The Red Pavilion (25 page)

‘The jungle is never still, Alan, always there is growth, and after the rains the young shoots grow inches overnight. Life and light, Alan. Look! Over between the trees I can see lights, tiny dancing sparks. Fireflies. I used to think they were fairies, Tinkerbell and her friends, I used to tell Lee. You remember Lee? She and her mother were at the camp, they saved you and brought you to the Sakais. Lee will be here soon. You could wake up and say thank you.’

She put her head down on the bed, cradling his hand under her breasts, talking still.

‘The fireflies have gone now, perhaps they know it’s going to rain again. Alan, I think my jungle is like the living green threads on a gigantic loom through which man ;waves his threads of good or evil. The jungle accepts all alike, hides the good and the bad. We have to be on the side of the angels, Alan, us and the Sakais, Lee and her mother,
my
mother. That reminds me of how I used to say my prayers. The Lord’s Prayer, then a list: “God Bless Mother, Father, Wendy, Anna, Lee and Mr and Mrs Guisan ... Josef ... ”’

Lightning flickered and crackled all around the camp, then almost immediately the rain sheeted down, making the thunder almost inaudible. She glanced up at the woven leaf roof; not a spot of water penetrated it.

No use to try to talk now. She moistened his lips again, then lay on the bed by his side. She remembered tracing his ribcage with her fingers to wake him for dinner at Rinsey — it felt like several light years ago. She wanted to put her arm across his chest but was afraid even the slightest pressure might hamper his breathing, so light, so insubstantial. She held his hand in the darkness of the storm as a blind woman might and cried tears on to it for its thinness.

In the privacy of the darkness and the noise she sobbed aloud, calling his name. She felt she could have raised her head and howled louder than the savage downpour for very loneliness.

Then in the darkness and the storm Ch’ing came struggling back. She lit a small lamp in one corner and, taking up the bowl, began the duty of keeping the patient’s lips moist, motioning to Liz to sleep.

There was something in the woman’s intention to act as night nurse that made Liz feel Ch’ing wanted to do so as some kind of act of reparation. When Liz reached across and squeezed her hand, Ch’ing gave her one agonised look, then dropped her hand for shame of her son. She went on plying this other young man with the medicine of the Sakais, as if service to this new man in the Hammonds’ lives might make some recompense.

By midday the following day Lee reached the camp. She came and sighed over the still motionless young boyfriend and in her eyes Liz saw she thought that if he did not soon recover he would never do so.

Her mother drew her away quite soon and in the privacy of the women’s hut Liz could hear the quiet keening as Ch’ing grieved for a man still alive, but lost to her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Blanche walked from the taxi towards the gaol gates. The small crowd were used now to seeing this Englishwoman among their number, but today, in black, with wide-brimmed black hat and veiled face, she created both awe and unease.

Mostly Chinese, with a healthy respect for their dead, they recognised extreme mourning and grief and fell quiet. One eventually offered a small folding seat.

‘Thank you, but no,’ Blanche said quietly. She wished they would go on with their chatter and at least pretend some kind of normality. She knew her presence weighed heavily on them every time they came, but today, straight from Joan and Aubrey’s funeral, it was as if she had cast some ghastly spell on them.

The Wildons had many friends. News of their double murder had spread around the East, bringing appalled and grieving friends and acquaintances from as far away as Java. Blanche had felt completely disoriented as she recognised faces and voices from prewar parties, bridge afternoons, tennis-club tournaments. Many had sought her out before the service and the reunions would begin with greetings and kisses, then the reminiscences: ‘The last time we met, why, it must have been … ’

Blanche felt stilted and unreal, quite unable to contribute anything to the nostalgic crowd. Her mind was on the fate of the daughter she had allowed to go off into enemy-occupied jungle and the loss of her dearest friends. After following the funeral cortege to the English section of the cemetery, she slipped away quietly, mentally apologising to her lost elegant, eloquent friends. She was aware of curious glances from other mourners, but could imagine Joan saying, ‘Go on, darling, we totally understand.’

What she needed was to talk to George Harfield. She needed his adage-ridden reassurance, his strength.

‘Aah!’ the general sigh of relief when the gates were opened was audible. The Chinese glanced at her and hurried inside, anxious to be away from this spectrelike figure.

George was at his allotted table, rising immediately he saw her. ‘I heard about the Wildons,’ he said, catching her hands and lowering her into his visitor’s chair. ‘The bastards! God, it makes me feel so bloody hopeless!’ He held on to her hands. ‘Blanche, are you all right? You look terrible.’

‘Thanks, George.’ She gave his hand a squeeze as she added, ‘That makes me feel much better.’ And to her own chagrin tears began to run down her cheeks. ‘I don’t cry,’ she told him.

‘No, my love, I can see that.’ He paused while she blotted her cheeks and eyes. ‘You’ve come straight from the funeral. Are you alone?’

‘I came in our car with the guard.’

‘Liz?’ he queried.

She did not answer.

‘Liz didn’t go with you?’

She shook her head slowly. He found the way she dropped her eyes at his last question quite out of character. ‘So where is Liz?’ She looked up at him then and he could only think her expression was agonised. He leaned forwards and demanded, ‘Blanche! Tell me what’s happened!’

She hesitated, wondering if this was why she had come — just to unburden herself to someone. She gazed at him silently, pondering the question of his specialness to her.

‘For God’s sake don’t make me feel any more useless than I am here,’ he pressed her to go on. ‘At least I can listen — perhaps even advise.’

‘I’m sorry, George, of course I must tell you ... everything.’

He looked at her sharply. There was more than grief in this woman, more even than the after-effects of a double funeral. She told her story simply, of letting Liz and Lee Guisan go off with the Sakai, then the news of the Wildons brought by the police. ‘It felt like a punishment for being so stupid,’ she said. ‘Allowing her to go off like that.’

‘No, no. I knew about the young guardsman being missing — and I did see him and Liz together once. I thought I interrupted a kiss, now I’m sure.’

The older man and woman exchanged glances almost as if exploring a possibility, or remembering long-lost intimacies with others. Their glances held so long it was as if each was wondering about the other in a new light. ‘You let your heart rule your head, that’s all,’ he added.

‘George, don’t butter me with platitudes,’ she began, then dropped her gaze and added quietly, with affection, ‘Oh, I don’t know, though, I miss your hackneyed phrases — damn you!’

‘I’ve never been damned so nicely before,’ he said. ‘Come on, old lady — ’ He stopped and raised a hand to fend off her swift glance. ‘No! Sorry! Know when I’ve gone too far. No, what I mean is, you would probably have had to lock Liz up to stop her going, and with a Sakai guide I would say they’re ... as safe as anyone in the jungle these days.’

‘There’s one more thing,’ she confessed. ‘This morning we heard distant shooting, a real battle it sounded, and just before I left for Aubrey and Joan’s funeral news came in that one of the tappers had found a dead jungle tribesman.’

‘Not the one the girls went with?’

‘No, the tapper was sure about that. He had seen that Sakai come to the gate for food.’

‘Could have been coming back with a message I suppose. Makes me bloody mad — of all people, they’re the innocents in this campaign. Heng Hou makes a sport of shooting them as if they’re just another kind of jungle game.’ He sighed with deep distaste before going on, ‘I’d have thought Heng Hou would have taken his men south fairly quickly, unless he’s staying around for a definite purpose.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Look! As soon as you leave here, contact Robbo and tell him I said you’ve
got
to have a couple of Gurkhas at Rinsey. They put the fear of God into the CTs.’ He stopped. ‘Hell! I’d forgotten — he’s gone after Liz.’

He looked across at Blanche Hammond. Not only was he powerless to help, he was now making useless suggestions. ‘I’m in quite a fix, aren’t I?’ she said calmly.

‘I’d give my right arm to be out and able to help — and I don’t say
that
lightly.’

‘No.’ She accepted his sincerity and knew his mind went momentarily to Bukit Kinta and the mutilation and murder of Rasa.

‘So you’re at Rinsey just with your amah?’

And the guard system you set up. It works very well.’ He thought she seemed curiously unconcerned, as if her own safety meant little to her now.

‘No way should two women be left alone like that, even with guards,’ he insisted. ‘Go to that Inspector Aba and tell him ... ’ He sought for a good reason. ‘Tell him you believe his murder suspect is on the prowl.’

She did not add to George’s concern by telling him she had a feeling Josef was around, that some evenings it was as if she could feel his enmity closing in on her.

George felt he was just floundering in a mass of feeble notions and looking at this woman he was full of admiration — and more. He wondered how she was keeping up at all. When one’s husband and best friends had been murdered by the CTs, to also have one’s daughter roaming around in the jungle ... He sighed and muttered to himself.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said if I could see any way of escaping from this festering hole I would,’ he repeated under his breath.

‘George!’ She gripped his forearm urgently. ‘Don’t ass about, don’t do anything bloody silly. You’re all I’ve got left.’ She shook her arm fiercely. ‘I need you. I need to know ... to know that you at least are safe.’

He looked at her, swallowed hard and put his hand over hers as it rested on her arm. ‘This is a fine time to tell you, but I love you, Blanche Hammond, have done ever since you took those coconut drinks from me on that train.’

She kept still, her eyes lowered, heart pounding. She gave no outward show of emotion as she wondered if this declaration was what she wanted to hear, what she had really hoped for.

‘I’ve spoken when I shouldn’t. I’m sorry. And if you don’t come to visit me anymore, well, perhaps I’ll deserve that — but, my God, it’ll finish me if you don’t come!’

There was anxiety and hurt in his voice at his own suggestion. She looked across at him and shook her head.

‘I’ll never stop coming. Part of the reason I’ve not returned to England is that I could never abandon you to a series of casual visitors at long intervals. No, I would never do that, believe me.’ She lifted her free hand and for a full three seconds laid it alongside his cheek. Something like an electric shock passed through both of them.

‘My God,’ he breathed as, taking her hand from his cheek, she placed it over his hand, ‘I don’t believe this. Could you wait for me, Blanche?’

‘As long as it takes,’ she told him.

‘These youngsters don’t know they’re born,’ he said gruffly.

They seemed from then on to be existing at two levels. They talked nonstop until the end of visiting time came. But it was to both as if at a different, rather higher level their alter egos were silently wondering and staring at each other, quite overwhelmed by the discovery they had made.

Blanche told of her visit to the mine and seeing the girl. ‘She’s knows I’m after her, but how to trap her?’

Both found release from their sufferings and help in the exchange of sympathies and ideas, while these invisible creatures looked on, waiting to be fully realised, however long it took.

‘You’ll get word to me as soon as there’s news of Liz?’ he asked urgently as the moment of parting came. ‘And ask about those Gurkhas!’

‘Keep cheerful, George. I’m sorry I came empty-handed, I’ll make up next time.’

‘As long as there’s going to be a next time, I feel ... I feel as if I could take this place apart with my bare hands.’

‘But you won’t.’

‘No.’ He was suddenly very solemn. ‘I shall just live for the next sight of you.’

*

‘Mem! Mem!’ Anna’s voice was full of concern as she came to meet Blanche.

Blanche threw her black-veiled hat on the hall table and hurried to meet her amah. ‘Is there news?’

‘The man they found this morning, army have been and taken away. He is Dyak tracker. Someone shoot and steal army shirt and shorts.’

‘Not the tracker Sturgess took with him to go after the girls?’ Blanche caught and held her breath in alarm.

‘Mem!’ The one word and Anna’s look of despair confirmed the worst.

She sat down on a chair. ‘So what’s happened?’ She asked about the shooting they had heard that morning. ‘Has the area been searched? Have the police been?’

‘All time you gone. The inspector want see you, but more trouble and he had to leave.’

‘Let’s both have a brandy, shall we?’ Blanche nodded to the glasses and shivered. ‘How is it possible to feel cold in this heat? I’ve been to see George Harfield in prison — after the funeral.’ She patted the chair by her side for Anna to sit down. ‘He thinks there are probably still quite a few terrorists in this area. Makes me wonder if Sturgess has been ambushed.’ She stood up and paced the room. And if he’s lost his tracker, no way is he going to find a Sakai village.’

‘Sakai clever,’ Anna said, sipping her brandy. ‘Lee been living in jungle long time too. They be all right.’

‘Yes. Positive thoughts, that’s what we must have, or we’ll go under.’ She looked at Anna. ‘We must be strong for each other now.’

Just as they were both striving to have positive, strong thoughts, the telephone rang and made them jump.

‘Yes! Hello!’ Blanche said, motioning Anna to stay where she was. ‘Inspector Aba. Hello, I was going to be in touch with you ... ’ Blanche turned towards Anna as she listened, her face becoming ever more grave. She put down the receiver after some time with just the briefest of thanks.

‘The inspector was ringing to say he is planning to bring two guards to Rinsey. He’d hoped tonight, but they’re fully stretched dealing with a workers’ riot near Ipoh and another terrorist killing at Slim River. He also thinks there’re still communists near Rinsey.’ She went to Anna and caught her hand as the amah rose in alarm. ‘We must make plans to defend ourselves as best we can. I shall double up the guards until the police can get here, and you and I will take turns resting during the night, keeping watch over Datuk.’

Anna put her unfinished brandy down. ‘I go clean all guns.’

‘I’ll go and see Chemor. Thank God we’ve got him.’ She silently also thanked God for George, for this new relationship they had moved towards. Even banged up in prison he gave her the will to struggle on.

She did everything she could think of for their safety, moving beds out of the line of windows, making strict rules about lights. They would use only the dimmest of bulbs in the lounge, which had good shutters, and in the rest of the house, they would feel their way around. For all the precautions, she knew there was a last thing she had to do.

While Anna prepared their evening meal, Blanche took her rifle and went to sit by Neville’s grave. There was something she had to tell him. It’s a little like telling the bees, she thought. We used to have a gardener who went to the hives and told the bees all the births and deaths. This news is about both, Neville.

She shuffled her rifle butt in the dust. I’m not sure how much you lot know. Or how long it takes. I mean, are Aubrey and Joan there? There were a lot of reunions at the funeral. Voices from the past, Neville. I thought more about you and Liz, really. So are all your troubles over — or are you just all over?