“Yesterday, you say?” was all he said.
“Yes, Abby, it was yesterday, after you dropped me at the hotel. After she was attacked I brought her straight here and luckily she is going to be back to normal soon.” I lifted my hands and let them fall into my lap. “But I’m afraid this means that my chances of finding anything out from her are almost zero. She’s been taken to The High Commission to recuperate and that could take days.”
Even when I mentioned The High Commission, there was no reaction. Either there was a damn good reason why he was pleading ignorance or he genuinely didn’t know what had happened.
“I see,” he said, his head slumping into his shoulders.
“Abby, are you all right? You seem down, and your mind is obviously somewhere else.”
His head shot up allowing me to see a look in his eyes that I had not seen before. It was almost accusatory, challenging.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, Abby, I don’t mean anything but you seem totally preoccupied …”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, Richard. The meeting with His Majesty was not what I expected, I thought all the right plans were in the right place. He gave me quite a dressing down in front of the others.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Abby,” I said.
His eyes remained narrowed, almost as though he was challenging me to contradict what he had said. Why would I? I had never seen him like this before and it really worried me.
He wasn’t the Abby I knew.
“It will all sort itself out,” he said.
“Because of what happened, I’m afraid the chances of getting any information from Sophie Mackintosh …”
Abby was rubbing his hands together. “His Majesty needs some good news and I want to be the one who gives it to him. I need to be back in favour. These visits were not the cause of the tension at the meeting, and his attitude towards me, it was this underlying threat that only those closest to His Majesty know about.”
“I’m sorry if you feel I’ve let you down,” I said.
“No, Richard, it is not you who has let me down. It is me who should be apologising. I should never have involved you in the first place. It was a … what do you call it? Yes, a long shot. I suppose deep down I always knew that I was abusing our friendship. I am the one who is sorry.” Abby bent forward, his hand reaching for mine.
“There was no abuse of friendship. If there had been anything I could have done, then you know I’d have been more than willing.”
We shook hands, which seemed to be a signal for Abby to stand up and prepare to leave
“If Sophie hadn’t had the accident, you never know, she may have told me something useful,” I said.
“Unfortunately you are right, we will never know.” He looked at his watch. “I am sorry but I must go. I have a meeting … but before I go, Richard, I would ask you to forget what we spoke about on the boat. It was silly of me to think … no, I must say no more. It was even sillier of me to involve you and it is now something I much regret. Do not think badly of me, Richard, our friendship is something I will always treasure, please believe me.”
We shook hands again and I was about to ask him what was really going on, when the door to the ward opened, and Abby’s exit committee either trooped in or were waiting in the corridor. Somebody had been watching us but not for any reason other than protocol. Abby looked over his shoulder and then back at me.
Something in his expression told me that we would not be meeting as close friends again.
He left without another word.
The ward door closed behind him and I felt it had also closed on another chapter in my life.
I did not have long to give much thought to and worry about Abby’s visit before my next visitor arrived.
Having got out of bed, I was looking through the window towards Bandar Seri Begawan, watching the boats skimming across the water between Kampong Ayer and the town. The contrast between old Brunei, including Kampong Ayer, and the new Brunei was quite disturbing. Similar to many other cities and towns across the world, the starkness and often-grotesque modern architecture overshadowed the beauty of what was and what still could be. The sky was cloudless and I could see the heat shimmering in every direction I looked, but it still didn’t make the concrete monstrosities appear any better.
My mind was still reeling after Abby’s visit.
“Mr Bly?”
I turned round and Inspector Haji Ismail Bin Jarrarudhin was standing by the door.
“Inspector!” I said, not able to hide my surprise.
He stepped into the ward and closed the door before leaning against it. There was a serious expression on his face.
“Mr Bly,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “I have come to give you a piece of advice, which if you choose to ignore might cause some unnecessary delays to your return to England.”
“I’m sorry –”
“No, Mr Bly,” he said, holding up his hand, “I am not here to discuss what I am about to say, I am only here to say it.” He paused. “My advice to you is that you leave Brunei as soon as possible. To assist in your decision I have checked with the airport and there is a seat on a scheduled flight leaving at seven this evening. I understand you had an open business class booking for your return flight originally but I have now transferred this to the flight I have mentioned. Your ticket will be waiting for you at the airport.”
“But I’ve been told that I –”
“You will be discharged from hospital after I leave, Mr Bly. You only need to pack and then proceed to the airport. The hotel told me that your bill has been taken care of, which means there is nothing to delay you.” He felt behind him and opened the door. “Mr Bly,” he said finally, “as I told you, what I am saying is advice. You do not have to listen but might I restate that should you choose to ignore what I have said then …” He shrugged. “I am afraid I will not then be responsible for what might happen.”
With his final words ringing in my ears, the Inspector left, leaving the door to the ward open.
More intrigue, more confusion and more worry.
When was it all going to stop?
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Singapore Airlines 747 landed at London Heathrow shortly after seven on Tuesday morning. I had been away less than a week.
It was an unpleasant return flight, not that the weather or any other natural phenomenon played a part … unlike the flight from Singapore to Brunei when I first met Sophie.
I slept very little.
The ability to concentrate on anything escaped me. I couldn’t watch and be distracted by an in-flight movie or read a book. The only respite came when it was time for a meal. At least then, I was able to focus on something else.
I didn’t care whether my reaction to the Inspector’s ‘threat’ was spineless or not. If I had stayed in Brunei and whatever he had predicted had come true, there would have been only one loser.
I was lost for an explanation.
There didn’t seem to be a connection between Abby’s request when out on his launch and what he said during his visit to the hospital. If anything, the two events contradicted each other. Even when applying a vivid imagination, it was all beyond explanation. Something was going on – something that was serious – but I had no idea what.
And … I no longer wanted to know what it was.
I wanted out.
The Inspector had given me good reason to get out.
Nevertheless, what was it about Sophie Mackintosh? Who was she? If what Abby told me was his reason for inviting me to Brunei was a lie, then what was his real connection with Sophie? The expression on his face when he left the hospital said it all.
There was no doubt he had lied to me, but why?
We had said goodbye and there was no ‘until next time’ even hinted at. He wasn’t only telling me that our friendship was over, he was conveying something very final.
Why had Inspector Haji Ismail ordered me o
ut of Brunei? Was there a connection?
There had to be.
My thoughts became as disconnected as the events I’d experienced. To slow down my whirling mind I even tried a couple of double gin and tonics but all they did was make me more morose.
There had to be another Sophie Mackintosh, I wasn’t that easy to fool.
The alcohol at least allowed me to concentrate on the more acceptable aspects of her for a while. The way she had affected me was for real. I hadn’t looked at, nor had I wanted to look at, another female when Belinda was alive. In fact, despite Isabelle’s misgivings I hadn’t looked at another woman in that way since Belinda died … until Sophie Mackintosh walked into my life and affected me in the way she had.
I felt from the beginning that I had known her forever.
There was an intimacy within our minds, or so I thought, that precluded the need for any build up to a relationship. The images of her climbing out of the hotel swimming pool, crossing the restaurant to join me for breakfast, sitting on the opposite side of the table in Mama Wong’s, were vivid.
When I went to see her in hospital after she was attacked by the sea wasp and was told that she would be all right … nothing else mattered: her screams, the look of sheer agony on her face, the whimpering as I drove her to the hospital would never be forgotten but she had survived.
Perhaps deep down I hadn’t wanted to know her secrets, maybe I was happy with the person she was and not what she did. I didn’t want anything to colour how I felt about her. The Inspector’s hypothesis about not looking too deeply if you were happy with what was on the surface, came back to me.
Although my mind was going round in circles, whenever there was a pause, a gap in the thinking process, she would leap in and fill it. Belinda had always been there to do that but now this stranger, who had had such an effect on me, had become an intrusion. She was interfering with the irreplaceable relationship I had with Belinda. I felt guilty but an indefinable ache took over and masked the guilt.
Anyway, there was little point in crucifying myself now because the moment had passed. Two lives that had been thrown together under the strangest of circumstances had just as easily been pulled apart by, what was to me, the unknown. It was something I would never forget but it was also something that was now at an end.
After drinking the second gin and deciding that another wasn’t the answer, I tried to bring Belinda to the forefront of my mind but without success. Bailey, Cruickshank and their goons were there instead and with them came a multitude of questions that were unanswerable. From the moment I had entered Dove Dale, my life took a macabre twist that was destined to remain a total mystery. I was going to leave it all behind me, and concentrate on a future about which I could have some say. I had been living in a dangerous fantasy world. The world I needed was real and contained people who were dear to me.
There were also memories.
After collecting my car from the long-stay car park, I headed towards the M25 intending to stop off at St Edward’s on the way home. Phoning Isabelle and David while in Brunei wouldn’t have served a purpose, but I felt relieved to be back that I needed to return to my real life as soon as possible and they were the nearest source of what I had left behind.
I reached the school gates at midday. Having turned off the main road I hesitated but only for a few seconds. It was a lovely day and everywhere was colourful and peaceful. There was a cricket match taking place on the bottom square but from the size of the young boy doing a good impression of an off-spin bowler, I doubted whether it was David’s year. Other inmates, as Isabelle always called them, were lolling round the boundary.
Further up the driveway I could see a few of the older boys making their way round the nine-hole par-three golf course hewn out of the landscaped lawns and copses to the front of the school. Mr Winstanley, the headmaster, had only been in the post for a couple of years but he had made some tremendous changes. His policy was to make education as enjoyable as possible, but woe betide any pupil, or member of staff or parent, who took advantage of his outlook on school life.
I parked a few yards from the main entrance to the senior school building and sat for a while taking in the activities going on around me. Brunei seemed as far away in time as it was in miles. I wound down the window and let the light breeze drift into the car, bringing with it the smells of early summer. Closing my eyes, the peacefulness washed over me. It gave me a feeling of total security, something I hadn’t felt for far too long. Sophie drifted into my mind; her laughter, her smile, the look in her eye as she tentatively lifted the plastic beaker containing the best gin and tonic she had ever tasted. I shook my head slightly trying to rid my mind of the past I wanted to forget.
But she wouldn’t go away.
She would remember me fainting in front of her. I had expected a note, a message from one of the nurses, something to tell me that she was thinking of me but there had been nothing.
What had I really expected?
She had thanked me for what I did so should I have expected anything else? To her, I was no more than a casual acquaintance she had met on a boring trip to Brunei – ignoring her encounter with the jellyfish.
I felt a cool, soft hand pressing on my arm and I imagined it was Sophie’s. “Daddy! What on earth are you doing here?”
I must have dropped off. The touch and the voice brought me a little drowsily to my senses and to Isabelle’s beaming smile. “Daddy,” she said again, “what are you doing out here asleep in the car park?”
I opened the car door and got out, giving Isabelle a kiss on her forehead. “Hello, Bella, and sorry if I surprised you but I flew in this morning and thought I would try to see you before driving home. I was going to come and find you but I must have dozed off. Put it down to jet lag.”
Isabelle stepped back a pace or two. “God, Daddy, you were only away a week, less than a week in fact, but you’ve got quite a tan.”
“Thanks but I can’t think why, I didn’t spend that long in the sun.” I wanted to add that it had been long enough to hospitalise me, but the drugs pumped into me had probably been the real cause.
Isabelle came forward again and took hold of my hands. “It’s a lovely surprise, Daddy. I happened to look over here from my room and thought I recognised the car.”
“Have you finished lessons?” I asked hopefully.
“Not at this time, Daddy!” she replied.
I looked over my shoulder at the golfers and cricketers. “They look as though they have.”
“Really, Daddy, if we all did the same thing at the same time, the school programme would be unmanageable. It’s Mr Winstanley’s idea.” Isabelle left her explanation at that, almost as though the mention of the headmaster was all the clarification that was needed.
“When will you be free?” I began to think my impromptu visit was a bad idea.
Isabelle shrugged and screwed up her face. “Not until a lot later, and David’s the same, I’m afraid. I don’t know where he is at the moment but he’s with me for history after lunch. Sorry, Daddy.”
“That’s all right, Bella, I should have thought.” I smiled at her. “If I had come back from a longer trip then I might have tried to get you off this afternoon, but I’ll go home. Your next exeat is when, the weekend after next?”
Isabelle nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“All right, I’ll be off.” I put my hands on Isabelle’s shoulders and pulled her towards me, holding her tightly against my chest. Automatically her arms slid round my waist as she returned the show of affection.
I kissed the top of her head. “Look after yourself, Bella.” I could feel myself filling up. The guilt was washing over me again and I didn’t seem to be able to control it.
When I finally let her go, Isabelle looked up at me, her forehead creased with concern.
“Has something happened, Daddy?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes. “No, Bella, nothing has happened. I’m tired after the journey. Can’t a f
ather show his daughter how much he loves her without something needing to have happened.” I opened my eyes and beamed at her. “Come on, you go back to your friends and I’ll see you again the weekend after next.”
She looked up into my face, her eyes watering as she narrowed them slightly. My dismissal had not convinced her. She reached for my hands again. “Did everything go all right in Brunei? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Bella, my love, everything is fine.” What I was actually thinking was that she was as perceptive as her mother. Belinda had always known, regardless of how well I tried to hide it, when I had something on my mind. “Seriously, I’m very tired. I’m going to go home and, as you and David are constantly telling me to do, I’m going to chill out. Now off you go.”
Isabelle lifted herself onto her toes and kissed me on the cheek. “Love you, Daddy. See you a week on Saturday.” She turned to go but then stopped. “Can I bring Jane with me again?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
She blew me a kiss, turned on her heels and skipped back into the school, whatever she thought had been wrong with me forgotten as she returned to her own world.
I hadn’t told the twins about their grandmother: I didn’t see the need until I knew how serious the situation really was.
And as far as Sophie Mackintosh was concerned … she would never be mentioned.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Blue-Ridge looked lonely but welcoming as I opened the gate and manoeuvred the car through it. The grass really did need cutting but I smiled to myself when I realised that I would have little else to do other than cut the grass for at least a week or two.
I was in a bit of a daze. In all the time I’d spent in some of the most lawless countries in the world – and where corruption and murder was a way of life – I had never been ordered (advised) to leave a country before. Brunei Darussalam was the last place I would have expected something like that to happen – but it had.
During the drive from St Edward’s to Medbourne, and largely brought on by Isabelle and her intuition, I had made a number of promises to myself. The return flight from Brunei had brought me back to the real world but I hadn’t made any plans about what I was going to do with it.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 24
