On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  Ella wanted neither to draw nor to accompany Raj into town on the coach, but she thought it wise to accept Marjory’s offer for appearances’ sake – after all, if anybody would know where Amar was, it was Raj. Yet asking him directly about Amar was out of the question. It was already bad enough that Heather and Marjory knew about her night-time excursion into town. Once again, however, Ella was able to rely on her gift for improvisation.

  ‘Do you have the day off today, then?’ she asked Raj, after he had helped her onto the coach in a surprisingly gentlemanly manner. He was evidently prepared to take her with him – indeed, he seemed to do everything Marjory wanted or suggested.

  ‘No, I’m going shopping for Mrs Foster. It’ll take around three hours, and then you can come back with me,’ he explained.

  ‘Ah, then I suppose that young man with the whip will be looking after the plantation,’ Ella remarked, with an innocent smile.

  It took Raj a moment to realise what she was talking about.

  ‘You mean Amar?’

  She feigned an innocent shrug, and Raj began to laugh.

  Ella was puzzled at that.

  ‘I take it we’re talking about the young man who likes to take young ladies out to watch the shadow play,’ said Raj with a smirk.

  ‘How do you know about that? Did Mrs Foster . . . ?’ she asked frankly, since their cards were already on the table.

  ‘Mrs Foster? Was she there too?’

  Ella was baffled by his question.

  ‘I saw you myself. A wonderful performance, don’t you agree?’ Raj added.

  It really did seem impossible to go anywhere in Johore without everybody spying on you.

  ‘He rode into town just now to visit Mohan at the hospital. I can drop you off there, if you like.’

  Ella gaped in astonishment. She had completely misjudged the man. His helpful and friendly manner was in complete contrast to his terrifying appearance and brutal punishments.

  ‘I can’t make you out at all,’ Ella declared.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I had a very different impression of you when we first met.’

  ‘I was just doing my job.’

  ‘With a firm hand,’ Ella pointed out.

  ‘Mohan had stolen something . . .’

  ‘I was told that he merely borrowed it,’ she clarified.

  ‘His reasons were what mattered. I’ve known for a long time that he’s been working for the resistance, and he’s free to do so, but not with equipment from this plantation,’ replied Raj placidly.

  Ella had no answer to that. But she was surprised at how much the Indian knew. And his proximity to the Fosters meant there was much more he might be able to reveal to her. It was worth a try, at any rate. She allowed a few moments of silence to pass to make her question seem more nonchalant.

  ‘It’s a pity that Heather didn’t want to come with us. She doesn’t get out very often.’

  ‘No, indeed she doesn’t.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s natural when one spends so many years living on a plantation, so far from town,’ mused Ella – although she knew perfectly well that that couldn’t be the reason.

  ‘Possibly,’ answered Raj.

  ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand, though . . . She seems to be downright afraid of certain things. The guest house, for example . . .’

  Raj gave her a penetrating look, and was clearly debating whether he ought even to reply.

  ‘She’s such a cheerful and vivacious person otherwise,’ Ella added.

  ‘I expect everybody is afraid of something. In India, we believe it’s part of one’s karma to overcome those fears,’ he said.

  His remark made Ella conclude he must be hiding something, for she knew that karma related to an individual’s past life. Hindus believed in transmigration of the soul – but what did that have to do with the oleander house?

  ‘Do you mean to say she might have lived here once before?’ Ella hoped to draw him out a little further.

  ‘People can be afraid of past events in their current life too,’ he said.

  ‘But how can one be afraid of a house?’

  ‘You ask too many questions. Some things answer themselves.’ Raj’s final remark unambiguously blocked her from asking anything more.

  Ella now felt certain that he knew more than he was letting on, but his solidarity with the Fosters seemed to prevent him from revealing anything more. Further enquiries would have been pointless. Something must have happened in this house that Heather was afraid of. At any rate, Ella didn’t believe in curses. There were plenty of other things to be afraid of in life – that something might happen to Amar, for example.

  Raj had promised not to tell anybody where he had dropped her off, and Ella hoped he would remain true to his word. Although her first meeting with him had given no indication that she could trust him, she did so now. Amar must have a certain degree of faith in Raj too, as he would hardly have shared his intentions with him otherwise. In any case, Amar proved easy to find in this small hospital, not least because the attendants remembered who she was and directed her to a ward on the first floor.

  On entering the hospital, Ella could see straight away that the care provided here wasn’t particularly advanced, and the clinic seemed short on capacity too, as there were hospital beds in the corridor. From what she could judge as she walked past, the patients lying on them were all natives with minor injuries. The more serious cases were presumably kept on the ward. Although the building was old and in urgent need of a coat of paint, she noticed how clean it was. The odour of disinfectant stung her nostrils, just like at the hospital in Hamburg. But there was one crucial difference: before today, she had never seen a hospital ward under guard. As if somebody with serious injuries could run away. Ella had no intention of being scared off by the British officer who stood stock-still by the entrance, as if he’d been posted in front of Buckingham Palace. She ignored him and reached confidently for the door handle. At that, however, the statue sprang into life.

  ‘Excuse me – just one visitor is allowed at a time, and only if they have a legitimate reason,’ he explained.

  So Amar was still with Mohan, Ella reflected. ‘I would like to check on the patient.’

  ‘I presume you aren’t a relative,’ said the moustachioed officer, who she guessed to be around thirty years old.

  ‘I was the one who administered first aid,’ she explained.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to follow the rules.’

  She then heard steps in the corridor and recognised Doctor Bagus, who was accompanied by a nurse.

  ‘Doctor Bagus!’ Ella left the officer and walked over to the other end of the corridor.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,’ he cried.

  ‘I wanted to check on the patient, but the guard won’t let me through,’ Ella told him.

  The Indian doctor thought for a moment, before turning to the Malay nurse.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ he said. ‘You do know that the man is a prisoner, don’t you?’ he added to Ella.

  She nodded.

  ‘The wound has healed up very well, by the way. You played a significant part in that, so I think you deserve to see the patient. Follow me.’ He smiled.

  Judging by his determined expression, Ella felt certain she would be allowed to see Mohan.

  ‘A colleague from Europe. Her opinion is important to me,’ he told the officer, who was clearly racked by an inner conflict.

  ‘I’m not a visitor, strictly speaking,’ added Ella.

  Eventually, the officer gave a nod.

  Doctor Bagus smiled with satisfaction and turned to leave. ‘Please come and see me afterwards. Room three on the ground floor,’ Bagus instructed her.

  Ella nodded and stepped inside.

  Two pairs of eyes stared at her incredulously: Amar and Mohan. Ella wasn’t sure which of them looked more delighted.

  ‘How did you get in here?’ demanded Amar.
r />   ‘I could ask you the same question!’

  ‘I’m his employer.’ Amar said it with a smirk, but Mohan nodded in agreement.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘The doctor says I’ll be able to walk again soon,’ said Mohan.

  ‘They’re going to lock him up and put him on trial.’ Amar’s smile had vanished.

  ‘Five to ten years,’ said Mohan in a husky voice.

  ‘If the British are even here that long.’ Amar’s fury was written across his face.

  ‘Marjory wants to dismiss you, and the governor thinks you’re involved in the resistance too,’ said Ella to Amar.

  ‘He’s right, of course, but he can’t prove anything,’ retorted Amar.

  ‘They probably think I’m a spy too by now – at least, so Marjory warned me,’ she added.

  Mohan and Amar exchanged a worried glance. But that was where they had to leave it, for visiting hour was over. The door opened again, and the British officer gave them a look that made it clear they should depart.

  ‘You’ll be back on your feet soon enough,’ said Ella, to at least give the impression that she had examined the patient.

  She clasped Mohan’s hand to say goodbye.

  ‘Meet me at the market in half an hour,’ she whispered to Amar before she left the room. Ella thought it better to walk out ahead of him. She didn’t want to give anyone the impression that she sympathised with rebels.

  Ella had fully expected Doctor Bagus to ask her about her experiences at the hospital in Hamburg, but she had to disappoint him in one key respect: her knowledge of so many areas of naturopathic medicine came not from a German education, nor even from her English one – although the medical profession in the United Kingdom was admittedly more open towards these forms of treatment – for she had learned it mainly from textbooks. In any case, physicians in this part of the world appeared to be far less self-important than they were back in Europe. Doctor Bagus’s office was too small and plain for any delusions of grandeur – indeed, it featured almost no decoration of any kind. A cabinet filled with various medical instruments, a desk and a treatment table that would have been thrown away long ago in Hamburg formed the extent of his personal domain at the hospital.

  ‘I was surprised at your suggestion because myrrh is well known in India. We call it guggul. In Ayurvedic medicine, it’s used to treat obesity, joint pain, skin conditions and inflammation, but I would never have thought that it could also promote wound healing when used externally. At any rate, it doesn’t grow in your northerly latitudes. Where did you hear about it?’

  ‘Most of the better hospitals in England are run by the Church, and I had the good fortune to work for a doctor, Professor Reading, who had a large collection of remedies and formulations going all the way back to the Middle Ages. In our faith, we believe that the baby Jesus was visited by three kings from the East, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. The professor taught me that in those days, myrrh represented the gift of health, and people ascribed universal healing properties to the plant,’ explained Ella.

  Doctor Bagus was obviously impressed. ‘It seems you have engaged extensively with natural healing techniques,’ he surmised.

  Ella nodded.

  ‘I would like you to share your knowledge with us. There are so few people around these parts with any training . . .’

  ‘I’m afraid I won’t be here long enough for that.’

  ‘What brought you to Johore? Are you on a sightseeing tour?’

  Ella decided not to tell him the real reason for her visit, given what she had seen so far of this backwater where gossip travelled as fast as the wind.

  ‘I was curious about the local culture, and I wanted to experience some new things,’ she said.

  ‘That’s unusual for a young lady, if you’ll permit the observation. You have my respect. When we first met, you told me you planned to stay a little while longer. Perhaps you might have enough time to give some instruction to the nurses – by giving a lecture, for example. You could stay on the premises and save yourself the expense of lodgings,’ he suggested.

  ‘I’m staying in private accommodation, not far from here.’

  ‘Let me guess – with Mila and Richard. They’re the only Dutch people around these parts,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘I’ve had the pleasure of making their acquaintance, but I’m staying with the Fosters.’ Ella hoped he wouldn’t make any further enquiries, but she was disappointed.

  ‘How is Heather? Is she well?’ he asked. Ella gave a start, which Doctor Bagus obviously took to mean that she wasn’t – or so she judged from his concerned expression. That could only mean that he knew the family, and was thus aware that Heather had had health problems. Ella decided to seize the opportunity.

  ‘She still suffers from all kinds of fears. Not always, but from time to time,’ she said.

  ‘I assume you know Heather well, in that case?’

  ‘She’s like a sister to me,’ answered Ella truthfully.

  ‘I had hoped that after all these years . . .’ Doctor Bagus seemed lost in thought.

  ‘Have you treated her before, then?’

  ‘That must be twenty years ago now. I’d only started work two years before, and the Fosters’ English physician had passed away. I fear Marjory would never have put her faith in an Indian doctor otherwise.’

  ‘I know that you have a duty of confidentiality, but has she always been so timid? I’m asking because I’m worried about her.’

  ‘Well, you’re free to draw your own conclusions from my reactions.’

  ‘So she was fearful back then too?’

  Doctor Bagus gave a slight nod.

  ‘And she never left the house either?’

  No contradiction on his part.

  ‘Did she suffer from something more serious?’ Ella demanded.

  ‘Have I told you that we have a special ward here for poisonings of all kinds? Generally speaking, the patients are victims of snake or spider bites, but—’

  ‘Poison? Did she try to take her own life?’

  ‘You know I can’t possibly tell you that,’ the doctor demurred, but his manner spoke for him.

  ‘Poor Heather . . . If only I knew what she was so afraid of,’ said Ella, speaking more to herself.

  ‘We were unable to get to the bottom of that at the time, unfortunately,’ he sighed.

  Ella’s mind began to race. So Heather really had tried to kill herself, and her reasons must have had something to do with that guest house. Why didn’t she just move elsewhere?

  ‘When one grows close to another person, one usually persuades them to unburden themselves in the end. I hope you manage it with Heather,’ said Doctor Bagus.

  ‘I fear I owe you a favour now,’ said Ella.

  ‘It would be a pleasure to me and a blessing for the clinic.’

  Ella considered it more of a blessing that she had made the acquaintance of this doctor, although he had raised more questions than he had answered.

  Now that everybody knew she had been at the shadow play with Amar – including people who she would rather didn’t know – Ella found she no longer cared when yet more people began to stare at her in surprise across the main market square. She walked straight up to Amar and sat down beside him under the shade of a palm tree.

  ‘We should go somewhere else,’ he said, looking at two mounted British officers who were riding across the square.

  ‘Out of the question,’ declared Ella.

  Amar grinned in response. ‘You would make a good rebel,’ he whispered.

  ‘I’m already thought of as one back home – though I was never called upon to take up arms there,’ she answered.

  Amar’s expression suddenly grew serious. ‘You should come back and stay in town. Mrs Foster doesn’t want any trouble. She’ll send you away sooner or later anyway, and if she dismisses me then I won’t be able to look after you out there,’ he said.

  ‘So you’ve already taken
it upon yourself to look after me?’ Ella asked.

  He didn’t answer in words, but his smile told her the truth.

  Ella had a truth to share with him too: ‘I can’t come back yet.’

  ‘Haven’t you already found what you were looking for?’

  ‘Yes and no. I’m certain that Heather is my half-sister, but we haven’t discussed it openly yet. Though perhaps I’m wrong, and I’m just chasing a figment of my imagination.’

  ‘What do you hope to gain?’ he asked.

  ‘Clarity,’ Ella burst out – but that wasn’t all. ‘I think Heather is ill, and I have a feeling she needs me.’

  ‘She has her mother,’ Amar objected.

  ‘That’s not the same,’ she answered.

  Amar seemed lost in thought. ‘What if you just talk to Heather about it? Tell her your story?’

  ‘I’m afraid of doing that, and I’m not even sure why. Who knows? Perhaps there really is a curse on this family,’ said Ella.

  Amar shrugged.

  ‘But it must have something to do with the guest house,’ she went on.

  ‘All secrets leave traces,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve looked in all the rooms. There’s nothing there.’

  ‘Perhaps not at first glance . . . But there might be something behind the house, or underneath it . . .’ he mused.

  ‘You’re frightening me. What would be underneath it? A grave, perhaps?’

  ‘There has to be something, if she really is avoiding the place,’ said Amar.

  ‘Where can I reach you if you no longer work on the plantation?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll leave a message with Lee at the boarding house.’

  ‘And where will you live when Marjory lets you go?’ Ella had learned from Raj on the way into Johore that most of the workers lodged in a house close to the plantation.

  ‘I’ll find somewhere. My family live on the east coast. But I won’t leave you on your own . . . unless you tell me to.’

  ‘Do you really think I would do that?’

  He clasped her hand by way of response, and Ella drew strength from it.

  CHAPTER 13