Stars Over Sarawak

Carl Denver, while forced to spend several weeks alone with Roanna in the jungle of Sarawak, had saved her life three times — and a tribal saying declared that, in that case, her life was his property. But although she loved him, her fear of him was greater than her love ...

For Gill

Stars Over Sarawak

Anne Hampson

CHAPTER ONE

ROANNA BARRETT sat chatting to her friend in the park. It was Saturday afternoon and, having been shopping, and discovering they had a half-hour wait for their bus, they had preferred a seat under the trees to standing by an iron rail watching a continuous stream of buses come and go, one after another. Fortunately the park was only a couple of minutes' walk from the bus station, so there was no urgency about the two girls as they leant back and enjoyed the spring sunshine and the golden glory of hundreds of daffodils nodding on the lawn.

 Their conversation was mainly a repetition of what had been said earlier, over a cup of coffee in the snack bar of the large store in which most of their purchases had been made.

 'I do hope you're going to be all right.' Bridget sounded troubled — as she had on first learning of Roanna's plan to visit Borneo to look for her husband. 'I mean, they're head-hunters. They collect skulls as we would collect coins and stamps and the like.'

 'They don't indulge in that sport any more. The White Rajahs worked hard to wipe out the custom of head-hunting.'

 'I don't know....' Bridget's dark eyes were clouded, far different from those of Roanna, which were bright with humour, accentuating the very unusual blue-grey colouring and at the same time dissolving the smoky film that worry and uncertainty had caused to be almost always in evidence. 'I expect the lust for heads is still strong in those people.'

 'I don't think they'll want my head,' laughed Roanna, automatically touching the nape of her neck and drawing slender fingers through her dark brown hair.

 'Perhaps you're right,' conceded Bridget, catching her friend's laughter. 'All the same, I don't care for the idea of your going alone. Why don't you wait until Andrew has his holidays and let him go with you?'

 'He and I have been into this. I did mention to you that in my opinion it's going to take some time to find out what's happened to Rolfe, and in view of this it's better for me to go on ahead and make some initial investigations. Andrew's joining me over there at the beginning of August — just as soon as he begins his holidays.'

 Bridget nodded thoughtfully.

 'I suppose you know what you're doing.'

 'It's imperative that I either find Rolfe or discover that he's dead. Andrew and I want to get married; as things are at present I don't know whether I'm a widow or not.'

 'I hope you find that he died out there.'

 Unemotionally Roanna said,

 'I don't wish that fate on him. If he's alive I can begin divorce proceedings.'

 'Your mother had no right to force you into marriage with such a bounder! My mum was furious, having known you such a long time, and you being my friend since nursery school days.'

 'You seem to forget, Bridget, that Rolfe threatened to send my father to jail unless I married him.'

 'Had your father really robbed him?'

 Roanna's eyes shadowed.

 'You know he had, Bridget. He forged Rolfe's signature on several cheques. You see, Father had charge of all the accounts in Rolfe's firm, and there was no doubt that Rolfe lost a great deal of money. It was the gambling fever that got into Father. But Mother adored him and she begged me to agree to Rolfe's ultimatum and marry him.'

 'Eighteen,' mused Bridget. 'It wasn't fair! You weren't even an old eighteen. Mum said you were just a kid. Why, you'd only been left school a month!'

 'Don't remind me of it,' shuddered Roanna. It had been sheer purgatory, being married to a man as lustful and ungentle as Rolfe Barrett. 'You have no idea what a relief it was when he deserted me. That girl was more than welcome to him.'

 'Six years—' Bridget stopped and frowned in concentration. 'It is six years, isn't it?'

 'Since we were married? Yes, just over. We were married in March.'

 'I wonder if that girl ever knew that he'd been married only six months when he ran off with her?'

 'I don't know. She herself was back in this country within a year of leaving it with him.'

 'We don't know whether she left him or he left her. I'd like to bet it was she who left him.'

 'She must have seen something in him at first,' returned Roanna thoughtfully. 'I'm sure I never saw anything to attract me — just the reverse. I entered that church feeling it was my own funeral I was going to.'

 'Well, it won't happen this time. Andrew's smashing — so very kind and considerate.'

 Roanna remained silent for a space, reflecting on a little scene that had taken place last week, when Andrew had talked of their marriage, and the future.

 'It'll never be one of those passionate affairs that sweep lovers to the heights,' he had predicted seriously. 'But you and I get along splendidly, and we'll make a go of it, Roanna, I'm absolutely sure of it. I do love you, dear, you believe that?'

 Roanna had smiled contentedly, nodding her head in answer to his question. She was ever thankful that at last she had met someone gentle and kind, and not obsessed with sex as Rolfe had been. She had found a man of the other extreme, and as soon as she really got to know him she had instinctively grasped the fact that Andrew was the epitome of the type she had been unconsciously looking for a man the exact opposite to Rolfe. She knew she had searched for such a man because of fear, fear of finding herself once again swept unwillingly into a maelstrom of unbridled passion by a man whose total lack of control put him among the beasts of the field. Andrew was not in the least passionate; on the contrary, he was reserved about sex and never once had he come anywhere near to losing control. Had he done so it would have been the end of the affair as far as she was concerned. But he could take her in his arms and kiss her with all the gentleness and respect of a brother. In fact, Joanna did at times liken him to a brother, and on these occasions she would experience a deep sense of contentment, secure in the knowledge that never again would her body be treated with disrespect. Yes, Andrew was undoubtedly the man for her.

 'Of course,' Bridget was now saying, 'you might get to Sarawak and find he isn't there any more.'

 'That's true.'

 'So much can have happened. But as I said, I sincerely hope he's dead — hope he came to a sticky end.

 I'd enjoy seeing his skull hanging up in one of those longhouses you read about.'

 'Really, Bridget! What a bloodthirsty creature you are!'

 'I wouldn't recognize his skull, though,' mused Bridget in her reflective way. 'All skulls look alike, don't they?’

 'Be quiet,' begged Roanna, shuddering. 'What a subject!'

 'Well, when you talk of Borneo you automatically think of head-hunters, and of grinning skulls hanging up in bunches—'

 'For heaven's sake, Bridget — stop!'

 Bridget laughed heartily. Having hated Rolfe from the very moment of meeting him, she had begged Roanna to let her father go to prison rather than sacrifice herself to the lascivious Rolfe who had never even mentioned love to the girl he wanted to marry. And so, hating him as she did, Bridget really meant it when she said she hoped he was dead. His death would save Roanna and Andrew so much trouble and waiting. They could marry immediately if only Roanna could come home with the news that her husband had perished over there.

 As far as Bridget was concerned she did not care how he had died. She would have liked to think he had been the victim of some bloodthirsty native who had had a lapse and decided to collect just one more skull, but in the absence of this Bridget had prayed for a snakebite, or some fatal fever, and on one occasion she had fancifully seen him stumbling face downwards into a stinking, steaming bog! This was when Roanna, having set inquiries afoot, had received a letter from a Mr. Carl Denver, boss of the oil company for whom Rolfe had supposedly gone to work. He had never even heard of him, this Carl Denver had written. But he did add that some years ago an Englishman and his wife had lived just outside Kuching, and that they suddenly disappeared. Rumour had it that they went on a trip into the bush. They had never been heard of since. As far as this oil manager could discover, this man's wife had definitely gone with him on his trip.

 Unsatisfactory as this result had been — especially as Roanna had discovered that the girl whom people over there believed to be Rolfe's wife had returned to England — Roanna had not pursued the matter any further since at that time she had not met Andrew and, therefore, there was no real urgency for the divorce which Roanna knew must one day come about.

 'I do wish I could come with you,' sighed Bridget, glancing at her watch as she spoke. 'I feel you need protection.'

 Roanna laughed.

 'From what — or whom?'

 'It would be pretty grim if that rogue got hold of you again.'

 'There's no likelihood of that,' returned Roanna with strength. Her intention was to seek out the man to whom she had written, the oil manager, Carl Denver; she felt confident that he would advise her, and warn her of any probable dangers. She would tell him that it was her mission to discover whether or not Rolfe was alive, as she wished to marry again and it was essential that she know whether or not she was a widow. Somehow, Roanna felt that Rolfe was dead — this because even his brother had never heard from him since he left England five and a half years ago. Roanna had written to this brother, and received a polite reply saying that he himself had had inquiries made on two occasions but with negative results.

 'We are inclined to conclude that he met his death accidentally when he went on the trip into the interior,' Rolfe's brother had ended, and by 'we' he had obviously included other members of his family, none of whom Roanna had ever met. It was clear that Rolfe's brother had heard about the Englishman who had gone on the trip into the jungle, and it was also clear that he believed that Englishman to be Rolfe. Roanna herself harboured some doubts, since the jungle was not the kind of place she imagined Rolfe wishing to explore — or to enter for any reason whatsoever.

 'It's time we were moving.' Bridget's voice broke into Roanna's reflections and she began picking up the parcels she had placed on the seat beside her. She had been buying clothes for the trip, as the country had a hot, humid climate and she had been advised to take plenty of thin cotton dresses and underwear. She would need to shower and change twice a day, she had been warned by a friend whose brother had once lived and worked in Borneo.

 'I'm quite looking forward to the trip, in a way,' she said, getting to her feet. 'I know it's a business trip, mainly, but the very name Sarawak sounds exciting.'

 'Yes; I quite envy you. All the same, I shall be glad to see you safely home again.' Bridget glanced at her as she picked up her own parcels. 'You'll be glad to be home?'

  'Of course.'

 'You're going to miss Andrew.'

 Roanna nodded. Andrew was part of her life now. He and she went everywhere together, and Roanna was a great favourite with his parents.

 'He'll be coming out to join me, though, just as soon as he's able. He has five weeks' holiday and he's willing to spend the whole of that time in Sarawak, if need be.'

 'Let's hope the business is completed long before then.'

 'I rather think it's going to take some considerable time. Rolfe's just vanished into thin air, and if his brother couldn't trace him then obviously there's going to be some difficulty facing me. However, I can only hope for the best. I should hate Andrew to be compelled to return without me.'

 'You'd stay on, even if you'd not found anything out by the time Andrew's holidays came to an end?'

 Roanna frowned.

 'I mean to get to the bottom of the mystery,' she said, but added, 'All the same, I should be exceedingly dejected to see Andrew boarding an aeroplane and leaving me behind.'

It was the end of May, the season of the south-east monsoon, and Roanna watched the thunderstorm from the window of her bedroom in the Hotel at Kuching, capital of Sarawak, whose north-western shores were washed by the South China Sea.

 She had arrived a few hours earlier and had telephoned Carl Denver almost at once. His voice and phraseology had been far from what she had expected and she had replaced the receiver feeling quite lost and alone and yet at the same time wondering how she could have come to put a reliance on a man whom she had never even met, a man whose reply to her letter, while being polite, had been brief to the point of curtness.

 'I'm most surprised that you should have come out here quite alone,' was his discouraging comment when she gave him the reason for her being here, in Sarawak. 'Have you given any thought at all to the method by which you're to set about looking for your husband?'

 'Well ... I had hoped you would advise me, Mr Denver—'

 'I advise?' with what could only be described as arrogant amazement. 'Do you think I've nothing else to do except help find people lost in the bush?'

 'I hadn't for one moment expected you to help in that practical kind or way. But I did hope that you'd tell me how I must begin ...' Roanna had allowed her voice to trail away to an embarrassed silence as from the other end of the line had come an exclamation of asperity that made her feel about as small and insignificant as one of the tiny ants she could see running about on the warm stone windowsill. 'I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Denver,' she had managed at length, and gently replaced the receiver.