Jack of Diamonds

The morning sun was already ferocious.

Climbing out from behind the wheel of his battered car, Doctor Kalil was uncomfortably aware of his starched white shirt, sticking like wet paper to his back. He stood for a moment in the driveway, gazing towards the house, shielding his eyes with the flat of one hand.

Kalilʼs British university education had instilled in him the necessity to dress respectably. This meant the habitual wearing of a sober black suit and a large, wide-brimmed fedora, even when the thermometer registered a temperature well into the nineties.

Beneath the heavy cloth of Kalilʼs jacket, pools of sweat gathered to run tickling down his spine, to ooze in maddening semi-circles beneath his armpits. But to remove his jacket would have amounted to an unforgivable loss of face so he simply collected his briefcase from the passenger seat of the car and strolled along the path that led to Mrs Grey’s garden.

Kalil knew his way well enough. He moved in amongst the lush tangle of frangipani and tapioca trees, welcoming the dappled shade they threw down onto the path. It was a rare pleasure to walk in Mrs Greyʼs garden. Over the years, under the tender ministrations of Howie, the gardener, it had become an earthly paradise; a garden of Eden.

Here were banana trees, their great wide leaves drooping around an abundance of yellow fruit; here were papayas and mangoes, a succulent answer to the humid Malay climate, the mere sight of their round swollen forms enough to make Kalilʼs dry mouth water in anticipation. But it wasnʼt just fruit. There were massive ferns, great green explosions bursting from the fertile soil, and the orchids – myriad shafts of brilliant colour dancing like mirages before the gaze, here orange, there blue, colours that fizzed and sparked like the fireworks at Chinese New Year.

There was other life in the garden too. The series of tall kapok trees that lined its Western edge resounded with the delightful sounds of birdsong. The cheeky shriek of the mynah, the agitated twittering of magpie-robins and, above all, the endless oscillating screech of a brain-fever bird, ringing out at an almost supernatural volume.

Kalil sighed, thinking of his own poor apartment in town, the tiny patch of scrubby soil that constituted his garden. There, dogs and goats and naked children played throughout the long day, making it impossible to grow anything. As a young and naive graduate he had nurtured high hopes for the little plot of land. He had planned to grow vegetables there, something to eke out his meagre pay.

He had lost his first planting of seed to a flock of marauding chickens. He erected a low wooden fence around the land and planted more seed. In the night somebody must have decided that the fence would make excellent firewood and by morning there was nothing left: the land was once again a place where children and animals played. After that he had given up trying.

But sometimes in the night he still succumbed to a powerful recurring dream. He would see the dry sun-baked patch of land in his mindʼs eye and as he watched, powerful green shoots would burst up from the soil, twisting and lunging towards the sunlight like eager serpents. Then, from the rapidly thickening stems, great broad-bladed leaves would sprout in joyful symmetry and they in turn would give birth to beautiful, alien fruit.

Kalil was nearing the house now. He could see the broad sweep of the white-painted, colonial-style bungalow; the spacious veranda where rattan chairs and tables stood ready to entertain guests who no longer came. And there, sitting in her wheelchair at the open window of her bedroom, gazing out at the garden she loved so dearly, was Mrs Sarah Grey.

She was eminently suited to her name, for everything about her was of that hue. Her long, unkempt hair; her thin, haggard face; even the grubby night-gown she habitually wore, which must once have been pure white cotton. She looked like a mournful ghost from an earlier age, doomed to watch over a fast changing land. The British troops were pulling out of Malaysia, leaving behind only the ancient and the infirm as token reminders of the days of Empire.

She had of course been the wife of Major Charles Grey. ‘Mad Charlie’, his troops had dubbed him: a handsome, impetuous man who had conducted his extra-marital affairs with the same kind of gusto with which he did battle. The wild parties that he and Sarah hosted at the old house had once been the talk of the camp.

Sarah had accepted her husbandʼs vices and virtues with quiet resignation. She knew about the affairs but turned a blind eye to them. Then, in ʼ52, a sniperʼs bullet had drilled a neat hole in the back of Charlieʼs head, putting an effective end to his adventures once and for all. Sarah had mourned him briefly and gone back to the house to live on a widowʼs pension with just the maid and the gardener for company. She had quickly learned that all the friends she thought she had made over the years were, in reality, Charlieʼs friends. They came around once to offer their condolences then left her to grow old and slightly mad in that big house, with its empty rooms and its great rambling garden.

In ʼ63 she had suffered a stroke. The doctors deemed it ‘mild’ but it was powerful enough to rob her of the use of her legs, condemning her to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

It was around that time that Kalil had first met her and, struck by the sadness of her situation, he had tried to make time to visit her regularly; once a week if his schedule allowed. It was not that he found her particularly interesting or indeed, friendly. In fact, she could be quite the opposite. He just felt that somebody should visit the old woman and it was evident that nobody else was remotely interested in the job.

Kalil stepped on to the veranda. ‘Good morning Mrs Grey,’ he said, and was relieved to see a welcoming smile on her lips.

‘Doctor Kalil! What a pleasant surprise.’ Framed by the window, she tilted her head a little to one side. Her green eyes sparkled and Kalil was momentarily astonished by how beautiful they were; the one feature that had not been diminished by passing time. Looking into them, it was easy to imagine the lovely young creature she must once have been. ‘Would you like some tea?ʼ

‘That would be nice,ʼ replied Kalil.

Sarah picked up a little brass bell from her lap and rang it loudly. ‘Malini?ʼ she called. ‘Drat the girl, where is she?’ Malini was Mrs Greyʼs amah, a skinny, indolent young woman who took every advantage of her employerʼs disability to do as little as possible. After a lengthy interval Malini slouched into the room, chewing a mouthful of betal nuts, but when she noticed Kalil standing out on the veranda she snapped smartly to attention.

‘Missy called?ʼ

‘Yes, Malini. Please prepare tea for Doctor Kalil and me.ʼ

‘Yes, Missy.’ Malini hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Kalil stood where he was for a moment, gazing in at the old woman. ‘Itʼs a lovely morning,ʼ he observed. ‘Wonʼt you come out onto the veranda?ʼ

Sarah smiled, shook her head. ‘Oh, no, Doctor. You should know after all these years that it is the fly who comes to the spider.ʼ

Kalil shook his head. How was a fellow supposed to know what that meant? But he went in through the open doorway that led into her bedroom; a dull, cheerless place, bare save for the bed and a few items of mahogany furniture. He set his bag down on the bedside table and began to take out the instruments he needed to do a check-up, but Sarah waved a hand in dismissal.

‘No need for those,’ she assured him. ‘I feel better than I have in ages.’

‘Indeed?’ Kalil smiled and let the stethoscope fall back into his bag. ‘Well, I must say, it doesn’t take a doctor to see that you are in high spirits.’

Sarah leaned forward in her wheelchair as if confiding a secret. ‘I’m expecting a visitor.’

‘A visitor?’ Kalil sank into a chair, intrigued. ‘Anybody I know?’

‘I think not. A newcomer. He’ll be along presently. Meanwhile, we can chat and have our tea.’

She really was in a rare good mood, and it was evident that this visitor was the source of her humour. But who could it be? In a community as tightly-knit as this, secrets were few and far between. Still, Kalil had a little time on his hands. He glanced around the room and saw that a tray full of breakfast stood on a low table alongside Mrs Grey’s wheelchair.

‘Looks as though you haven’t eaten this morning,’ he observed reproachfully.

‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘I wanted to share it with Jack.’

‘Jack?’

‘My visitor. He likes to share my breakfast.’ She laughed at the puzzled expression on Kalil’s face. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t gone dotty.’

‘Dotty?’ Kalil didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’

Sarah tilted back her head and laughed merrily, her green eyes flashing as they reflected the light from the open window. ‘Wait and see,’ she told him. ‘Jack will be here soon. Then you’ll understand.’

Presently Malini came in carrying the tea things. Kalil noticed there were only two cups and he half-expected Mrs Grey to instruct the girl to fetch another. But she seemed happy enough and Kalil could only surmise that ‘Jack’ was not a drinker of tea. He set about engaging the old woman in polite conversation and she seemed happy enough to comply, though Kalil noticed her gaze was forever flicking aside to the open window, as though she expected at any moment to see a familiar figure strolling along the garden path.

Time passed and Kalil was just beginning to wonder about his next appointment when Sarah sat bolt upright in her chair as though something out in the garden had caught her attention. She pointed.

‘Here he is!’ she cried. ‘I knew he wouldn’t let me down. Here’s Jack!’

Kalil turned to look out of the window. His eyes went instinctively to the path, but there was nobody. Then his attention was caught by a brief flapping of wings in the treetops. A dark shape came curving gracefully down out of the sky to land on the wooden rail of the veranda. Kalil stared. ‘That is Jack?’ he cried.

‘Yes,’ said Sarah proudly. ‘Isn’t he a beauty?’

It was a magpie-robin, a plump, cheeky-looking bird with striking black and white plumage. He was standing on one leg, cocking his head from side to side. His little black eyes glittered with mischievous intelligence. Looking closer, Kalil could see why the bird was standing on one leg. The other was no more than a withered, twisted stump, tucked in tight against his breast.

‘The poor little chap has been injured,’ observed Kalil thoughtfully.

‘Yes. Mauled by some damned cat, I shouldn’t wonder. But he manages very well.’ Sarah took a piece of toast from her breakfast tray and breaking off some morsels, she threw them out of the open window onto the veranda. Jack hesitated only a few seconds before fluttering down to peck greedily at them.

‘He certainly isn’t shy,’ observed Kalil. ‘Why did you name him Jack?’

Sarah smiled wistfully. ‘After my younger brother. Dear Jack was the sweetest member of the family. Chirpy, mischievous, rather like a little bird himself. Everybody loved him. Like many young men, he went away to war. He had the makings of a fine young musician, all his teachers said so. But he chose patriotism and died in Normandy. Such a waste.’

She shook her head. ‘I’d been thinking of him the morning that Jack arrived. It would have been about five days ago. There was that heavy rainstorm, you remember? He came flapping onto the veranda one afternoon, seeking shelter. He was weak and rather battered. I gave him some bread, which he gobbled up instantly and then he slept in the corner there for quite some time. When the rain stopped he seemed a little stronger. He flew off again, but he was back next morning, evidently hoping for another feed and he’s been back each morning since. Every day he seems to stay a little longer.’

Kalil noticed that she was throwing bits of toast a shorter distance each time and that the bird was making his way steadily towards the window. From time to time he would stop and look around, as if expecting that some predator might be lying in ambush nearby. Now Sarah began to arrange a little mound of crumbs on the windowsill.

‘Doctor, do you believe in reincarnation?’

Kalil was taken somewhat off guard. ‘Uh, well, there are some who believe in it passionately. But . . .’ He could see where the conversation was leading and thought it unwise to lend credence to such a bizarre notion, especially with someone as potentially unstable as Sarah Grey.

‘I prefer to think of it as an abstract concept,’ he said, but she was devoting her full attention to the bird and seemed not to have heard him. Kalil glanced ruefully at his wristwatch. ‘Well, I will have to hurry along,’ he announced briskly. ‘I have another call to make. It’s been nice meeting your new friend and I’m glad you’re feeling so much better.’

He got up from his chair and at that moment Jack hopped up onto the windowsill. He stood there on his spindly leg, gazing cheekily into the room. Then he resumed his breakfast, pecking eagerly at the scattering of crumbs. Sarah, too, had taken a piece of toast from the breakfast tray and was eating with more enthusiasm than Kalil had witnessed in years. He suddenly felt rather like an intruder, an unwanted third party at an intimate dinner date.

Picking up his briefcase he bid the two of them good day and went out of the room into the hot glare of the sun.

The next time Kalil called at the house, Jack was sitting on Sarah’s shoulder, staring fearlessly about as if the house was now his personal domain. Indeed, the bedroom bore witness to his visits; everything appeared to be liberally spattered with droppings. Carpets, furniture, even the expensive silk bedspread showed evidence of his presence.

Kalil was secretly appalled and he resolved to give Malini strict instructions to clean up the mess every day but, once again, he was disarmed by Sarah’s cheerfulness. This time she allowed Kalil to check her pulse, heart-rate and blood pressure and while he did so, Jack fluttered to and fro around the room, alighting every so often on whatever perch took his fancy.

‘He stays for hours now,’ observed Sarah gleefully. ‘I believe he thinks of this as his second home. He has a lair out in the garden. I’ve asked Howie to try to locate it, but he’s come up with nothing. It must be well hidden from the world. Dear little Jack.’

She placed a piece of bread on the palm of her hand and held it out. In an instant Jack was there, alighting on Sarah’s fingers, while his fierce little beak hammered at the bread, sending crumbs flying in all directions.

Sarah laughed. ‘He’s always hungry, no matter how much I give him. It’s a wonder he can fly with so much food inside him.’

Kalil nodded. ‘You will have to be careful,’ he observed. ‘He’ll be eating all of your breakfast soon.’

Sarah smiled fondly, as if remembering. ‘Jack always had such an appetite,’ she sighed. ‘Yet so slim. We all wondered how he could put it away in such quantities. Father used to say he had hollow legs.’

Kalil frowned. He did not like it when she got onto this kind of subject. He watched thoughtfully as Jack launched himself from Sarah’s shoulder and came to rest on the pelmet above the window, his little eyes glittering like two drops of hot tar. Kalil had moved to the window and the bird was gazing down at him with a fierce intensity, as though something about the doctor’s appearance had momentarily mesmerised him. Kalil was just about to comment on this when Jack launched himself from the pelmet and came swooping down at the doctor’s throat.

Kalil was so surprised he could do no more than throw one arm across his face. Then Jack was beating frantically at Kalil’s chest, his powerful wings flapping, his sharp beak stabbing repeatedly at the doctor’s shirt. Kalil retreated from the onslaught in undignified disarray.

‘Get away from me you little devil!’ he yelled, trying to push Jack away with his hands. He yelped as Jack caught him a stinging blow on his left palm. Kalil cursed and gave the bird a particularly fierce swipe. Jack flapped wildly back to a safe perch on one of the light fittings, where he huddled defiantly, screeching out a series of insults.

Kalil examined his hand and made a sound of complete exasperation. A bright trickle of crimson was pulsing from the wound. He pulled a white handkerchief from his top pocket and wrapped it tightly around his hand. Then, turning back to face Sarah Grey, he was astonished to find that she was laughing.

‘Mrs Grey!’ he exclaimed irritably. ‘I’m sorry but I cannot share your amusement. The damned bird tried to attack me. He went for my throat!’

‘Not your throat, Doctor,’ retorted Sarah gleefully. ‘Your tie-pin, I think.’

Kalil stared at her, wondering if she had taken leave of her senses. The little diamond tie-pin had been a farewell present from his fellow students back in England. It was the one touch of ostentation he allowed in what was otherwise a very sober image. He lowered his gaze to look at it now, noticing how its tiny facets flashed in the stream of sunlight from the window . . . and instantly Jack was back again, his wings beating a lively tattoo against the doctor’s shirt front. This time Kalil could actually see Jack’s beak making unsuccessful attempts to grab the head of the pin. With an oath, he pushed Jack away again. He snatched the tie-pin free and slipped it into the top pocket of his jacket.

The effect was dramatic. Jack simply gave up and flipped away, coming to rest on the familiar roost of Sarah’s shoulder. There he stood, examining the doctor haughtily, as if daring him to voice an opinion.

‘Extraordinary!’ observed Kalil, shaking his head. ‘What on earth would attract him to my tie-pin?’

‘Some birds are attracted to glittering objects,’ Sarah informed him. ‘Jack here seems to have a positive mania for them, as I have discovered to my cost. The little rogue has already made off with some of my most valuable possessions.’ She reached out a finger to stroke Jack’s breast fondly.

‘You mean to say he has stolen from you?ʼ

Sarah nodded. ‘First to disappear was my diamond engagement ring. It was in the open jewellery box on the sideboard. I confess that I first suspected Malini. I was on the verge of confronting her when I saw Jack take a diamond earring. He just picked it up and flew straight out of the window with it. Naturally, since then I’ve been a little more careful about keeping things locked away. Imagine inviting somebody into my home, only to find that he’s a thief.’ She looked at Jack with mock disapproval in her eyes. ‘You’re a wicked boy,’ she informed him. ‘I ought to withhold your food until you return those jewels.’

Kalil unwrapped the handkerchief and dabbed ruefully at the cut on his hand. ‘Aren’t you angry?’ he inquired. ‘Those things must be valuable.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘Jack has brought me so much happiness. How can I deny him a couple of sparklers to play with? It seems a small price to pay. Besides, he’ll only have put them in his hideaway and I daresay Howie will find that, sooner or later.’

‘You think a great deal of that bird,’ observed Kalil.

‘I think the world of him,’ replied Sarah without hesitation. ‘He’s the most important thing in my life now, just as my brother Jack was, all those years ago. He went away, though I begged him not to, and then he died. I don’t intend to let this Jack leave me. I’ll do everything I can to keep him here, short of putting him in a cage.’

Kalil looked at Jack, noticing the way he nuzzled affectionately against the old woman’s ear, his sleek body fat and contented.

‘I don’t think there’s any danger of him deserting you,’ he said quietly. ‘He evidently knows when he’s appreciated.’

Jack tilted back his head and opened his beak, throwing out a series of bright chattering notes which even Kalil had to admit, sounded distinctly like agreement.

The monsoons came and the weather was unbearably humid; periods of waiting interspersed with sudden, violent rainstorms when nature gave vent to an uncontrollable rage, shaking the earth with vast thunders, hurling bolts of white forked lightning down onto the cowering land.

There was a lot of fever about that year and Kalil found that he did not have time to visit Mrs Grey every week. He still dropped in when he could and was quietly appalled by the accumulation of bird droppings and cast-off feathers in the room.

But Mrs Grey continued in fine fettle and once again, Kalil concluded that the benefits of Jack’s presence in the house outweighed the potentially harmful side effects.

One morning however, the phone in Kalil’s little surgery rang and he was vaguely surprised to hear Malini’s voice on the line. She was shrieking into the phone.

‘Please, doctor, you come quick! Missy Grey very sick. She need help.’

‘Calm down, Malini, there’s no need to shout. What seems to be wrong with her? What are her symptoms?’

‘Missy ill. That damned bird, he go ‘way. Not come back three days now. Missy Grey, she stay in wheelchair all time, not go sleep.’

‘Well, listen. You try and get her into bed and I’ll come as soon as I can.ʼ

Malini was still jabbering excitedly when Kalil put down the phone.

At the earliest opportunity he drove up to Mrs Grey’s house. As he hurried along the garden path, he wondered vaguely what could be done for the old woman if the bird never returned. She absolutely doted on the creature and if it had fallen prey to some local predator she would be absolutely inconsolable.

As Kalil emerged from the cover of the overhanging bushes he saw her sitting in her accustomed place at the window, but it was quite shocking to see the deterioration in her. She was slumped in her chair as though she barely had the strength to stay awake. As Kalil moved nearer he saw how her sleep-deprived eyes stared hopefully past him, into the trees.

He hurried into the bedroom. Malini was working feverishly about the place, making a desperate attempt to clean up. She smiled sheepishly at Kalil as he entered and then went on with her work, scrubbing at some droppings on the floor with exaggerated vigour. Kalil ignored her. He moved across to Mrs Grey and taking her hand in his, he checked her pulse. It was erratic.

‘How long is it since she slept?’ he demanded of Malini.

‘Three days. Like I say on the phone. I am asking Missy to go to bed many times, but she will not listen. She sit up all night, waiting for that bird.’

‘He’s gone away,’ murmured Sarah, peering helplessly up at Kalil. ‘Gone to war. In the end, they all go away and get killed, all the sweet young things. I’ve been sitting here waiting for him with all his favourites. Doctor Kalil, what can have happened to him?’

Her voice was tiny, barely more than a whisper. For a moment she resembled a little girl lamenting the disappearance of a favourite cat or dog. Her eyes brimmed with tears and Kalil felt desperately sorry for her.

‘It’s all right,’ he assured her. ‘I’m sure Jack is quite safe. Sitting out in that nest of his, I expect, waiting for the rainy weather to finish. He’ll be back, you’ll see.’

‘Oh, do you really think so?’ She seemed to draw solace from his words and she gave a deep sigh. ‘You’re a good man, Doctor Kalil. Jack is very fond of you, you know.’

‘Well, fond of my tie-pin anyway,’ replied Kalil with the ghost of a smile. ‘Now, come along Mrs Grey. I really think it’s best if you get some sleep.’ He began to push her wheelchair towards the bed but she hung onto the wheels in sudden panic.

‘But what if Jack comes? When I’m asleep?’

Kalil patted her shoulder soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll ask Malini to watch for him. If he comes, she’ll wake you instantly.’

This time she did not resist. He wheeled her to the big double bed, pulled aside the spattered coverlet and helped her to climb in. She looked frail and very small beneath the cotton sheets. Kalil went to his briefcase and took out a bottle of sedatives. He persuaded the old woman to take one and then he sat by the bed, talking to her until she finally succumbed to sleep. He watched for a few moments to ensure that she would not wake. Then, collecting his briefcase, he beckoned to Malini to follow him out onto the veranda.

‘Missy Grey is very tired,’ he told the girl gravely. ‘She must have absolute rest, do you understand?’ Malini nodded. Kalil dropped another sleeping pill into a little envelope. ‘I want you to give her this after her dinner tonight. Then let her sleep through till morning. Don’t disturb her. I’ll be around first thing to see how she’s doing. If there’s no improvement, I may decide to put her into the military hospital.’

‘Hosp’il?’ Malini’s dark eyes got very big and round. ‘Missy Grey going to die, Doctor?’

‘She’s just exhausted and worn out with worrying about that bird. Let her sleep until dinnertime and then make sure she eats something nourishing. Feed her yourself if necessary. Then give her the pill and don’t let anything disturb her till tomorrow morning. Now, I’ll have to get on.ʼ

On his way back through the garden, Kalil found his gaze going instinctively up to the treetops. A flutter of wings attracted his attention and he gazed intently up into the tangle of green, trying to identify the bird. But whatever it was it had gone, lost amongst the thick canopy of foliage. Kalil frowned. An abrupt sense of foreboding engulfed him, though he could not say exactly what was troubling him. Off on the western horizon, a huddle of gunmetal grey clouds were gathering and the humid air was charged with a vibrant tingle of electricity. Kalil concluded that another storm was coming. He shrugged and walked back to his car, feeling the sweat coursing its way in a sluggish stream down the middle of his spine.

Sarah woke suddenly, bathed in sweat in the too-large double bed, her sleepy eyes gazing up at the slow turning of the ceiling fan above her. She had been dreaming about her brother, Jack. She’d been at Kings Cross station, bidding him farewell as he left to join his battalion. The dream had been vivid enough to fetch tears to her eyes but something had woken her. What? She glanced towards the open window. It was dawn and she could see the clear, lemon yellow sky, suffused with the first warm glow of sunlight. Out in the garden a bird was singing, a familiar chattering tone.

Sarah stiffened. She knew that call! She pushed the sheets aside, though she felt dazed and it required a great effort to move. Then slowly, painfully, she got herself upright. She sat for a moment, panting with exertion while she tried to listen. There was the call again. She took a deep breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She called out for Malini and waited impatiently for several moments. No answer. Where was the girl? Probably fast asleep in her room, oblivious to everything.

Sarah eyed the wheelchair, just a few feet away on her left. It looked an impossible distance but Jack was calling to her and she would not lie still while there was a chance of seeing him. Summoning all the strength she had, she let herself fall forwards and grabbed at the arm of the chair.

Her hand closed tightly around it and she hung there for a moment, her heart beating wildly while she tried to tug the chair nearer. By degrees it came to her, but it cost her more energy than she really had to give. At last, white-faced and sweating, she turned herself awkwardly around and flopped into the chair. A stabbing pain lanced through her chest, causing her to gasp for breath and she had to sit still a moment to allow the redness behind her eyes to subside a little.

Again Jack called, nearer now! Shaking her head to dispel the wooliness that lingered there, she turned the chair and propelled it quickly to the window. She peered out. The garden was beautiful in the morning light, cool and fresh, washed by night rain. She took a deep breath and gazed intently around, praying that she hadn’t imagined the call.

Then she saw him: high above the kapok trees, soaring in a series of effortless curves, lively and full of himself, just as he always was. Eagerly, Sarah grabbed at the hunks of bread she had been keeping ready for this moment. She scattered them onto the veranda and called his name. He seemed to respond and came wheeling around in a tight circle, following his familiar flight path. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears and a powerful excitement welled up within her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Oh, Jack, my lovely Jack. My splendid fellow.ʼ

She stretched out her hand, palm uppermost, waiting to receive him. And then the pain hit her, deep in the breast, like a blow from a fist. She gasped and tried to catch her breath, but the pain was a ball of fire, blossoming within her, burning, tearing. She was dimly aware that she was slumping back into her wheelchair, her hand still outstretched.

Startled, Jack veered away, went flapping madly back in the direction from which he had come. Sarah tried to open her mouth to speak but found she could not. A blackness rivered its way up her spine and into her head. For what seemed an instant, she floated, suspended in a treacly blackness, feeling no pain.

The light filtered back to her eyes. She could see quite clearly the long, thin highway of her arm extending out in front of her and resting on the window ledge, the palm still uppermost. She tried to lift her gaze, but was unable to move a muscle. There was a numbness in her limbs and, oddly, she could not feel the wooden sill where it crossed the back of her hand.

A massive stroke, she decided, with a calmness that surprised her. Hadn’t they warned her it would happen again if she exerted herself? She tried not to panic. She must call for Malini. It was her only hope. She tried to shape her tongue around the first syllable of the amah’s name. She could not do it. Only a faint hiss of breath emerged from her lips. She was totally helpless.

There was an abrupt whirr of feathers in the air above her and then Jack dropped neatly onto the palm of her hand. He rested there a moment on his spindly single leg, jerking his head from side to side. He had changed in the three days he had been away. He looked thinner and his beautifully marked body was ruffled and bedraggled, as if he had been in some kind of skirmish.

He was looking up into Sarah’s face, puzzled by her lack of movement. He gave a brief chirrup and then hopped one step closer, looking at her intently. He cocked his head as if puzzling something out. The sun was rising over the trees at the far end of the garden, beaming its light onto the veranda. Jack’s gaze seemed to focus with a terrible intensity. He hopped forward again and he was close now, very close.

Sarah realised with a dull stab of horror that the sun was shining directly into her eyes.

She sat transfixed in her chair, watching as the thief came to rob her. He moved along her outstretched arm in a series of slow hops, his sharp beak poised to strike.

Doctor Kalil whistled tunelessly to himself as he strolled along the familiar path through the garden. The premonition of the previous day had passed with the storm and once again he felt at peace with the world. The garden looked exceptionally beautiful today. Perhaps, he thought, he would have another crack at that bit of land behind his apartment. Forget all that nonsense about vegetables. He would plant orchids. He would introduce a splash of colour into his drab neighbourhood. Of course, it would take a little extra effort to keep the blooms well tended, but in the end it would be worthwhile. He began to feel quite optimistic about the idea.

There was a sudden blur of black and white feathers in the air above his head. He glanced up, smiled. So the old Jack of Diamonds was back after all, making off to his secret lair with some new treasure, no doubt. Smiling, Kalil removed the diamond tie-pin and slipped it into his top pocket. Best to take no chances.

He emerged from cover and saw the veranda ahead of him. He was momentarily shocked to find Mrs Grey sitting at the open window; shocked and annoyed. Where was Malini? Probably not even up yet. Mrs Grey appeared to be beckoning to him and he waved briefly as he continued walking towards her. But no, he decided, she wasn’t beckoning. He paused. Something in the old woman’s stillness puzzled him. He raised one hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight and he studied her more intently.

His first impression was that Mrs Grey was wearing a pair of round black sunglasses.