"Now now Michael, Mr and Mrs Rivers don't want to hear all about your views. You'll be putting them off their dinner." Miss Chalcot appeared at Diana's elbow. Close up she appeared even paler. "How are you both? I'm afraid I've not been myself these last couple of days and I've been neglecting my guests. Have you managed to have a good look round KL yet?"
"Good evening, we're both fine thank you and having a great time aren't we, Diana?"
"Hello, Miss Chalcot. Yes, we love it here and only wish we could stay longer. I'm sorry you've been unwell."
Their hostess shrugged giving a slight shake of her head. "It's to be expected."
Steve offered her a chair and then said, "Actually we're going into KL tomorrow morning. We thought we'd take a look over the stadium gardens and perhaps visit the old Selangor club. Di lived here for some years as a child you know. She's been itching to see some of her old favourite haunts. I've warned her that things will have changed quite a bit since she was a girl."
Mr Browning gave a nod of affirmation. "You'll probably not recognise the old place. As I was saying to your husband a moment ago, things don't stay the same for long these days."
Miss Chalcot got up to go saying, "Talk to Michael here. He knows this place as well as anyone. Anything you want to know, I'm sure he can fill you in with. Excuse me, I have to check something. Enjoy your evening."
They watched her leave the room, knowing that each step she took was an agony.
Michael Browning broke the silence. "As you're coming into KL tomorrow, why not join me at home for some lunch?"
"How nice! But we really couldn't intrude," Steve said.
"Please, there's no intrusion at all. I'm going to be at home for the day, anyway. I have a beautiful house which I don't get to show off as much as I'd like these days, and my cook knows how to throw a superb tiffin lunch."
Diana needed no second invitation and jumped at the chance to spend some time with an old Malaya hand. An hour or two in his company might well throw some light on Miss Chalcot's family. "We'd love to. Thank you, what time and where exactly?"
A time and address was given which Diana jotted down in her notebook. Steve thought it typical that she had the tools with her - as usual she was prepared for anything…
~~~~~
…Mr Browning visited us again. I'm sure it was the next day, although according to Mother, Hermione made sure I was heavily sedated over the next twenty-four hours. They said it was for the best after all the trauma I had gone through. What they didn't know was Emma had paid me a visit the first day after Father and Paul's deaths, and it wasn't a very nice visit.
I might have expected Emma being Emma, to rant and rave and tear out her hair in handfuls over the tragic events, but she was the complete opposite. While the dawn lingered with a pale, flushed salmon and grey light, I had woken to find a very still and severe-looking Emma sitting by my bedside. As I was heavily drugged, I thought at first that I was imagining her figure slouched in the low cane chair, but her hot and hard little fingers pressing spitefully into my arm soon had my senses on full alert.
"You murdered them," she hissed. "You deliberately shot them both. You hated Father so much for ridiculing you, and you were so full of jealousy over Paul and our love that you thought to put a stop to it. And what better way to finish it than to kill them both. I hate you and I always will. You're so weird and horrible and to have planned all of it! Sometimes I feel I don't know you at all. And now you expect to get away with this, but I'm going to see you don't. The whole world will know what a murderer you really are."
"Em," I began weakly, "I swear it really was an accident. The gun went off and they got shot accidently. I promise you--"
"Accident!" she spat. "How can it be an accident when you shot them both? You used two shots and both were killed. Everyone heard the blasts. I don't know how you even came to have the gun with you in the first place. Did you steal it?"
"It was the one I'd been using that morning. I still had it as I was meant to clean it. I never got round to doing it and it was still loaded. Please Em--"
"Lies, all lies. I'm going to speak to Mother and Hermione. They'll know what to do about you. This time, Mummy's little favourite won't win, mark my words."
With that she stood up, whirled around and ran from the room. The door slammed in the frame and reverberated for a few seconds after she had disappeared. I was sick with misery and apprehension. Had I really killed them both? I remembered the blast from my gun, but the sound being so close and loud in my ears had made me deaf for a minute or two. When the second shot was fired, I remember through my deafness, the shot sounding muffled and far away.
Mr Browning was the next person to pay me a visit. I hadn't seen Mother at all since her fainting fit when she had entered Father's study and witnessed the carnage I had caused. Hermione said she was very distressed and needed to be alone. I suppose, despite her true feelings towards my father, she was his wife, and they had been together for a long time. She was bound to feel something.
"Alex my dear, Inspector Browning wishes to have a few words with you about last night." Hermione's face swam into view as she hovered near my bed. "Can you make yourself presentable and sit up? I'm sure he won't upset you as he's a very nice man. That's better. I'll just arrange the sheet a bit more tidily."
I didn't answer her, but my initial thought was he may be a nice man, but he was a policeman, and I was guilty – through no fault of mine – of killing two men. As he approached my bed, my heart began to thud in my chest, and my mouthed dried. I may have been innocent, but I still felt as guilty as hell. I wanted to crawl under the sheets and hide; why did I feel so alone and incomplete?
"Hello Alex, I'm sorry about this as you must be feeling pretty rough after yesterday. I need to ask you just a few questions. As I was here and in view of your age, my superiors have agreed to this. I'm sure you wouldn't want any strangers asking you lots of questions anyway, would you?"
Mr Browning lowered his tall, slim body into the cane chair by my bedside and gave me an encouraging smile. He had nice mid-brown, wavy hair and warm brown eyes, the colour of the deep, loamy soil of our jungles. He took a small notepad and pencil from his pocket and rested it on one bare knee. He was dressed in the uniform of the Malaysian police force, complete with light-coloured shorts with sharp creases and knee-high socks.
I shook my head and waited. Gradually, my heart slowed to its more regular beat, and my breathing returned to normal; I had been dreading an asthma attack.
Inspector Browning was actually a good egg. He asked me the type of questions I would have expected a policeman to ask a thirteen-year-old, and I relaxed. Despite Emma's words, nothing was going to happen to me.
"Can you tell me why you had the gun with you?" he asked, his pencil poised over the paper pad.
"I had been using it earlier that morning, under Father's supervision of course. He gave me a lesson in how to use it. I'm a pretty good shot," I said and then immediately wished I hadn't boasted the fact. Being a good shot was not exactly the right thing to say when one is accused of killing two people. My mouth ran away with me at times.
"Indeed. It's a strange gun for someone of your age to handle though. Those particular rifles are heavy duty and quite lethal. Surely you were used to something quite different?"
"Yes I was. Father hadn't got them for himself actually. He said they were for someone up country, and he was just testing them; as I was available he got me to try one out too."
"I see. Does he normally leave guns lying around the house? I've checked the gun cupboard, and there is plenty of space in there for more."
"No, he's very strict in locking guns away. It's probably my fault," I said miserably, plucking at the sheet drawn up around my skinny shoulders. "I was supposed to have cleaned the gun and replaced it. He must have been waiting for me to return it earlier, and then he'd have locked them all away." My voice trailed off to a whisper.
Inspector Browning scribbled in
his pad. "What about your manager? Paul, is it? Why was he there, and how did he happen to get shot?
This bit was trickier. I couldn't tell him the real reason why Paul had been in Father's study. He would have known Sunday was a day off for everyone on the plantation; neither was I going to admit that Paul had been a particularly good friend of mine.
"I don't know why he was there. I was with Father first; we were on our own, and then our manager Paul joined us some minutes later."
There was a pause while Inspector Browning’s eyes searched my face. I felt myself going red and cursed inwardly. Don't lie, a voice said inside me.
"There was an argument." I admitted finally.
"What about?"
"I don't remember. There was a lot of shouting and Paul made a grab for my gun. He pointed it at me, and Father jumped up from his chair. I lunged back for the gun, and we both struggled with it between us. During the struggle the gun went off and…you know the rest."
"What about the second shot? Was that during the struggle also?"
"I suppose so, I really don't remember. I'm not even sure if I heard it properly. My ears were ringing from the first shot, and everything sounded muffled."
"Do you know how many rounds there were left in your rifle after your shooting lesson?"
"No sorry. We had replaced the magazine once and used some from the second one."
"A lot of bullets were used then?"
"Suppose so," I mumbled, not looking up from my fidgeting hands.
The policeman asked some more questions and put his notepad and pencil away in his breast pocket. I heaved a sigh of relief, giving him what I hoped was a winning innocent smile.
"Thank you. I believe we have covered everything. I may of course return to ask you some more questions later, when you've recovered. Don’t you worry yourself about any of this and don’t talk to anyone else, except me." He stood up to go and shook my hand. "I'll go and find your Aunt Hermione and let her know I've finished. I hope you feel better soon, and I'm sorry about the loss of your father. It's always traumatic when you're as young as you are. I lost my own when I was fifteen, and I've always regretted not knowing him better. If you ever want to talk to me," he paused, "about anything, then please just get in touch. Here is my card."
Once he had gone, I thought about what Emma had said and her accusations. There had been two shots, everyone had heard them clearly except me, as I had been deafened. If this was the case, which shot had hit who first? How was it possible for one shot to kill one man and another shot to kill the other man who was standing in a different part of the room within the space of a second or two? Unless one shot went through Paul first and then hit my father. Was it possible? I wished I had thought to ask Inspector Browning.
Chapter 19
Father's funeral was the first I had ever attended, and it felt quite unreal watching the Anglican vicar as he went through the liturgy which preceded the burial. There was a large gathering of people wishing to pay their last respects to Father. I was more than a bit surprised, as I had always thought Father, being the man he was, would have more enemies than friends.
As I wandered aimlessly around those guests who had come back to Kebun Pertama for the funeral wake, I was again astonished at the number of people he knew and who obviously respected him. I felt peeved, and I wondered if they knew him as well as I thought I did. I always considered him to be a horrid bully, and now I was beginning to doubt my own mind. Complete strangers came up to me, patting me on the back, making hearty embarrassing remarks and asking questions. With my mind still in complete turmoil and confusion, I edged towards the outskirts of the throng until I could make my escape to my room.
Father's burial took place just days after the shooting. Inspector Browning paid us another courtesy visit, informing us that the coroner had removed a bullet from each of the two men. So everyone who said they had heard two clear shots were correct. Hermione said my ears were ringing so much from the first shot, there was no way I would have heard the second one, so close up.
Since Father's death, my mother had received a couple of visits from the family solicitors, Hull and Eaton. The two old solicitors had been acting for Father ever since he had first come out to Malaya, and handled everything to do with the estate and personal family business. None of us children discussed the visits. I assumed things would just carry on as before with Mother in charge. As we knew nothing of the contents of Father's will, there was no point in speculating.
During this time, Aunt Hermione was quite the heroine. She assumed a quiet control of the house and estate with Mother doing as much as she could to help her. Together they made a good team, and I'm sure most of the regular members of our 'set' who knew our family were surprised at how well they learned to cope in such a short time. Aunt Hermione had always been the stronger one of the two, and there was no doubt Mother looked to her for guidance and comfort when she needed it. After her initial shock, Mother had rallied within a day and was making strides towards getting back to normal. If people were shocked at her attitude, I'm sure they put it down to her strict, upper-class upbringing.
My sisters were each different in how they coped with the tragedy. Felicity was stoic and resilient: a proper English lady with a stiff upper lip. If she missed Father, she did little to show it apart from a few shocked tears on the day he died and again during his funeral service. Emma had been quiet and pale ever since witnessing the sight of Father and Paul lying in the study. She rarely appeared at meal times, and if she ate anything at all it was taken in her room. The only activities she indulged in were visits to the stables and solitary horse rides. She either ignored me, or if I did catch her looking at me, her lip would curl in disdain before she looked away. As far as I knew, she hadn't gone to either Mother or Hermione or anyone else to accuse me of killing Father and Paul deliberately.
~~~~~
Cobweb had been much neglected and needed exercise. As we cantered down the familiar track, I realised just how much I missed our regular rides. Deep down, I also missed my meetings with Paul, but his treatment towards me and what I considered his betrayal to Father that fateful day in the study, I knew I would never forgive. Since then, I had buried our friendship deep inside and vowed never to look back or to trust another man again.
It was a hot day, muggy and sticky, and I knew the monsoon was threatening to break. Once it rained, the path would become thick with treacly mud and riding would be unpleasant for both horse and rider. Until then, I thought I would make the most of it and decided to ride on to the bathing pool and waterfall. The place and its peaceful quiet always attracted me and today was no exception. I reined in and slithered from Cobweb's sweaty back before leading him down to a sandy spot where he could drink. Once he had finished, I looked round for a shady place to leave him and walked back to a grove of trees. Parting the branches, I was surprised to find Emma's horse already tethered there. As I hadn't seen her swimming, I wondered where she was.
I secured Cobweb next to her mount and went to look for her. She was still moody towards me, and I wasn't sure how she was going to react. But she was my sister, and despite our arguments and her accusations, I did love her, and wanted more than anything for our relationship to return to what it had been.
Careful not to alert her in case she took cover, I skirted along the river bank in silence. There was no sign of her anywhere. I began to feel worried in case she had met with an accident. I retraced my footsteps to the pool, and glancing up at the waterfall, I espied her. She was standing on the edge of the river looking down over the falls. Something in her manner bothered me, and in panic I screamed her name. Whether she heard me, I don't know, but she didn't change her position nor direct her look towards me. I raced along the path and began a mad scramble up the rocks towards the head of the falls. As I neared the summit, the roar and force of the water escalated. The monsoon rains must have already begun up in the high hills as the waterfall was nearly twice its normal volume with a plume of
spray and mist hanging in the air space above. I paused to catch my breath and glanced to where I might see Emma, but she was nowhere to be seen. I doubled my effort and climbed all the way to the top. Once I had made it, I had to stop; my chest felt as if it was on fire, and I cursed my weak asthmatic lungs that prevented me from being any sort of athlete. As I waited for the pain to subside, I looked round for Emma, and what I saw chilled me to the bone.
She was moving very slowly toward the rushing river. Placing one foot upon a stone at the edge, she took another step, and immediately was up to her knees in water. The roar from the falls was tremendous, and for a second I was mesmerised by the churning, gurgling river as it hurtled towards the cliff edge. I shouted a warning, and she turned towards me. Across the distance between us, her eyes widened as they met mine, and I understood the pain within them.
"Emma stop! It's too deep and fast, you'll go over the falls."
She hesitated for a moment. "I don't care."
I began to move into the river but she put out a hand as if to ward me off.
"Keep away."
"But Em--"
"You don't understand. I've nothing left without Paul. I loved him, and I don't want to go on."
"Emma!" I screamed in terror. "He's not worth it, he never was."
"What do you know? We were in love, and now he's gone because you killed him."
"Emma, I told you it was an accident."
"So you said, but you're evil and I hate you." She took another step further into the river, the water by now up to her thighs. She wobbled as the force buffeted against her.
2 Children of the Plantation Page 14
