A Multitude of Sins

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said with a fierceness that made him raise his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps we can go up-country. To Johore and to Kuala Lumpur?’

  ‘You really have got the travel bit between your teeth, haven’t you?’ he said, amused. ‘What about Li Pi and the tuition you were looking forward to?’

  The flying fish dived from view, but she kept her eyes firmly on the creaming waves. ‘Li Pi will still be there when we return to Hong Kong,’ she said with a lightness she was far from feeling. Li Pi had been the sacrifice she had had to make in order to free herself from Raefe. Even now, the cost of it filled her with so much pain she could scarcely breathe. ‘Let’s go down to the bar and have a drink,’ she said, turning away quickly so that he would not see the anguish in her eyes.

  The talk in the bar was all of war, and as Adam and the friends they had made on board discussed the news that Warsaw had surrendered to the Germans she struggled to recover her composure and her equilibrium. By the time the conversation had turned to America, and its determination not to be involved in the conflict rending Europe, she was once again cool and in control. She would not think of Li Pi. She would not think of Raefe. She would think of nothing but Adam, and his dear honest face. Nothing but of how he loved her and needed her. Of how fortunate she was to be his wife.

  ‘It’s a bit flat and drab after Hong Kong, isn’t it?’ Adam said, puffing on his pipe as the Blantyre Castle approached the sea-lanes outside Singapore’s harbour.

  ‘It’s not as pretty,’ Elizabeth agreed, standing beside him on the deck, the sea-breeze cool and refreshing against her face.

  There were no magnificent mountains rising sheer from the sea. No soaring rocks, silver-grey, silver-tawny. Instead, in the dancing, almost liquid heat, Singapore lay spread out before them, an unromantic line of godowns and shining petrol-tanks on the left, and on the right a fringe of coconut palms and flurry of sampans and junk masts.

  ‘The terrain is the only thing that is different,’ Adam said with a grin an hour later, as he guided her down the gangplank and a blast of hot air hit them in the face. ‘Just listen to that racket! It’s even worse than Victoria!’

  The dockside teemed with coolies, their clamouring cries and chants as they loaded and unloaded cargo rising deafeningly – nearly, but not quite, drowning the strident shouts of their Chinese overseers. Street-hawkers added to the din, plying their wares to disembarking passengers. The boats around them were unloading spices from Bali and Java and the Celebes, and the fragrance rose into the air, mingling with the smell of the Singapore River and the swamp that stretched out on either side of it.

  ‘God, but it’s hot,’ Adam said, wiping the back of his neck with his handkerchief as they stepped on to the dockside. ‘I thought I’d got used to the heat in Hong Kong, but it’s like a blanket here!’

  Elizabeth laughed, looking exquisitely cool in a white linen dress that emphasized her slender curves, a broad-brimmed straw hat shielding her face from the sun. She felt headily free. Hong Kong was behind her, and she was determined, with all her might, mind and strength, that she would not return to it until she knew that her marriage was no longer in danger. Leaving Li Pi, leaving Raefe, had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but somehow she had found the strength and now, standing on the crowded dockside, she felt pride at having emerged victorious from her long hard private battle.

  ‘Where to now?’ she asked, taking his hand as their luggage was trundled ahead of them by a clutch of black-clad coolies.

  ‘Raffles,’ said Adam, beginning to think that the trip had not been such a bad idea after all. There was something exciting about a new city, and his instinct told him that Singapore was going to be an interesting and perhaps even more exotic city than Hong Kong had been.

  She walked quickly at his side, her hand held firmly in his, ignoring the appreciative glances she drew from certain sections of the crowd – husbands waiting to greet their wives, businessmen waiting to meet colleagues.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said, her eyes sparkling in a way they had not done for weeks, and then she looked away from Adam to the gate leading from the docks to the road, and her face whitened, her hand clutching convulsively on his arm.

  ‘Welcome to Singapore,’ Raefe said, stepping towards them, his rich deep-timbred voice ripping wide all her hard-won intentions and sending them scattering. ‘Did you have a good voyage?’

  He was speaking to Adam, but his eyes, dark and determined and full of heat, were on Elizabeth. She couldn’t look away from him. She was held by his gaze, drowning in it, riveted by it.

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said with unaccustomed curtness. ‘I didn’t know you were in Singapore.’ His eyes flicked past Raefe, looking for a taxi. ‘Are you here for long?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Raefe replied easily, his eyes still on Elizabeth. ‘It depends.’

  His eyes were burning hers, scorching her with their heat. She tried to speak and couldn’t. She had tried so hard, run so far, and all to no avail. She had merely run from the frying-pan into the fire. In Hong Kong there were friends who could, simply by their presence, offer her a measure of protection against her crippling desire for him. In Singapore there was no one. And he would pursue her until she capitulated, not just for a few stolen hours, but for ever, his eyes and the tight harsh lines around his mouth told her that. Her fingers dug deeply into the soft linen of Adam’s tropical jacket She felt as if she were going to faint.

  ‘Where are you going? Raffles?’ Raefe asked Adam, dragging his eyes reluctantly from her.

  ‘Yes.’ Adam’s voice was chill. He didn’t like Elliot. He didn’t like his reputation or his negligent insolent attitude. And he didn’t like his being in Singapore, or the coincidence of his being at the docks at the precise moment they had disembarked.

  Raefe turned round and raised his hand, and immediately a yellow Ford taxi-cab purred to a halt at their side.

  ‘Thank you,’ Adam said stiffly as the coolies began to load their luggage into the boot.

  ‘Singapore is my city, almost as much as Hong Kong,’ Raefe said, his eyes once more on Elizabeth’s pale strained face. ‘I look forward to showing you around.’

  Adam made a polite noncommittal reply. He had no intention of spending time with Elliot, in Singapore or anywhere else. He helped Elizabeth into the rear of the taxi and climbed in after her. Then he leaned forward to the Chinese driver. ‘Raffles, please,’ he said, and did not even look in Raefe Elliot’s direction as the taxi pulled away from the kerb and into the main stream of traffic.

  Raefe was uncaring. It was about time Adam Harland realized that he was losing his wife. And he was losing her. Had already lost her. A small tight smile touched his mouth. He knew how much she had wanted to hurtle into his arms, how desperately she had wanted to turn her head as the cab drew away, to look at him as he was looking at her, until she was no longer in sight.

  ‘You tried hard, my love,’ he said softly as the dockside crowds and rickshaws and taxi-cabs surged around him. ‘But even you cannot escape the inevitable.’ And then he turned to the chauffeur-driven Lagonda waiting a mere few feet away. ‘Robinson Road,’ he said as he settled himself into its luxurious interior, wondering how he would endure the hours until he saw her again.

  Elizabeth leaned her head weakly against cracked hot leather. Dear God, what a fool she had been to think that she could escape him so easily! As the taxi hurtled away from the docks she could see a godown, the name ‘Elliot’ emblazoned in large scarlet letters across its front Elliot. A name synonymous with rubber and tin. A name as well known in Singapore as it was in Hong Kong. She remembered her first dinner-party at Tom Nicholson’s and Julienne saying that it was when Raefe had returned from a business trip to Singapore that he had found Jacko Latimer in his wife’s bed. She closed her eyes as the cab sped past neatly laid-out flowerbeds and the white elegant facades of government buildings. She should have known. She should have remembered. Ever since
she had left Hong Kong she had been living inafool’s paradise. A man of Raefe’s wealth didn’t waste time in travelling to Singapore by ship. He flew down. And he had done so the minute he had been told where she was.

  ‘Did you know Elliot was in Singapore?’ Adam asked, his voice unusually brusque as the taxi veered into a tree-lined road.

  ‘No.’ She opened her eyes. She felt so drained, so shattered with the shock of seeing Raefe, of knowing that she could summon up no resistance to him, that if Adam had asked her then and there whether she was having an affair with him she would have admitted it.

  He said irritably: ‘I can’t stand the man. There’s something insufferably arrogant and insultingly self-assured about him. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he had murdered Jack or Jimmy Latimer, or whatever his name was, in cold blood.’

  It was so unlike Adam to speak harshly of anyone that Elizabeth felt as if cold hands were on her heart. ‘He didn’t,’ she said, hating herself for the position he had put her in. A woman defending her lover to her husband. ‘The jury was all agreed that his action was unpremeditated and that he merely meant to give Jacko a thrashing.’

  ‘It’s a pretty vicious thrashing that leaves a man with a smashed skull,’ Adam said tightly as they turned left into Beach Road and approached the traveller’s palms that signalled Raffles.

  She remained silent. She didn’t want to discuss Raefe with him. Her feelings were in tumult as it was, and to hear Raefe’s name being spoken so derogatively by someone she loved and whose opinion she had always respected was almost more than she could bear. She wondered if he knew. The tension emanating between herself and Raefe had been almost palpable, and she knew that another, more worldly man would have guessed the truth instantly. But Adam was not worldly, not when it came to sexual indiscretions, and he had never had any reason to suspect her of unfaithfulness.

  The cab drew to a halt. Bellboys ran to assist with their luggage. An Indian doorman, tall and turbaned, saluted them into the marble-flagged reception area. Thanks to her childhood, she was a connoisseur where great hotels were concerned and she had looked forward to staying at the legendary Raffles. Now her pleasure was nonexistent, and she scarcely looked about her as a bellboy led them to their rooms.

  ‘I suppose he’s down here on business,’ Adam said pugnaciously, refusing to let the subject drop. He tipped the bellboy and closed the door on him. ‘The name Elliot was plastered all over the godowns near the docks. He must own half the damned city.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, sitting down on one of the beds and easing off her shoes. God, the last thing she wanted was a discussion with Adam about Raefe’s wealth. ‘I feel suddenly ridiculously tired, Adam. Would you mind very much if I had a sleep? We can go for a look-around later on, after lunch.’

  He looked across at her with a concerned frown. Her beautifully etched face was ivory pale, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes that he had not seen there earlier.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ he said, immediately solicitous. ‘Would you like me to ring for a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I just need a sleep, Adam, that’s all.’

  He walked across to her. ‘I shouldn’t have gone on so about Raefe Elliot,’ he said apologetically. ‘It isn’t as if the man is of the slightest interest to us.’ He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Have a good rest, darling. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.’

  The door clicked quietly behind him. The fan, hanging trembling from the ceiling, turned lazily and sunlight fell in slatted shafts through the rattan blinds. She stared up at the glistening white ceiling. All she had to do was not to see him. With a little persuasion, she could surely coerce Adam into leaving immediately for Kuala Lumpur or Johore. Her good intentions didn’t have to lay shattered in smithereens around her. She could still salvage a remnant of self-respect from the wreckage.

  She thought of the way he had looked when their eyes had met over the heads of the hurrying coolies and disembarking passengers, tall and broad-shouldered, his silk shirt open at the throat, his white flannels snug about his narrow hips, his glossy black hair sheened blue by the sun, and desire shot through her, convulsing her with a physical longing raging to be assuaged. Dear God, but she wanted his hands on her body, his mouth on her flesh. The mere thought of it made her hot and damp, made her quiver in hungry anticipation.

  With a sob she rolled over on to her stomach, her fists clenched as she slammed them into the pillows. She would not give in to him! She would not sacrifice her life with Adam because of her animal-like craving to lay spread-eagled on her back beneath Raefe Elliot’s hard thrusting body. She would not! She would not! She would not!

  When Adam returned she had showered and was wearing an apricot cotton dress with a narrow waist and full skirt, and matching high-wedged peep-toe sandals.

  ‘Feeling better, darling?’ he asked, sliding his arms around her.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied, leaning against him, wishing with all her heart that her body would react to his in the same wild impassioned way that it reacted to Raefe’s. ‘Adam?’ Her arms tightened around him as he looked down questioningly at her. ‘Could we leave tomorrow for Kuala Lumpur? I’ve heard that the scenery up-country is superb and—’

  ‘Good heavens, Beth! We’ve only just got here!’ he said, laughing indulgently. ‘Let’s leave Kuala Lumpur till next week or the week after. It won’t run away.’

  Her heart began to beat in short thick strokes. She could never remember his refusing her anything, and this was so important! If they didn’t leave Singapore, if she had to face Raefe again, then the whole structure of their lives would fall apart.

  ‘Please, Adam,’ she said, slipping her hands up and around his neck. ‘Please, darling. It would mean so much to me.’

  His smile faded. ‘That’s what you said about coming to Singapore, Beth. I gave in to you, and we came, but I don’t particularly want to find myself in transit again for at least two weeks. It simply isn’t reasonable.’ He squeezed her and then released his hold of her. ‘Come on, darling. I got talking to a couple of planters and an up-country tin-miner in the Long Bar. I’d like to introduce you to them.’

  ‘Please, Adam,’ she said again, her voice taut. ‘I know it seems ridiculous, but it is important to me!’

  ‘But why?’ he said. ‘Why this urge to be constantly on the move? Is there something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?’

  She looked up into his dear, kind, puzzled face, and knew with despair that she couldn’t tell him. It would hurt him too much, and the dreadful inadequacy at the heart of their marriage would lay exposed. He would know that his gentle reverent lovemaking had never aroused her. That, though she loved him dearly, she was not in love with him in the way that a woman ought to be with her husband. And nothing would ever be the same between them again.

  ‘No,’ she said wearily. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong, Adam.’

  He took her once more into his arms, holding her close. ‘I can’t bear it if you’re unhappy, Beth,’ he said, his voice muffled against her hair. ‘I love you so much, sweetheart. You mean everything in the world to me.’

  ‘I know.’ Her voice was choked. ‘And I love you, too, Adam.’ Her arms tightened around him. At that moment it seemed inconceivable that she could ever hurt him. All she had to do was remember how very dear he was to her. And refuse to see Raefe Elliot ever again.

  They had a couple of drinks in the Long Bar, and Adam introduced her to the planters and the miner that he had met earlier. Later, as they ate lunch, the sound of music filtered through into the dining-room. ‘That’s the band,’ Adam said with a grin. ‘There is dancing here every afternoon. Rather decorous, I suspect, but still fun.’

  When they had finished their coffee they strolled along the arcade that led to the dance-floor. ‘How about a slow foxtrot before we launch ourselves on the town?’ Adam asked her, putting his pipe away in his pocket. ‘It’s yea
rs since I did this sort of thing at two o’clock in the afternoon. It makes life feel quite risqué!’

  For the rest of the day, as they explored Singapore by rickshaw and taxi-cab, she wondered when Raefe would next attempt to get in touch with her. And where.

  The city was more open, more laid-out, than Hong Kong, the contrasts between the different parts of the city sharper and more obviously defined. The Chinese part of the city, the crowded and dark little shops, was familiar enough to them after Hong Kong, but only a few streets away the noise and bustle vanished and Chinese faces were replaced by Indian faces, black pyjamas by vivid silk saris, hectic frenzy by Asian languor.

  They paid off their taxi-cab, strolling through a street-market, its stalls piled high with mounds of mangoes and papayas and pomelos and chillies, the ground daubed with the scarlet stains of betel nuts. Later, when they were tired, they took a rickshaw back towards Raffles, the narrow crowded streets replaced by broad avenues with trim grass verges and luxuriant and carefully tended flowerbeds.

  ‘That’s the Tanglin Club,’ Adam said, pointing out a low white building amidst spacious grounds. ‘If we’re going to be here for any length of time, we must become members. Alastair says it has the best swimming-pool in the city.’

  As they neared the government and business section, she saw the name ‘Elliot’ emblazoned high over an office block and her stomach muscles tightened. She didn’t want to be in Singapore long enough for it to become necessary for them to join prestigious all-white sports clubs like the Tanglin. She wanted to leave Singapore, and Raefe Elliot, far behind her.

  ‘It’s a far more attractive city than it first looked, isn’t it?’ Adam mused as their rickshaw bowled down the broad tree-lined expanse of Battery Road. ‘Every street leads to either the sea or the river. There’s water and ships everywhere.’

  She agreed with him. Singapore was a beautiful city, with its parks and gardens, its straight streets bordered by exotic flame trees and trim grass verges, but she couldn’t take the pleasure in it that Adam was taking. As they neared Raffles Place, she could think only of Raefe. Of whether he would be at Raffles when they returned. Of how he would take her adamant refusal to see him again. Of how she would summon the strength to remain steadfast against her crippling need of him.