Authors: Rosalind Brett
“
So far I
’
ve found it beautiful, and fascinating.
”
“
But what a honeymoon!
”
Mrs. Lunn paused.
“
I believe I know how you feel. You met your husband in England, I suppose, and now you
’
re not quite sure he
’
s the man you became engaged to. But don
’
t let it bother you. Life as the wife of a plantation manager can be very pleasant, and I
’
m sure that once you
’
re settled in your husband will be very glad you
’
re there, even though he may consider you too young in many ways.
”
Terry did not examine that statement; she merely thought, fleetingly, that this woman was too knowledgeable about human beings to be deceived into thinking Pete could be in love with a slight creature who had mid-brown hair and blue eyes.
Terry took off the dismembered top of her frock, bore with Mrs. Lunn
’
s exclamations about
the
wretched garment and lay down as she was, on the camp bed. Mrs. Lunn herself did no more than shed the faded print dress she had been wearing.
“
It
’
s never safe to undress completely when you
’
re camping,
”
she told Terry.
“
I
’
ve heard tales of tigers coming right into the tent, and rock cobras curling up beneath the bed, out of the rain. The worst that ever happened to us was bird-eating spiders. They festooned the outside of the tent and had to be smoked off. Are you comfortable there, dear?
”
“
Very much so, thank you.
”
“
Then I
’
ll put out the light. There.
”
The other bed creaked as she lay down.
“
Perhaps tomorrow night,
”
she said in the darkness,
“
you
’
ll have reached the rubber estate. Mr. Sternham was telling my husband that his house is about eight miles on the other side of Penghu.
”
“
You don
’
t know it at all?
”
Terry ventured.
“
No. We were stationed for six months outside the town and were too busy for much social life. Three
or
four years ago, so they told us, Penghu was only a glorified village with just an importer
’
s warehouse and offices, and a few stores. When the railway was finished and expansion started the place was re-planned and some proper shops built. There
’
s even a block of f
l
ats, and the
o
ld bamboo bridges are being replaced by concrete affairs to take heavier traffic.
”
Terry said carefully,
“
I believe a British firm has the contract.
”
“
Oh, yes. There are four bridges in the district to be built in three years.
”
“
Did you meet any of the officials of the construction
Company?
”
“
Not to remember them. There aren
’
t many white people in Penghu, but we weren
’
t in a position to be friendly with even those few. I was once invited to some outdoor function where I was introduced to a number of people, but I haven
’
t remembered many of the names. Actually, of the faces I only remember Mrs. Winchester. She
’
s a striking-looking woman.
”
Terry
’
s heart leapt. Mrs. Winchester was the wife of the construction company
’
s superintendent of works; it was she with whom Annette was staying until her marriage
...
and it was in Mrs. Winchester
’
s house that Terry herself would live while in Penghu!
She longed to put more questions, to describe Annette and ask Mrs. Lunn if she had seen her. Annette, with her model
’
s poise and expensive clothes, her reddish hair and good voice, must be even more attractive than Mrs. Winchester. But possibly Mrs. Lunn had met Mrs. Winchester some time ago, before Annette
’
s arrival.
Mrs. Lunn went on talking, about the job her husband had done for Malayan education, about the many places at which they had been stationed during the past fifteen years, about faithful Malay servants and the Chi
n
ese problem. After their leave she and her husband were going south, and only a year after that they would retire to a small fruit farm in Kent.
Possibly it was seldom that Mrs. Lunn had a white woman listener. She did not
stop talking that night till sleep caught up with her. After which Terry lay there,
conscious of the faint slapping of the water and distant cries in the jungle.
And still, with perhaps less than fifty miles of the river between herself and Annette, she could not feel her sister
’
s nearness. By now, of course, Annette would have accepted the fact that Terry must arrive late. Having heard nothing, Annette might be persuaded to believe that Terry had taken the only alternative route to Penghu, by way of the coast by plane or vessel, and then across country by some kind of hired vehicle.
But tomorrow night
...
Terry thrust the thought away, lay there with her hands gripping at her elbows while she stared at the double roof of
the
tent. There was still the whole of tomorrow and the bargain she had made with Pete. A happy day to round off the trip. To be really happy with him, she mustn
’
t think of
the
future, not even of the near future, when she would meet Annette.
There was a heavy mist next morning, the usual blue, turning to white over the water as the suri rose. The river flowed sluggishly and the Lunns
’
Malay boys waded into it with fishing baskets which they had taken from the prahu. They brought numerous small fish and cleaned them, handed a dozen or so to Mr. Lunn, for frying over a small fire which had been kindled within a circle of stones.
Pete, shaving at a mirror that was fastened to a branch, seemed to be in no hurry at all. When Terry came out he gave her a tolerant half-smile and wiped the last of the lather from his jaw. He bent over a bucket of water and doused his face, used a towel and, still wiping his hands, came to her side.
“
How
’
s the rash?
”
“
Not at all bad. The stinging has quite gone.
”
“
Good. Another dose of the jelly tonight may clear it entirely. Hungry?
”
She smiled.
“
A little. Was it very wet in the night?
”
“
We had covers. My best sleep since we left Vinan.
”
“
I
’
m glad.
”
To Terry, her own voice sounded cold and brittle. She turned to help Mrs. Lunn prepare the table.
It was a leisurely breakfast. The men had porridge with tinned milk, and all four ate the fried strips of fish with rye biscuit. There were tinned juice and coffee to drink, plenty of cigarettes, and a gradually visible river to watch while they smoked and finished up the coffee.
Within sight, the river widened to about thirty-five feet, with great arching fronds of palms leaning over it on each side. The sky went pale with haze, and then the whole of the mist was swallowed and the usual hot metallic blueness lay above the treetops.
“
I always think,
”
said Mrs. Lunn,
“
that the rivers are an integral part of the tropical scene. The thick grey-brown belongs here; it
’
s part of the warmth and mystery.
”
“
You
’
d imagine,
”
stated Mr. Lunn,
“
that Meg would be so used to the tropics that she
’
d hardly see a thing. I never notice much myself, except a thirst and the mosquitoes!
”
“
And even dealing with those becomes automatic,
”
remarked Pete.
“
Women haven
’
t our outlook. They approach everything from a personal angle and question things that just have to be accepted.
”
“
Still, we wouldn
’
t be without them, would we?
”
said Mr. Lunn jovially.
“
Your plantation will seem like heaven compared with the old bachelor days.
”
A faintly jeering look came into Pete
’
s eyes as he met Terry
’
s; she had the feeling that had the Lunns not been watching he would have winked.
“
Oh, I don
’
t know,
”
he said.
“
Even the sweetest little woman has the potentialities for home-wrecking as well as home-making. You have to handle them right.
”
“
I think you
’
ll do that, Mr. Sternham!
”
put in Mrs. Lunn.
“
In my opinion, you
’
re awfully fortunate to have such a lovely girl for a wife.
”
Pete made a play of inspecting Terry; he grinned at the deepening color in her cheeks and said lazily,
“
It
’
s all a matter of being a good picker.
”
“
Well,
”
from Mrs. Lunn,
“
I hope you two will be as happy as we have been during the last twenty-four years. We
’
ve a son and a daughter, both training for careers in England. They were
born
here and kept very healthy.
”
She laughed self-consciously.
“
I
’
m not normally superstitious, but I often recall a sort of blessing we were given, shortly after our marriage. We were both teaching at a village in Johore and one night a very respected old man came to visit us. He brought a pinkish mess of rice in palm wine, and we had to swallow the stuff to please him. Luckily, I was quite cheerful about it because I didn
’
t know the meaning of it, but later on my husband discovered what it was. The concoction was meant to ensure happiness, but not till we
’
d been married a year. The testing year, I suppose.
”
Remembering the split bamboo containing pink rice grains in coconut milk tasting of wine, Terry felt a little sick. She smoked her cigarette and stared at the river, while the others went on talking. It was after nine o
’
clock when Pete said they must leave, and getting towards ten before the Lunns allowed the canoe to be pushed out. The middle-aged couple called their good wishes, waved their hands.
“
Hope we
’
ll meet again some time!
”
“So
do I,
”
from Pete.
“
I
’
ll return your hospitality.
”
“
I wish it were possible, but you never know!
”
The canoe was out in midstream and the figures of the Lunns had shrunk considerably when Pete remarked to Terry,
“
We won
’
t hope to meet them again too soon. Their memories seem a little foggy, so if they do ever return to Penghu they
’
ll probably confuse me with someone they met elsewhere. They
’
re tied up for the duration of their leave, anyway. Two months can be quite a long time.
”
So can four days, thought Terry; at least, the first three days could seem leaden, though the fourth was likely to take wing. Still, it lay right there, ahead of them. A smooth, palm-hung river with big redwood meranti trees helping to shade part of it. No hazards; and Pete, looking bronzed and rough-haired, his eyes gleaming slightly as he rhythmically moved the paddle, his mouth set in the negligent smile that
...
that hurt her just a little.
At about one o
’
clock they met their first plantation. There were long rows of coconut palms with tall lalang grass between them. A neglected plantation, Pete said;
it probably belonged to a Mal
ay who had no organizing ability.
“
Lalang grass should always be eliminated where there
’
s cultivation,
”
Pete told her.
“
Hoeing between trees is most important here, where the jungle absorbs everything that
’
s neglected. Whole cities have disappeared in the Malayan jungle.
”
“
Good heavens, why were they allowed to vanish?
”