“I’m sorry.” I stole a look at Abby and he raised his eyebrows. He and I had discussed Belinda during the short journey from the hotel and he had warned me that I would have to face the music from Nazira. “I should have let you know, both when she fell seriously ill and when she died. But to be quite honest with you … well, you know what I’m trying to say.”
“Off course we do,” Nazira said. “How are you coping?”
I shrugged, finding it difficult to think of the right words. “She was my life, Nazira and I…”
She put a hand on my arm and gave me an understanding smile. “It is me who should apologise, Richard.”
“No, not at all. We had both prepared ourselves for what we knew was going to happen but that didn’t make it any easier when the time came.”
“What about the children? They must be nearly fourteen now.”
“Yes, their birthday is in August but of course you know that. They will be on their summer holidays as usual. When their mother died, they were marvellous and in many ways they coped better than I did. Isabelle in particular was a pillar of strength and still is.” I took a deep breath. “It’s Belinda’s mother who is now giving us reason to worry.”
Abby stopped eating and looked at me. “Why, Richard?”
I put my spoon down. “She had a stroke on Tuesday and when I left England she was still in hospital.”
They both said, “I’m sorry,” together.
“Understandably she took Belinda’s loss badly. She became introspective overnight, absorbed by her grief. I suppose something like this was likely to happen. Belinda’s father is there though, and he was the one who insisted I accept your invitation, Abby.” He gave a slight shake of his head and looked sideways at Nazira, who frowned.
“Invitation?” she repeated, looking confused. “I thought you were here on business, Richard.”
Abby’s closed his eyes and I realised from his guilty look that Nazira knew nothing about the real reason why I was in Brunei and, at that particular moment, neither did I. I thought quickly. “Well I am,” I said unconvincingly, “but the dates were flexible and I rang Abby to see which dates were most convenient to him. When I say he invited me, after speaking to him we came up with dates that suited us both.”
“I presumed that you were here to do something about the damming project in Bangar,” Nazira said, still confused.
This time Abby nodded slightly. I hated lying but I had little choice. “Yes, that’s right but I’m not here officially. I have resigned from Astek but because I know more about the project than anybody else, well, the planning was incomplete the last time I was here and there are a few loose ends to tie up.”
“Why did you resign, Richard?” Nazira asked.
“I need to be in England for the children,” I said.
“I understand,” Nazira said, her smile sympathetic. “But you are here unofficially?”
“Yes,” I said. “The project was shelved but now …”
“… it’s being dusted off, is it?” Nazira remained unconvinced.
It was Abby’s turn to tell a white lie. “In a way,” he offered. “There are some technical questions that need answering and that is why Richard is here.”
Nazira used her little finger to scoop up a small piece of mango that had fallen onto the table. “When you decide between you to tell me the truth, do let me know,” she said quietly and then, “Coffee, Richard?”
“Please,” I said a little too sheepishly.
The maid cleared the table and the three of us moved across to the living area.
On the way back to the hotel, and after apologising profusely for the umpteenth time for any embarrassment he had caused me, Abby eventually got round to the real reason for my visit.
“It’s nothing to do with Bangar, Richard.”
“I had deduced that,” I said, smiling. Abby was westernised in many ways but the embarrassment of losing face was still part of his nature. I did find it quite incredible, though, that he hadn’t told me what Nazira knew and what she didn’t know. Arriving for dinner after travelling ten thousand miles was bound to generate the question of why I was here in the first place. If there was something to cover up then we could have at least agreed a simple and acceptable story.
“But now is not the time to discuss it,” Abby volunteered. “We need complete privacy and the only place I can guarantee that is if we go out in the boat tomorrow.”
“By boat I presume you mean that rather luxurious launch you keep in the Muara marina?”
He nodded. “I have replaced the one you saw last time.” We were approaching the hotel and there was little traffic about but Abby was driving as though we were navigating Hyde Park corner. “But, yes,” he said seriously, “we will go out on my launch. If I collect you from here at about ten in the morning we’ll go offshore for a few hours and then I promise you I will tell you why I asked you to come.”
“Can’t you give me an inkling now?”
He pulled up outside the hotel and turned to face me. “Richard, I can’t.” He looked furtively about him. “We have to be alone. When I tell you what is going on I am sure you will understand why I am being evasive now. I ask you to be patient until then.”
“Abby, my friend, I will probably spend all night trying to work out what is worrying you, but I have too much respect for you to pressure you any more now.” I held out my hand and Abby took it.
I smiled.
“Thank you for a most enjoyable evening. Nazira is as gorgeous as ever and the children are a credit to you.”
“Thank you, Richard, and thank you for your friendship. I know we come from different worlds but we must never let that interfere with what we have.”
The expression on his face was full of sadness.
After the expected restless night, I crawled out of bed a few minutes before seven and decided to go and have an early morning swim. Everything had gone through my mind during the night.
From the moment I saw Abby at the airport I realised something serious was troubling him. There had been nothing during my time with him and Nazira that alluded to what the problem might be. At least it didn’t seem to be marital.
During the night, the possibilities leapt in and out of my mind but I simply couldn’t come up with an obvious explanation. Eventually I must have fallen asleep with the belief that tomorrow would reveal the truth.
It was a small pool – no more than fifteen metres long – but the coolness of the water was invigorating. The hotel terrace, with a about a dozen white tables, chairs and umbrellas advertising Marlboro cigarettes, was to one side, and on the other side were changing cubicles clearly designated for male and female usage. At one end a small bar, its shutters down, would serve snacks and non-alcoholic drinks, and at the other end a number of large bougainvilleas provided privacy from prying eyes.
At that time in the morning, I was alone and swam four brisk lengths before resting in one corner. Closing my eyes I let the many thoughts I had conjured up during the night float back into my mind, trying desperately to make sense of them. At one stage I concluded that if Abby’s problem were personal he wouldn’t have wanted me to fly all the way to Brunei to offer help. In fact, I believed the opposite might have applied – he would have come to me.
“Good morning.”
My eyes opened and initially I couldn’t locate where the greeting had come from, but then she spoke again.
“Good morning, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
She was at the other end of the pool, her arms, like mine, spread either side on the edge of the pool. Her chin was above the surface of the water and there was an impish smile on her lips.
“Good morning,” I replied automatically, recognising her but not immediately able to recall her name.
“Sophie Mackintosh,” she said helpfully. “We met on the plane yesterday.”
“Of course,” I said feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was miles away. Richard Blythe.”
&nbs
p; The smile stayed. “Yes, I remember,” she said admonishingly. She looked up at the clear blue sky. “At least the weather has improved and the air has cleared. It’s going to be a hot one.”
I hadn’t noticed what the weather was doing other than it was no longer raining …looking up I nodded. “We’re fortunate to have arrived when we did.”
“We could have shared a taxi.” She was swimming across the pool towards me.
“Sorry?”
“I said, we could have shared a taxi, yesterday, from the airport, we could have shared a taxi.” She was a few feet away now, the pool shallow enough at that point for her to stand.
“I didn’t see you once you’d left the aircraft. I was met by a friend anyway.”
“I know. I saw you with him.”
I found her comment strange but decided not to pursue it any further. “I was out to dinner last night, otherwise we may have bumped into each other earlier.”
“Out to dinner with your friend?”
I got the distinct impression she was playing with me for some reason. “Yes, that’s right. We’ve known each other for years and I went and had dinner with him and his wife.”
Sophie Mackintosh looked at me before dipping her head below the surface of the water. After resurfacing, her hair was like a skullcap and her face sparkled as the water drained from it. She was wearing, from what I could see under the water, a black one-piece swimming costume. Although non-Muslim female guests of the hotel could use the pool, bikinis were not an appropriate form of dress.
“Have you had breakfast?” she asked.
“No, not yet,” I replied. “I came down here first to wake myself up.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Would you like to share a table or are you the type who doesn’t like conversation before ten o’clock?”
I smiled. “Not at all, I would love to.”
“I’ll see you in the dining room in about half-an-hour then. I’m going to swim a few lengths first, so don’t laugh.”
She didn’t wait for a reply.
For somebody so slim she had a powerful stroke, and the way she turned at the end of the pool suggested that swimming hadn’t perhaps always been just a social activity. When she had finished, she got out at the other end, picked up her towel from a sun-bed and dripped her way towards the changing rooms without saying another word. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a couple of the male Bruneian waiters watching from behind one of the windows. Judging by the expression on their faces and their gestures, they approved of what they saw.
The hotel dining room was spotless – everything sparkled with cleanliness. The room was air-conditioned and the windows, on the same side of the hotel as my bedroom, provided a view of the main road into Bandar Seri Begawan and the Churchill Museum, an ornate single-storey building built on the orders of the current Sultan’s father to demonstrate his sheer adoration of Winston. The traffic was light and there certainly wasn’t the frenetic activity that could have been found at this time of the morning in most capital cities.
After sitting down at a table for two in the far corner of the room, the waiter asked whether I wanted tea or coffee. I had already passed the buffet breakfast table that provided hot and cold dishes as well as the usual exotic fruits, cereals and juices. The waiter held out a chair for me, informing me in perfect English that Miss Mackintosh would be joining me shortly. Miss Mackintosh had been either extremely presumptuous or highly efficient. I smiled to myself when I realised I didn’t really care which it was.
I was rather looking forward to her company.
She arrived about five minutes later dressed in another lightweight linen business suit, the skirt resting just below her knees. Looking round, the other diners were mostly men of all nationalities and as they became aware of her presence, each followed her progress approvingly. I felt quite pleased that she was heading for my table, knowing that they would look at me and think whatever they wanted to think.
At that moment, I thought of Belinda.
I stood up as the same waiter pulled back Sophie’s chair. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you”. The waiter looked at her as though she had given him a million dollars.
“So,” Sophie said to me, helping herself to coffee from the pot brought for me, “are you wide awake now?”
Why, I don’t know, but I wanted to tell her that I was still dreaming, but fortunately for both of us I managed a reply we both would have expected.
In the time between leaving the pool and now her hair looked as though she had come straight out of a salon. The small pearl studs in her ears matched her necklace, and her make-up was simple but effective, the colour on her lids enhancing the greenness in her more blue than green eyes. She had high cheekbones, a small straight nose and slightly glossed full lips.
Absorbing the loveliness of the woman sitting opposite me, I again thought of Belinda and a feeling of guilt washed over me. I remembered Isabelle’s concern about my selling Blue-Ridge, quickly followed by even greater concern that one day I might remarry.
Sophie Mackintosh was everything Belinda had been: beautiful to look at and sophisticated in everything she did and said. However, I sensed Sophie was more aware of what was going on around her than Belinda had ever been. Whenever I pointed out the admiring and salacious looks Belinda was getting, she always told me not to be so stupid.
I wondered whether the person I was looking at was genuine or whether it was a veneer – a cover for a not so beautiful person underneath. Perhaps it was my defence mechanism kicking in but I hoped I was wrong. When she lifted her coffee cup to her lips, I checked again to see what rings she was wearing, but other than what appeared to be a sapphire on her right index finger, there was nothing.
She must have followed my eyes, because as she replaced the cup in the saucer she said, “No, I’m not. I was once but now I’m not. Are you?”
I tried to look puzzled. “Am I what?”
“Married?” she replied, tilting her head slightly to one side, the impish smile back on her lips and in her eyes.
“Like you, I was once but now I’m not. Shall we get some breakfast?” I said.
Sophie, to my surprise, helped herself to a cooked breakfast and fruit juice. There were, for obvious reasons, no bacon rashers or pork sausages, but there was plenty of choice and she walked away from the buffet with a full plate.
“So, Richard, what brings you to Brunei?” she asked spearing a mushroom and delicately popping it in her mouth. “Is it work?”
“Very indirectly,” I said. “I’ve been here a few times in the past in connection with my work but on this occasion I’m here because I was invited back by the friend you saw me with.” I felt free to tell Sophie the truth.
“You’re on holiday? Brunei isn’t known for its tourist attractions.”
I forked some kedgeree into my mouth. “No, I know, but I’ve already seen what there is to see, except for the Theme Park in Jerudong. That wasn’t built the last time I was here, but I gather it’s quite a sight.”
“You don’t strike me as the sort of person who would be attracted by a theme park.” Sophie didn’t wait for me to agree or disagree before she asked, “And what line of work are you in?”
“Was in,” I told her. She stopped chewing and gave me a surprised look. “I’m a Marine Engineer by profession and I was working for an American firm that designs and builds dams, until recently that is.”
“Why did you part company?”
“I needed a change.”
“And now?”
“Between jobs I think is the way it’s described.”
She smiled, putting her knife and fork down on an almost empty plate. “In your line of work I doubt whether you’ll have any difficulty in finding something else.”
“But for me a change is a change and, to date, I haven’t decided what that change is to be. What about you? Why are you in Brunei?”
“Foreign Office,” she said, picking up her fruit juice and looking at m
e over the top of the glass. “I work for the Foreign Office and every now and again I have to do my rounds. This month it’s here, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta and, if all goes well, Hong Kong. I suppose I’m a sort of auditor,” she added when I didn’t comment.
I had spent hours trying to speak to somebody in the Foreign Office and was turned away, albeit politely, before I succeeded in talking to anybody who could help. Now, ten thousand miles away from England, I was having breakfast with one of the unobtainables, and yet I knew I couldn’t broach the subject of harassment in Germany, nor, and more importantly, could I mention my house being searched. I had no idea which department Sophie Mackintosh was from but there was still something about her that suggested there was more to her than met the eye. She may have told me she was an auditor but her demeanour and my image of what an auditor should be like simply did not compute.
“What sort of auditor?” I asked, deciding to play along with her deception, if that is what it was.
She thought for a moment and then shrugged, the slight movement accentuating her slim shoulders. “Ensuring that procedures are following policy, I suppose would be the best way of describing what I do.”
I think I understood what she was saying. “How long are you in Brunei for?”
She checked her watch. “I’m here until Tuesday of next week. I’ve done KL and Singapore, next stop Jakarta.”
“And you’re working on a Saturday?”
“Got to in my line of work but I do get tomorrow to relax.” She hesitated, wanting to add something, but then looked at me expectantly.
“What are you doing for dinner this evening?” I hoped I had guessed right.
“I’ve got to go to an official lunch tomorrow at The High Commission but this evening I’m free.” I had guessed right.
“In the foyer about seven o’clock?” I suggested.
She shrugged. “Yes, that’s fine. Where are you going to take me?”
“You’ll see but dress casually.”
“Sounds intriguing,” she said.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 16