The Forgotten Sea

by Beverley Harper

  Kathleen smiled. ‘Never.’

  Holly looked away, over Grand Port. ‘How lucky you are then.’

  She felt those warm fingers against the skin on her arm. ‘You are thinking that if you had such a gift you could prevent mistakes? It doesn’t work that way, my dear. I have made many.’

  ‘But surely you could have seen them coming and taken a different direction?’

  ‘To a different set of errors, yes. There are pitfalls on every road. Changing direction does not avoid them. One’s destiny is set, though the route taken may vary.’

  ‘At least you could be forewarned.’

  ‘My gift very rarely relates to me personally, I just bumble along like everyone else. You young people have a wonderful expression. Go for it! That’s what I do, it’s what you should do. Pick whatever road feels right and go for it.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘If you hold onto past sadnesses you’ll wake up one day and discover a wasted lifetime spent milling around at some unimportant crossroads. The good Lord would probably regard that as a terrible waste of His most precious gift.’

  Holly forced her gaze away from the wide bay and back to Kathleen. She didn’t want to be having this conversation, especially in front of a very silent Connor. Such deeply personal issues were not things to be discussed with anyone other than family or very close friends. But the nun’s brown eyes seemed to be gazing straight inside her heart. ‘How do you know when you’re on the right road and are not simply making another mistake?’

  ‘You don’t.’ Kathleen smiled. ‘I think God is a gambling man. A more rigid deity would make our path straighter, don’t you think?’

  It was time to change the subject. ‘When you found the map and Aroon’s note, their significance must have been apparent. Did you make any attempt to find William’s treasure? And what about your brother? Is he interested even if you are not? After all, if the treasure exists it could be worth a fortune.’

  ‘It was irresistible for both of us to try. We compared William’s drawing with a map of Mauritius. Nothing matched. It wasn’t surprising. Back in William’s day pirates ranged all over the Sea of Zanj. It could be anywhere.’ Kathleen looked over at Connor. ‘I sensed that I wasn’t meant to find it. As for Thomas, he’s a bit of a dreamer. Loves the idea but lacks the staying power to look for it. Then, when this young man appeared from nowhere a few things fell into place.’

  ‘Are you saying that Connor will succeed?’ Holly shot him a look but he seemed more interested in the view than their conversation.

  ‘There are degrees of success. He will find it, yes, only to discover that there is much to be said for leaving it where it is. These are just feelings, you understand, but I have a very strong sense that the treasure and one other are destined to meet.’

  It seemed a strange way of putting it.

  Kathleen went on. ‘I’m not getting a clear picture. All I can say for certain is that there is danger.’

  Holly was glad she’d mentioned the curse. She asked about it. Kathleen’s answer surprised her.

  ‘William’s warning. Connor told me about it.’ She shook her head. ‘A bit of melodrama, I fear.’

  ‘But I thought you . . .’

  Kathleen looked down. ‘There is something about the map, certainly,’ she cut across Holly’s words, a hand fingering the crucifix that hung around her neck. ‘Evil can be summoned and used. Curses have been known to lie dormant for centuries. Look at the extraordinary events affecting those who violated the tomb of Tutankhamen. A curse? Or simply coincidence? Science argues for the latter but do we really know? I believe it was something more. I don’t get that feeling with William’s map. There is danger, but not from supernatural sources.’

  ‘I have the journal with me. Would you like to see it?’

  ‘I would indeed. It might make the messages I’m getting clearer.’

  Holly passed the journal to her. Kathleen sat quietly for a while, her fingers brushing the cover, eyes shut. Then she sighed. ‘Nothing. Nothing else anyway. Certainly no curse, just a feeling of danger.’

  ‘What kind of danger?’

  ‘As I said to Connor, the mind of one, possibly two others is also on the treasure. One will do anything to find it.’

  Justin! ‘Kathleen, has the map ever been out of your possession?’

  Shrewd eyes invited elaboration.

  Holly obliged. ‘It’s just that I think I’ve seen a copy of it.’

  Kathleen’s eyes flicked to Connor, who spread his hands and shrugged as if to say, ‘I suppose it’s possible.’ Then she looked back at Holly. ‘Where?’

  Holly told her.

  The nun’s serene face showed concern. ‘Be careful, my dear. Anyone who has that map, other than Connor, of course, is not to be trusted. It was stolen last year.’

  ‘But you must have got it back. How?’

  Again, Kathleen looked at Connor before responding. ‘I stole it back.’

  Holly stared at the nun. ‘You what?’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Connor was grinning.

  Kathleen smiled serenely. ‘One of the advantages of my vocation is that, to most people, I am invisible. I knew who had it. It was simple enough to wait for him to take his family on holiday, which he did at least twice a year. I broke into his house and found it in a safe.’

  ‘For which you just happened to have the key,’ Holly thought out loud.

  ‘Of course not, my dear, I picked the lock.’ Kathleen looked pleased at the memory. ‘It wasn’t a very good one.’

  Holly could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘Surely, when the person returned and found the map missing he must have realised that it could only have been you, or a member of your family taking it back?’

  ‘Oh no. I cleaned out the entire safe.’ She was really worrying the crucifix and her face had taken on a slightly defiant expression. ‘Just so it looked like a proper burglary, you understand. The . . . ah . . . jewellery . . . fetched a tidy sum. For the church, of course. I can only pray that the good Lord has forgiven me.’

  Holly’s eyebrows gave a very good impression of twin Sydney Harbour Bridges. ‘Who took the map from you?’

  Connor spoke for the first time since they’d sat down. ‘Raoul Dulac.’

  Kathleen’s face confirmed Connor’s revelation. ‘I’m afraid Monsieur Dulac is not all he seems.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘I have known him since he was a baby. He was pampered and indulged right from the start. Raoul quickly learned that he only had to demand something and he got it. Sadly, the one thing his mother consistently denied him was her attention. He grew up starved for affection. I tell you this because it explains much of the man as he is today.’ Kathleen was looking back in time, the slight smile on her face tinged with bitterness.

  ‘Raoul’s mother was a beauty. On the surface she had everything going for her – a handsome and wealthy husband, a lovely home, a glamorous life, travel, jewels, good education and an aristocratic background of her own. But she was emotionally fragile, hiding her insecurity behind a mask of cold arrogance. A deeply unhappy woman, I suspect. Any early love for her husband had been squandered by him – probably right from the beginning. I have no doubt that she loved her son, she just seemed unwilling or unable to show it.’

  Holly was thinking of her own mother. Delia’s love, affection and support had been unstinting, there for her to draw on whenever needed. She had provided a sense of security and strength. To have been without it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Kathleen went on. ‘Raoul’s father was a devil. Took what he wanted and gave nothing in return. He had a filthy temper and controlled others through their fear of him. His treatment of Raoul was no exception. He expected much of his son and was quick to punish even the slightest failure. I remember him saying, “You are a Dulac. You have no weakness.” By the age of ten, Raoul was so terrified of disappointing his father that he’d lie, cheat or steal just to please him.’

  ‘What perfectly horrible parents,’ Holly s
aid with feeling.

  ‘They were indeed, and are probably paying for it now. The good Lord called them to account only last year. They died in a fire that destroyed the original Dulac home.’ Kathleen’s eyes dropped to her neatly folded hands. ‘I try very hard to forgive them but I must confess, when I heard about the tragedy my first thought was not very charitable.’

  She looked up. ‘By the time Raoul was fourteen the pattern of his life had been set. He had no regard for anyone. His mother’s outward lack of love made him quite incapable of loving, though he always demanded it from others. In his mind, attention equates with affection and, from the little I’ve heard, that remains true to this day. If he fails to attract recognition with his manners or the way he dresses he’ll get it some other way, even if he has to buy it. Since dishonourable behaviour brought approval from his father, he sees no reason to change that. A Dulac wins at any cost. He is not to be trusted. The man has no conscience. He’s arrogant and believes himself to be above the law, untouchable. One should pity him really. In essence, he’s a very weak man.’

  Kathleen fell silent. Holly could see that she was struggling to juggle her personal dislike of Raoul Dulac with a spiritual attempt to see good in him and she was finding it hard going.

  ‘How is it that you know him so well? Forgive me for saying this but I have seen no sign of the French and Creoles mixing in friendship.’

  Kathleen seemed relieved by the diversion. ‘My mother worked at the big house. My brother and I lived there with her.’

  ‘She was a servant?’

  ‘Yes. In service with the Dulacs for nearly fifteen years. Thomas and I virtually grew up in the servants’ quarters.’

  Connor leaned over and placed an arm around Kathleen’s shoulders. ‘You don’t have to say any more if it brings back bad memories,’ he said gently.

  Kathleen smiled at him, squared her shoulders and looked at Holly. ‘I promised to tell him my story. It’s time it was told.’ She looked down at the tape recorder. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t record this, or even write about it. It has nothing to do with William’s treasure.’

  Holly stopped the tape. ‘I’ll honour that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kathleen turned back to Connor. ‘You are connected to Raoul Dulac in some other way, I can feel it. Be careful of him, he’s a dangerous man.’

  Connor went to say something, shook his head and remained silent.

  ‘I understand.’ Kathleen nodded. ‘You cannot speak of it.’ She stared off into the distance and it seemed to Holly that the wind which had sighed through the overgrown ruins since they arrived was suddenly still with anticipation. ‘I have never spoken of this to anyone save my own mother. Not even Mother Superior knows the full story. There is something . . .’ Kathleen hesitated, ‘. . . something out there which compels me to do so now. Forces within forces. I cannot get a clear picture but the message that keeps coming back is very strong. It is imperative that you both learn the truth. It is the past that warns us of the future. Perhaps that is why you must be told, to help protect you.’ She smiled slightly. ‘God’s wisdom does not need to be understood in order for us to accept it. I don’t question His intention even though the reason for it may remain clouded. This is what happened.’

  SEVEN

  ‘I was five and my brother three when our mother was employed as a maid by Raoul’s father. Thomas and I went with her. Daddy had always been a fisherman. Some years were better than others but we never had much money. When the chance to work for the Dulacs came up, my parents saw it as an opportunity to secure a more reliable income. Mummy worked six days a week. Most Sundays the three of us caught a bus home to see our father. Those visits were wonderful. We seemed to laugh all the time. My parents were very close. I think the separation brought them even closer. Having only one day a week together, they made every minute count. Thomas and I were sent outside to play while they . . . ah . . . well, they said they were cleaning the house.’ Kathleen smiled. ‘In the afternoons we’d have picnics, see friends, swim, go to church. Sometimes, if he’d had a good week fishing, Daddy would take us all out to tea. Then we’d have to get a bus back to the north and return to the Dulac estate. Not that we didn’t like it there, you understand, it was just that we missed our father. The first eight years were good.’ Kathleen’s voice was soft as she looked back over half a century.

  ‘Along with all the other employees’ children, my brother and I were educated in a little school on the estate. We were fortunate. Our teacher was Chinese – a Mr Po. A truly gifted man. He was not satisfied simply imparting knowledge – he managed to do it in such a way that most of us wanted to learn more. Mr Po wasn’t a qualified teacher, in fact he wasn’t very well educated. In some ways he was still learning himself. That’s what he communicated to us, his own enthusiasm to acquire knowledge. For eight years, all the children – Creole, Indian and Chinese – benefited from his dedication.’ She laughed softly. ‘Even if he couldn’t pronounce his r’s and l’s properly. He would say things like “fright” instead of “flight”. It didn’t matter, we knew what he meant.’

  Kathleen hesitated, as though reluctant to pass on from happy memories. ‘I would say that my childhood was a good one. We had the security of a roof over our heads, food in our tummies and clothes on our backs. We were more fortunate than many. The estate even had its own chapel. A special place, peaceful and quiet, where I could thank God for His many blessings. It was the one place where the Dulacs and all their employees seemed to find common ground. Every Sunday, nearly everyone on the estate collected there. It was a kind of ritual. No-one was allowed inside until the Dulacs arrived. They would come in their Sunday best and speak with all of us. I didn’t like it much. To me it seemed as if God was just their excuse to show off. Fortunately, being Mother’s free day, we didn’t go very often. I preferred having the chapel to myself.’

  A shadow passed briefly over Kathleen’s face. ‘I was thirteen when our teacher was told to leave. We had no warning. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t, replaced by an Indian woman who could barely speak French or English. Monsieur Dulac came to the schoolhouse and told us that Mr Po had filled our heads with nonsense, that we were destined for work in the fields or the big house, and that a few of us might as well start now. I was one of those he selected, and I was put to work in the kitchen. At night, by the light of a candle, I continued my studies. It was difficult. Kitchen duties were hard and the hours long. More often than not I would fall asleep over my books. But Mr Po had done one thing for me. He’d taught me to read and write. Armed with that, I was determined that I could educate myself.’ Kathleen glanced at Holly. ‘Motivation is the student’s greatest ally. Remember that, both of you, when you have children.’

  Holly risked a brief peek at Connor, embarrassed, but he did not look her way.

  ‘I worked in the kitchen for two years. Then, one day, Madame Dulac sent word that I was required to serve at table. I didn’t want to. I’d heard gossip . . . it was safe in the kitchen. The girls who waited at table . . . some of them . . . Monsieur Dulac . . .’ Kathleen broke off, her eyes downcast. She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I’m telling this badly.’

  ‘Take your time,’ Connor said in a gentle voice, so full of understanding and sympathy it brought a lump to Holly’s throat.

  Kathleen flashed him a grateful look. When she resumed the tale, her voice was steady. ‘They had a big lunch party. I was very nervous and spilled a little soup on the tablecloth. Madame Dulac became very angry. She slapped my face in front of all her guests. One of them laughed. I was terribly embarrassed, which made things worse, and I kept on making mistakes. It became a cruel game. Madame Dulac would call out, “Here she comes again, be careful everybody.” She was deliberately drawing attention to me. I know why now but, at the time, it seemed that she was just amusing herself at my expense. Monsieur Dulac sat smiling at the head of the table. When I went to remove his plate he put a hand on my bottom and pinched it, hard. I r
ealised that he, like everyone else, was drunk. They all saw him touch me but no-one thought it strange.’

  Holly found her hands clenched in anger. The bastard! How could anyone inflict such humiliation on a helpless fifteen year old who was in no position to object?

  Kathleen continued. ‘It was a Sunday. My mother and brother had gone to see Daddy. I had about two hours between shifts and should have gone back to my room. But I’d missed church. The family and their guests were still busy at the house. I thought it would be safe enough to visit the chapel.’

  Connor’s eyes met with Holly’s over Kathleen’s head. Both thought they knew what was coming.

  ‘Monsieur Dulac found me there,’ Kathleen said simply. ‘He raped me.’ She shrugged slightly. ‘It had happened to others. All of us lived with a fear that, one day, it would be our turn. We were nothing more than animals, to be used at will. Monsieur Dulac acted as if the young girls were his to do with as he pleased. When it was over, all I could think about was that he had desecrated sacred ground.’ For a brief moment her voice wavered. Holly realised that the rape was less distressing to this deeply religious woman than where it took place.

  ‘That was the start of it.’ Kathleen fell silent again, remembering. Then, ‘You might ask why I stayed? I was fifteen, where could I go? My mother . . . had been aware of the danger. It was always her intention to send me away if Monsieur Dulac made any improper advances. She never forgave herself for not being able to protect me.’

  ‘But surely she . . . ?’ Holly’s fists were still clenched.

  ‘Secrets,’ Kathleen whispered. ‘So many secrets.’

  A flurry of breeze disturbed the moment, disappearing as swiftly as it had come. ‘Odd,’ Kathleen observed. ‘It’s the wrong direction for trade winds at this time of year.’ They watched as its passing ruffled the smooth waters far below. Then Kathleen resumed her story.

  ‘You were about to ask why my mother didn’t then send me away. She couldn’t. Monsieur Dulac made it impossible. Oh, she was quite prepared to walk away from her job, but he threatened to tell my father that she had been his mistress for the last ten years. Mummy couldn’t risk –’