by Jane Arbor
Katin shrugged. 'Two months?' she offered, and then was interested enough to ask, 'How do you find where I live now?'
Sara told her. At which Katin began, 'And if you
ask Mrs Sunderabad about me, why do you not ask her where ?'
The question was never finished in the crisis of the next few fraught minutes. Sara was aware that, behind her, the stallholder had been keeping both the children spellbound with his juggling of a papaya fruit the size of a football. But as Katin was speaking he dropped it.
It bounced to the roadway with a thump. The man scrambled for it and tripped. One of the toddlers darted, shouting with glee—straight into the path of a motor-cyclist weaving a reckless course through the more cumbrous traffic.
For a stricken moment of inaction Sara stared, then plunged. She caught the babe by its tiny skirt and half flung, half pushed it behind her before she and the motor-cyclist came down together in a tangle of limbs and a resounding crash of metal. Then the stutter of the dying engine was drowned in the noisy clamour of shock, blame and sympathy which swelled in direct proportion to the gathering size of the crowd. Hands reached to help Sara to stand. She was supported to the pavement, leaving the motor-cyclist to a wordy wrangle which looked as if it might come to blows. She was dusted down, clucked over and shown by pointing fingers that the errant baby was back in its mother's arms, while Katin nursed the other. Over the heads of the crowd she waved a signal to Katin that she wasn't hurt but that she wouldn't stay any longer. She had paid off her taxi, but another was found
for her and she was bowed away with friendly ceremony.
In the taxi she took stock. Her palms were grazed, one shoulder ached, and for the first time she was aware that the long gash from ankle to shin was the result of that leg's having been pinned under the weight of the machine. She thanked fortune that she had had anti-tetanus serum before she left England, but could feel pain and discomfort increasing by the minute, and knew that, little as her errand had accomplished, she must abandon it for today.
At home a shocked Malee ran a bath for her and Buppa supervised the dressing of her leg. Buppa announced, `Tuan telephoned while Mem was out; asked that Mem should call him when she came back. Mem knows where, he says.'
Sara said, 'Thank you. Yes, I do.' But she had expected to have time to decide whether to ring Rede or not, and now she didn't know how much, if anything, to tell him.
She was still hesitating when the bell rang and she had to lift the receiver. .
'Sara?' Rede's voice.
'Yes. I was out when you rang before, but I did mean to call you because—well, I think I have a clue, or perhaps not a due, more of an idea really, about where to get news of Mai. That's where I've been while I was out—following it up.'
'Following Mai up? Where?'
'Not Mai herself—the idea I'd had. Looking for a man who might know something about her, or even
where she is. That took me to Chinatown—'
'You hared off into Chinatown on this crazy hunch you'd had? Why didn't you ring me straight away?' There was biting censure in Rede's tone. 'You had Lim along with you, of course?'
'No. I thought you didn't want the staff to know anything about Mai, so I took a taxi.'
'And ?'
'I'm afraid I didn't learn much. I—had a bit of an accident, you see.'
'What kind of an accident?'
'I was knocked down by a speeding motor-cyclist.'
'You were going on foot in Chinatown? What had become of your taxi?'
'I had paid it off while I called at an address I'd been given. But really, though I had to come home, I'm not much hurt—only some cuts and bruises. Anyway, about Mai
'Save it,' Rede cut in. 'You can hang up now. I'm coming back.'
'Tonight? Can you?'
'If there's a night plane I should make it by the small hours. And Sara—call Doctor Houland to yourself.'
'Oh, Rede, I'm all right. There's no necessity!' 'Call him.' Rede hung up.
He did not arrive in the early morning. He had had to fly via Kuala Lumpur, where the flight had been grounded by fog for over two hours. Sara had just
finished dressing when he came into her room. After greeting her, he pointed to her bandaged leg. 'Ought you to be on that? Has Houland seen it?' he asked.
'Yes. He has stitched it and says it will go on all right.'
`And the rest?'
She touched her shoulder. 'Bruising there, that's all.'
'And shock?'
'Some, I expect. But he made me take a sleeping pill, and I'm fine this morning.'
'And these are the facts you didn't give me over the phone?' As Rede spoke, he pointed to a headlined item on the front page of the copy of the Straits Times which he had had under his arm. 'The early edition which I picked up at the airport,' he explained. 'Have they got the details right?'
Sara read the short paragraph which enlarged upon the headline—'Heroic Street Rescue of Child By Wife Of Well Known Citizen', and smiled wryly. 'Most of them,' she said. 'But there was nothing "heroic" about it. This baby ran out into the road; I grabbed her, and that was all there was to it.'
'Except that you may have saved its life and probably risked your own, if I've ever seen a China- town street in the evening. How did they know who you were? Were you badgered by reporters?'
'No. I left as soon as I could get a taxi. But Katin knew who I was. She must have told them I was Mrs Rede Forrest, I suppose.'
Rede's brows went up. `Katin? The Malaysian
girl who informed on George Merlin?'
Sara nodded. 'And now I believe she could be a lead to Mai.'
'How's that? Did they know each other?'
'No, but—' Sara turned about on her dressing-stool. 'Sit down, Rede, please, and listen—'
He put a question or two into her story as she told it, and when she finished lamely, 'Well, that— finding Katin, I mean—was as far as I got,' he queried dryly, 'And it didn't occur to you that you could have got this Charn Narong's address from your personnel lady, just as easily as you got Katin's?'
Sara's mouth dropped open. 'Oh ' she said
blankly. 'I never thought of that. And now I remember, Katin did begin to ask me why I hadn't, I think. But just then the baby dashed, and—'
`Katin's wits a step ahead of yours, evidently. But if you had been a bit more smartly off the mark, you might have saved yourself from charging into the heart of Chinatown at a peak hour, and getting your name in the papers,' said Rede, his tone still dry.
Sara looked across at him anxiously. 'Rede, I'm sorry about that—about the Times getting hold of it. Do you mind very much?'
He came to stand over her, looking down at her. 'Mind?' he echoed. 'Let's say, about as much as any man would mind his wife's showing the world the brand of courage she has.'
'Oh, Rede ' Embarrassed by the oblique com-
pliment, she looked away. 'Anyhow, there was nothing brave about it. It was just a reflex action thing that anyone could have had.'
He agreed, 'The reflex bit, I grant you. The action, no. In nine onlookers out of ten, there'd be either none or too late.'
'Which doesn't prove I was brave at all—only that I was the out-of-step tenth who jumped to it in time.' She glanced at him with a hint of mischief. 'And is in blank contradiction of your claim that, as to quick-wittedness, Katin has a good deal of edge on me ! ' she concluded lightly.
The corner of his mouth lifted in wry amusement. 'In other words, I can't have it both ways— either you are as dumb as they come, or you are the original bionic woman? All right. But may I remind you that I didn't suggest the reflex-action theory. I only ventured to praise your courage.'
Touched, 'Yes, and thank you. I'm grateful,' she said, thinking as she spoke that she would have thanked a stranger's commendation in much the same words. She and Rede were still worlds apart in everything in which they should have been close.
He was saying practically now, 'And so this is where w
e take to the only trail to Mai that we've got—this fellow with whom you think you saw her once, and for whom we have a name, if not yet an address.'
'I know I saw them together,' Sara claimed. 'Are you going back to Mrs Sunderabad to ask her about him?'
'And you're coming too. You're my credentials for asking questions which the lady might think it her business duty to refuse to answer.' Taking both Sara's hands in his, as if she needed help to stand, he asked, 'Can you walk to the car on that leg?'
'Of course—anywhere.' But she had to accept the support of his arm tucked firmly into hers, and also the surprising intimacy of his fingers feeling for hers and dasping them too.
Only twice in the drive into the city did she question their errand. 'Are you thinking that Mrs Sunderabad might refuse to give you Mr Narong's address?' she asked.
Rede nodded. 'It's just possible. Yesterday you were enquiring about a girl whom you knew. Today I'm asking about a man I can't claim to know, which is where you will have to satisfy her that the two enquiries are connected.'
'I see.' Later, and just before they reached the store, Sara put her infinitely more difficult query.
'Rede,' she began, 'supposing—that is, if we do find Mai, will you try to be kind? Try not to blame her too much for running away?'
His mouth set in a hard line. 'That's going to depend on how good a reason she had,' he said grimly.
'But she must have had a reason which seemed good to her!' Sara pleaded. To which he retorted,
'Good enough to justify her cheap getaway? It had better be.'
Sara sighed. He had said there had been nothing
of love between himself and Mai. But Mai's letter had implied she had run away from him in person, and could he be so bitter if it weren't so? Sara wondered.
Mrs Sunderabad was so agreeable about supplying the address they wanted that they left the store within a quarter of an hour later, after she had also found time to give Charn Narong a warm testimonial. An excellent employee, conscientious, reliable and with a charming manner towards customers, was her verdict. They drove out to Changi village and Rede stopped the car outside one of the modern purpose-built apartment blocks which faced out over formal garden plots and neat lawns.
The Narong address was on the ground floor. As they waited for their knock to be answered, Sara whispered, 'Supposing he denies any knowledge of Mai?' and Rede replied, 'Then we'll be back to Square One. Just as we shall be if your hunch was wrong and we're chasing a fellow you've never seen in your life.'
But when the door was opened to them, it was by the urbane young waiter of Sara's memory, and hand-in-hand with him was Mai.
CHAPTER NINE
With a little gasp, Mai wrenched her hand free and set it palm to palm with the other in greeting. Her head bowed, she murmured, humbly, 'Mr Rede. Mrs Sara,' as if she had never addressed them less formally than that. Then her hand took refuge again in the young man's as she lifted her liquid dark eyes to him. 'Tell them, please Charn. They do not know,' she appealed.
The young man acknowledged Rede and Sara with a slight bow. 'Mr Forrest—Mrs Forrest. I know of you from Kluai Mai. My name is Charn Narong. We are betrothed. This is my father's house. Please to come in.'
He showed them into a bright room where a white-haired woman was sewing. 'My mother,' he introduced her. 'My father works at batik factory and is not here until evening. Kluai Mai will live with us until we are married.' He paused and looked down at Mai's bent head. 'I must tell them now, little one, why you left them and came to us, and that for the wrong you did them, I alone am at fault.'
At that Mai seemed to come to life. 'No ! ' she protested. 'I must tell them, and they must blame me.' She turned to Sara. 'Please, you will listen and
try to understand?'
, Sara glanced at Rede's stony expression and thought it best to speak for him. She said to Mai, 'We'd have liked you to tell us the truth before you left us. But yes, we'll listen now.'
Mai betrothed! Her future settled by this self-possessed young man. But did she love him? And what, Sara wondered, were she and Rede to be forced to hear about Mai's desperate bid for escape from the prison of her love for Rede?
Mai sought Charn's hand again and gripped it as she began dispiritedly,
'We are children together in Kota Tingii, Charn and I. We play and learn together and know always that we like to be with each other more than with anyone else. Then, when I am fourteen and he is older, and we have finished with school, his father comes to Singapore for work, and I learn to dance with a teacher. We do not meet very often, but when we do, though we talk always of marriage one day, we are happy to wait for a while.
'For Charn, you see, must first do his sacred service as monk, when he joins the monastery and I may not see him during all his time there and his mendicant journeys. That time began a month before you'— she glanced quickly at Rede and away— 'before, you came to Kota Tingii and promised me a place in the Dance School if I passed its tests.'
Rede spoke for the first time. 'You told me nothing about this attachment. Don't you think you should have done?'
She nodded slowly, then contradicted that. 'Not,' she said, 'when I knew how much it meant to you that I should dance. Dance perfectly, give all my time and thinking to the dance, live for dancing— which I could not do.'
Rede accused, 'You allowed me to believe you could.'
'Because I knew how much it meant to you that I should make a great career.'
'A career I've wanted for you, because I know it's well within your powers.'
'And wanting it for me, you would have been ashamed and hurt and disappointed if I had not made it—though I did not want to.'
'If you didn't, you put on a pretty good show of complete dedication to it,' Rede returned acidly.
`To please you, Mr Rede. Only to please you. I love to dance and always shall, but—'
'And you thought I couldn't take the truth? Tell me, do you suppose I've never been disappointed or let down by anyone before?'
For the first time Mai looked him squarely in the face. 'I think it not very likely, Mr Rede,' she said quietly. 'Except by me, I think your trust will always have been honoured. You expect it to be, and so it is.'
He shrugged. 'Hm, you'd be surprised. However, you're saying that, though you were afraid to tell me so, your heart never was in your dancing career?' Shy again, 'Only,' she said, 'the bit of my heart that didn't belong to Charn. And though I was
afraid to tell you, I did try to get you to allow me to escape from it
'By claiming you weren't equal to it, which was patently nonsense. For pity's sake, child,' Rede suddenly exploded, 'What kind of monster do you take me for, that you dared not tell me the truth, and so took the coward's way out by running away instead?'
'Please, Rede ' That was protest from Sara
at sight of Mai's trembling mouth and glistening eyes. But he shook off the hand which Sara had laid on his arm and pulled Mai towards him. Charn reluctantly let her go.
'Why couldn't you stand up to me and tell me that dancing was all very well, but that you were in love and wanted to marry and live happily ever after with your man?' Rede demanded of the girl.
She hung her head. 'I thought you would not understand.'
'About love?' Rede paused. 'Why shouldn't I? I'm married, aren't I?'
Mai looked up and across from him to Sara and back again. Then comprehension seemed to dawn like a lovely light and her slow smile was for them both. 'You mean that because you love each other, however disappointed you were about me, you would have understood and have forgiven me?' she whispered.
'You could put it like that,' said Rede.
They had stayed in the bright little apartment until
the early afternoon. Before Mai had flung herself, first into Rede's arms and then into Sara's with an ecstatic, 'Oh, Rede! Oh, Sara dear!' the white-haired mother had quietly departed to make coffee, as if confident, even if no one else was, that it would be welc
omed by the company before long. After that Sara and Rede were pressed to stay for the midday meal. Mai cooked a dish of laksa, and for dessert there were fresh mangoes and diced pineapple in syrup, wrapped in parcels of hot, mouth-melting pastry.
Mai had confided to Sara, 'We shall be married at the new moon—it is a good-fortune time for marriage. We are able to rent a small apartment, and Charn is decorating it with wall-paintings now. He is very clever with his brush.'
'And will you dance at all after you're married?' Sara asked.
'Cham says I may take a few engagements, and I shall. Until'—Mai flushed prettily—'until the babies come, and then I shall be happy to be mother. And as good wife to Cham as you are to Rede. And now he has forgiven me, you will both come to my marriage ceremony?'
Sara had promised that they would, and now, alone with Rede on their return journey to the city, there was nothing between her and her inevitable admission to him of how her doubts had wronged him and Mai; an owning-up to a guilt for which 'I'm sorry' or even 'Forgive me,' would be utterly, emptily inadequate.
He knew of her suspicions and had scorned them with acid force. And yet, right up to Mai's telling of her story, she hadn't had faith enough to believe him. He had called her self-wronged, and so she was. The seeds of Isabel Iden's poison had found fertile ground with her, and how, how was she to atone to Rede for that?
The traffic was heavy and he drove in silence until they reached the quiet residential roads of their district. Then he gave her an opening.
'Well, the child certainly fooled we,' he said. 'Talent, dedication, ambition—I thought she had the lot. And what do I find? That I've been playing Svengali, not to a budding world-famous classical danseuse, but to a cosy homebody with her sights set no higher than a two-by-four apartment in Changi village, bless her silly heart!' He sounded less angry than wryly self-critical, and Sara was relieved.
She said, 'It was good of you to leave her to the illusion that ours was a—a normal marriage. She would have been utterly shattered if you'd told her the truth.'
'And what is the truth? You wanted your revenge upon Iden; I wanted marriage to you for my own reasons. But did you really expect I'd allow Mai to guess we'd struck the cynical bargain we did?'
