In the Mouth of the Tiger (23 page)

‘What are you going to do, Nona?' Mother asked. ‘Risk deportation by sticking with Denis? Or act sensibly for a change?' She had dropped into Russian. It was the first time we had spoken together in Russian since we had been in KL, which was a measure of her concern.

She deserved a straight answer. ‘I love Denis and I know I always will,' I said. ‘It would be death for me to leave him. So I will disobey these police officers and ignore their threats. But don't worry too much, Mother. I think that they were bluffing. There are rules and regulations about these things. I am not doing anything wrong by standing beside Denis, and so I can't see what reason they can give for deporting me.'

Mother clicked her tongue. ‘You are so young and naïve, Nona. These are very powerful people. If they want to have you deported, all that is necessary is for Special Branch to whisper something to the people who decide these matters, and you will be deported. Mark my words.'

‘Denis is also a powerful person,' I said. ‘He is very popular in KL, and he has an awful lot of powerful friends. I'm sure he could stop any nonsense by the police.'

‘He is also very wealthy,' Tanya put in. ‘He could afford the very best lawyers.'

‘Indeed he is wealthy!' Mother said with an edge to her voice. ‘He is very, very wealthy! They were talking about him at the Selangor Club the other day. They were wondering how it is he has made such wealth in the
short time he has been in Malaya. He came out here as a Dunlops trainee manager a bare ten years ago. A “creeper”, as they call them. Since then he has become one of the wealthiest young men in KL. He certainly did not become wealthy on his salary!'

I sighed. ‘What are you suggesting, Mother? ‘That the Comintern is paying Denis a fortune to spy on us?'

Mother shook her head. ‘There are people making a fortune smuggling opium into the FMS for the Chinese triads,' she said. ‘You can make a fortune in a day by bringing in a few pounds of the stuff. The only trouble is that it is almost certain that one day you will be shot dead. Either by the police or by the triads themselves. There are gang killings in the papers every day. Even Europeans are murdered.'

I was becoming a little angry. ‘Denis is not a smuggler,' I said. ‘He is a very good businessman. His contract with Guthries gives him permission to speculate on the share market. He has been very lucky with shares lately.'

‘Denis a businessman?' Mother snorted. ‘Have you ever seen him being a businessman, Nona? All the time you have known him he has played cricket and golf, and gone off sailing, or gone off to shoot seladang. When has he
time
to work for Guthries, let alone be a private businessman?'

‘It doesn't take very long to place an order on the Exchange to buy or sell shares. All it takes is courage.'

Mother dragged her chair close to mine. ‘Nona, my dear. Let me tell you some things you really should know. This Denis of yours owns half the derelict gold and tin mines in Selangor and Perak. He buys them for a song, and he sells them for a song. Or he just holds onto them. Why does he do this? It is said, Nona, that he does it as a front, to explain where all his money is coming from.'

I got to my feet. ‘First you tell me Denis is a lady-killer, and I shouldn't see him because he will break my heart. Then he is a Comintern spy. Now you say he is working for the triads, smuggling opium into Malaya. I'm sick and tired of these stupid stories!' My voice had risen and I could feel myself trembling again.

Tanya got to her feet too, and she steered me gently but firmly back to the sofa. ‘We say these things only because Denis is an enigma to us all,' she said. ‘You see, we care for you very much, little sister. We do not want you to be hurt. But if you truly love Denis, and he loves you, then of course you must follow your heart.'

Just then Ismail's horn beeped outside. It had been arranged that he would drive me to the Riding Club in the company car as Denis had gone down earlier to exercise his horses. I was tempted to send an excuse and to go back to bed for the day. But that would mean that I wouldn't see Denis, and what I needed above everything else was reassurance. So I took myself off and had a lightning shower, running down to the car in my riding kit with my hair still wet. Mother and Tanya watched me go from the upstairs balcony, and I could see the concern in their faces as they waved me goodbye.

I told Denis all about the visit by the police as soon as I met him, clinging onto his arm as he stood with a steaming Soliloquy in the saddling enclosure. He had been flushed and smiling after a hard ride but his demeanour changed the moment he heard what I had to say. He called sharply for the syce to take the bridle and strode back to his car with me without a backwards glance.

‘Where are we going?' I asked breathlessly. ‘Aren't we going to ride today?'

Denis didn't say anything until we were both in the Alvis and then he turned to me. I had never seen him looking so angry and I felt for a moment that he was angry with me and my heart lurched. But when he spoke his voice was so soft, so loving, that I could hardly hear his words. ‘You do not deserve this, my dear. I am dreadfully sorry that it happened.'

I was suddenly worried by the depth of his concern. ‘Don't take it too seriously,' I said. ‘I'm not all
that
terribly upset. I don't want you to do anything silly.'

Denis revved the Alvis and spun out of the car park, heading for KL. ‘I'm going to take you home,' he said after a moment or two. ‘I want you to rest at home for the day. Will you do that for me, Nona? I've got some sorting out to do.'

I spent the morning desperately worried that Denis might do something rash. I had visions that he might give Malcolm or one of the other policemen a bloody nose, and knew that it would only make things worse than they were already.

When the telephone rang just after midday I jumped for it. It was Malcolm Bryant and I felt like banging the phone down, but he seemed to anticipate the thought. ‘Don't hang up on me, Nona,' he said quickly. ‘I really do need to speak to you.'

‘There is nothing you can say that I want to hear,' I said.

‘Don't hang up,' he said again, an edge of desperation in his voice. Then,
after a short silence: ‘He's brought in the battleships again, Nona.'

‘What on earth are you talking about?' I snapped.

‘I've been ordered to apologise to you for our visit this morning. And to tell you that the Commissioner of Police would also like to apologise to you, in person, this afternoon. I've been asked to tell you that if you are available, the Commissioner's car will be around to pick you up at four o'clock. Oh, and I have to tell you that there is no question of your residency papers being reviewed.'

I breathed out a long sigh of relief. ‘Anything else?' I asked, a little sarcastically.

‘Just a bit of news. It might not be of any interest to you, Nona, but I've been posted out of KL. I'm being moved to a
kerani
job in Johore. I've got one week to clear things up here.'

It took a moment or two to sink in. Denis had said that he had a few things to sort out. It looked as if he had just sorted Malcolm out to within an inch of his professional life. My first feeling was one of extraordinary exhilaration. The four police officers thundering on our door at the crack of dawn, the barely disguised threats, the feeling of utter helplessness in the face of officialdom at its belligerent worst – these things had disturbed me far more than I had cared to admit even to myself. To have the tables turned so unexpectedly and so comprehensively gave me such a feeling of relief and joy that I was literally dancing from foot to foot.

But within an instant I saw the other side of the equation. Malcolm had tried, in his maladroit way, to save me from something he feared would harm me. He had tried to be my guardian angel, even if there had been an element of self-interest in the equation.

‘I'm sorry you've been chucked out of KL and given a desk job' I said. I tried to find words to continue without giving him the impression that I had any affection for him, but the words just didn't come.

‘Are you really sorry I've been chucked out?' Malcolm pursued the point in an odd voice.

I paused before replying. ‘I suppose I am. You were one of Denis's and my first friends. It is sad our friendship had to end like this.'

‘It doesn't have to end like this,' Malcolm said. ‘I would very much like us to part as friends. Will you come and have dinner with Dorothy and me before I go? Bring your mother, of course. I really would hate us to part as enemies.'

Oh God! ‘I'll have to ask Mother,' I temporised.

‘You owe me that much, Nona. I've done myself a great deal of harm on your behalf. It would help put things right with my superiors if they felt you had no hard feelings.'

‘All right,' I said reluctantly. ‘You will have to ring Mother tonight and arrange with her when we could come over.' As soon as I had said the words I regretted them but of course it was too late.

The Commissioner of the FMS Police sent not only his car and a syce, but also his personal assistant, a smiling, pleasant young man called Bob Randall. Bob handed me into the Commissioner's Bentley, and then joined me on the back seat and chatted amiably during the short drive to the Secretariat Building. He had been a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, he told me, but had chosen to forgo thrashing around the North Sea in a battleship in favour of thrashing around Malaya in search of criminals. ‘I love catching crooks,' he said ingenuously. ‘But I'd far prefer to bag a tiger. Done a spot of hunting, but never even
seen
one of the beasts.'

I gave a slight smile. ‘Oh, it's all luck, you know. I saw one up in Pahang the other day. Bit of an undersized brute, but pretty ferocious all the same.'

The Commissioner of Police in those days was a man called Robbie MacPhail, a friendly and respected figure known throughout the Far East as ‘Calliper' because his long legs gave his walk the curious look of a pair of callipers opening and shutting. In the flesh he proved to be a smiling, likeable man who shook my hand warmly and escorted me to one of two leatherbacked chairs in the corner of his spacious office. ‘Please sit with me for a while, Miss Roberts,' he said pleasantly. ‘I've ordered tea and biscuits. They won't be too long.'

We sat together in a slightly awkward silence for a moment or two, and then the Commissioner cleared his throat. ‘I suppose we'd better get the business side of things over and done with so that we can relax.'

‘Malcolm Bryant rang me earlier today and apologised,' I volunteered. ‘I accepted his apology.'

The Commissioner shook his head sadly. ‘I told him to ring. Least he could do under the circumstances. You have no idea how mortified I was when I heard what my people did this morning. It was quite improper, quite inexcusable, and I unreservedly apologise on behalf of the Police Force of the Federated Malay States. I've put all that in writing.' He handed me an envelope with the police crest in one corner, and continued. ‘If you wish to
take the matter further, particularly the threat to cancel your residency, we do have people to whom you can lodge an official complaint. Such a complaint would be thoroughly investigated, and appropriate disciplinary action taken.' He paused, looking me straight in the eye, and then suddenly smiled. ‘But I have already disciplined the officers responsible, and I do rather hope we can close the book on the whole dreadful episode here and now.'

I returned his smile. ‘As far as I am concerned the matter is already closed,' I said, putting the envelope into my handbag. ‘I was terribly upset at the time. But I can't see any point in continuing the matter for another moment.' I felt very grown up and mature.

‘Good for you.' The Commissioner rose from his chair and I rose with him, and we shook hands rather formally before sitting down again. It was a little like a scene from a film, with the Pukka Sahib and the sanguine Memsahib disposing of the childish infractions of lesser mortals. But then there was a pause as we both wondered what happened next. ‘Why on earth did they do it?' I ventured, more to break the silence than in expectation of an answer. ‘What possible reason could they have had?'

‘I suspect that they might not all have had the same reason,' the Commissioner said dryly.

I thought about that for a moment and it made sense. Malcolm's actions – at least in part – had been clearly aimed at protecting me. As far as James and Jocelyn were concerned, their motives were as clear as pikestaffs: they wanted revenge for the way Denis had made them look foolish at Mrs Srinivasan's.

But Mr Onraet's motivation puzzled me. He had seemed far keener on protecting Denis than protecting me.

‘Mr Onraet asked me to stay away from Denis for Denis's sake,' I said. ‘Have you any idea what he had in mind?' As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them, because I realised precisely what Onraet had had in mind.

‘No idea at all,' the Commissioner said, but the emphatic way he said it told me that he also knew.

You see, I was probably illegitimate. Coupled with the fact that I was an alien, and a Russian alien to boot, that made me a most inappropriate match for a man on the rise like Denis Elesmere-Elliott.

When Mother had escaped from Communist Astrakhan as a nineteenyear-old with a baby in her arms, she had been helped and accompanied by a man called Carl Gustav Brayer, a brash, worldly Russian Pole twice her age.
Brayer had allowed himself to be named as my father on the travel documents given to us in Ankara, but his real relationship with Mother had always been ambiguous. He had accompanied us halfway around the world to Penang, but then had simply disappeared, it was said back to the fleshpots of Paris. Without a marriage certificate or a birth certificate, that left Mother and me in a kind of social limbo.