She said: ‘Give me a minute to write my friend a note.’
3
The hills climbed skywards in many folds with bare rock on the higher slopes yet Craig’s ute devoured the steepest climbs without hesitation.
Hilary saw no sign of human life yet the crowded pavements of the coastal strip were less than an hour away. No doubt Ruby would be cross at being abandoned but Hilary had no regrets. Je ne regrette rien. She had always been an admirer of Edith Piaf and her famous song.
They were off the bitumen now. His eyes watched the gravel road and his hands – strong and tanned, with fine hair on the backs of the fingers – were steady on the wheel. Hilary felt safe with this man. A thought came uninvited and potentially dangerous. How safe did she want to be?
The road climbed to a ridge, grey stone against a gentian sky. Beyond the ridge the way slanted steeply downhill with a wooden bridge at the bottom and Hilary saw the silver glint of water.
The tyres crunched on gravel as the ute drew to a stop just before the bridge. Craig switched off the engine.
‘Now we walk,’ he said.
They followed a narrow track beside the stream. The water ran fast, glinting over the stones. Craig went first, Hilary watching his back as she followed. The strong shoulders beneath the blue shirt. The seamed neck.
Frogs chinked in the thick grass and from time to time small birds flew in sudden flashes of variegated colours, too swiftly to be identified. The track drew a long curve through the bush. The voice of the water grew suddenly louder and Hilary saw they had come to the fall.
It was about fifteen metres wide and double that in height. The water flashed in rainbows of brilliant light as it fell into a rock-fringed pool before spilling over a lip and continuing down the valley. On either side of the pool the forest grew close, with trees leaning over the water. The sound of the fall was very loud and beyond it Hilary could see nothing but sky.
Craig stripped off his shirt and pants. His chest was flat and hard, exactly as she had imagined it. She had put on her cozzie at the hotel. She stood at the edge of the pool and looked at the water.
‘How deep is it?’
‘About four feet here. More in the middle.’
She made a shallow plunge, then stood with the water cascading off her. The water came to just below her breasts and was as cool as Craig had promised. She looked back at him. ‘Coming in?’
‘Of course.’
He dived in and surfaced beside her. They stood and smiled at each other before Hilary turned and swam up the pool until she reached the fall. The water crashed on her head but behind the curtain was an oasis of peace where the rock had been hollowed out over the centuries. She looked back through the veil of falling water. Even the roar of the stream was muted here.
Craig joined her. There was room for two if they stood close together. They stood very close indeed and Craig kissed her and she kissed him back. The kiss lasted a long time and all the while Hilary was asking herself what she thought she was doing.
It was a legitimate question but she knew it was already too late. There had been a time when she had sworn off men but that had been after the break-up with Lance. Eighteen years ago, she thought. My God! There had been one or two brief episodes since then but nothing of importance. Eighteen years, and now she was hungry for this man who had come so unexpectedly into her life and was thankful that her breasts were still firm, her body ten years younger than her age.
He caressed her upper arms and shoulders, pulled down the top of her costume and kissed first one breast then the other. She shivered not with cold but with heat as she leant against him. She held his head and pressed it to her. There. Oh God. There.
He stood back and smiled before kissing her mouth again. Her lips parted and she wondered whether her legs would be strong enough to hoist her out of the water when the time came.
‘Shall we swim?’ he asked.
She took a succession of deep breaths as she willed her heart to slow. She followed Craig back through the fall. They swam to and fro, splashing water over each other and laughing open-mouthed. Like kids, she thought, but so much more than that. Eventually they climbed out of the pool and lay on a rock shelf to let the sun dry them. The rock was warm beneath Hilary’s shoulders, the noise of the fall once again loud in her ears.
She had wondered whether he would make love to her straightaway but he did not. They towelled off, got dressed and went in search of the restaurant he had mentioned.
The meal was as good as he had promised. After they had eaten, after Craig had thanked the smiling proprietor and paid him, they climbed into the ute and drove away, heading where she neither knew nor cared.
She wondered how often he had done this and with how many women. She wondered what he did for a living. She wondered who he was and why he had chosen to live in Penang. None of it mattered. The answers would come or not in their season. In the meantime he drove, she leaning back in her seat, eyes closed and heart thundering. It was then that he placed his left hand on her bare thigh. She put her hand on his and pressed it hard against her. While her senses swam, the engine hummed and the kilometres flew back.
4
Eventually they turned on to a side road that led past paddy fields where water buffalo were working, and Hilary caught glimpses of the sea between the trees. They turned on to a muddy track that ran downhill past more coconut palms and the occasional house raised on wooden piles above the ground. Indignant chooks catapulted beneath their wheels while women with shawled heads watched them from the shadows. A hundred metres past the last house the track ended. Craig switched off the engine, and they left the vehicle and walked down through the trees.
They came to a beach of yellow sand edging a horseshoe-shaped bay. Thirty metres back from the beach a house stood amid a grove of yet more coconuts. Red and yellow cannas grew in beds along the front of the house, whose wooden walls shone chestnut-coloured in the sun. This house too was raised on piles and had an arcaded veranda running along the front with a flight of steps leading up to it. The house was sturdily built and Hilary thought she had never seen a building more in harmony with its surroundings.
‘What a wonderful place!’
‘I like it,’ Craig said.
‘Does it have a name?’
‘A Malay one. I decided to call it Rumah Kelapa.’
‘Meaning?’
‘The House amid the Coconuts.’
‘Rumah Kelapa,’ Hilary repeated.
The words flowed like honey on the tongue, the name and house yet more components of this day of endless wonder.
‘Let me show you round.’
Hilary followed him up the steps to the veranda. From here she could see the entirety of the bay. At the far end was a point of land with the houses of another kampong showing through the trees. Three canoes were drawn up on the sand in front of them.
‘The Malays called them koleks,’ Craig said. ‘They’re handy for fishing or exploring the coast.’
The silence was absolute. Hilary thought this must surely be the end of the world or perhaps the beginning of paradise.
The interior of the house consisted of a succession of spacious rooms with glass windows through which the afternoon sun shone. The sunlight glowed on the wooden walls so that every room seemed to float in golden light. The furniture included large and comfortable easy chairs with plenty of cushions in brightly coloured Siamese silk. Persian rugs were scattered here and there. Wooden shelves crammed with books ran around the walls with more books in haphazard piles upon the floor. Books apart, everything was spick and span.
‘A woman comes in twice a week,’ Craig explained. ‘She does the washing and ironing too.’
Every room had lofty ceilings from which hung broad-bladed fans.
‘Although they are not really necessary,’ Craig said. ‘Since I had air-conditioning put in.’
‘Where do you get your power?’
‘Generators. They chew kerosene like crocodiles but make a big
difference to your personal comfort. And the glass windows keep out the mosquitoes.’
Hilary walked out on to the veranda. Silence, like the house and trees, enfolded her. She observed the green vegetation, the red and yellow cannas, the blue sky and bluer sea, the sickle curve of yellow sand. She was conscious of Craig standing at her shoulder.
‘It is more perfect than I could have imagined,’ she said.
Two cane chairs and a round glass-topped table stood on the veranda. Craig gestured to them. ‘I’ll get us a glass of wine.’
She sat looking at the placid waters of the bay, the slatted leaves of the palms hanging in the still air, and wondered where she was going with this man. If anywhere. She smiled ruefully. She was not in the least tranquil by nature but now was prepared to wait tranquilly to see what the future would bring.
What it brought: a glass of white wine, flint dry and cold, with a round of Brie from which Craig cut segments with a broad-bladed knife. A meandering stroll along the beach. They watched the sun’s red disc slide below the horizon. Lights began to flicker in the houses on the point. Waves shod with phosphorescence turned at their feet. Craig’s fingers, interlaced with hers, were firm and warm.
Hilary thought, I have said nothing about going back to the hotel. Neither has he. What would she say if he said nothing? What would she say if he did?
They reached the end of the beach where the koleks lay on the sand. They turned back, Hilary’s hand clasped as firmly as ever.
Perhaps he would drive her back to the hotel and leave her there. An end to the magical day and all its potential.
Did she want that? She did not. So would she stay, with all that implied? They were strangers; she knew almost nothing about him. Would she stay if the stranger asked?
They reached the house and climbed the steps. Since they left the waterfall he had not kissed her. Would he kiss her now? Would her soul fly out? He switched on the lights and turned to her. Beyond the windows the night was dark. Hilary could see her reflection lonely and wondering in the glass. She remembered how eager she had been for Sean Madigan, eager enough to marry him. Look how that had turned out.
She was older now, wiser and more cautious. But still eager. She wanted to eat Craig up. Be eaten up in her turn.
He was there. His lips were on hers. His hands were moving.
Yes.
5
She woke in the night with Craig asleep at her side. It was the dark of the moon and she could see nothing. Craig had said he did not like to sleep in air-conditioning and the windows were open with a mesh screen to protect them from mosquitoes. The slowly turning fan distributed its current of warm air. Hilary could hear waves stirring along the beach.
Their lovemaking had been all and more than she could have imagined. He had been gentle yet dominant, every nerve in her body responding as he made love to her. Really made love, as though love itself and not simply the act of love had been at the core of their union. She had heard herself cry out in wonder and at the last, after he had wound her nerves to their highest pitch so that they vibrated under her skin and every sinew of her body pleaded for release, she had felt a surge of fulfilment that had torn her and made her whole again, not once but again and yet again, and brought her in the end to the verge of grateful and unbelieving tears.
So wonderful. Such sanctuary and peace.
She imagined the stars beyond the windows. One hundred million points of light amid the blackness. She could have embraced them all, embraced everything. All was wonder and joy because she knew that after the barren months of seeking she had arrived at what might be journey’s end.
She slept. When she awoke it was still dark but she sensed beyond the screened window the slow stirring of earth and sea as they readied themselves for the coming of the light. That was the true miracle. The coming of the light, the re-awakening of the dormant blood, the quickening of the spirit that proclaimed the wonder and joy of the coming day.
Careful not to disturb Craig, she slipped from beneath the sheet that covered her. She retrieved her shirt and shorts from the chair where she had dropped them. She put them on and went out to face the morning.
The sand was soft beneath her bare feet. Phosphorescence flashed in the slowly turning waves while overhead was the splendour of the stars. Hilary walked at one with the night. The jungle scent of the vegetation was a fecund presence in the darkness. Its mystery still had the power to beguile. She reached the point where the koleks lay unguarded upon the beach. There was a smell of fish and wood smoke from the houses beneath the trees. She stopped and stared at the sea. Conrad’s Almayer stood at her shoulder but Almayer had been a lost soul. Hilary was not. She walked back towards the house. She was halfway when she saw a figure walking towards her along the beach. For a moment doubt flickered, then she saw.
‘Good morning.’
‘I thought you’d run out on me,’ Craig said.
‘No doubt you thought good riddance.’
‘No doubt I thought nothing of the sort.’
It was a good, warm feeling. He took her hand and that was a good feeling too.
Above the eastern horizon darkness was giving way to the first pale birthing of the light.
‘I thought maybe some coffee,’ Craig said.
It sounded like a good idea.
‘And afterwards…’
She looked at him, his features now faintly visible: the imperious jutting of the nose, the shadowed eye sockets. ‘Afterwards?’
‘Coffee has to be paid for.’
‘You plan to put me to work, do you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Best get on with it, then,’ Hilary said.
And they did.
Later, after showering and putting on the same clothes because she had no others, after breakfast and more coffee, they piled into the four-wheel drive and drove back up the rumble-tumble track to the road and turned north towards Batu Ferringhi and the Maharani Hotel. Hilary went to her room.
The first thing she did was ring Sara’s school and then Jennifer. Sara was in class and unavailable but she had better luck with Jennifer.
‘I’m in Penang.’
‘Are you having a good time?’
‘Very good. I may stay on here a bit but I’ll let you know what I decide. Could you please tell Sara for me? I couldn’t get hold of her.’
‘You sound different,’ Jennifer said.
‘How different?’
‘You sound happy.’
Hilary laughed. ‘Do I normally sound so grim?’
‘I didn’t mean that. But there’s something…’
Now was not the moment for confidences. ‘All well with you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Good. I must dash. My love to you both, as always.’
She hung up, packed her bag and wrote a note to Ruby Dyer.
Something has come up and I have moved out. I hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday.
Ruby would not be pleased but Hilary was not going to say she was sorry because she wasn’t. She was full of joy because the prospect of life had returned.
She read the note through before signing it. Something has come up… How true was that? Even to think of it woke pleasurable tingles.
She left the note at reception, settled her bill and ran down the steps to the waiting vehicle.
‘I thought I’d lost you,’ Craig said.
‘I had to ring my daughters.’
‘To tell them you’ve found the love of your life?’
‘I don’t know that yet, do I?’ She climbed into the ute. ‘I shall need to buy some clothes,’ she said. ‘The ones I have are a bit raggy-taggy.’
‘That’s a disappointment,’ Craig said.
‘Why?’
‘I wasn’t planning on your wearing clothes.’
‘Just now and then.’
‘That’s all right then.’
‘I suppose you say that to all the girls.’
‘Of course.’<
br />
‘Shops,’ Hilary said.
‘Your wish is my command.’
They drove to a mall on Gurney Drive where there were shops aplenty. Afterwards they went back to the bungalow where she had another shower – the climate made that a good idea – and put on some of her new clothes and Craig drove her to the E and O Hotel for lunch.
The E and O was a relic of the colonial past with a strip of lawn and a low wall at the back, with the slow grey sea visible through the dining room windows.
While they ate they talked. They had made love twice already. They were lovers not only in the physical but every other way yet knew virtually nothing about each other.
Until now it hadn’t mattered. There had been a shared awareness that precluded the need for greater knowledge. Now it was time to move on.
He told her he was fifty-three. He had been born in a posh Sydney suburb but had found when he grew up that a conventional civilian life was not for him.
‘There were challenges in civilian life,’ he said. ‘But none that interested me.’
He joined the army straight from university. He had graduated in electronic engineering so they were keen to have him. It looked as though he could look forward to a stellar career in the military.
‘Then I found I wasn’t one for the military life after all,’ he said. ‘I should have known: I hadn’t liked the boy scouts either. I had no thoughts on what else to do so decided I’d explore a bit. In the course of my travels I came here and loved it. I’d inherited a bit of money – enough to get by in a low-cost place, which fortunately this was – so I decided to stay. And here I am.’
‘But what do you do?’
‘A bit of consulting for local firms. Apart from that there are a thousand things to do. I walk, I swim, I go out with the fishermen, I read, I listen to music… You want me to go on?’
‘You never married?’
Which was not what she was asking. Never mind the past. What she really wanted to know was whether he was married now.
‘I never did,’ he said.
‘Why?’
He grinned. ‘Never found anyone fool enough to say yes.’
Hilary looked at him and at the expanse of sea beyond the hotel windows, the distant shapes of vessels anchored in the roads.
A Woman of Courage Page 29
