“One word,” Reid called out even before he reached Hugh. “I got a call from that chappie, Mark. I’d like you to have a word with him. He was distraught. Apparently he was fed a lot of nonsense from his driver. To top it all, his telephone line went dead. He rushed off to a neighbouring estate to call me, after failing to get to anyone in his firm. I tried to tell him that telephone lines frequently get cut off. That the disconnection could be due to an arm’s length of things not connected with Communist rebels. He was hysterical. Perhaps a word from you would put his mind at rest.”
“Right now?”
Reid ordered himself a beer before turning back to Hugh. “Perhaps not right now. In any case, he can’t be reached at the bungalow where he is staying. The line is dead. Let him stew for a bit. Tomorrow morning, when he wakes up perfectly safe, he will realise that what we told him is true. That the insurgency is over.”
“Where is he now?”
“Near Kuala Kubu Bahru.”
“But that is near Katang Bali where our troops allegedly massacred twenty-five civilians. You can’t blame him for his reaction, not after his previous encounter.”
Reid took another gulp of his beer. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Assure him, though, that things are different now. He won’t be of any use to us if he falls apart; we would be obliged to tell his employers. Tell him that the insurgents have lost their cause. They formed the Malayan People’s Liberation Army to liberate the country from us. By granting Malaya independence, we have destroyed their cause and made a mockery of the rationale for their existence.”
***
Mark settled into bed. The mattress was hard and lumpy. It was quiet, so quiet he could hear the hum of mosquitoes hovering around the bed netting. From a distance the faint sounds of animal cries floated in, breaking the silence. The housemaid had left on the strip of flourescent light at the back of the house. The pool of light in the backyard was reassuring. She too was afraid to be on her own. She had confessed that she was in her sister’s lodging some fifty yards away when he turned up that evening.
He asked if there was anyone else who could be in the house when he arrived because someone had switched on the light.
“No one sir,” she replied, seemingly surprised at his question. “I left the light on in case you arrived. Perhaps the light was not noticeable until darkness came.”
Mark recalled the conversation he had with the Commissioner’s office. He had been gladdened by their reassurance. Yet now, sitting on the bed, with the silence around him, he was again uneasy. He grappled with his memory. He turned on to his side. He couldn’t sleep. His mind wandered. Hugh had said that his wife May had worked for him. Surely this May would be able to tell him a bit more about his past life in Malaya. He spoke May’s name aloud. There was something very familiar in the sound of the name; he found comfort in the way his lips moulded round the word. Was it her face that came to mind when he tried to recall the past? How strange that he should think of one woman when there was a whole lot of things that he could not recall. He had thought it prudent not to tell Ruth he remembered a face. He had not told her about his meeting with Hugh either. For some unknown reason, he deemed it wise not to do so. Ruth was not keen to delve into the past. His thoughts went round and round. Finally he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter 21
“HAVE YOU COME back for the books?” The librarian’s eyes were cold and unfriendly. She pointedly eyed Ruth up and down. The dark rimmed glasses she wore had slipped down. They perched just below the ridge of her nose. Her eyes rose like twin half-moon darkly pencilled globes. “I have put them away where they belong after you left them in an unsightly heap on my desk yesterday.” Her voice was frosty. She turned back to her ledger, dismissing Ruth in that gesture. Moments passed. Sensing that Ruth remained standing in front of her desk, she added without looking up, “You will have to retrieve them from the shelves if you wish to borrow them.”
“I am sorry if I caused inconvenience,” Ruth mumbled keeping her voice low and apologetic. “I wonder if you could help me. My neighbour, Mrs Drew, said that you are one of the most knowledgeable and helpful people she has met. You are Miss Fong?”
The head shot up and a pair of eyes stared at Ruth with interest from behind the black-rimmed spectacle frame. “Yes, that’s me.” The surliness disappeared; the voice was inquisitive rather than dismissive. After all, Mrs Drew was a member of the Executive Board. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you have a minute to spare? Is there somewhere where we can have a cup of coffee? I would like to make amends for my rude behaviour yesterday. It would be so kind if you were to say yes.”
Miss Fong looked at her watch. “I’ll see if I can get someone to cover my desk.”
***
Ruth gripped the steering wheel tightly; her knuckles bleached white against the black leather-bound wheel. She had not imagined May. She had prayed all night that it was her imagination that was playing havoc with her mind. In the calm of her own bedroom she had almost convinced herself that she had been mistaken. It was not so. May was very much alive. Ruth rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She could feel her pulse racing. Suddenly she felt overwhelmingly hot. May was here in the same city, not tucked safely away in Tanjong Malim or shipped out to China. She was married. When Miss Fong told her that May’s husband was Hugh Anderson, Ruth dropped her teaspoon. She had to bend down in haste to retrieve it from the floor to hide her face.
Ruth took a deep breath and released her grip on the steering wheel. She drew herself up and reached for the ignition key; the engine sprang to life. Ahead of her the dazzling sunlight shifted behind a copse of tall trees. Light filtered through the leaves, sending ripples of silver on the car bonnet.
She wondered if she was worrying unnecessarily. After all, May with a husband and a child surely meant that she, Ruth, had nothing to worry about. As for Hugh, she remembered his kindness. He would understand her plight. He had not told on Ruth; he had kept quiet, allowing her to engineer Mark’s quick departure from Malaya. Surely she could trust Hugh. She must try to see him to make doubly sure. For the first time in many weeks, Ruth smiled. It lit up her face and transformed it.
Then, as suddenly as her mood had lifted, it fell. “What if Mark remembered? Would May’s marriage be sufficient to deter him from wanting to be with May? If it wasn’t, she – Ruth – still faced the same problem. Everything hung on Mark’s memory. Ruth switched off the car engine. Mark had been distracted in recent weeks. He had thrashed and turned in his sleep, calling out in Malay. She didn’t understand what he said but was quick to realise that Mark’s inner self was in torment. Could he be searching for May even if he did not know it? Ruth’s doubts and cares came crashing back. “I love Mark too much to lose him now; not after all that I have done; even allowing for what I shouldn’t have done,” she whispered, her voice dissipating into the engine noise as she restarted the car.
***
A hint of pale silver seeped in through the thin cotton curtains. Shadows shifted; a breeze stirred the hot air of the bedroom. From a distance a cock crowed. Almost on cue the mosque’s morning call to prayer broke the silence of the morning. Mark woke up with a start, full of the dreams that chased through his mind. He remembered! He remembered! This very bedroom reminded him of the one he had while in Tanjong Malim. The proximity to a mosque, the early morning prayer that had awakened him each dawn with May by his side. May’s face appeared before him. Those beautiful serene eyes that had looked at him with such love. A longing to hold her in his arms filled him. His mind’s eye shifted. Another face, Hugh’s face, interrupted Mark’s reverie. Hugh, his erstwhile friend, now husband to the woman he loved; the woman his mind had been grappling to remember all these years. He had been duped by the two he had trusted more than anyone while he was in Malaya. How long had those two been involved? Were they lovers even while May shared his bed? Were they lovers while he was in captivity? How convenient it must have been for t
hem!
Anger rose like bile, filling him with hatred; jealousy gripped him like tentacles squeezing his heart until he was breathless. Deceived by those he trusted most! They had allowed him to flounder, perpetuating his memory loss and in the process reduced him to half the man he used to be. He had lost so many years of his life. Only Ruth had stood by him, Ruth whom he had deceived for one as faithless as May. He threw aside his thin blanket and pushed apart the mosquito netting. Thrusting his feet into the sandals by his bed, he got up abruptly. He walked up and down the small confines of the bedroom, muttering to himself.
A gunshot pierced through the air. He stopped his furious pacing. The sound triggered yet another memory. He remembered! Amat, his driver slumping forward to hit the steering wheel. The horn had blared. He had tried to help Amat until hands manhandled him out of the car.
With nervous energy, Mark continued to pace the room. His strides grew quicker and quicker. His hands moved in agitation. He stopped at intervals to ruffle his hair until it stood on end. His face was red with anger and agitation. Sweat trickled down his back and his pyjama top clung damply to his skin. Amat! He stopped suddenly. Amat had a brother called Din. His present driver was called Din. Could it be just coincidence? He needed to check it out. He threw off his pyjamas and pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt. He rushed out of the house, leaving the door open.
Outside everything was still cloaked in a velvety mist. The jungle surrounded him, menacing in its all-encompassing immensity. It blocked out the first glimmer of the sun rising above the horizon beyond. Through the dewy morning shadows, a group of men were coming from the direction of the mosque. Mark was sure that Din would be among them. He jumped into the jeep. He revved the engine and headed towards the men. He stopped when he spotted Din. Din ran towards the jeep leaving his fellowmen behind. Lunging forward, Mark threw open the door. “Hop in,” he commanded.
“Tuan! Sir! Where are we going? Did you not hear the gunshot? We left the mosque early when we heard it. It is not safe to travel.”
Mark reached out and hauled Din into the vehicle. He stepped on the accelerator. The jeep hurtled forward.
***
The jeep went roughshod over the ground sending stones flying in the air and throwing up earth and dust on its way. A trail of red dust bloomed in its wake. Din held on to his seat. “Perlahan, perlahan!” he whimpered. His plead to slow down had no effect on Mark, who drove with reckless speed, like a madman, venting his anger on the vehicle. Almost an hour into the journey, Mark came to an abrupt stop. His shoulders slumped forward. All energy sapped out of him. He turned to Din. “You drive,” he said, his voice terse. “Drive to Tanjong Malim.”
“Why, Tuan? Why Tanjong Malim?”
“Weren’t you from that town? Did you not have a brother called Amat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was he not the driver that was killed? Was he not the one that drove me that fateful day?”
Din’s eyes glittered. Tears brimmed; with effort he held them in check.
“And you did not think it important enough to tell me this information?”
“Sir. I told Ma’am Ruth. She said that I was not to trouble you. That telling you would reawaken your nightmares. That the past was the past.”
Mark sank back to his seat. Ruth! Even she whom he thought was the only one he could trust was keeping things away from him. A nervous tic appeared at the corner of his lips. He was furious. “Drive! I want you to tell me everything Amat told you when he was alive. Every single detail.”
***
The sound of water woke Mark up. He did not know when he had dozed off. The heat, the lulling motion of the jeep, his physical and emotional exhaustion must have caused him to fall asleep. All he remembered was that they had passed a river an hour ago and had taken the dirt track to the right of the bend in the river deep into the jungle. From the vehicle he could see several tiers of waterfall. Clear icy water cascaded into deep pools carved one above the other in the mountainous terrain. Their spray sparkled like jewelled drops under the shifting sunlight peeping through the leafy canopy above. Din said that the track would lead them directly to the plantation and the bungalow Mark had shared with May.
May, the one Mark had sought to remember during these past years of bewilderment. So much time had been lost. Now she was someone else’s. It hurt him to think of May with Hugh, his friend. Friend?! His hurt exploded into anger.
The jeep slowed down. They had arrived at a settlement. Children were playing half naked in a small dusty patch of land. Tufts of grass grew here and there like an after-thought. Goats grazed laconically. They moved from one tuft to another munching slowly, oblivious to the ball sailing high above them as they rendered even greater bare patches of red lateritic soil. Children’s laughter filled the air.
“We are nearly there. Tuan can you remember? Fu Yi your maid used to buy milk from an Indian man living in that hut.” He pointed to a hut with corrugated walls and a thatched roof. “She told me you made her boil the milk and then later you would complain that it did not taste the same as milk in England. Miss May used to tease you about it.”
“Fu Yi?”
“Yes, Fu Yi. She was this high,” he gestured with his hand, “like a gnome because she was tiny and quite stooped. But she was strong and a wonderful cook.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“She is gone, retired to Chinatown in Kuala Lumpur. Ma’am May would know her whereabouts.”
Mark’s heart flipped at the mention of May. She was central to all the mysteries surrounding his kidnap. How could he trust such a fickle, disloyal lover?”
“What happened to May when I was captured?”
Din glanced quickly at his boss before turning his attention back to the rough track. “She disappeared. Later they found her in the jungle. She was beaten badly and was left for dead. Initially everyone suspected her of being involved in your capture. It was Tuan Hugh Anderson, then a Major, who helped prove her innocence. Fu Yi told me.”
Din’s eyes slid sideways to examine his boss again. Mark was stone-faced, his lips drawn tight. His jaws were working relentlessly. Perhaps, Din thought, he should not have mentioned Tuan Hugh. He gripped the steering wheel hard and fell silent.
Chapter 22
MAY PICKED UP a pebble and threw it into the pond. She watched the ripples grow turning the pond’s previous calm into a gentle whirl of concentric circles. Music and children’s voices drifted from across the lawn. She made her way back to the house. Feeling queasy, she had taken a five-minute break from the party. The children were playing musical chairs on the terrace. Squeals of laughter were accompanied by the scraping of wood against tiles. She saw Craig and waved to catch his eye. He was perched on a chair, one leg dangling down, and the other set firmly on the ground ready to propel him forward. His fair hair caught the glint of the sun. He looked up and grinned. May’s hand shot up to her chest. How could anyone not tell that Craig was Mark’s? Craig was the image of him. She looked around almost expecting someone to agree with her. She smiled back at Craig. How could she be so silly? No one had ever said so. No one knew except Hugh and Fu Yi. They would not divulge her secret. Yet her heart remained troubled.
Fu Yi’s warnings continued to haunt her. She had gone to Hugh’s arms every night to seek reassurance that she did not love Mark. She loved the way Hugh held her; the way he treated her with reverence like a piece of porcelain. She felt safe with him. When she watched him sleep beside her, his face relaxed, his breathing deep and punctuated by gentle snoring, she could hardly refrain from burrowing back into his arms to feel the security of his love. Yet ... Mark’s face appeared like an unwanted ghost.
May looked around desperately in search of Hugh. He was late. The music stopped. Someone was bringing a cake out to the terrace and beckoning the children to a long table decked with colourful hats and balloons. Blue, green, red, white, yellow! Victoria sponges, bursting with butter cream, were laid out alongside Chine
se buns filled with sweet sesame paste. Malay coconut rice cakes and sweet Indian jalebi stood in between. The birthday candles sparked to life. The children surged forward and May surged forward with them. She caught up with Craig, who was already at the table. The children’s rendition of Happy Birthday was loud and enthusiastic. She joined in and forgot, in that brief interlude, her worries. Craig looked up; she winked, and kissed him soundly on the cheek. He squirmed, shook his head and looked at his mother reproachfully. May felt a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and took it, placing it against her cheek. “You’re back,” she sighed, a smile on her face.
Hugh clasped both her shoulders and turned her around. “I can’t stay. I have to leave within the next few minutes.”
“Why?”
“There has been an incident. Mark is missing. He might have been taken. I’ll let you know once I know more.”
***
In the makeshift meeting room, a row of blank faces stared back at Hugh. He had assembled the estate staff as well as those in the bungalow where Mark had spent the night. Over and over again he questioned them about Mark and Din’s disappearance. He got nothing from them except that Mark had been extremely agitated the night before. The housekeeper confirmed the account. As for Din, they claimed that he had gone for his morning prayers and had then been later picked up by a jeep. Hugh passed Mark’s photograph around. No one seemed able to confirm that Mark was the person in the jeep. They assumed that it was so. It had been dark. They could barely see each other. The dew was thick at five in the morning. Moreover, one of the men sniggered, just as the white tuan had difficulties in distinguishing the locals, they too find it difficult to distinguish one white man from another. They pointed in the direction the jeep took. “Jeep pergi sana!” From the back row of men, a small voice piped. “Maybe the tuan got taken away. Last week, a local Chinese man disappeared. He was later found shot in the neck. When we heard a gun shot that early morning, we all went home and kept low.”
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