"...isn't that right, lass?" William beamed at me.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Warwick should walk up to the house with Mrs Jackson and Mrs Whyte," he repeated patiently.
I nodded.
Warwick looked from me to William with a confused smile on his face. "I'd much prefer to walk with Mrs McGregor."
"Mrs McGregor isn't walking up that hill in her condition," William replied. "She has her own private chauffeur." He headed off, chuckling.
Warwick stared after him, looking even more confused than ever. Luckily, Anne, Sarah and Alan joined us then. I was spared any private conversation with Warwick as there were introductions and handshaking all around. Except for me, of course. Something about Warwick didn't ring true and I worried about what it might mean for William and I.
A throat cleared beside me. "Your ride, my lady."
I waddled in my best stately fashion to William's Triumph and mounted behind him. We set off up the slope to Rocky Point, while Apalala kicked William's back through my stomach all the way home.
Thirteen
"I cut some for you already, Mem," Cook said softly as I eyed the roast. Under my covetous gaze, she gave the pork another coat of the honey, soy and rice wine marinade that made her char siew the best I'd ever tasted. "On the table, Mem."
I dragged my gaze from dinner to the small bowl on the table. Oh, but she knew me well – the portion of pork and sliced cucumber was just enough to fill my constrained belly. Afternoon tea seemed so long ago and dinner was an hour away. The child within me seemed to demand I eat every hour, but not enough to encroach on her space. William's daughter was far more demanding than Giuseppe's had ever been.
"What are you doing in the kitchen, lass? We need to dress for dinner and I expect you to look radiant."
I swallowed a large mouthful of pork and turned to smile at William.
He laughed. "You still have sauce on your lips. Come and let me help you wash that off."
Kiss it off, more like, I found as he guided me to the bedroom and enfolded me in his arms.
"Mm, you taste sweeter than usual, lass."
"Then you'll like dinner," I replied, pulling my dress off. I sponged down my skin, then decided a whole change of clothes was in order, from the underwear up. I only wished there was time for a leisurely soak in the bath together.
William pressed against my bare back, his hands cupping my belly. "I'm the luckiest man alive. Poor Warwick's sick with envy that I have such a wonderful wife."
Envy. That's one of the things I hadn't seen at afternoon tea.
"William, what happened to your jealousy? He stares at me more than most men, but you're not cursing his ancestors like you used to do to every man who so much as glanced in my direction." I looked down, but I couldn't even see my feet any more. A man who desired me now was either delusional or incredibly loyal like William. "Never mind."
"I've seen how Warwick looks at you, lass, but he's one of my closest friends. Warwick is a man of honour and while he might want what's mine, he'd never stoop to snatch it from me." William pulled on a fresh shirt and began buttoning it.
"You make me sound like a chocolate cake," I grumbled as I arched my back to fasten my brassiere.
"I'll take you over chocolate cake any day."
I pulled my dress over my head. A loan from Anne, for none of my evening dresses fitted over Apalala. Wait. Over chocolate cake? Did he mean...
"You'd get crumbs in the bed," I said, seizing a comb.
William plucked the comb from my hand. "Who said anything about the bed? The dining table is well-built and usually where we keep the cakes." He led me gently toward the bed, where we both perched on the edge so he could comb my hair.
I closed my eyes in bliss. I'd never grow tired of letting him stroke my hair into submission. Nothing calmed me quite like this. I drew a deep breath and exhaled. "Man of honour he may be, but I don't trust your friend Warwick. I sense he's hiding something."
"So do I, lass. I intend to draw it out of him tonight over whisky. He brought a bottle from Japan that he insists is as good as the stuff from home. We'll see."
I breathed a sigh of relief as I let William work the tangles out of my hair. If only my tangled mind could be so easily calmed. Later, surely. William was a persuasive man, after all.
Fourteen
Amah cleared the dessert plates away as I struggled to conceal my frustration. Warwick had told all manner of tales about life in Japan, from the communal baths to eating with a pair of sticks while sitting on the floor, as Sarah gasped and William and I waited. Waited for him to tell something of import, but his restlessness only grew as the meal progressed.
Finally, I could stand it no longer – I'd drunk too much with dinner. Anything more than a cup inspired the baby in my belly to bounce upon my bladder as if it was some sort of perverse game. I hoped that one day, when she was grown and a mother herself, her own child would engage in similar antics during her pregnancy.
I stood, excused myself before either of the men could rise from their chairs, and hurried to the bathroom to relieve myself before Apalala forced me to do it on the floor.
When I'd seen to my body's needs, I returned to the dining room. I could already hear the men's voices, but Sarah was strangely quiet. Perhaps she'd retired to the drawing room to allow the men to drink their whisky alone?
"Where did you find such a perfect wife? She reminds me of the best geisha back home. Every movement like a dance and her appearance is nothing short of breathtaking. I'm not surprised you wanted to start a family right away with that one!" Warwick laughed loudly and slurped something.
"My wife isn't a whore, Warwick." I heard the warning tone in William's voice.
"Nor are geisha, man. They're like the courtesans of old, but every one of them is mistress of her own destiny. And none will stoop to marry a man. Beautiful enough to bewitch a man into asking, though." He sighed heavily. "None of them can hold a candle to your Helen, though."
"My wife's name is Maria, not Helen."
Warwick paused, possibly to take another drink. "Are you sure her name isn't Helen? She did say she sank that ship. Helen launched a thousand ships. Perhaps your wife is trying to emulate her in sinking that many?"
"I hope not," William replied. "Helen left her husband and started a war that rocked the ancient world. Much like the Great War here. Let's hope it's thousands of years before people start another war like it. Here, let's drink a toast to peace with your Japanese Suntory whisky."
I heard the clink of glasses and the sound of sipping.
"I wish you were right, truly I do, but war is inevitable." Warwick gave a great sniff. "They invaded the northern part of China. Manchuria, it was called. Can't remember what the Japanese named it. And they slaughtered thousands of civilians. When the League of Nations heard, they condemned it. Outright told them they had to leave China and go home. But the Japanese don't back down. Oh no. Honour means too much to them. Instead, they walked out of the League. Every day, I received word of more forays into China. They want to conquer it all – all the resources they want and all the people, too. And they will. It's only a matter of time."
William laughed. "The League of Nations is why there won't be another war. Every other nation will stand against them. Fight them. They can't win."
"They can. The League has no power if they can't make Japan leave China, and they're showing their weakness to the world now. It will come to war again and Japan won't stop at China. They'll take Singapore and even this place, too. All of Asia, or so I've heard."
William snorted. "You're a foreigner to them, for all your mother was Japanese. You've told me that. Why would they confide their plans in you, knowing you're an enemy?"
"They don't. Not the men, at any rate. If you want to know the state of politics in Japan, you must ask the geisha. Those who are courted by the great men in government. There are three women who are said to have their hand on the political pulse of the country.
Midori and Miyako, and a third one with striking grey eyes I will never forget. Kaori, her name is. All of them looked as young as your wife, but they knew things...more than rumours. Things they'd heard from powerful men. They protected their sources, but the information...ah, the stuff of nightmares. Plans to conquer all of Asia, including this island, for the rich resources they want. Submarine ships so small they can be operated by only two men, and go unnoticed by ships on the surface."
"Just stories, man. No one can build an underwater ship that small. It would run out of air much too quickly and the men aboard would die before they could do any damage. How much whisky did you drink before your Japanese girls spun their stories?"
"Not enough. Not nearly enough. For I saw the submarine with my own eyes in Hiroshima. They were testing the prototype one day I was in the port with my father. Then when they left the League of Nations...my mother and father sold their holdings in Japan and moved to England. He promised her a house with floors and furniture just like we had in Kyoto – he even shipped half of it with them. I stayed to dispose of the last of our Japanese assets, then took ship for Singapore. When I saw the city...I knew the plans were true, too. Singapore will fall. They'll take Singapore and they'll take China, then conquer everywhere in between. Nowhere in Asia is safe. Least of all the islands of the Straits Settlements. You can't defend this place. They won't even need submarines. You have no defences here. You should leave. Take your lovely wife and baby and go far from here. Home to Scotland, perhaps. Or the Japanese will slaughter everyone here like they did Chinamen in Manchuria." Warwick gave a great gulp that sounded more like a sob and clinked his glass to the table.
Youthful-looking women who were wise beyond their years. My kind, surely. Was I not the only mermaid who lived on land? Were these women...Miyako, Midori and Kaori, all people of the ocean's gift? I knew nothing of people of the Pacific Ocean, but wherever there was warm, shallow water and protective reefs, my people would congregate. They knew as well as I did that war would affect us all.
I peeked through the dining room doorway and caught William's eye. He looked pained, as if he knew I'd heard everything. It was hard news for both of us, if it were true. But such a warning could hardly be ignored.
"Enough of serious topics for one night, eh, Warwick? Perhaps we should join the ladies. My wife lived in Australia for some time, and she has some very funny stories about incidents that happened in the fish market. Ask her to tell you the one about the escaped crabs."
I slipped away, hurrying as much as my bulk would allow me, and sank gratefully onto the sofa beside Sarah.
Her forehead creased with concern. "Are you feeling well?"
"Well enough." My heart was too heavy to tell her what I'd heard. The world didn't need another war, but it seemed we'd have one whether we wanted it or not.
Fifteen
I retired early, but William stayed awake long into the night, talking to his friend. The next morning there were dark shadows beneath his eyes at breakfast, but I knew it had been years since the two men had seen each other, so I didn't comment. William had looked equally worn out after his first night on Christmas Island with me, too, though probably for different reasons.
I squinted at his face. Was the bruising around one eye darker than the other? Surely not. It must have been a trick of the light.
Warwick went with him to work, talking animatedly about his hopes for a tour of the island, so I was spared the man's company as I took my customary seat on the veranda to read a book. Homer's Iliad captured my interest this morning. I'd never actually read it for myself – only listened to William's melodic voice as he read it aloud to me on the deck of the Islander. Only now did I realise that I'd paid little attention to the words, for I couldn't remember them. Me, with my usually faultless memory that allowed me to recall every conversation from our ill-fated voyage on the Trevessa.
I found tears falling unchecked as I read the archaic phrases, translated from a time more ancient than even my people's grasp of history, or so I believed. A young mother driven from her home and her daughter by misplaced passion. An absence of ten years, the same as me, while battle raged and men died, including the man she loved, before she returned to her homeland and was content.
I threw the book down in disgust. It was as bad as a fairy tale. To stand on the walls and weep while men died for her, without taking a hand to shape her own destiny? And then accepting that her ten years' absence meant nothing and returning to her life as if nothing had happened? I would not stand and weep if someone murdered the man I love. I'd take up every weapon at my disposal and go forth into battle myself – alone, if need be. And I would not go peacefully back to the life I'd left. Were all human women so weak?
If Warwick's war came to pass, was I expected to stand back and not sink ships to defend those I loved? And what about the submarine vessels – those that travelled under the surface as my people did? What danger did they hold for my people, as humans entered our world on an equal footing for the first time?
"You look worried, lass." William climbed the veranda steps wearily. My gaze darted past him, but he was alone. "Jackson took Warwick for a tour of the island. I loaned him my Triumph for the day. He's probably having lunch at South Point."
My breath hissed out in a long sigh of relief.
Once again, William seemed to be reading my mind. "Is it what he said last night about the threat of war?"
I nodded.
"It's the nature of men to want to fight. For land or wealth or freedom or even a woman." He nodded at my book. "But the world is still reeling from the Great War. Whatever plans Japan has, they won't include standing on our doorstep tomorrow. Warwick saw the first submarine – the sort engineers and shipwrights build to test, to see if their concept will work. It could be ten years or more before the design is good enough to build ships to send to war. And even if the designs are perfect now, they take time to build in sufficient numbers to mount an invasion. A lot can happen in that time."
I found my voice. "So war is inevitable?"
William chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "Even I can't say that, lass. I hope it isn't and that this is all a storm in a teacup. But I won't put our family at risk. When the Islander returns, I'm taking you somewhere far from here. If what Warwick says is true and Singapore isn't safe, then Fremantle is our best hope. I'll sail to the ends of the Earth to protect you, but it won't come to that."
For all his cheerful words, I heard the worry behind them and a cold cloud of dread enveloped my heart. How many ships would I have to burn to protect my family this time?
Sixteen
For the second night in a row, Warwick entertained us with tales from his past. Tonight, it was university life and William seemed to feature prominently in all of them. It was hard to imagine William as a boy who'd sneak out at night to take a girl a message, then plead that he'd gotten lost and believed her room to be his own when he'd been caught. Or who'd drink a whole bottle of his professor's prized whisky and replace the contents with tea.
I smiled politely and picked at my food until I was startled by William's loud laughter. What joke had I missed?
"It'll be the last time, I promise you! You won't be so lucky in tonight's rematch!" William insisted.
Warwick leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Bluster and bravado, man. I'll give you a second shiner tonight, so your eyes will match. You'll look like one of those Chinese, bamboo-eating bears. What are they called? Pandas. That's it. Your own wife won't recognise you!"
So I hadn't imagined the darkening bruise around William's eye. The two men had been fighting and they meant to repeat the match tonight. Well, I wouldn't retire as early as I did last night – I'd stay in the drawing room with them until dawn if need be.
Cook strode into the room with her head held high. I sat up straight – I recognised the signs that she'd prepared something she was particularly proud of. The golden-brown balls she carried didn't look remarkable, but I reserved judge
ment as she set one before me.
"You'll like this, Mem," she said softly, nudging my dessert spoon.
I thanked her and pierced the ball with my spoon, slicing off a tiny piece of cake and toasted coconut. It was sweet and crisp, but nothing unusual. I glanced at Cook, trying not to look puzzled.
"More, Mem."
I dug the spoon deeper, attempting to slice a larger piece, but I met resistance that certainly wasn't cake. Intrigued, I forced the spoon through it and lifted it to my lips. The metal was cold and I had barely an instant to register this before the dessert hit my tongue. Hot, crisp cake wrapped around..."Ice cream!" I exclaimed as I peered down at my plate. A second spoon of the cold confection slid down my throat, then a third.
"Is it good, lass?"
I glanced up to realise the others were staring at me, their balls untouched.
"It's delicious. Cook's outdone herself again," I replied with a smile for her and a heartfelt, "Thank you."
William and Sarah dipped their spoons and added their compliments to mine, but Warwick still didn't take his eyes off me.
"Your dessert will grow cold, Mr Warwick. Or warm. Either way, it will not be at its best. I assure you, it's best eaten fresh." I eyed his plate pointedly.
"Yes." He made no move to touch it. "Where did McGregor find you?"
I met his gaze squarely. "I was drifting after the loss of my first husband. It was...an unhappy place. He showed me that there was still some joy in life, if I was willing to see it. And taste it, as it turned out."
William laughed. "If you'd seen her face the day she first tasted chocolate...my God, man, you'd have fallen in love on the spot, too."
Uncomfortably aware of Warwick's continued scrutiny even as he capitulated and ate his dessert, I focussed on finishing mine. I ate too much and it was too late by the time I realised. Little Apalala drummed her tiny fists and tail flukes against my insides in angry protest.
Ocean's Birth Page 5
