Free Birds of the Nile by N E. David

out.”
    Her innocent and unintentional joke provoked a ripple of laughter round the table. Even Joan managed to conjure up a smile. Up until now her face had been permanently sour. Blake thought it was probably because she’d been upstaged in the dress department since her own offering, although eye-catching, was nowhere near as stylish as that of the young Malaysian.
    “So where have you been so far?” Keith continued.
    “I started off in India – then flew to South Africa…”
    There was an enforced pause as the starter arrived.
    “You weren’t here so I ordered you a soup,” said Keith in a whispered aside. “I hope that’s alright.”
    “Fine,” said Blake. Soup was as good as anything else.
    India
. Along with his beef consommé, Blake tasted a twinge of jealousy. It was a country he’d always wanted to visit – but like so much else, he’d never got round to it. And yet here was this young woman, this girl (she could hardly have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three) who had already done in a few short months what he had put off for years. He imagined her standing outside the Taj Mahal, her beautiful figure swathed in a sari, scattering flower petals onto a pond – although in reality, she was far more likely to be stomping around in her Cuban heels and jeans.
    “…and worked my way up country.”
    The word ‘worked’ attracted Blake’s attention. He was certain she’d used it to mean ‘progressed’ rather than engaged in any form of paid employment. Lee Yong did not look like the typewho ‘worked’. She was no backpacker – her adventure was prepaid with no expense spared. She no doubt came from a wealthy family. Her father was probably an entrepreneur or industrialist, one of those who had built their empires in the economic boom of the 1980s and early ’90s – cars, steel, computers, it could be any one of a number of sectors. Those who had been clever (or lucky) enough to survive the downturn that followed were still fantastically rich and a by-product of their fortune was the fact that their offspring were now free to roam the world without restraint. And here was one of them doing just that, in style.
    Her immediate plan, Lee Yong explained, was to move on to Jordan and visit the rock-cut city of Petra. (Blake felt relieved – this was one place he
had
been to). Afterwards, she would take in Jerusalem, and possibly Damascus, before beginning a tour of the capitals of Europe – Paris, London, and Rome. Having conquered the Old World, she then planned to take on the New, crossing the Atlantic to America where she would explore the country as a tourist before commencing her studies (whatever they might be). It was an ambitious programme – Africa, Egypt, the Middle East, Europe, the States – the itinerary looked like a journey through time, the history of the world compressed into the space of eighteen months. And as yet, she’d failed to mention Russia, the Baltic, Scandinavia and South America – no doubt she would simply fit these in ‘en route’. Nothing, it seemed, was beyond her. The question was not whether Miss Malaysia was ready for the world – that was obvious – but whether the world was ready for Miss Malaysia.
    With the main course served and Lee Yong’s travel plans laid before them, the conversation turned to how she might make best use of her time. There were innumerable suggestions.
    “I don’t see how you can go to Italy and not visit Florence…”
    “When you get to Paris, there’s a wonderful little bistro in the Rue de Rivoli…”
    “Didn’t Ron and Margaret buy a place in Spain? I can get their number for you if you like…”
    Sat quietly at the end of the table, Blake reserved judgement. Surely they were missing the point. Here they were, privileged visitors to an ancient civilisation, surrounded by its treasures, and all they could talk about was going somewhere else. This obvious oversight irked him, but it was not until they were