"No," she said gasping, as she slipped on a loose rock under her foot.
Barely knowing what I was doing, I plunged into the river and began to make my way towards her.
"I told you to keep away," she shrieked, and I heard the uncertain fear in her voice. I couldn't believe she was really going to let the river take her over the falls and crash to her death onto the rocks below.
"Emma, he was married! Paul had a wife."
She hesitated, and I saw the effect my words made on her. A spasm of anguish crossed her face. She mouthed the word 'no' and turned back towards her mortality. I struggled on, scared stiff of the fierce current which was threatening to tear my legs from under me. If only I could reach her in time. Never before had I wished I was taller and stronger than now. She was within a hands reach, and I dove towards her just as she flung herself head first into the full rushing torrent of mid-river.
"Emma!" I too was rushing towards the edge, and I knew we had but one chance if only I could find it.
I grabbed my sister with one arm around her waist. Although she squirmed in my grasp, I held onto her like a leech. I was frantically looking for my path between the underwater rocks, and finding it difficult keeping my head above water as I hung onto her. Her gurgled screams abruptly cut off as we slammed into a rock jutting about the water line, and I felt her body go limp in my grasp. As I was about to despair, I suddenly felt someone else with me, combining their energy with mine, their strength flooding through me, just as my feet found what they were seeking…
~~~~~
Her temple was grazed where it had hit the rock, with a thin line of watery blood oozing from the wound. I managed to drag both of us from the river, and we lay sodden upon the river bank. Exhausted, I tried not to wonder if it had been worth the trouble, as once Emma gained consciousness, she burst into loud tears that wrenched at my heart.
Eventually, her sobs subsided, and she turned her swollen face and eyes to look at me. I could hardly bear to let her bring up the subject again, but knew she would want to know every last detail.
"Alex."
"What?" I muttered feeling bad-tempered, relieved and sullen all at once. At that moment I didn't know if I liked being a teenager at all.
"Was…was what you said back then true?" She indicated with her head towards the river flowing beside us.
"Mmm." I turned over onto my stomach. I didn't want to think or talk about it. I had some disturbing thoughts of my own to worry about.
"Tell me. Please."
I gave a huge sigh which turned into a cough; I had swallowed a lot of water and felt a bit sick. I turned back to face her and sat up, pushing my wet hair from my face. "What do you want to know?" I asked grudgingly, knowing full well the answer.
"You said Paul was married. Was it true?"
"Yes."
"How do you know? Who was she?"
There was a silence as I thought for a moment. Did I tell her what I had seen that awful day which ruined not only her life but my own and several other people’s as well? Knowing Emma, I decided to tell her all. She would never have given me a moment's peace if I didn't.
"Her name is Mira. She's Malay and lives in the kampong nearest the estate gates. I saw them together…doing you know what. And I know they were married, as I heard Mother and Hermione discuss making her a small widow's pension or something like that."
There was another silence and looking over to Emma, I could see fresh tears coursing down her cheeks, mingling with the blood from her forehead. She looked utterly wretched.
"Then it's true. What you and Felicity said was true all along. He was a womaniser."
If only she knew the full story, I thought, thinking of the last time Paul and I had been on our own. What would she have said about that? "We'd better get back," I said. "Mother will begin to wonder where we are."
"This changes nothing you know," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I said this changes nothing. I shall still hate you forever." Her eyes blazed at me. "You killed Paul and Father. Why, I'm not sure, but you did. And I'm sorry you saved me from the river too. I truly think Paul would have chosen me and made me his wife. If he really was married, he could have divorced her."
I sat there listening in amazement. I wasn't worried about having nearly drowned rescuing her from the river - well I was, but I would get over it – but the fact that she still thought I had meant to kill them! And she really didn't believe Paul would have stayed with his wife! Here was I, only thirteen, and yet I felt I was far more grown up than my older sister. I said nothing. Instead, I watched as she got to her feet and slowly made her way down to the rocky path below us. I wondered what Mother would have to say when she saw the state we were both in and hastily scrambled to my feet. I needed to get home in case Emma made up some lie about what had happened. Since Paul's and Father's deaths, she certainly hadn't been herself.
…It struck me and I stood in the stirrups…had I felt a hand on my shoulder? ...whatever had happened at the falls, in my own heart I felt complete and more at peace than at any time in my life...
Chapter 20
…Standing with her back to the garden, Diana was half listening to Michael Browning and Steve while they discussed politics. It was a subject she usually stayed clear of, neither trusting nor liking many politicians and their often hair-brained ideas.
Michael Browning's house was on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur in a leafy district of large houses, some of which stood in sumptuous tropical gardens. Michael's house was a low, rambling bungalow standing roughly in the middle of the plot, surrounded by a few tall hardwood trees, some smaller heavily-scented frangipani and flower beds of hibiscus, all vying for attention with their vivid colours. The veranda, on which the three of them had taken lunch, ran along the front of the house, giving almost permanent shade. Glazed pots adorned the steps, most containing fragile looking orchids or lustier agapanthus.
The garden reminded Diana of their home back in Cyprus, which apart from the orchids contained many of the same plants. Malaysia was much lusher though, having bi-annual monsoons and a tropical climate unlike their drier and hillier island. Diana loved her garden, where during the cooler months she spent hours weeding and trimming the unruly flower beds and shrubs.
She considered Michael as he sat chatting easily with Steve. He was in his late seventies, but had obviously lived a healthy life, as he appeared to be sprightly with a sharp mind. The two men changed topics. Michael was reminiscing on his life in Malaya. It was clear from his humorous anecdotes that he loved his adopted country, and he was easy to listen to.
"I never married. I suppose I might have liked children of my own, but I failed to find the right lady," he admitted, with a twinkle in his eye as he looked in Diana's direction. "Perhaps most single women out here considered me to be too much of a crusty old bachelor and set in my ways to be worth the bother of moulding into a suitable husband. But whatever the reason, I have lived a good life, and I've never wanted to return to England, however pretty the countryside. Besides, I don't think my old bones would take an English winter now."
"Is there a large ex-pat community here?" Steve asked, as Diana returned to the dining table.
"Pretty big, it's a big mixed bag now with nationalities from all over the world, not just British. Of course, years ago when we had the British services out here, it was a much bigger community. There was always something going on, lots of mess balls and parties on the bases, plus the golf and cricket clubs. If you were living out here as a child back then, Diana, you must remember some of the jollies we had. The Royal Air Force had a large contingent here until the seventies, when Britain seconded its airmen to the Malayan Air Force: to all extents the RAF trained them."
"What about Kebun Pertama during those times? I understand it hasn't always been a hotel," Diana asked, pouring herself another cup of tea and using her table napkin to fan herself against the heat.
Michael stood up, walked over to the w
all and turned the overhead fan to a faster speed. "No my dear, Kebun Pertama was a rubber growing estate for a very long time both before and after the British were here in full force." He spoke with his back to them.
Diana paused before she asked her next question, as she thought it a little delicate. There again, Michael and Miss Chalcot were obviously friends, and he must know about her dreadful illness. "Did you know Miss Chalcot has asked me to read over some of her late mother's journals? She wants me to see whether I can write them up into some sort of book."
"I didn't know. Have you read them yet? How far have you got?" He turned his shrewd, dark brown eyes to study Diana. "I wonder why she wants you to do that."
"You know she's very ill?"
He nodded his head, looking unhappy at her words. "Yes. Cancer is a dreadful thing, especially pancreatic cancer, as it is incurable and very painful I believe."
"Miss Chalcot gave me the diaries to read through when we first arrived, and I've just about read the lot. She--" Diana paused while she thought about how to say what was on her mind. "She wants me to collate the dairies into a book. She doesn't want everything to be recorded in the book, just some of it. She says there are one or two things unfinished that need to be settled and put straight."
For a moment, Diana could have sworn Michael looked uncomfortable and a frown crossed his face.
"Do you know what she could have meant?" Diana asked him.
Michael crossed his legs while playing with his wine glass. She thought he looked troubled, but as he raised his glass to his mouth he paused. "No, I have no idea."
"In the diary it mentions the children's father and his death. It also mentions Sir Winston's estate manager Paul and his death at the same time. According to one of the diaries, you were there at the house that day. It must be something to do with their deaths. Was there a suspicion of anything else at the time?"
"No. There was an inquest and it was recorded as a double accident."
"Yes," Diana needled gently. "But for a gun to go off twice. Don't you think it was a bit of a coincidence?"
"My dear, it was a long time ago, more than forty years. I think it best you let it be. As I've just said, the verdict was accidental death. Better you leave it at that."
"You're probably right. But all the same, it feels a bit odd to me, and I'm sure there's some sort of mystery there."
"Let sleeping dragons lie. Why would we want to upset them? Write your book as you've been asked to do, but a word of advice if I may. Change the family names, just in case. I'd hate anyone to get hurt by someone with a grudge misconstruing the facts." Michael said, making light of the matter. "Now, some wine or are you happy with your tea?"
"Tea is fine, thank you, I'm keeping off wine." Diana had the distinct feeling Michael was steering her away from the subject of Miss Chalcot's family. As she caught Steve's eye, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. She knew he was warning her to back off. She gave a sigh and her shoulders slumped. Steve was right; if she persisted they would become most unwelcome…
~~~~~
…As soon as I reached home, I knew Emma was going to make trouble for me. I had hardly turned Cobweb out into the paddock when I met Hermione hurrying to meet me.
"Alex, what the devil has been going on? You and Emma are wet through and she is cut and bruised and hardly coherent. I know Emma's been under a lot of strain and acting oddly recently, which is hardly surprising after your Father's death, but this now! Well! I really don't know what to make of it."
"Where is she?" I muttered, looking round behind her. "What did she say?"
We turned to walk back together towards the house, Hermione linking arms with me.
"She's upstairs taking a bath. Your mother and Felicity are with her. She's so distraught they thought it safer not to leave her. We've sent for Doctor Hugh already."
I was not surprised at her words. Emma had become very strange and nothing like the sister I was used to. I gave Hermione another startled look as we entered the house. Even from the front entrance, I could hear Emma's voice raised in angry protest. Things did not bode well for me. Entering her bedroom, I was met by a rapid tongue of vitriolic abuse.
"Get him out of here! Don't you believe me? He tried to drown me!"
Stunned, I looked from Emma to Mother. Felicity was in the bathroom gathering Emma's wet clothes into a bundle ready for the laundry but paused as soon as she saw me and gave one of her dark disapproving looks.
"Mother, that's not true! I saved her. Emma was standing at the top of the waterfall, and she slipped under the water. If I hadn't gone to her rescue, she'd have gone over the falls and drowned or bashed herself to pieces on the rocks below," I cried.
Our mother looked concerned and helplessly turned towards Hermione who was standing just behind me. "Emma, you're confused and distraught. You've had a nasty fright, but I really don't think you believe what you've just said. Why would Alex push you over the falls? And why were you there in the first place?" she said, picking up a fresh dry towel and handing it to Emma. "Let's dry your hair dear, shall we?"
Emma pushed the towel away and glared at her between the sodden rat's tails covering her face. "I'm not confused! He dragged me into the water. And that's not all! Alex planned to kill my daddy and Paul. He must have."
There was a collective gasp from all three women, and together they turned to look at me with shocked looks. Hermione collected her wits admirably and put an arm around Emma's shoulders, as she tried to lead her over to her bed. "Emma, please darling. Think about what you're saying. Your father's death was a dreadful accident, Paul's too. Yes, Alex had the gun in the study, but there was the argument between Sir Winston and Paul. These things unfortunately do happen, but Alex was not responsible for their deaths. Remember Inspector Browning told us the authorities were happy with their verdict."
Emma scowled at me from under her wet hair, and I think she was ready to do further battle, but I was saved further accusations, as there was a flurry at the door and in walked Doctor Hugh.
I was told to take a bath and then go downstairs.
~~~~~
"I've given Emma a sedative, quite a strong one, as she is so overwrought. I'm sorry you didn't let me know earlier about the state of her mind, as she's clearly suffering some form of mental illness brought on by her father's death. We need to get her stabilised, and I'm going to let you have these pills for her. She has to take them regularly for a couple of weeks at least, and we'll see how she recovers. I'll visit every day to assess her, and if she doesn't respond then we'll have to think again. How's Alex?"
I shifted my position outside the drawing room door which was wide open, allowing me to hear quite clearly the conversation between Mother, Doctor Hugh and Hermione.
"Okay as usual, water off a duck's back. It's all nonsense of course. Emma has an overactive imagination sometimes. I think it has something to do with being the middle child; she feels she's neglected and needs to show off sometimes," Mother muttered with some accuracy.
"What are you going to do about the child? Don't you think now Winston's dead you should come clean? The longer you leave it, the worse it'll get. Can you imagine what people will say if you let it go on for much longer? Yes, they'll talk now once they hear the truth, but it'll die down. Thirteen is a much better age to explain everything than twenty-one!" Hugh said, with exasperation sounding in his voice.
"I know, I know. I will very soon. The children need to know about Winston's will and where they stand, and I'll make my decision then. There's been so much to do." She sighed. "First his death, then the funeral and getting to grips with running the estate, and now Felicity wants to announce her engagement to Russell as soon as possible. I believe he is going back home to run the family farms in Yorkshire and wants Felicity to accompany him. It's all happening at once and making me quite dizzy."
I heard a gentle murmur from Hermione and I imagined her consoling my highly strung mother.
"What are you
doing?" hissed a voice in my ear. I jumped realising Felicity had crept up on me. "Alex this has got to stop. No one likes an eavesdropper. One day, you're going to hear some horrible truths said about yourself you know."
I did know and whispered a sorry. She shook her head at me with irritation and walked into the room with me closely following…
Chapter 21
…Diana had woken early and unable to get back to sleep decided that the cool dawn was the perfect time to make a start on the new manuscript.
Satisfied with her effort and the three thousand words saved to the hard disk, she shut down her laptop carefully on the small table, stretched and got up. Wandering to the edge of the balcony, she stood gazing as the sun made its first tentative move along the distant hill top, casting golden rods between the palm tree fronds lining the garden's edge. Mist curled above the trees, and Diana could smell wood smoke from the kampong fires along the road. A gibbon called in the high canopy, and far away she heard the answering call of its mate. Despite her love for Steve, she relished these occasional solitary early mornings. Nothing could match the freshness of a new dawn which chased away the darkness of the velvet night.
Diana had finished reading all the diaries and was going back over the earliest ones and taking notes. She realised that some of the story should and would never be assigned to paper as it was too personal, especially with some members of the family still living. She wondered which of the two daughters was living in England and meant to ask Miss Chalcot the next time she saw her. Which one was she? It only left the question of Alex. Where was he now, and was he even alive? He had been thirteen when the shooting occurred which would make him about fifty-nine now. She felt certain Michael Browning knew far more than he was letting on, but without his cooperation she realised she would gain nothing by badgering or cajoling him into telling her.
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