‘Oh, that was just because you are you,’ I said. ‘And because I know you love me. Now, ring room service and tell them to cancel breakfast in bed. We’ll go down to breakfast together. They say that the chef here does superb devilled kidneys.’
Of course, Denis needed to know I was serious when I asked my questions, so I prepared carefully. To start with I dressed with care, because when one knows that one looks good one has greater confidence. Then I put on my London sapphire, which I had had made up into a brooch, because Denis knew I only wore that brooch on important occasions. Finally I picked my timing. I chose the moment after we’d had our porridge and a cup of tea but before the main course had arrived, so that we were comfortably replete but our minds still crystal clear.
‘I want you to promise me something,’ I asked Denis quite out of the blue. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to promise that you won’t answer them if you can’t, but that if you do answer them, you will tell me the truth. On my part, I promise that I will only ask what I really need to know.’
Denis smiled. ‘This sounds awfully serious,’ he said. And then he saw the look in my eyes and the smile faded. ‘Of course I promise, darling,’ he said sincerely.
‘Are you . . . working on the side of the Communists? Working with the bandits?’
Denis looked me straight in the eye. ‘I promise you that I am not working for the Communists.’
‘And you’re not in touch with Chin Peng?’
Denis’ eyes flickered but stayed candidly on mine. ‘I haven’t set eyes on Chin Peng since the war. And no, I’m not in touch with the blighter.’
I breathed a deep, deep sigh of relief. ‘Then everything is perfectly all right,’ I said. For some absurd reasons there were tears in my eyes, and Denis passed across his handkerchief.
‘Silly girl!’ he chided gently. ‘It was that extraordinary message from Catherine, wasn’t it? She must have gone a little bit potty, I’m afraid. I don’t think the poor girl has been thoroughly herself since Robert and April’s deaths.’
And so we drove back to Cameron Highlands as a team again. Invincible, so that even while we ground up the steep hill road from Tappah, with the jungle crouched and ominous on either side, I was laughing and happy and not afraid.
Chapter Thirty-Six
On the night we returned to Cameron Highlands I saw a tiger in our garden.
I’d gone to bed early, tired out by the travelling and the emotion of the past few days, and fallen asleep immediately. It was some time after midnight when I awoke, and lay staring out at the jungle ridges marching into infinity. A full moon rode high in the sky, putting a sheen on the whole world. At first I was happy just to lie there and look out at the silvery treetops but after a while I padded out onto the balcony. The air was cool and I leaned against the warm stone balustrade, staring down into the transformed garden. It was a magic world down there, with the cannas and the delphiniums, the banks of hollyhocks and the serried foxgloves all robbed of their colour and painted fairyland white. I walked to the end of the balcony and peered around the corner of the house, looking across the side lawn to where the jungle began. As I looked, there was movement in the inky shadows beneath me – and a tiger stepped out into the light.
It stood there, a huge, magnificent beast, glowing in the moonlight like something freshly minted in a silversmith’s furnace.
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
It looked up at me for a long moment, and I looked back, and then it turned away indifferently and stalked across the lawn, back into the shadows of the jungle. It was only after it had gone that I realised that I had stopped breathing.
It had been such a beautiful moment that I ran back to Denis and shook him awake. ‘A tiger, darling! It’s gone but it might come back.’ I was whispering so as not to break the spell, and I don’t think Denis really heard.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ he grumbled, looking at the bedside clock. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Come back to bed and tell me about it in the morning. I’m teeing off with Parsons at seven.’
The children were deeply impressed when I told them about the tiger next morning, and they dashed outside halfway through breakfast looking for footprints. ‘Everywhere!’ Tony reported importantly. ‘Big paw prints everywhere.’
‘There is a big tiger in the Highlands,’ Ah Khow said, laying more bacon in the chafing dish. ‘Some people are frightened. But it hasn’t taken anything. Not even a dog. The Chinese community see the tiger’s friendliness as a sign of coming good fortune.’
‘I think it’s pretty good fortune, too,’ Denis said. ‘It might keep the fairways a little bit clearer. I’m sick and tired of having to tee off at the crack of dawn.’ But he did make some sensible rules. The children were to play only on the front lawn, and come inside well before dusk.
‘It’s a friendly tiger,’ Frances announced seriously. ‘It won’t eat us.’
‘It won’t eat you,’ Tony said quickly. ‘Tigers don’t eat little girls. Girls taste awful.’
‘Boys taste worse,’ Frances responded spiritedly. But her heart wasn’t in the exchange, and her eyes strayed to the window. ‘I wish I could see the tiger,’ she said wistfully. ‘If I saw it I’d make it my friend.’ I suppose she was a little like me in that regard. I too was fascinated by danger, and I too longed to tame the things I feared.
Malcolm Bryant called in out of the blue that afternoon, driven up to Starlight in a smart brown army car and with an armed Malay policeman sitting beside the syce. He was immaculately turned out in a major’s uniform, with the crown and pips gleaming on his shoulders and his peaked cap low over his brow.
‘You look smashing!’ I said. ‘Where did you get the uniform?’
Denis had ambled out of the house behind me. ‘He’s been given a commission in the Malay Regiment,’ he said rather sourly. ‘Gives him the right to poke his nose about the place. You’re still Security, aren’t you, Malcolm? I hope you’re not investigating me.’
Malcolm blushed like a schoolboy. ‘I’m up here inspecting the new Special Branch Liaison Office in Ringlet,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind my popping in to see how you are.’
‘Of course we don’t mind,’ I said, reaching up and giving him a peck on the cheek. ‘In fact you must stay to lunch and then come riding with us this afternoon. Horace Parsons is up here too, and I’ve played matchmaker and matched him up with a girl from the Riding School. This afternoon is important because it’s their first proper outing together.’
It turned out that Malcolm knew of Pinka Robertson. He pricked up his ears as soon as I mentioned her name over lunch. ‘Morning Glory?’ he said. ‘You know her story, don’t you? One of the great legends of Pahang.’
Denis shook his head disapprovingly, but I wanted to hear the tale. After all, I had matched Horace up with the girl and I needed to know if I had done the right thing.
Malcolm took a long pull at his beer. ‘Practically everybody knows the tale,’ he said, ‘so I’m not telling stories out of school. And it only reflects the greatest credit on poor Pinka. You’ve got to understand that she was the prettiest girl at the Sungei Ujong Club, a real smash hit. We called her Morning Glory because she partied all night but was at her brightest in the early hours of the morning. Men flocked around her but she spurned them all. It was said that she had once captivated the Prince of Wales, and that after him nobody was good enough for her. She moved up here to Cameron Highlands in the late thirties and started a riding academy attached to the Tanglin School. When the war came young officers on leave would flock up here in pursuit. But again she spurned them all. Until she met her Prince Charming, a young officer called Patrick Heenan.’
I knew the name but couldn’t place the man. I didn’t interrupt. Malcolm took another long draught of his beer. ‘Patrick Heenan was born in New Zealand,
but he’d been to an English public school and was British to his polished bootstraps. Top sportsman, keen hunter, rode like a fiend out of Hell, and a devil with the women. Pinka fell for him like a ton of bricks.’
‘Was it a good match?’ I asked, suspecting that it wasn’t.
‘Patrick Heenan was a traitor. He betrayed the position of all the secret RAF up-country aerodromes to the Japs, so that when they attacked they caught half our fighters on the ground under camouflage nets. He was also up near Kota Bharu when the Japs landed, and passed on all our unit positions by radio.’
‘What happened to him?’ I asked.
‘They shot him,’ Malcolm said with satisfaction. ‘They caught him sending a message to Japanese HQ, and Ivan Lyon was despatched to bring him down to Singapore for trial. It was during the last few days before the surrender, with the Japs already on the island. Heenan made the mistake of boasting to his guards that soon he’d be a free man and they would be in prison. So they took him down to the waterfront and put a bullet through his head.’
Ah Khow came in to clear the table at that point, and it gave me a chance to think. ‘You’ve only told us half the story,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘You haven’t told us why Heenan did what he did.’
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders impatiently. ‘Money, I suppose. I’ve no idea. Does it really matter? Treachery is treachery whatever the reason.’
‘I believe he fell in love with a Japanese girl when he visited Japan before the war,’ Denis said quietly. ‘It may not excuse what he did, but it does explain why he did it. His loyalty was to another country, another culture. No doubt he would argue that he was loyal to his adopted people.’
Malcolm gave a short, hard laugh. ‘In my book the worst thing a man can do is to betray his friends.’ He looked at me, his eyes suddenly hard and interrogative. ‘What do you think, Norma? Can anything justify a man turning traitor?’
Of course I appreciated the irony of the question – just a day before I had suspected Denis of treachery. How had I felt then? Sad was the only word I could think of. I remembered a quote from somewhere: ‘Hate the treason, love the traitor’.
‘I really don’t know,’ I said truthfully. ‘I suppose it would depend on why the traitor turned against his people. I suppose I’m on Denis’s side. I wouldn’t condemn someone out of hand.’
Malcolm gave a snort of disgust. ‘A traitor is a cuckoo in the nest. I know exactly how I’d feel about a traitor. I’d shoot him down like a dog.’
‘You’d have to catch him first,’ Denis said lightly. ‘Now drink up you two – we have some serious riding to do.’
Riding had recently been banned in most of Cameron Highlands for security reasons, but it was still permitted in the rough around the golf course. It wasn’t as exciting as our usual ride in Butterfly Valley, but there was a useful stretch or two. Pinka had our mounts brought up to the clubhouse, and we set off without much fuss just after three o’clock. It was a glorious afternoon, quite warm but with a cooling breeze, and we started at a sharpish canter.
Denis, Horace and Pinka were soon some way ahead of us, so I was stuck with Malcolm. He had a rotten seat, bouncing along like a sack of potatoes, and he soon slowed to a walk. ‘Who on earth needs to ride these days?’ he puffed, and I shortened rein to drop in beside him. ‘After all, we’ve invented the motor cycle, haven’t we?’
‘I know how well you ride a cycle,’ I said, trying to be kind. ‘You can’t be good at everything.’
‘I dare say I could ride a horse pretty well if I wanted to,’ Malcolm said, a little miffed at my comment. ‘It’s just that a man must set his priorities. I simply don’t have the time for this nonsense.’ I looked at the riders up ahead of us, lithe and free, criss-crossing each other in some cheerful game or other, and could not agree.
We were briefly in a leafy gully, and Malcolm suddenly reached across and grabbed my horse’s bridle. ‘I need a quick private word,’ he said, and I sighed with exasperation.
‘I am a very happily married woman,’ I said with a ferocious smile, trying to pull my horse away. ‘So please, Malcolm – no romantic nonsense.’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘I need to warn you, Nona. You are in very serious danger. I can’t explain right now – I shouldn’t be talking to you at all – but please accept what I say. Grab those children of yours and move down to a hotel. As quickly as you can.’
‘You are being absurd,’ I said. ‘We are perfectly safe where we are. There is no way on earth Denis and I will move.’
Malcolm reined in his horse, bringing mine to a halt as well. ‘Listen to me, Norma,’ he said urgently. ‘I am up here in Cameron Highlands on duty. I know certain things that I cannot reveal to you, but please believe me when I say that your life, and the lives of your children, are in the most immediate danger. I am risking my job – probably my life – in telling you this. Do what I ask and move out of Starlight and down to Tannah Rata.’
I kicked my mount forward so that Malcolm had to drop my bridle and spur his own mount to keep up. ‘You are being quite absurd,’ I snapped over my shoulder. ‘But if you want to warn us of any danger, talk to Denis.’
‘He is the last man I can talk to,’ Malcolm called out angrily, but then I was out of earshot.
We broke from the gully at a canter, to see the others coming back for us. Just before they arrived, Malcolm drew briefly alongside. ‘I’m at the Cameron Highlands Hotel, just over the road from the clubhouse,’ he said breathlessly. ‘If you change your mind, please contact me. Any time of the day or night. I’m worried for you, Norma.’
What Malcolm had said – or rather, had tried to say – had frightened me considerably. What had he been talking about? Was he concerned that our home was too isolated, or was his warning about some other kind of danger that he knew about? Perhaps Malcolm feared what I had feared a few days before – that Denis was a traitor.
I was careful not to be alone with Malcolm after that, but rode hard at the front of the group. I think Denis noticed my agitation, but when he asked me if anything was wrong I shook my head determinedly and kept my mouth tight shut.
We had a drink in the clubhouse after the ride, and I studied Pinka surreptitiously over the rim of my gin and tonic. Her mother had been Norwegian and she had the good bone structure and fine skin typical of most Scandinavians. She was younger than Horace, but not by too much, and they made a good pair. Horace was clearly smitten, laughing whenever she laughed, touching her hand or her arm whenever circumstances allowed.
I wasn’t quite so sure about Pinka’s feelings. She had a cool reserve about her that was hard to penetrate. She would also look at Horace askance at times, a sort of humorous contempt in her eyes. But I thought it might have been an assumed contempt, designed as protective armour.
And Heaven knows, she had had need for armour in her life. It must be strange, I thought, to have loved a traitor, perhaps to love him still, but never to be able to share one’s feelings with anyone. In our fine society there are none so disdained as the traitor.
I woke up that night and lay in the bright moonlight, once again staring out at the silver forest. It was still quite early, and Denis had not yet come to bed. I lay there in that delicious state halfway between sleeping and waking, my mind drifting amongst the silver moonbeams. And then I heard something and was immediately alert. It had come from the side garden, where I had seen the tiger the previous night, and the thought came into my mind that it might have returned.
Almost without conscious volition I was out of bed and padding silently along the flagstones of the balcony, then peering around the corner to the lawn outside Denis’s study.
Two men stood in the moonlight, talking softly, confidentially.
Colleagues in a clandestine adventure. One was Denis and the other – without a shadow of a doubt – was Chin Peng.
At first I couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean that quite literally. I stood there staring down, my sense of reality quite suspended. What I
was seeing – what I was hearing – simply could not be. Denis was British and on our side. Chin Peng was the feared and bloodied leader of a gang of cut-throat bandits, responsible for killing men, women and children up and down Malaya. And Denis had promised me most solemnly that they were not in touch.
‘I’d get your people out of Moonlight at first light tomorrow,’ Denis said, his voice low but his words quite clear in the perfect stillness of the night. ‘Bryant can be as thick as a brick but he’s a persistent devil, so you had best play safe. Get everyone down to Krani Hondai’s place and tell them to stay there until you give the word.’
Chin Peng said something, but it was too quiet for me to catch, and Denis laughed. ‘I have no doubt he’ll try and make it hot for me, but he’s got absolutely no proof,’ he said.
There was a moment of silence, the two men standing companionably together in the strange white light of the moon, and then Denis spoke again: ‘Don’t forget to take care of Catherine Koh. Do something quickly. I’m worried about that girl.’ His voice was crisp and hard, almost unfamiliar, and Chin Peng nodded his head in acquiescence.
They spoke some more, but now they were moving towards the road that led up to Moonlight and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. And then, as the tiger had the night before, they turned abruptly and were gone.
Denis came up to bed half an hour later. He took a shower, and I heard him humming under the water as he always did. He put on his pyjamas in the dark, clearly not wishing to wake me, and climbed into bed just as if he were the same man who had climbed into bed with me on all those nights in the past.
But of course he wasn’t the same man. This man was a traitor.
I lay without moving until his breathing told me he was asleep, and then I fled downstairs to the sanctuary of the kitchen. I made a pot of tea and sat at the kitchen table sipping the hot, sweet liquid.
It was a long, long time ago, but I remember quite clearly how I felt as I sat there in the kitchen of Starlight. At first I felt betrayed, and then I felt angry, and then more than a little frightened. But, as the clock ticked loudly in the silence and my tea grew cold, a profound sense of loneliness crept over me. And grew and grew until I felt nothing but the loneliness. You see, ever since I had known Denis I had turned to him for everything, particularly for comfort in adversity. But now, when I needed him more than I had ever needed him before, he was the last man I could turn to.
In the Mouth of the Tiger Page 78
