On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  ‘I would love to show you a side of the country that you haven’t yet seen. Perhaps you’ll change your mind once you’ve travelled by train through the jungle and crossed bridges over deep gorges. None of that would be there without us.’ Compton was proving uncomfortably persistent in his attempts to win her over, both for himself and for his imperial overlords.

  ‘I greatly appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid I’ve fallen so deeply in love with the local culture and customs that I would prefer not to have my illusions shattered.’ Ella hoped her rejection would do minimal damage to his feelings, though she had certainly made herself clear enough.

  ‘Only with the local culture?’ came the prompt retort, which took Ella completely by surprise.

  ‘With the people too.’ She stuck to her resolve to show no weakness in front of men like this Compton, although she noticed that her pulse had quickened. Perhaps she had been seen with Amar after all. But what if she had? She didn’t have to explain herself to anybody – least of all to Compton, governor or not!

  Compton took that personally, for his hitherto friendly smile suddenly froze.

  ‘Well, Edward, aren’t you going to introduce me to this charming lady?’ interrupted the officer in short trousers, who had just joined them.

  ‘Please excuse me, gentlemen. Mary is looking for me.’ Ella thanked her lucky stars that she had spotted the hostess at the buffet, and that she wasn’t surrounded by guests for once.

  ‘I’m coming!’ she called to her audaciously, though Mary hadn’t even looked in her direction. It worked. Mary beamed from ear to ear. To Edward and the other officer, it would look as though Mary had beckoned her over, and Mary Bridgewater’s wishes seemed to carry as much weight with Compton as with everybody else. At least he would now be spared any further loss of face. He could take the clown in shorts with him on his silly train trip, if he liked.

  By now, Ella understood why Mary Bridgewater seemed to pull so many strings around here. Her powers of observation were superb, and she was an impeccable judge of character. She also knew all there was to know about everybody and everything, which made it easier to get people to do her bidding, and Compton appeared to be just another of her willing subjects.

  ‘You mustn’t mind Edward – he makes advances towards every pretty young lady who comes his way. He should stop and ask himself why nobody has ever taken him up on his offer.’ Mary always seemed to get straight to the point, and had apparently been watching them the whole time.

  Ella was so dumbfounded that Mary laughed out loud.

  ‘And then the cheese! How clumsy he was, cutting it up into little pieces like that. He must really have taken a shine to you,’ Mary declared.

  ‘Unfortunately, the feeling is not mutual,’ Ella pointed out hurriedly.

  ‘That was clear enough,’ laughed Mary. ‘All the same, you should try not to make your aversion too obvious, as Edward can behave like a sulky child sometimes. Especially in light of your impressive escapade last night . . .’

  ‘You know about that?’

  ‘Everybody knows about it, and most of them admire you for it,’ Mary declared. Her eyes flitted towards the governor. ‘He’s looking this way. Give him a smile to placate him.’

  Ella did as she was told. Like everybody else, she couldn’t help but yield to Mary’s natural authority. Compton returned the smile promptly, although Ella was sure it was meant more for Mary.

  ‘Men . . . They really do give us a cross to bear,’ Mary reflected as she plucked grapes from the buffet and devoured them with relish. ‘Most of the women around here aren’t exactly blessed with good fortune on that front. Least of all myself,’ said Mary.

  ‘Are you married, or were you?’ asked Ella.

  ‘I was! But he had another woman. I saw to it personally that he ended up wading through swamps in India, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. I hope they finish him off.’

  Ella was beginning to understand the extent of her influence. But why did Mary’s eyes now linger on Heather? She was standing beside Marjory, but seemed lost in thought and didn’t look especially happy.

  ‘Heather seems to have drawn the short straw with men too,’ said Ella, hoping that Mary would take the bait. She did.

  ‘Did she tell you that?’ asked Mary in surprise.

  ‘No, but I’ve noticed she’s very fearful, and very cautious around men. I even get the impression that she hates them.’

  Mary nodded and reflected for a moment. ‘Well, it’s not such a big secret. Most people knew about it at the time . . .’ she began.

  Ella was almost bursting with curiosity.

  ‘His name was Jack,’ Mary continued.

  ‘An Englishman?’ asked Ella.

  Mary nodded.

  ‘Heather was involved with an Englishman?’ Ella presumed that this Jack was the reason Heather appeared to be so dismissive when it came to romance.

  ‘I think it would be more accurate to say she was passionately in love with him,’ said Mary, speaking a little more quietly now.

  ‘Did he have an affair?’

  ‘No . . . As far as I know he was redeployed, and took the opportunity to vanish into thin air, along with all his supposed feelings for Heather,’ said Mary.

  Ella stared at Heather, who now noticed her looking. To make sure she had understood Mary correctly, she spelled it out: ‘He abandoned her?’

  ‘Jack broke her heart,’ said Mary, who by now could no longer bring herself to smile in Heather’s direction. She used the grapes as a cover to make herself look preoccupied – with her mouth full, she couldn’t be talking about other people.

  Mary proffered the bowl to Ella, but Ella felt sure they would only catch in her throat. How Heather must have suffered. Yet this only explained her behaviour in part. Her opinions about men made sense now, but not her fearfulness. Why was she so temperamental, so subject to mood swings? What made her stay away from the oleander house? Could such an odious betrayal really destroy a person in that way? Ella resolved to find out, as gently and tactfully as possible.

  It would have been a lie to say that the remainder of Mary’s party didn’t have its sunnier moments. That was mainly because Compton had kept away from her, and because the rest of the guests were all interesting in their own way – be it the businessman from London who manufactured cloth here, the Belgian engineer who (unlike Compton) told exciting stories about the construction of the railway, or the wife of a plantation owner who sponsored local orphans and even gave lessons once a week. That lady in particular shed a different light on the role of the British in the country. Nothing was black and white, though that didn’t change the fact that one nation – the United Kingdom – was enriching itself at the expense of another. All the same, on the way home, Ella talked enthusiastically about the party in general and the agreeable people she had met. Surprisingly, her comments fell on deaf ears with Marjory, who was strangely taciturn. Perhaps the evening had been too tiring for a lady of her age. At one point on the journey, she even nodded off to sleep, resting her head against the side of the coach. Only Heather passed occasional comment on Ella’s chatter – especially when Ella mentioned her fascination with Mary, who had so confidently forged her own path through a world otherwise dominated by men.

  ‘Do you really believe she’s related to the royal family?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Nobody knows for certain. But you might say she’s the queen of Malacca. Nobody would ever dare to go against her will,’ said Heather, speaking in hushed tones to avoid waking up her mother.

  ‘She strikes me as a very warm-hearted person,’ declared Ella.

  ‘No wonder you get on with her so well,’ said Heather.

  Ella received the compliment with great pleasure.

  ‘You have more in common than you think, though.’ Heather lowered her voice even further.

  Ella gave her a quizzical look.

  ‘It seems she has a taste for native men. She’s rumoured to have an Indian lover, and Moth
er even thinks she’s having a secret affair with her gardener.’

  ‘Well then, we don’t have anything else in common after all,’ answered Ella with a grin. Heather was obviously referring to Amar, but he wasn’t a gardener. Still, she took a moment to think of him and hoped she would see him again soon.

  ‘Your eyes tell a different story,’ Heather replied.

  Ella admitted defeat and shrugged her shoulders, feigning innocence.

  Initially, she had resolved to find a quiet moment to talk to Heather about her former love – ideally at a time when Marjory wasn’t present. But Marjory had been snoring for a while now, so Ella decided to seize the opportunity, given that they were already talking about matters of the heart.

  ‘These things happen from time to time – generally when one least expects it.’

  ‘The curse of love,’ said Heather.

  ‘Was it a curse for you?’ Ella was direct, but compassionate.

  Heather slowly seemed to realise what she was driving at and glared at her suspiciously by way of reply.

  ‘Mary mentioned . . .’ Ella began cautiously.

  ‘She’s always sticking her nose into things that are none of her business,’ came the combative retort, delivered at normal speaking volume. Ella hoped Marjory wouldn’t wake up.

  Ella considered backing down – but when would she be able to discuss this with Heather if not now?

  ‘He hurt you very badly, didn’t he?’

  Heather’s expression turned to stone, her eyes narrowing and glittering with fury. Given her reaction, Ella realised that this hadn’t been the right moment after all.

  ‘I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have asked,’ she relented.

  ‘Mary Bridgewater is an almighty blabbermouth. You shouldn’t believe everything she says, especially when she’s talking half-truths.’

  Ella had the impression that Heather was speaking in her mother’s voice – but she didn’t understand what she meant by ‘half-truth’.

  ‘Mary Bridgewater,’ exclaimed Heather in such an outraged tone that she woke up Marjory, who gathered herself and looked somewhat distractedly at her companions.

  ‘Ah . . . You’re talking about dear old Mary . . . Isn’t she quite charming?’ she said.

  Ella sighed in relief that she clearly hadn’t heard any of their conversation. She could see that Heather was struggling to compose herself.

  ‘Yes, a most delightful lady,’ she trilled in a honeyed voice, but shot a meaningful look at Ella.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ella woke with a start, drenched in sweat. Although normally soft and tinted by the oleander blossom, the light this morning was so blindingly bright that she had to squint her eyes. She could still vividly recall her nightmare. In it, Heather had been lying naked in Edward Compton’s arms by the side of the hidden lake that Amar had shown her. Ella had to sit up in bed before she could shake off the images from her dream. What had possessed her to open her mouth yesterday? It had only served to deepen the riddle of Heather’s strange behaviour – and even worse, she had probably incurred Heather’s displeasure too. That was the last thing she wanted.

  Ella’s assumption was proven correct soon after breakfast, which she ate on the terrace as usual. She felt guilty for having offended Heather. There were only two ways to tackle such a delicate situation: she could either steer clear of Heather until her temper had settled, or attempt to restore normal relations straight away. Ella had picked up her easel with the intention of sitting in an obvious place in the garden where Heather could see her – but then she dismissed the idea, for her inner unease was growing by the minute. She kept looking across at the Fosters’ house. On a normal day, she would have headed over there by now to wish Heather a good morning and make plans for the day, yet the building showed no signs of life.

  To put an end to her growing uncertainty, she decided to walk straight over to the house. Back to normality – or so it seemed to begin with.

  ‘Good morning, Miss van Veen.’ Jaya greeted her with a warm smile, just like always, and Ella immediately felt calmer.

  ‘Is Heather up yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No, but I can go and check on her if you like,’ Jaya offered.

  ‘Oh no, please don’t. The party was very tiring yesterday,’ Ella demurred, and debated adding that she would come back again in an hour – yet Marjory forced her hand.

  ‘Ella. Come and join me.’ Her voice rang out from the drawing room.

  Ella peered inside and saw Marjory sitting at her desk by the window. The fact that she hadn’t wished her a good morning was a bad sign, but she soon made up for the omission – albeit alarmingly formally – once Ella had stepped inside and joined her.

  ‘Heather is indisposed. She sends her apologies.’

  Ella’s throat instantly felt tight. Was it really such an unpardonable sin to ask an adult woman about an unhappy love affair? Surely it wasn’t the end of the world – and yet it seemed to be for Heather.

  To Ella’s surprise, however, Marjory made no further mention of Heather’s indisposition.

  ‘Nothing but paperwork, all day long,’ Marjory sighed. ‘Yet the most tiring part of it is making decisions, whether weighty or trivial. Would you like a cup of tea?’ she continued.

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve just had one,’ Ella answered. Marjory gestured for her to sit down on the sofa by the desk, and she complied.

  ‘It must be extremely challenging to manage a plantation as big as this one. You have my utmost respect.’ Ella hoped the conversation would remain on general topics, but Marjory’s obvious nervousness suggested it wouldn’t.

  ‘Perhaps you can offer me some advice,’ she said, giving Ella a meaningful look.

  ‘What could a nurse possibly advise you on?’ Ella asked, puzzled.

  ‘On staffing matters. I am currently facing the difficult decision of whether to dismiss an employee,’ explained Marjory with a self-satisfied smile.

  ‘Mohan?’ asked Ella. Perhaps Marjory had reconsidered, and he would be able to stay on after all once he had recovered.

  ‘That decision has already been made, thankfully. It’s simply impossible for me to employ a rebel here on the plantation.’

  From Marjory’s expression and the fact that she was discussing all this with her, Ella could draw only one conclusion: she was talking about Amar. How on earth had she found out that he was also involved with the resistance against the British? Asking her that might be taken as a confession of his guilt, however, so Ella merely looked at her questioningly.

  ‘The decision relates to Amar.’ Marjory finally came out with it.

  Ella had to watch her words very carefully – she mustn’t say anything that would implicate Amar, but she couldn’t lie either.

  ‘One of your workers,’ Ella remarked.

  ‘Indeed . . . and from what Edward has told me, he’s often been seen in Mohan’s company. The two of them appear to be friends,’ said Marjory.

  Ella had difficulty hiding her growing anxiety. At least Marjory hadn’t mentioned the fact that he had been seen with her too.

  ‘Is that reason enough to dismiss him?’ asked Ella.

  ‘I’m not sure. What do you think of him?’

  By now, Ella knew Marjory well enough to realise that she knew more than she was letting on. Had Heather told her that she had gone to see the shadow play with Amar? Or even that she had feelings for him?

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know him well enough to be able to form an opinion,’ Ella answered cautiously.

  ‘But you rode into town with him, didn’t you?’

  Ella felt like she was undergoing a police interrogation. There was no point in lying.

  ‘Of course . . . I wanted to see the puppet show, and I didn’t want to go into Johore on my own.’ She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Marjory seemed to accept it, for she nodded and visibly relaxed.

  ‘That’s the most unfortunate thing about our little world out here – one
can’t go anywhere without being seen. The officers told Compton, and he relayed the information to me. He believes that Amar is a rebel too.’

  ‘He probably thinks that about every Malay,’ Ella couldn’t resist adding.

  ‘You may be right there. All the same, please heed my advice and keep your distance from the local population in future – especially Amar. You might bring us all into disrepute otherwise.’

  Ella sized Marjory up. If she had known that Ella harboured feelings for Amar, she would have reacted differently – Ella was certain of that. So Heather hadn’t betrayed her confidence after all. Yet she couldn’t rule out the possibility that the soldiers had seen them together that night and drawn their own conclusions. And if Compton knew that, he certainly wouldn’t be pleased at the thought that she preferred to watch the shadow play with a Malayan man over joining him on a train trip, given that she had rejected him at Mary’s party.

  ‘So you want to dismiss him because Compton is suspicious of him? Does he have any proof?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Even if he did, he certainly wouldn’t mention it to me. It’s none of our business either. We depend upon the protection of the Crown,’ answered Marjory unequivocally. ‘But you could put in a good word for Amar with Edward . . .’ she added.

  ‘Me?’ asked Ella in surprise.

  ‘Just go to the opera with him, or give him a few kind words . . . We women know well enough how to wrap men like Compton around our little fingers,’ answered Marjory with a complacent smile.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m quite the wrong person to flatter a man’s wounded vanity, or give him false hope.’ Ella likewise made her position unmistakably clear.

  Marjory sighed, but then managed to muster up a gentle smile.

  ‘I can completely understand your reservations in this case. Men are a tricky subject, don’t you think? Anyway, what do you have planned today? Would you like to do some drawing? Raj is driving into town – he could take you with him.’ Marjory was obviously finished with the subject, and she also made it quite plain that Heather wanted to remain alone today. One thing was certain, however: Ella had to warn Amar about Edward Compton.