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Thank God! Thank God, he’s still himself!
Which left the question of what the heck was happening here. I watched in amazement as Mr Ambrose opened more suitcases, revealing handbags, fans, make-up, hand mirrors, parasols - everything a lady of high society could wish for to go out in style. But what I found most astounding were the clothes - girls’ clothes!
‘Do I understand you correctly?’ My voice was weak. This had come as rather a shock. For weeks and weeks there had been tension crackling between Mr Ambrose and me because he did not want a female employee and had forced me to come to work dressed up as a man. And now this? I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t. ‘These clothes are for me? When we arrive in Egypt, you want me to put them on?’
He nodded.
‘You can put them on now, if you wish, Mr Linton. You’ll have to, eventually, along with some of the rings and necklaces. But I would advise you to wait until we have reached coastal waters. The sea wind can be rather draughty in a skirt.’
Under normal circumstances, I’d have wondered how Mr Ambrose would ever know anything about how draughty a skirt was. But right then and there, I didn’t care a penny. I was in shock - stunned by the sudden prospect of my approaching sex change. He would have to call me Miss! He couldn’t call me ‘Mr Linton’ once I was in a dress, could he?
Don’t bet on it, said a nasty little voice in my head, but I ignored it.
‘You are serious? This isn’t some stupid joke?’
He gave me a look. One of those looks. ‘The dresses alone cost me fifty pounds ten shillings and two pence.’
Translation: It is not a joke.
‘But… why? You’ve argued with me about this for over a month, never giving me an inch! And now this?’ I gestured to the extravagance in front of me. ‘Why?’
‘For reasons of inconspicuousness, Mr Linton.’
‘Inconspicuousness?’ Tugging the embroidered lace hem of one of the dresses out of the suitcase, I snorted. ‘Don’t tell me this is inconspicuous!’
‘It is in a way. Think about it, Mr Linton. Two men leave London - and who arrives in Egypt? A man and a girl. If there is somebody watching, somebody hostile, it is less likely the two events will be connected and conclusions drawn.’
I felt a sudden shiver go down my spine. ‘Somebody watching?’
‘Lord Dalgliesh,’ Mr Ambrose told me darkly, ‘has many eyes and ears.’
‘Oh.’
That might well be true. And from what I had seen of His Lordship, it would be a very good idea to keep out of his line of sight. I still didn’t really think putting me in a dress would help a lot with that, but for the moment, I shoved the thought aside.
‘This is really going to happen?’ I could hardly believe it. There were a thousand sensible reasons whirling inside my head why trousers were actually more practical to wear, but I couldn’t ruin this with silly objections. Finally! He had caved in! Even if it was for some stupid reason, finally he was letting me be myself! ‘You really mean this? You want me to dress as a woman? You want me to stop pretending to be a man?’
He stared at me, coolly, as if I had misplaced my sanity and he highly disapproved of my negligence. ‘Of course not! You will keep pretending to be a man. Only as long as we are in Egypt, you will pretend to be a man who is pretending to be a woman.’
I blinked at him, not sure whether I was hearing right. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘You… you are unbelievable!’
He nodded. ‘I must admit, I have always thought myself that I am quite extraordinary.’
‘That’s not what I meant, blast you!’
‘No?’
‘No! You are a chauvinist son of a bachelor!’
His eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. ‘Show some respect, Mr Linton.’
‘You are a chauvinist son of a bachelor, Sir!’
I don’t know how he did it - the tininess of the cabin should have precluded any such movement - but somehow he managed to take a threatening step towards me.
