarkably incisive. He got his pleasure from the simple things in life and that was something that Charlotte never understood.

‘I guess it was the perennial conflict between the two modes of living: the Having Mode and the Doing Mode. Charlotte found happiness in luxury possessions and the company of well-bred but shallow people.’

There was silence for a while. Then Gabrielle turned back to Daniel and quietly said one word: ‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘I didn’t mean to open up an old wound.’

Daniel was silent for a while. Finally he spoke.

‘You know what the irony is? It was at a university function that we first met.’

‘What sort of function?’

‘I think one of her friends had made a big donation and was unveiling a plaque.’

‘So it was one of those awkward meeting points between academia and philanthropy, when scholarship and mammon pay mutual homage to one another, with a mixture of envy and guilt.’

‘You really are a cynic, aren’t you, Gaby?’ he said with a smile.

But she didn’t answer. Sleep had finally engulfed her.

Gabrielle looked around her. They were closing in on her… closing in on all sides. The tracks, the scoop, the rumbling sound.

Bulldozers!

The bulldozers were closing in on her: north, south, east and west…

They had all points of the compass covered.

There was nowhere to run. It was too late. She was going to die. She was going to die today: crushed by these bulldozers that surrounded her.

‘No!’ she screamed.

It was dark. She was in a cold sweat. She looked around struggling to gain her bearings.

Daniel too was awake and staring at her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘I guess. I think I was having a bad dream.’