Ah King (22 page)

“She was really an extremely pretty little thing, very fair, with enormous blue eyes and a lovely little straight nose. Her skin, all milk and roses, was exquisite. A little of the chorus girl type, of course, and you may happen to think that rather namby-pamby, but in that style she was enchanting. We drove to my house, they both had a bath and Tim a shave; I just had two minutes alone with him. He asked me how Olive had taken his marriage. I told him she’d been upset.

“‘I was afraid so,’ he said, frowning a little. He gave a short sigh. ‘I couldn’t do anything else.’

“I didn’t understand what he meant. At that moment Mrs Hardy joined us and slipped her arm through her husband’s. He took her hand in his and gently pressed it. He gave her a look that had in it something pleased and humorously affectionate, as though he didn’t take her quite seriously, but enjoyed his sense of proprietorship and was proud of her beauty. She really was lovely. She was not at all shy, she asked me to call her Sally before we’d known one another ten minutes, and she was quick in the uptake. Of course, just then she was excited at arriving. She’d never been East and everything thrilled her. It was quite obvious that she was head over heels in love with Tim. Her eyes never left him and she hung on his words. We had a jolly breakfast and then we parted. They got into their car to go home and I into mine to go to Lahad. I promised to go straight to the estate from there and in point of fact it was out of my way to pass by my house. I took a change with me. I didn’t see why Olive shouldn’t like Sally very much, she was frank and gay, and ingenuous; she was extremely young, she couldn’t have been more than nineteen, and her wonderful prettiness couldn’t fail to appeal to Olive. I was just as glad to have had a reasonable excuse to leave the three of them by themselves for the day, but as I started out from Lahad I had a notion that by the time I arrived they would all be pleased to see me. I drove up to the bungalow and blew my horn two or three times, expecting someone to appear. Not a soul. The place was in total darkness. I was surprised. It was absolutely silent. I couldn’t make it out. They must be in. Very odd, I thought. I waited a moment, then got out of the car and walked up the steps. At the top of them I stumbled over something. I swore and bent down to see what it was; it had felt like a body. There was a cry and I saw it was the amah. She shrank back cowering as I touched her and broke into loud wails.

“‘What the hell’s the matter?’ I cried, and then I felt a hand on my arm and heard a voice: Tuan, Tuan. I turned and in the darkness recognized Tim’s head boy. He began to speak in little frightened gasps. I listened to him with horror. What he told me was unspeakable. I pushed him aside and rushed into the house. The sitting-room was dark. I turned on the light. The first thing I saw was Sally huddled up in an arm-chair. She was startled by my sudden appearance and cried out. I could hardly speak. I asked her if it was true. When she told me it was I felt the room suddenly going round and round me. I had to sit down. As the car that bore Tim and Sally drove up the road that led to the house and Tim sounded the klaxon to announce their arrival and the boys and the amah ran out to greet them there was the sound of a shot. They ran to Olive’s room and found her lying in front of the looking-glass in a pool of blood. She had shot herself with Tim’s revolver.

“‘Is she dead?’ I said.

“‘No, they sent for the doctor, and he took her to the hospital.’

“I hardly knew what I was doing. I didn’t even trouble to tell Sally where I was going. I got up and staggered to the door. I got into the car and told my seis to drive like hell to the hospital. I rushed in. I asked where she was. They tried to bar my way, but I pushed them aside. I knew where the private rooms were. Someone clung to my arm, but I shook him off. I vaguely understood that the doctor had given instructions that no one was to go into the room. I didn’t care about that. There was an orderly at the door; he put out his arm to prevent me from passing. I swore at him and told him to get out of my way. I suppose I made a row, I was beside myself; the door opened and the doctor came out.

“‘Who’s making all this noise?’ he said. ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want?’

“‘Is she dead?’ I asked.

“‘No. But she’s unconscious. She never regained consciousness. It’s only a matter of an hour or two.’

“‘I want to see her.’

“‘You can’t.’

“‘I’m engaged to her.’

“‘You?’ he cried, and even at that moment I was aware that he looked at me strangely. ‘That’s all the more reason.’ “I didn’t know what he meant. I was stupid with horror.

“‘Surely you can do something to save her,’ I cried.

“He shook his head.

“‘If you saw her you wouldn’t wish it,’ he said.

“I stared at him aghast. In the silence I heard a man’s convulsive sobbing.

“‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

“‘Her brother.’

“Then I felt a hand on my arm. I looked round and saw it was Mrs Sergison.

“‘My poor boy,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry for you.’

“‘What on earth made her do it?’ I groaned.

“‘Come away, my dear,’ said Mrs Sergison. ‘You can do no good here.’

“‘No, I must stay,’ I said.

“‘Well, go and sit in my room,’ said the doctor.

“I was so broken that I let Mrs Sergison take me by the arm and lead me into the doctor’s private room. She made me sit down. I couldn’t bring myself to realize that it was true. I thought it was a horrible nightmare from which I must awake. I don’t know how long we sat there. Three hours. Four hours. At last the doctor came in.

“‘It’s all over,’ he said.

“Then I couldn’t help myself, I began to cry. I didn’t care what they thought of me. I was so frightfully unhappy.

“We buried her next day.

“Mrs Sergison came back to my house and sat with me for a while. She wanted me to go to the club with her. I hadn’t the heart. She was very kind, but I was glad when she left me by myself. I tried to read, but the words meant nothing to me. I felt dead inside. My boy came in and turned on the lights. My head was aching like mad. Then he came back and said that a lady wished to see me. I asked who it was. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought it must be the new wife of the tuan at Putatan. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted. I got up and went to the door. He was right. It was Sally. I asked her to come in. I noticed that she was deathly white. I felt sorry for her. It was a frightful experience for a girl of that age and for a bride a miserable homecoming. She sat down. She was very nervous. I tried to put her at her ease by saying conventional things. She made me very uncomfortable because she stared at me with those enormous blue eyes of hers, and they were simply ghastly with horror. She interrupted me suddenly.

“‘You’re the only person here I know,’ she said. ‘I had to come to you. I want you to get me away from here.’

“I was dumbfounded.

“‘What
do
you mean?’ I said.

“‘I don’t want you to ask me any questions. I just want you to get me away. At once. I want to go back to England!’

“‘But you can’t leave Tim like that just now,’ I said. ‘My dear, you must pull yourself together. I know it’s been awful for you. But think of Tim. If you have any love for him the least you can do is try and make him a little less unhappy.’

“‘Oh, you don’t know,’ she cried. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s too horrible. I beseech you to help me. If there’s a train tonight let me get on it. If I can only get to Penang I can get a ship. I can’t stay in this place another night. I shall go mad.’

“I was absolutely bewildered.

“‘Does Tim know?’ I asked her.

“‘I haven’t seen Tim since last night. I’ll never see him again. I’d rather die.’

“I wanted to gain a little time.

“‘But how can you go without your things? Have you got any luggage?’

“‘What does that matter?’ she cried impatiently. ‘I’ve got what I want for the journey.’

“‘Have you any money?’

“‘Enough. Is there a train tonight?’

“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s due just after midnight.’

“‘Thank God. Will you arrange everything? Can I stay here till then?’

“‘You’re putting me in a frightful position,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best. You know, it’s an awfully serious step you’re taking.’

“‘If you knew everything you’d know it was the only possible thing to do.’

“‘It’ll create an awful scandal here. I don’t know what people’ll say. Have you thought of the effect on Tim?’ I was worried and unhappy. ‘God knows I don’t want to interfere in what isn’t my business. But if you want me to help you I ought to know enough to feel justified in doing so. You must tell me what’s happened.’

“‘I can’t. I can only tell you that I know everything.’

“She hid her face with her hands and shuddered. Then she gave herself a shake as though she were recoiling from some frightful sight.

“‘He had no right to marry me. It was monstrous.’

“And as she spoke her voice rose shrill and piercing. I was afraid she was going to have an attack of hysterics. Her pretty doll-like face was terrified and her eyes stared as though she could never close them again.

“‘Don’t you love him any more?’ I asked.

“‘After that?’

“‘What will you do if I refuse to help you?’ I said.

“‘I suppose there’s a clergyman here or a doctor. You can’t refuse to take me to one of them.’

“‘How did you get here?’

“‘The head boy drove me. He got a car from somewhere.’

“‘Does Tim know you’ve gone?’

“‘I left a letter for him.’

“‘He’ll know you’re here.’

“‘He won’t try to stop me. I promise you that. He daren’t. For God’s sake don’t you try either. I tell you I shall go mad if I stay here another night.’

“I sighed. After all she was of an age to decide for herself.”

I, the writer of this, hadn’t spoken for a long time.

“Did you know what she meant?” I asked Featherstone.

He gave me a long, haggard look.

“There was only one thing she could mean. It was unspeakable. Yes, I knew all right. It explained everything. Poor Olive. Poor sweet. I suppose it was unreasonable of me, at that moment I only felt a horror of that little pretty fair-haired thing with her terrified eyes. I hated her. I didn’t say anything for a while. Then I told her I’d do as she wished. She didn’t even say thank you. I think she knew what I felt about her. When it was dinner-time I made her eat something and then she asked me if there was a room she could go and lie down in till it was time to go to the station. I showed her into my spare room and left her. I sat in the sitting-room and waited. My God, I don’t think the time has ever passed so slowly for me. I thought twelve would never strike.

I rang up the station and was told the train wouldn’t be in till nearly two. At midnight she came back to the sitting-room and we sat there for an hour and a half. We had nothing to say to one another and we didn’t speak. Then I took her to the station and put her on the train.”

“Was there an awful scandal?”

Featherstone frowned.

“I don’t know. I applied for short leave. After that I was moved to another post. I heard that Tim had sold his estate and bought another. But I didn’t know where. It was a shock to me at first when I found him here.”

Featherstone, getting up, went over to a table and mixed himself a whisky and soda. In the silence that fell now I heard the monotonous chorus of the croaking frogs. And suddenly the bird that is known as the fever-bird, perched in a tree close to the house, began to call. First, three notes in a descending, chromatic scale, then five, then four. The varying notes of the scale succeeded one another with maddening persistence. One was compelled to listen and to count them, and because one did not know how many there would be it tortured one’s nerves.

“Blast that bird,” said Featherstone. “That means no sleep for me tonight.”

G
EORGE
MOON
was sitting in his office. His work was finished, and he lingered there because he hadn’t the heart to go down to the club. It was getting on towards tiffin time, and there would be a good many fellows hanging about the bar. Two or three of them would offer him a drink. He could not face their heartiness. Some he had known for thirty years. They had bored him, and on the whole he disliked them, but now that he was seeing them for the last time it gave him a pang. Tonight they were giving him a farewell dinner. Everyone would be there and they were presenting him with a silver tea-service that he did not in the least want. They would make speeches in which they would refer eulogistically to his work in the colony, express their regret at his departure, and wish him long life to enjoy his well-earned leisure. He would reply suitably. He had prepared a speech in which he surveyed the changes that had taken place in the F.M.S. since first, a raw cadet, he had landed at Singapore. He would thank them for their loyal cooperation with him during the term which it had been his privilege to serve as Resident at Timbang Belud, and draw a glowing picture of the future that awaited the country as a whole and Timbang Belud in particular. He would remind them that he had known it as a poverty-stricken village with a few Chinese shops and left it now a prosperous town with paved streets down which ran trams, with stone houses, a rich Chinese settlement, and a clubhouse second in splendour only to that of Singapore. They would sing “For he’s a jolly good fellow’ and “Auld Lang Syne’. Then they would dance and a good many of the younger men would get drunk. The Malays had already given him a farewell party and the Chinese an interminable feast. Tomorrow a vast concourse would see him off at the station and that would be the end of him. He wondered what they would say of him. The Malays and the Chinese would say he had been stern, but acknowledge that he had been just. The planters had not liked him. They thought him hard because he would not let them ride roughshod over their labour. His subordinates had feared him. He drove them. He had no patience with slackness or inefficiency. He had never spared himself and saw no reason why he should spare others. They thought him inhuman. It was true that there was nothing come-hither in him. He could not throw off his official position when he went to the club and laugh at bawdy stories, chaff and be chaffed. He was conscious that his arrival cast a gloom, and to play bridge with him (he liked to play every day from six to eight) was looked upon as a privilege rather than an entertainment. When at some other table a young man’s four as the evening wore on grew hilarious, he caught glances thrown in his direction and sometimes an older member would stroll up to the noisy ones and in an undertone advise them to be quiet. George Moon sighed a little. From an official standpoint his career had been a success, he had been the youngest Resident ever appointed in the F.M.S., and for exceptional services a C.M.G. had been conferred upon him; but from the human it had perhaps been otherwise. He had earned respect, respect for his ability, industry, and trustworthiness, but he was too clear-sighted to think for a moment that he had inspired affection. No one would regret him. In a few months he would be forgotten.