The Hills of Singapore (30 page)

Despite the netting, Charlotte lit sandalwood incense and lemon oil all around the verandah and in the rooms. Her clothes had dried on her, and as dusk began to fall, the heat went out of the day. Cool now, Charlotte, forgave Charles and began to enjoy this extraordinary experience. To find oneself utterly out of the civilised world, entirely surrounded by nature, this was a humbling thing. The hand of man had merely brushed the land here, and it was terrifying and majestic at the same time.

Charles poured a small glass of whisky for them both, and they sat watching Kassim and Inchi prepare the food. The sun was setting; an orange glow cast a halo over the forest, and a host of butterflies began flitting along the river.

Charlotte had not seen jungle cooking and watched with interest as Inchi took several banana leaves and poured rice grains onto them, then folded them into tubes. He packed the rice-filled tubes into four fat bamboo containers and filled each with water and set them upright onto the fire. The fire had been alight since they arrived and was very hot.

Next Inchi moved some hot stones into a hole, wrapped the fish in banana leaves, put them on top and covered them with a thin layer of earth. He served them on big green banana leaves, and their fingers were their utensils. It was simple, but hunger made it delicious.

After dinner, Inchi brought out his nose flute and entertained them most pleasantly for half an hour with its sweet and eerie sounds. He and Kassim were charming companions. She said good night to Charles, and as she retired to bed, Charlotte thought that all in all it had been a most exciting day of new discoveries. She was looking forward to a day spent alone with Charles exploring the streams, for he had told her there were diamonds to be found in these waters. She fell immediately into a deep sleep.

34

After a breakfast of tea, mangosteens and creamy custard apples, Charles led Charlotte off on foot up one of the streams. Within ten minutes the trees had fallen away, and limestone cliffs rose on either side of a small canyon. The walls of the canyon were covered in stone shapes of shells, leaves and small reptiles. Charlotte ran her hand over them, astounded, and turned to Charles.

“What carvings are these?” she asked.

Charles went up to her. “Not carvings but fossils.”

Charlotte frowned. “What?”

“Petrified remains of things from a past age which we do not understand yet,” Charles explained. He took Charlotte's hand and led her to the middle of the stream, where large stones lay in vast profusion.

“They are called
batu tikus
–rat stones,” Charles said. A sweep of skeletal stone bones wound across the stream bed. “A man called Cuvier has hypothesised that they are the fossils of creatures destroyed in a great catastrophe.” He shrugged. “We do not know.”

Charles showed her deep holes nearby in the river bed. “Diamond diggings, abandoned,” he said. They both searched in the pebbly sediment for a while, and Charles found one small yellow stone, and they laughed with pleasure. They stopped searching and drank some water and let their feet linger in the cool stream. Then they turned and retraced their steps.

As they rounded the bend and came into sight of the bungalow, they both noticed a second boat tied alongside their own with a Dyak boatman lolling in it, waiting.

“We have a visitor, it seems,” Charles said, frowning, a note of displeasure in his voice.

As they climbed the hill, Charlotte looked up and into the eyes of the man she had hoped never to see again. Captain Palmer was standing looking down at her, his face impassive. She stopped abruptly and gasped. Charles looked at her and then followed her gaze. He frowned, then took her hand firmly in his, and together they stepped onto the verandah.

Palmer noticed the clasped hands, and his mouth twitched. It was impossible for Charlotte to express how much she loathed this man, and she was glad to stand just behind Charles as he greeted Palmer.

“Captain, I thought you were in Bau at the mines.”

Palmer extended his hand, and Charles was forced, out of gentlemanly politeness, to drop Charlotte's and extend his own. Palmer touched his hat and looked at Charlotte.

“At Ledah Tanah I heard you were staying here. I thought I would pay my respects. I am very pleased to see you again, Mrs Manouk.”

Charlotte made no pretence at politeness. She went into the bungalow and shut the door of her room. She was in a state of violent agitation. Just the presence of this man filled her with unease. She could hear them talking, Palmer and Charles, but she would not go out there. Inchi brought some hot tea, and she stayed in her room. Finally after half an hour, there was a knock on her door and she rose.

“He has gone,” Charles said. He saw Charlotte was trembling, and he took her in his arms.

“It's all right. He and Helms were returning to Kuching. Helms went on ahead because he has business with Sir James.”

“What is Palmer doing? Is he going back to Kuching also?”

Charlotte moved out of Charles's arms and walked to the verandah. She looked right and left, down and along the river, but Palmer's boat was gone. She sighed and sat down.

“Inchi” Charles called. “Bring some lunch.”

As Inchi began to lay some dishes on the table, Charles took Charlotte's hand.

“Palmer left a companion and the other three Dyak boatmen at Ledah Tanah to come here. They will overnight there and return to Kuching in the morning. There is nothing to worry about.” Charles was trying to reassure her, but Charlotte did not feel reassured. Just the fact that Palmer was in the district, barely fifteen minutes away by boat, knowing where they were, made her feel agitated. She barely ate.

“Charles, could we go back this afternoon?”

“What is it you fear, Kitt?”

“You don't know him, Charles. He is a vicious and unprincipled man. In Batavia he was known for his cruelty to his slave women, whom he kept in abundance, though it was illegal and immoral to do so.”

Charlotte looked at Charles. “He … he …”

“What, Kitt, what is it?”

Charlotte was reluctant to tell Charles about the incident in Java when Palmer had lured her into a lonely old Christian cemetery where he knew her Mohammedan guards would not follow. He had assaulted her and would have done worse if she had not been saved by the presence of mind of her guards, who were following outside the walls.

She could not tell him this. Charles was filled with honour. He might feel obliged to act, to challenge Palmer, and Charlotte knew Palmer would not fight fairly. And she would not tell him for another reason as well: after the incident of the wet clothes today at the river, of which Charles had so obviously disapproved, she worried that Charles might think she had somehow behaved in such a way as to incite Palmer's attack. After all, Charles had not been there—he could not know.

“I dislike him, Charles. He is a beast and capable of anything,” she said at last.

Charles smiled and touched her hand. “We have no boatmen, and Kassim has gone to the Dyak village as well for the evening. They will all come back tomorrow morning. I will put Inchi on guard tonight. He will be vigilant. I'm sure there is nothing to worry about here in the Rajah's lands.”

Charlotte looked around. They were alone here with only Inchi to stand guard? She could not believe it.

“Charles, you must have Inchi with you inside tonight and bar the door and windows. Promise.”

Charles frowned. Charlotte was truly worried. Doubtless her dislike of this man and a feeling of isolation in the wilds of the jungle had played with her sensibilities. It was only to be understood. He thought she was overwrought, but he felt so tenderly for her, he rose, and took her into his arms.

“Don't worry, yes, I promise,” he murmured against her hair. For the first time he felt like her protector, the husband he might be to her.

He took her chin and turned her face to his. He brushed his lips against hers, and she took his face in her hands and guided his mouth to hers, her lips slightly open. As they touched, he felt a great rush of passion, the feel of her lips so soft, her tongue gently against his lips. He tightened his arms around her, the inflaming image of her body in the river filling his mind, the cloth wet and clinging to her every curve, and she responded, deepening the kiss.

“Kitt,” he said, when they parted.

Charlotte wanted so much more than this kiss. She felt it in the deep pulsations of her body. The awful weeds of widowhood were like chains. But she knew he would be shocked if she took him by the hand and into the bedroom and showed him what married love with her could be. She had felt the power of his response to her, and it was enough, for now. She and Charles were on the brink of something quite wonderful.

She let Palmer go out of her mind. Charles was right. Whatever had passed before, even Palmer was not so demented as to attack the guests of the Rajah for no reason, in his own land.

35

Charlotte woke to a noise. She rubbed her eyes. The room was pitch dark; the candle she had left burning had gone out. She had made sure Charles threw the latch over the wooden louvered shutters of the two small windows and the door. It left the rooms airless and hot, but she had gone to sleep reassured that both Charles and Inchi were nearby. For the first time in her life she had put her Javanese kris under her pillow.

The noise that had awakened her sounded like rats, a muffled scratching. Charlotte had a horror of rats and sat bolt upright. She felt for the candle and then stopped. There was a cry, a human cry, suddenly cut off. She rose from the bed and went to the door which joined the two rooms. A flickering light glowed faintly through the small cracks in the wooden planks. She was about to open the door when she heard another muffled groan and the sound of a whispered, hissing voice. She stood frozen. The voice was Palmer's, she was certain.

She looked around, panicked. The only exit was by the window, which stood ten feet above the ground. What was happening next door? Anxiety for Charles made her tremble, but then the noises stopped, and she moved slowly away from the door. She ran to her pillow and took the kris, then back to the door, terrified, her body flattened against the wall. She felt her heart beating out of her chest; her breath came in gasps which she tried to silence.

Nothing happened. The night was filled with the noises of frogs croaking, but no sound came from the next room. Charlotte tried to calm herself, breathing deeply, stopping the feeling of utter panic which was overwhelming her.

Suddenly the door burst open and knocked against her as Palmer entered the room. She screamed. The blow from the door momentarily stunned her, and the knife skidded away across the floor. Palmer grabbed her arm, drew back his hand and struck her so hard she flew across the room.

“How delightful to meet you again, Mrs Manouk, under such romantic circumstances. I think we have a little unfinished business.”

Charlotte tried desperately to think. She felt her face on fire from his blow, but somehow, pain had heightened her senses. She could see the two men, next door, in the lamplight. They both looked dead, unmoving. She felt tears start to overwhelm her, then bit them back. She had to survive, and there was no place for tears here.

He stood looking down at her. She knew he would want to gloat, to terrify her before he did what he had come to do. Rape and murder, she was certain of that.

If he had come and thrown himself on her that minute he would have succeeded, but he did not. There was a sound, a moan from the other room, and Charlotte realised that one of the men was alive. Palmer realised as well; he turned to look and walked over to one of the bodies. Charlotte saw her opportunity: she groped around her and in a moment, felt a flood of relief. She gripped the knife and rose. Palmer was kneeling next to Charles, she could see, his own knife raised to strike a final blow. Palmer was going to finish him before turning his attention to her. She knew by the indifferent turn of his back to her that he was certain of her cowering fear, that he believed her to be waiting like one of his slave women, unable to act, to defend herself against his violence and filth. She felt a surge of fury, like a wave, rise inside her chest. She ran into the room and plunged her dagger into Palmer's neck, striking him again and again.

Palmer dropped to the floor. He twisted around to look at her, his eyes open wide with surprise. Blood was pouring from his wounds, but he lunged at her and fell heavily on his back to the floor as she moved away. Charles was bleeding, and Inchi looked dead. Palmer was still alive, breathing, she could see, blood coursing from his wounds, eyes closed. He could not live, but she needed to be sure. A great coldness entered her, and she saw very clearly that she had to finish him.

She approached Palmer's body, her knife raised. Palmer opened his eyes and looked at her, accusing and vicious. He shot out a hand and took hold of her ankle. She fell to her knees, her body half fallen onto his and screamed in shock. He took hold of her hair with a grasp of iron. An explosion of murderous fury took hold of her and she plunged the kris into his heart, over and over again, until his hand fell limp from her head and she scrambled away from him.

She was covered in blood, her breath short and rasping, and she could do nothing but sit and look at Palmer in the yellow half-glow of the lamp. Time stood still, and she sat frozen, the flickering lamplight illuminating this scene of horror. Then Charles moved and groaned, and she woke from the nightmare and went to him.

He was injured in the shoulder and chest, his blood pooled around him. Charlotte took a sheet from the bed and wound it round him, stemming his wounds. She went to Inchi and touched him, but he was dead. She looked at Palmer's body with the iciness of hate.

And suddenly she hated this place too. She wanted to be gone. She wanted no judicial enquiry, no pointless British justice in a place where only the rule of the jungle applied. No scandal and accusations of murder. It would all be done with here, this night.