Oriental Hotel

by Janet Tanner

  ‘You certainly don’t mean starve!’

  ‘No, but I do intend to work up an appetite. Come here, Mrs Sanderson. Do you know it’s at least six hours since I made love to you?’

  The laughter died and she felt herself melt. He turned her, lifting her off her feet and holding her for a moment high against his chest so that she was looking down at him. Then he carried her to the bed.

  ‘You know you drive me crazy!’ He was unfastening her dress, his breath not against her throat and his words muffled.

  Luxurious delight stirred in her as she pressed against him, seeking new areas to sensitise.

  ‘Do I?’

  Say you love me! Say it, please!

  ‘You make me forget all sorts of things I ought to remember.’

  ‘Why? Why do you forget?’ Say it! Because you love me. Say it!

  ‘Because you have sexy eyes …’ – he kissed them – ‘and a sexy mouth …’ – he kissed that – ‘and sexy …’ His mouth began to trace the line of her throat, down towards her breasts, and the disappointment was a sharp sweet pain. He wouldn’t say he loved her. But at least he was here …

  She raised her body, thrusting her breast towards his seeking mouth, and as the physical pain predominated she pushed aside the desire to have him put his love into words. Tomorrow she would worry about it, along with all the other worries tomorrow would bring. For the moment she would take what she had and glory in it.

  A while later he stretched and disentangled his limbs from hers.

  ‘I ought to go and get showered and dressed, then.’

  ‘What about the Chateaubriand steaks?’

  ‘It’s more comfortable eating in the dining room. We can always come back here again later.’

  ‘I know what it is – you don’t want to miss that dusky beauty who sings with the trio.’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  She hurled a pillow at him. ‘ Get out, fiend!’

  He went, laughing, and she took a long luxurious bath, pausing afterwards to examine herself in the mirror.

  There was, she thought, something subtly different about the way she looked. The eyes were still amber behind their fringe of lashes, but they sparkled now with golden lights; the lips looked fuller, curving upwards of their own accord. And her body …

  Her eyes travelled critically over the smooth curve of breasts and hips and down the long, tanned line of her legs. Was it possible that a night and a day could have put weight on her? No, that was ridiculous. Yet somehow her whole appearance was softer and more rounded, more mature.

  You did this for me, Brit, she thought, running her hands over the tender fullness of her breasts and feeling the nipples rise erect beneath her touch. You fulfilled me as a woman. And if we never have more than that, I shall still be grateful.

  The telephone rang, its tone as discreet as the E & O Hotel itself. She crossed to it, pulling on her kimono as she went.

  ‘Hello? Elise Sanderson.’ Her smile had crept into her voice.

  ‘Elise? It’s me!’

  ‘Gordon!’

  The shock of hearing his voice so unexpectedly set her trembling violently. She had been in another world – on another planet – and now at the other end of a telephone line was her husband, hundreds of miles away but nevertheless right here in the room with her.

  ‘Gordon – I’ve been meaning to telephone you all day.’ Oh, heavens, surely he must know just from her voice that there was something different about her!’Is everything all right there?’

  ‘I suppose so. I’ve had a heavy day – conferences, meetings with the accountant – people are getting so damned edgy it’s quite incredible. Some of them really seem to think this invasion is going to happen.’

  ‘How’s Alex?’

  ‘Oh fine, Su Ming took him to Stanley Market this morning.’

  ‘Did she?’ Longing for her son overtook her as she pictured him riding in the front seat of the double-decker bus, as it curved around the precipitous cliff roads on the south side of the island, squealing with delight as branches of trees slapped the windows beside him and vistas of blue sea opened up beneath. ‘I do miss him so, Gordon!’

  ‘Hmm? What’s that?’ Without waiting for her to reply he went on, ‘ He took a bit of a tumble – fell down that steep slope and skinned his chin and knee – and now he’d have us believe he’s one of the walking wounded. He’s fine really, though – you’re not to start worrying. Now listen, Elise, I think we ought to say what we need to in case we get cut off. Lines are beginning to be very hard to come by. I’ve arranged to come to Singapore to meet you.’

  ‘Have you? How?’

  ‘Listen, or our time will run out. Book into the Raffles if you’re there before me – do you know yet when you will be leaving?’

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow.’

  ‘You will definitely be there before me, then. Book into the Raffles and I’ll meet you there. All right?’

  ‘Yes, but now …’

  ‘Time up, caller.’ Those all-too-familiar words.

  ‘Goodnight, darling. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Yes. Gordon – tell Alex I send a kiss for him …’

  ‘Stop worrying!’

  ‘I can’t …’

  The line went dead and she stood holding the receiver in her hand and staring down at it. I can’t stop worrying. What sort of a mother would I be if I could? What sort of a mother am I? What sort of a wife?

  She crossed to the wardrobe. The maid had put out the bright red cheong-sam and, still preoccupied with the telephone call, she slipped it on. Then, as she turned, her image in the mirror swung up to meet her and took her unawares. The red of the silk seemed reflected in the lights in her hair and she thought, ‘I’m a scarlet woman!’ But the attempt at humour could not raise even a wry smile.

  Because it’s too close to the truth, she decided.

  There was a knock at the door and it opened.

  ‘Ready, then? I’m starving!’

  Brit! In his white tuxedo, with his skin tanned the colour of rich walnut, he looked all male. She felt desire twist in her like a sharp, sweet pain, and she wanted to touch him, to put her hands on his back and feel the muscles rippling beneath the smooth cloth. But something held her back – a voice on the telephone speaking to her in this very room. And a picture planted in her mind of a little boy with a grazed chin and knee …

  ‘You look pretty stunning in that dress, if I may say so. Though of course it’s taken as read that you look even more stunning out of it …

  Lazily he reached for her, his hand cupping her breast, and the pent-up guilt exploded in her.

  ‘Don’t!’

  He looked at her in surprise and she heard herself say, ‘It’s all you want, isn’t it?’

  She saw him stiffen and watched his brows drop. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Us! It’s got to stop.’

  The brows lifted again and seemed to draw up one corner of his mouth with them. Casually he unbuttoned his tuxedo, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

  ‘What brought that on?’

  ‘My husband phoned; he’s meeting me in Singapore.’

  ‘We already knew that.’

  ‘Yes, but …’ How could she explain the wave of guilt without letting him know how much she wanted him? ‘A woman can’t have a bit of fun without calling it love,’ he had said, and how close he had come to the truth! If she could simply have enjoyed him and their love-making, maybe it would have been all right – but to want him this much and know that Gordon and Alex were waiting for her, wanting her, loving her … ‘I think it’s all getting a bit much,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Really?’ His laugh was explosive.

  ‘Yes, really! You’re the one who said we shouldn’t make a big thing out of it, remember? You’re the one who didn’t want a duel at dawn.’

  ‘Too true I don’t! I can do without that sort of thing.’

  Tears ached unexpectedly in her throat. What had she
been trying to make him say?

  ‘Well, there you are. It’s been …’

  ‘Nice?’ That one eyebrow lifted still further.

  ‘No. Not nice!’ she snapped.

  ‘Really? Nasty, then?’

  ‘Oh, why do you have to make a joke out of everything!’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I was doing so.’

  ‘You’re treating it with great levity, then.’

  A gleam of near-amusement flickered in the hazel eyes. ‘I thought that was the way you wanted it.’

  ‘Oh! Sometimes I really hate you!’

  Another gleam. ‘Only sometimes?’

  She swung away and he went on, ‘I take it the purpose behind this little scene is to tell me you decided to have your Chateaubriand steak here after all – alone?’

  She hesitated. Even now, guilt or no guilt and furious as she was with him, there were no words to express how, much she wanted him. If only he would try to talk her round – make her feel he really wanted her, and not just for her body – she would surely weaken. God only knew how she wanted to weaken! He didn’t need to say he loved her – not now – just show he was not completely indifferent to her decision …

  ‘All right, Elise, it’s up to you. I know I have many faults, but forcing myself where I’m not wanted is not one of them. I’ll see you tomorrow on the next leg of our voyage – almost the last, really, isn’t it? And congratulations on being the one woman I’ve met who could see a diversion for what it is and not making a production out of it.’

  As the door closed after him she pressed her hands over her face. Arrogant pig! How could he dismiss it so? But you knew what he was – you knew how he felt – and yet still you walked right in. Forget him! You’re nothing to him and he should be nothing to you. At home you have a husband and a son who love you. Don’t endanger their love for this madness. Think of them!

  But with the warring emotions still tearing her apart, Elise knew that forgetting Brit and what he had brought her would be the most difficult thing she had ever done.

  They sailed the following afternoon on a small, cramped ship of the Apcar line. As the stretch of water widened between ship and dock Elise felt a moment’s pure, sharp fear.

  In the emotional maelstrom of the last few days she had almost forgotten the horror of being torpedoed; now, with the prospect of putting to sea again, it returned to make her quake inwardly. But there was nothing to be done about it – the voyage had to be made if she was to get back to Hong Kong and there was only one way to make it.

  ‘Three days, that’s all it will take,’ she comforted herself. ‘And we won’t even be far from land – only sailing around the Malay Peninsula.’

  This was small comfort – just the motion of the decks rising and falling on the gentle swell was enough to remind her, and the sick fear it started in her merged with the other negative emotions and petty annoyances to swamp her with depression.

  She was sharing a cabin with two members of Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nursing Corps – pleasant girls who showed her none of the antagonism she had encountered from the Wrens – but she missed her privacy all the same. And whenever she was on deck or in the public rooms, it seemed, she was borne down upon by the Hemmings couple who had somehow secured passages on the same ship.

  Elise had never liked Florence Hemmings; now, in the close confines of the ship, she positively disliked her. The Hemmings pair seemed to have obtained their berths with such ease – that alone was galling, when she remembered the difficulty she had experienced in trying to leave Cairo.

  And after the first day she thought the banality of the woman’s conversation would drive her mad.

  But short of being downright rude there seemed no way to get rid of her and at least her constant presence provided a barrier to any private conclave with Brit – if any such barrier was needed. Since sailing, they had avoided one another as far as was possible on a ship of this size; when they did meet, the atmosphere was strained and unnatural, Elise coolly determined to keep her feelings well hidden and Brit greeting her with the kind of courtly gesture that suggested sarcasm.

  He’s laughing at me, Elise thought, fuming, as he raised an amused eyebrow when he passed her on deck, trapped yet again by the relentless Mrs Hemmings. But knowing that did nothing to quell the rush of longing, almost physical in its intensity, which devoured her each time she saw him, nor sour the memory of what had been between them. At night, lying in the hard narrow bunk, listening to the slop of the ocean against the bows of the ship, she remembered the feel of his lips on hers and his thrusting, enveloping body and ached with desire for him. During the day, she was constantly on the alert so as to be prepared if she met him unexpectedly. And whenever she did love leaped in her, quickening her pulses and bringing her to sharp, singing awareness.

  It was not until they were waiting to berth at Singapore, however, that she found herself alone with him.

  Three hours had passed since they had sailed through the Straits of Malacca and still they had been unable to dock. Standing by the rail, crossly watching the activity in the Commercial Harbour that was keeping them out and grateful only that Florence Hemmings had retired to her cabin for a rest and was not standing at her shoulder to add to the mounting irritation, for the first time in days Elise was not thinking of him and when his voice cut into her impatient musings she almost jumped.

  ‘Watching the world go by?’

  ‘ ‘‘World’’ is the operative word,’ she said shortly, hiding the excitement she could not help feeling at the sight of him behind her frustration at the delay. ‘ Every ship on the high seas seems to be here. What on earth is going on?’

  Brit’s eyes narrowed as he looked with her at the hive of activity. Commercial Harbour was always crowded with sampans and from the godowns on the shore the commerce of the Orient flowed out to all parts of the world. It had been that way since his ancestors had left England to hang their fortunes on the riches of the East. Besides that, Singapore was a staging post on the great Eastern thoroughfare, to protect which the British Government had built a naval dockyard complete with huge oil storage tanks, bomb-proof magazines, barracks and stores, also a floating dock and floating crane which had been towed out from England. But today there was even more activity than usual.

  ‘Those are Australian ships putting Australian troops ashore,’ he said.

  She had suspected it and hoped that she was wrong. So much military activity so close to home was disturbing, to say the least. A chill shivered over her skin.

  ‘It really is serious, isn’t it? There is a threat from the Japs?’

  ‘I told you that from the start. Only a fool would choose to ignore it.’

  ‘But this is Singapore, not Hong Kong,’ she said, clutching at straws. ‘ I can see the Japs would want to take a strategic point like this.’

  ‘They will take it, believe me.’

  She pushed her sunglasses up her nose, taking in the ships, the troops, the heavy guns pointing out to sea.

  ‘But surely, with all these defences Singapore is an island fortress?’

  He laughed. ‘You sound like a Government propaganda leaflet. Who have you been talking to?’ When she didn’t answer, he went on, ‘They like to think it’s impregnable, yes, but they’re living in cloud-cuckoo land.’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe anyone would be fool enough to walk into all this. Why should you think they will?’

  She was hoping still that he would be unable to justify his opinion, so that she could dismiss it as pessimism. But the set of his mouth as he took out a cigarette and lit it, shielding the lighter flame with his hand, warned her that his answer was all too ready.

  ‘You really want to know? All right! Point number one – a fortress needs to be safe on all sides. Singapore is only safe as long as the Japs don’t move down the Malay Peninsula and attack it from the landside. Point number two – a sea fortress is all very well, and guns pointing out to sea as those are mig
ht settle for any warships that tried to move in. But what about the air? And point number three. As far as I can make out, the whole defence of Singapore is based on it being able to hold out for seventy days until the Eastern fleet arrives to bail it out. What Eastern fleet, I’d like to know?’

  She stood in silence for a moment, assimilating what he had told her, and could not think of a single argument to throw at him. What he had said was all too feasible, too sickeningly possible; all she could not understand was why no one else seemed to be saying it.

  The dread was a weight in her and she asked heavily, ‘And what about Hong Kong?’

  ‘Hong Kong doesn’t stand a cat’s chance in hell. Even the Chiefs of Staff who are shutting their eyes to the fact that Singapore is vulnerable admit that. There’s no way Hong Kong can be defended, and you might as well face the fact. What you must do is get back, get your son and get out.’

  The sinking feeling deepened. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I certainly do. Take him and get the hell out of it, whatever your husband says. Which brings me to why I wanted to see you.’

  A crazy leap of the heart. Why? Why did you want to see me?

  ‘Since he’s coming here to meet you, I take it he will arrange your passage back to Hong Kong from here.’

  A falling away, down – down – down – into that black, bottomless pit.

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘That’s all right, then, And you’ll be able to fix yourself up with somewhere to stay until he gets here?’

  ‘Yes. The Raffles, I hope.’

  ‘The Raffles! Where else? I shall see you there then, I expect.’

  ‘Yes.’

  As he strolled away, the emptiness within her was a great, aching void. Despite all that had been between them, he had not even touched her. Despite all they had shared, he had not once looked at her in that way which turned her bones to water.

  That’s because he has had what he wanted from you, she thought, the knowledge like a knife thrust of pain. Had it really meant nothing to him? How was it possible that she could have felt so much when he had felt so little?

  As the ships manoeuvred in Singapore Harbour, she was reminded again of the threat hanging over this pan of the world that she had grown to love. Get your son and get out, Brit had said – a further proof that it was immaterial to him whether or not he saw her again. But also sound advice. If things were this serious, she must take Alex and go. If the Japs came, the horror that would come with them was almost unimaginable.