To anyone coming straight from the great cities of the West, Medan must have appeared a poor provincial place – no great architecture, grand vistas, arts, or even vices to rank on an international scale. But there is perspective in all things. To anyone who had spent three years soldiering in places like Burma – and who moreover approached Medan by the overland route from Padang, driving down from Toba and the volcanic chain – it was a city indeed. Every alleyway had its own splendour. Besides, I was young then, young and impressionable. It seemed to me the very arena of life.
The centre was bustling, despite the afternoon alarm at the cemetery. In the paralysis that gripped the city, the non-arrival of the Van Heutsz produced fresh currents of activity. The two hundred people who had failed to leave represented two hundred extra visitors, extra customers.
My last fucking night. I could forget all about the girls and have a last booze-up in the mess with my mates. In fact, I hired a local gharry and was driven back to the lines. I saw their faces, watched Dickie Payne, Jock, Wally Scubber, and the others through the window. I went to my dark and silent billet next door, walked upstairs without putting on the light. The thirty tins of Players stood in their box on the table. I picked them up and went back to the waiting gharry. At least I could pay off my debt to Katie Chae.
She was not in her flat. On the beat, no doubt, thought I, with more resignation than regret. Good-bye, Katie Chae! I gave the tins with a note to an old woman who lived below.
Then I went to pay my debt to Margey.
I was sweating like a beaver. A storm was brewing.
As I dived in the Chinese quarter, heading for Bootha Street, a familiar detachment overcame me. It was familiar because I had experienced it often enough during my years in the Far East. How could it matter what happened to me, provided I was not wounded or killed, as long as I remained part of that exotic bustle, that great obscure traffic of various businesses? Whatever I suffered was of little account beside the sensation of belonging to a community which I hoped some day to understand. If I was hurt by love or whoring, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, just as long as I was still entangled with the great affair of living. Other people would always be there to embrace.
The clatter of pakia, the cry of street-vendors, the nasal whine of Chinese music relayed over a cheap radio, even the silent flash of lightning overhead, such things had entered my heart. They told me that suffering was also part of enjoyment. Better these things by far than isolation and silence. Better jungle than desert.
I still feel that vision. Time since is but a moment.
Every street lamp was surrounded by a nimbus of gold comprising dozens of horrendous and winged shitbags intent on frying themselves to a frizzle. Beneath each lamp lay a pile of expiring bodies. They were gobbled by toads and lizards which lurked in the gutters. Fresh insects perpetually zoomed in to the sphere of light like comets to the sun, only to fall away again angrily, buzzing in a fury of pain.
Poor bloody insects! That was why I had to get out of Medan, however much it attracted me. I was going to get burnt. I had been in danger enough and being killed was too much. My nerve was gone, the toads were waiting. And I had slightly more savvy than the winged shitbags.
Pausing at the top of Margey’s alley, I lit a cigar. My stomach churned somewhat. Now I had to face the weaker sex. According to my watches, it could be twenty to nine. Or maybe eight-thirty. Fucking time was catching up with me fast, even by my reckoning.
It had come to the pinch. We looked at each other a bit guardedly. Perhaps she, like me, was uncertain what she really felt.
We went to a restaurant called The Haven, a big rambling wooden place where there was music and dancing. Poor Margey, she was penitent for her previous outburst of anger and grateful – perhaps surprised – that I had shown up again. When I saw that, I experienced a sneaking regret that I had not sought out Katie Chae and let her earn a few more tins of Players.
Yet Margey looked pretty smashing with her sleek jet hair curling inwards about her neck and her kitten-shaped face gleaming. She wore a blue silk dress of a European style and white shoes with buttons. She carried a white handbag. All told, she was a cool and delicious sight.
She appeared as eager as I to give the subject of Katie Chae a miss – but some painful subjects could not be avoided. The waiter brought our dish; tender hunks of an unknown animal were bedded on rice and served with coconut and a peppy brown sauce. As we ate, Margey looked at me askance and said, ‘Horry, you go away ’morrow morning, fry to Singapore.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You never come back Medan.’
‘Afraid not.’
‘Our little time was so short, Horry.’
Silence. They were playing ruddy ‘Terang Boelan’ again. Mouthfuls of meat found their way between the lumps in our throats. It was nine-fifteen, or maybe somewhat later.
‘Horry.’
‘What?’
‘Maybe we go back my place. We pretend be husband and little wife one last time.’
‘I don’t know, Margey – we’ve come to the end of the road …’
‘No, no, one last time. I tell you what I do when I see that terrible thing stick up at me.’ She began a soft and erotic recital of what I might expect in the circumstances. My spirits sank lower.
Everyone else in the restaurant seemed to be enjoying themselves. A squaddy I knew was dancing with a ravishing Indonesian woman with her hair coiled in a bun at the back of her sleek head. Was it Che Jah? I felt as if I had wasted my weeks in Medan. Why had I not had an Indonesian woman with her hair coiled in a bun at the back of her sleek head? She would have made no impossible claims on me. I drank down my beer and angrily ordered another.
Almost as soon as we had entered The Haven, the heavens had opened. Such a flood was coming down outside that it looked as if our windows gave on to gigantic aquaria. Flashes of lightning revealed, in frozen gesture, denizens of this submarine world in flight from puddle to puddle. A batch of these denizens landed themselves at the restaurant door, shedding laughter and water everywhere. They were squaddies I knew, among them the prognathous Wallace and ‘Jesus’ Price.
As they passed our table, Wallace gave me a simian wink. ‘Cushy for some,’ he said.
Price said, ‘Still at it then, Horry? We held a party for you last night but you never turned up. Crème de menthe by the gallon, lovely grub!’
‘I tried to make it but I was busy.’
‘I can see that,’ Price said, and he and Wallace went into peals of scabrous laughter. ‘We’ll be having a few again tonight if you care to look in the billet, Horry. You’re not a bad bloke, despite them three stripes.’
‘Thik-hai,’ I said.
They paused and gave Margey an insulting look of evaluation. As they moved on, shedding water, Wallace began to sing, in a high nasal tone representing Cantonese song,
One night down in old Wanchai,
Some dirty bastard spat in my eye …
It was intended as an insult to the Chinese, and to me. I jumped up, red in the face, longing to plant a bunch of fives right in Wallace’s mush, but Margey dragged me back into my chair.
‘No make scene. He no good man, singing silly song. You just listen your Margey.’
The Red Fox reinforcement arrived, temptingly warm, and I flung it down my throat. Margey continued with her erotic recital, to which I was able to pay little attention.
Where had my affection for her gone?
I was ashamed. During my time in India, I had found sex and looked for love, pined, moped for it. Now was I so much older, so much eroded by experience, that when I had found love I wanted only sex? These were questions I formulated without attempting to answer. Whilst feeling that I had betrayed Margey, I was myself betrayed by circumstances, by the whole impossible situation.
‘Horry, you no listen your poor Margey. I really want we play that disgusting husband and wife game one more time – I really stick my savage little red hole out at you – because I know you never marry Margey, her heart and her body.’
It had to be said. I felt myself speaking in slow-motion as I formulated the words. ‘Margey, you are a lovely rare girl, but the husband and wife thing is not on. It’s not possible for me to stay in Medan. That’s the way things are, understand. It’s the system. I’m only a bloody soldier. My time’s up. As a matter of fact, I nearly got bumped off this afternoon.’
Silence.
She was so fragile. Her bones were so dainty. Her flesh was so smooth and pure. I stared down at her downcast face, which the cataract of time was about to sweep away. Margey would still live, so would I; but we would live far apart.
‘Well, say something, go on.’
‘I no speak.’ Her face puckered up as if she had been hit.
‘Bloody cheerful evening this is turning out to be!’
‘Horry, please understand, I very sad and no want cry. What Margey can do when you leave her? You never intend you marry Margey. You just want jig-jig and make joke of poor Margey for her body.’
I put my knife and fork down and tackled a fresh Red Fox. I patted her leg under the table until she withdrew it.
‘Margey, please don’t say or believe that, ever. I did, I do love you. You are marvellous and I can’t think how I would have been without you – really. But I’m too mixed up … it’s not you, it’s me, and this place, and what the hell happens to me back in England. What in God’s name am I going to bloody well do there? I just can’t visualise the future for myself, never mind the two of us. I’m not putting this very well, but I don’t want to hurt you and I can’t find it in myself to – well, to commit myself. You might hate England – God knows, I think I might.’
‘Is not so worse as this dump, that I know.’
‘Well, it’s not a paradise like bloody Tsingtao.’
I dared not look at her. Some squaddies over the far side of the room were getting hilariously drunk, Wallace among them.
‘You no want me in England because I China girl.’ She looked up, and anger made her eyes sparkle. ‘Why you not say so for a change? You no understand China girl best girl in world for marriage – better than your sexy French mistress. China girl cook and fuck and be faithful her man. Always smell nice, too.’ She lifted her faultless arm so that I could see one faultless armpit, like the inside of a peach when the peach stone is removed. ‘She just more good as Europe girl all ways, and teeth and legs better, too.’
‘I know, Margey, I accept all that.’
She leant forward, speaking into my face; bucket-hurling time was coming round again. ‘Then why we no go Singapore, set up house like we plan? Why you say such thing if you don’t mean? Aei-ya, I know why! You meet up that damn sex-cat Miss Katie Chae, you jig-jig with her, so now you really gone bad in the head, I know. How much you pay her, I like to know, what I give you free? That girl run like poison in the artillery of a man, that’s what, that’s what! ’
‘For fuck’s sake, Margey, don’t start working yourself up into a rage. Leave Katie Chae out of this, will you? I’m going to have a piss. Calm down while I’m gone and order me another beer.’
It was somewhere in the region of a quarter to ten, according to my watches. Or thereabouts. In Blighty, I’d at least be able to get someone to fix the bloody instruments so that they kept proper time. I had to report back to Boyer before midnight. If only Margey would let me off the hook – that whole affair had been a disaster from the start.
Round between the tables, behind a potted palm, through a rattan door. Another door, solid wood. Standing behind it, gasping, I tried to piss against the filthy wall provided, angry with the world and with myself. One hundred degrees Fahrenheit. I understood nothing. What was I? A puppet of the stars, as Raddle put it. I was tempted to nip out of the back of the restaurant – but I’d left my bush-hat at the table with Margey. Cowardly shit. Rain still belted down outside, like the liquid pouring out of me. Dogs howled.
Army boots sounded on the step outside the jakes. The door was flung violently open, catching me between the shoulder-blades. It slammed me against the tacky wall. Pee flew everywhere.
‘Haaaah!’ The intruder marched forward, giving a stretch and a bellow as he went.
‘You clumsy bastard!’ I said.
He turned. It was Corporal Steve Kyle. I planted one smack in his ribs, my prick still hanging out. It was a real good blow with my right fist, my right shoulder behind it. ‘One for you, you mutinous turd!’
Kyle was drunk, or half-way. Though he buckled a bit, he hit back. I went for him. Unfortunately, I tripped on some anonymous slimes and fell. While I was down on my hands and knees, he delivered a hell of a kick on my thigh.
‘A parting present, you bleeding Führer!’ he shouted, and tried to escape, but I grabbed his leg.
‘I’ll teach you to get some service in, you cunt!’
‘Fuck off, you’re bloody puggle!’
I hauled myself up on him and gave him a pasting. He caught me a stray blow on the nose. Something rang like an alarm bell in my head and all my filthy temper exploded. I was beyond anyone’s control as I struck out at him, driving my fists and the side of my palms into his arms and body. If there had been a golf club handy, I would have used it on him.
I feared that foul temper of mine, and still do. For some years, I have managed to suppress it because I know how it takes control: under its spell, I experience no pain, know no fear. It’s like intoxication. Kyle escaped from me only when some of his muckers, including Wallace and Price, happened to barge in and haul him away. They had to fight me to do so.
When they were gone, I spent a long while hanging over a tap in the corner of the squalid room, splashing cold water over my face. Sick. Sick as a dog. Dab the blood away. Sick. Hot. Every sodding thing falling apart. Nothing to hold on to. Sick. Fucking life – take it away and bring me something more my kind of thing …
Other people entered the bog. I didn’t look up, couldn’t face them. Margey’s arm came round my waist. She mopped at my face with a tiny handkerchief.
‘Poor Horry, Margey look after you. You so worry, poor man, you drink too much drink.’ Her tone became wheedling and coaxing. ‘You come home your little Margey last time. I no mad you, Horry, I very sorry all trouble. Margey understand. This very difficult year for all concerned. Astrologers say it.’
Still feeling reasonably bad-tempered, I looked round. My vision was poor, but I made out the restaurant manager standing by the door. With him was someone I recognised – Katie Chae’s brother, Tiger Balm, his spectacles gleaming efficiently. The manager started to address me at length in Malay, but Tiger Balm interrupted and said, in his colourless English, ‘Possibly I can help here. This is the manager of this establishment. He requests you to settle your bill and leave the premises as soon as possible. He says that fighting is sternly forbidden and he threatens to summon the Red Caps if you will not go quietly.’
‘I’ll go when I’m ready. I’m not drunk, if that’s what he thinks.’
‘Correct, he thinks you are drunk. For the record, I have the same opinion. I was eating here in a private room with a friend, where the food is marginally better than that served to the troops, when I heard you swearing and fighting. Please leave immediately, as the manager implores. Take Tung Su Chi with you.’
One 25-watt bulb dangled in the centre of the jakes. Its sickly illumination made everyone look ill. I began splashing water over my face and neck. Shit, it was hot.
‘I’ll go in a minute. Just leave me alone.’
‘You are sick?’
‘Sick of everything. Just leave me alone. I’ll go in a minute.’
Self-pity flooded me. Nobody wanted me. Pushing Margey away, I fumbled in my hip pocket and produced a stack of Jap guilders which I thrust out towards the manager. ‘Here, help yourself. Bloody forged Jap currency, if that’s what you live on. Take it.’
The manager understood this gesture and looked highly offended, which pleased me. He began to talk rapidly with Tiger Balm. Margey tried to butt in and was swept aside. Turning to me, Tiger Balm said, ‘Ignoring your comments on the economy, for which the British occupation is responsible, I ask the manager how much he is owed. Now he declares with the pride of his race that if you will leave in peace now, immediately, he makes no charge for you or the lady. You understand? Frankly, between us, he is a little afraid.’
My anger rose again. ‘I told you, I’ll go in a minute. I’ll go whether he wants my money or not. My fucking nose is still bleeding.’
Margey waved her handbag at Tiger Balm and the manager. ‘Go ’way and leave him, like he ask. Can’t you hear? I look after my man. You take care, both you! He strong man, nearly kill that corporal – his friends take him away being carried.’
The ability to focus my eyes returned. I saw that Margey was crying. Her words had no effect on the men. By now, renewed anger was making me feel better; I was just looking for a bit more trouble.
Trouble arrived. The jakes door opened and in stomped Jackie Tertis, wearing monsoon cape and big boots and looking extremely ugly. He glared at everyone in turn before addressing me.
‘Stubbs? You okay, cocker? A bloke outside told me you were having a spot of bother. Want any help? I’ll soon pitch into these admis with you. Say the word.’
‘I don’t need any help. I was sorting out bloody Kyle, that’s all.’
He stood unmoved in all his foxy hue.
‘Kyle, good. Want a lift home? My bike’s outside. What are these natives sticking about for – money? Is this your Chinese crumpet you were on about?’ He bent his gaze at Margey. ‘Not bad as Chinks go, are you, darling? Flat in the chest, of course.’ His hawk gaze swooped to the manager, who had stepped forward. ‘What’s your trouble, chum? You want to say something?’
The Malay moved back again, bowing politely. Perhaps he had encountered Tertis before.
Margey was made of different stuff. I saw her go almost rigid with anger.
‘You talking large bully, what you mean I got frat chest?’ She spoke in a kind of scream. ‘Could your mother with disease feed you only on pus, not milk? Why, you stinking hairy foreign pig-scum, I know your spotty pizzle fell off in the cradle with VD!’
A wooden shovel stood in one dim corner of the bog. Margey seized it and brought the edge of its blade down hard on Tertis’s foot. Despite the protection of his boots, he gave a yell of pain.
‘You slant-eyed yellow whore, I’ll murder you!’
‘Come on, I scratch your damn rotten eyes out!’
Tiger Balm said, waveringly, ‘Let us not exchange ethnic insults in a public urinal. I shall leave.’
It looked as if Tertis would murder us all, beginning with Margey. For a moment he stood quivering; then he bent to pick up the shovel which Margey had dropped. If he started wielding that implement in the confined space, there would be murder done.
I grabbed Tertis’s arm and twisted it smartly behind his back. He yelled in pain. ‘Come on, matey, let’s all leave together. I didn’t enjoy that remark about flat chests either.’ As he straightened and tried to turn, I gave him another quick wrench to let him know what was what.
‘You’ll have my arm off, Stubbs, you tricky bastard …’
Margey was about to fling herself at him but Tiger Balm caught her and gave her a brisk rattle of Cantonese. She bit her lips and fell silent, looking helplessly at me. But I was occupied with Tertis.
When he was pale enough, I marched him out, up the steps and through the restaurant, keeping up the pressure all the way.
A fresh surge of sadism made me feel good. I murmured in Jackie’s ear. ‘You dare give me that flat-chested bullshit, you fucking torturer! I know you need a big ugly pair of tits like bolsters to wallow in, or else you can’t get it up – that’s what makes you such a vicious little bastard, isn’t it?’
‘I never did you any harm. Whores is all you’re good for. My lot’ll settle with you, Stubbs, you wait.’
It was still raining. When we were outside, I gave him a shove and stood back. ‘On your way, Jackie, you bloody fascist. If you ever insult a pusher of mine again, I’ll have your guts for garters, malum? Now piss off.’ In my stomach, I felt a numb fear of him.
He gave me a sick and deadly look. Water dripped on his unquenched eyes. I had sudden visions of us having a shoot-up in the roadway, as if Medan was Dodge City. His lips came apart, revealing the edges of his teeth. One of us would finish lying riddled in the gutter. Lightning dazzled, turning the flooded street into a ruinous ante-chamber of some lost underground city. Tertis turned away as darkness swooped back, became suddenly shapeless under his monsoon cape. A minute later, he drove off, revving his bike, his wheels furrowing the great puddle through which he made his way.
The rain ran down my hair and across my face. I retired into the porch of the restaurant. The more reliable of my watches said that it was ten minutes to eleven; the other had stopped. I wound it without conviction.
My nose burned. I leaned against an upright and closed my eyes for a moment.
Tiger Balm was standing by me, shaking me carefully. He carried an open umbrella.
‘I have procured a pedicab. Share it with me. You need help.’
‘I’m okay. Sorry for all that rough-housing in there.’
‘It was not pleasant.’ He looked hard at me through his spectacles, which were spotted with rain. There was something I had done or said which pleased him. ‘Let’s go, the man is waiting. The storm’s nearly over.’
As I went forward with him, under the umbrella, I asked where Margey was.
‘Su Chi was upset. She returned home. She requested me to say farewell and good journey.’
A little old Malay was sitting under a waterproof on his flimsy saddle. The hood of his vehicle was up, sounding like a drum under the downpour. Tiger Balm and I squeezed into the seat together.
‘God, I need a drink. You sent Margey away, didn’t you?’
‘She returned home, as I said. She cried and was ashamed.’
‘I suppose she’s really only a whore, isn’t she?’
The Malay buttoned us under a tarpaulin and pulled the hood further over, so that we could hardly see the way, but the rain was abating. The air smelt of tarpaulins.
‘Your criteria of judgement are wrong, excuse me. You should not think someone is only a tailor, or only a wife, or only an Englishman. Or only a whore. Those are incorrect perceptions.’
‘There was nothing I could do for Margey.’
He called sharply to the Malay, then said to me, ‘You raised her hopes, then dropped them. You feel bad, so you wish to think of her as only a whore. She wished to escape from the Sumatra disaster, but you are part of the disaster, as part of the occupying force. All military occupations bring depraved times, when injuries of all kinds cannot be avoided.’
‘Christ, you make it sound like hell on earth.’
To that he said nothing. I did not wish to pursue the subject. The rain ceased as if a sluice had been turned off. Its retreat left a strange silence in the world. We bumped over cobbles. Suddenly, I felt cheerful again, recalling how I had laid into Kyle; Jhamboo would be pleased when he heard. I laughed and produced cigarettes from my tin. We lit them awkwardly in the confined space.
‘What’ll happen to you – the Chinese – when the British pull out?’
‘Didn’t you ask that question to me before? There may be some difficulties.’
‘During our first meeting, you were talking about bloodbaths.’
‘Soekarno is rather a severe man, I hear. We shall stay. It may be difficult at first. Unlike the Dutch, we have nowhere else to go. So we stay.’
Silence fell between us. The Malay called out, slowed down, stopped his vehicle by digging both heels in the ground. He came round and removed the tarpaulin from our knees. We had stopped outside Katie Chae’s house. There was a light in her window overhead. Tiger Balm sat where he was. He made a gesture of invitation, cigarette in hand.
‘Enter, please. My sister will be pleased to greet you. I must go elsewhere, so it is good-bye between us.’
Embarrassment overcame me as I climbed out. I peered at him in the dim light. ‘You trust me to behave myself, do you?’
‘I know the capacities of my sister.’
‘Do you disapprove of me? I suppose you think I’m a complete shit.’
He shook his head. ‘You are a soldier, Sgt Stubbs, so you are not a complete person. You are partly a uniform. We wish to be rid of you. But there are worse soldiers than British soldiers.’
He signalled to the Malay. The old boy bent his shoulders and started to pedal.
An ambiguous bugger, Tiger Balm.
When they were a long way down the road, I knocked at Katie’s door and went in.
It was eleven-ten, give or take fourteen minutes. I had just three-quarters of an hour in which to report back to Captain Boyer. But, for the moment, I was at peace; in the presence of Katie Chae, it was hard not to feel at peace with oneself. She looked gorgeous, with her slender legs hooked across an arm of the sofa and a deep blue cheongsam riding up above her knees. She wore white tears of ear-pendants which went well against her long, elegant face.
She was smoking a cheap Singapore cigarette. The thirty tins of Players I had given her were not to be opened; they were for trading.
I was drinking an atrocious little drink she poured me. I sprawled on the floor with my arms on the sofa and my chin practically in her sexy lap. She smelt of powder and scent, and my sore nose was forgotten. We were having a conversation.
‘Some day maybe I get marry, but not in this dump. I see girls after marry, they sew and cook and read. Those things not for Katie Chae. I hate them. I hate books. I like to swim.’ She demonstrated a dainty breast-stroke in the air.
I laughed. ‘You are allowed to swim after you’re married, even in England. Just suppose I offered to marry you – would you come back to England with me?’
Smiling, she stroked my cheek. ‘You funny guy, Horry, you not unnerstand girls. When our worlds meet, okay, fine, great stuff, but they different worlds. I not care for that sort of thing.’
A small silence fell while I thought about that.
‘Why are you so contemptuous of reading? Because you’ve lived so much? Would you read a letter if I sent one from England?’
‘Oh, yes, letters I read if they say nice things about me. Books I not like – all that stuff is stric’ly for my brother, you unnerstand. Not real things.’
‘What about Shakespeare, the world’s greatest writer?’
‘Horry, why you not finish your drink and take off your dirty clothes?’
‘Great! But have you heard of Shakespeare, Katie? You must have heard of him.’
Katie Chae shook her head and most of her body, in a way which indicated that there was absolutely no way in which she and Shakespeare could have heard of one another. ‘I busy girl, Horry, toots. What this man he write?’
‘Plays, mainly. The most famous play is called Hamlet. Hamlet’s the name of the principal character. His father was the king of Norway but he’s dead. No, not Norway, Denmark. It’s a long time since I saw the play. Hamlet is meant to take over the throne, but instead his uncle grabs it, and marries Hamlet’s mother. Hamlet is upset and doesn’t know what to do. He hangs about and kills his girl friend’s father, so she goes mad. And he meets his father’s ghost.’
‘Oooh, I scared of ghosts,’ exclaimed Katie Chae, nestling closer and running a hand through the damp hair at the base of my skull in an enticing fashion. ‘What happens next?’
I drained my glass. Mewk, I thought, helping myself to another.
‘There’s a bit of a dust-up in a cemetery where they’re digging up corpses. Eventually, there’s a full-scale sword fight and they all get killed.’
‘Everyone?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘Everyone. Except one or two soldiers.’
‘It sounds exciting! I like.’ Her expressive eyes shone.
‘Yes, it is pretty exciting, apart from some of the dialogue.’
I started to unbutton my shirt.
‘Katie, you marvellous creature, tear off those beautiful clothes and stand naked before me, so that I can remember you when I’m back in England.’
She kicked her shoes off and stood on the sofa, smiling at me with slit eyes. ‘What you do when you remember me? You do something naughty to yourself?’ She made sly wanking gestures with a dainty hand.
‘It could even get to that.’
‘Okay, big boy, then I do. For world peace.’ She laughed.
As she began to unhook the cheongsam, I pulled my boots off and flung them across the room. Off came her dress, sliding down her body. She was not wearing any knickers. I clasped her round the bottom and kissed her delicious thighs.
Katie put a hand over her smart little crutch. ‘You mus’ give me present, Horry – you know I poor girl. Very punk life jus’ now.’
‘Yes, yes.’ I didn’t care to enquire how much she wanted; a pulsating penis asks no questions. I fished all the cash I had out of my hip pocket: a damp and crumpled collection of forged Jap rubbish, Dutch guilders, a five-rupee note, and some new British pounds straight from Company Office. An international collection for an international girl.
She pouted and continued to cup her crutch. A wisp of black pubic hair curled round the base of her thumb. With barely the shadow of hesitation, I added the better of my two watches to the little pile.
‘Okay?’
‘That is all you got?’ She counted the money quickly, so that I got a look at the goods in question. Why had I expected her to be grateful?
‘It’s all I’ve got. Every penny. Come on, Katie, love.’
‘You get more pay in Singapore. Give me other watch also, darling.’ She covered up again and waited.
I pulled the second watch from my wrist. Fucking thing never kept time any way. Katie Chae took it, looked down at her pelvis, and slowly removed her hand from her twot, as if allowing a little bird to escape. She pressed the hand to my mouth.
I bit her fingers.
‘Also your cigarettes,’ she said. ‘All what you got please you give. For keepsake.’
She swept the little collection together and whipped them out of sight in a drawer before turning back to me. This time she made no attempt to conceal her body but stood brazenly, legs apart, giving me a real come-on glance.
Despite the haggle, I had a towering erection. I nearly snapped it as I tore my trousers off. It thumped against my belly like a drumstick.
Katie’s face was alight at the sight. She jumped back on to the sofa, unbuttoning her brassiere. This was the life she really enjoyed. The brassiere went flying behind a chair and her scrumptious little tits flowed free.
I moved in, well placed to plunge a finger between her thighs and up into her luxurious hole, grabbing a spiral of pubic hairs with my thumb, twitching them crisply between her flesh and mine.
She bent down to me and held my head. I straightened, making her left breast vibrate with my tongue as I did so. Gorgeous dark aureoles set off her nipples – always the sign of a passionate woman. Pressing my tool against her belly, I cupped my hands under her bottom and, lifting her in that manner, carried her over to the table.
‘You terrible man, so strong!’
‘You heavenly bitch, Katie!’
As she curved backwards over the table, she opened her legs. With my hand, I felt her pretty cunt-lips part. I slid the tip of my prick in, grunting. It tunnelled its way forward into territories hitherto unknown to man or beast. She wriggled to help it along, and with every wriggle it seemed to navigate another succulent pair of lips. Salmon leaping upstream to spawn know no finer pleasures. Sighs of delight.
Just a yard more to go … Finally it had plumbed as far as it would go – yet she knocked her little mons against me, sucking at the ultimate millimetre of rude joy.
My body started working of its own accord, arse plunging forward and back, working at first only from the bum but gradually getting entirely involved, with thighs, legs, whole trunk becoming part of the rhythm. We were a unity: her arms about my shoulders like my arms, my arms about her lean buttocks, one finger licking into her moist bottom, like her arms, her finger. Each knew entirely what each wanted; each gave. There was no finesse about holding back. Neck or nothing it was.
Her gorgeous juices spread from my root through our tangled hairs, down my thighs, round to the rear, up my belly. Mad excitement, snorts of pleasure. Her teeth biting into my shoulder, her ear in my mouth. That tremendous sensation that this was marvellous Katie Chae, and no one else. We fell back on the table, my arms still protectively under the rocking curve of her spine. In that position, her legs came up, wrapping about my back, opening her twot wider, so that I could thrust still deeper, aware of the perfume she was releasing. That perfume, that motion, that unity – they made the most eloquent of all languages, the most convincing of all communications.
My sweat ran with hers. Her eyes were against mine, deep dark, blazing, her breath was one with mine. We came in a clatter of hip bones and sobs, and her being was one with mine.
After a while, she said, ‘Ohhh … what kind of a manners you call that, to do me on my own dining table? Come properly to bed, like a gentleman with proper manners.’
I giggled weakly. ‘What a day I’ve had! I’m too feeble to manage it again. It’s too late.’
‘You no know Katie … You too rough – now we try little-by-little. I give you good value for two watches.’
‘They both need repair.’
As she dragged me to the bedroom, I went weakly laughing and protesting.
‘No, I should report to Boyer … What a mess … Boyer and Raddle – so sad it makes you laugh … One last sweet time, Katie, if I can – my last bash in the Far East …’
Of course I never reported back to Captain Boyer. When I woke later with a guilty start, grey dawn was filtering into Katie’s room. That beautiful head was on the pillow beside me. That face I would never see again was like a Buddha’s, serenely turned away from me in sleep. As I kissed its cheek, my spirits sank. I remembered what the day was …
Charlie Meadows and Johnny Mercer were also in the Jeep. They had volunteered to see me off at Polonia airfield. My kit and luggage were piled up at my back. Although the day was still new, the equatorial sun was up, the placid countryside already glowed with heat. To our right, in the distance, slumbered the blue flanks of the mountains of the interior. Sumatra had never looked more beautiful, more peaceful, more pristine.
As we rounded a bend and sighted a Dakota through palm trees, our driver spotted a black car ahead. He slowed. Charlie, Johnny, and I drew our revolvers and crouched lower, fearing an ambush. The car was stationary, drawn in to the side of the road. A fat figure climbed out into the middle of the path and waved to me.
‘It’s okay,’ I said with relief, putting my weapon back in its holster. ‘It’s Fat. What’s he doing here?’
It was soon evident what Fat was doing.
As we moved slowly level with the black car, one of Medan’s venerable pre-war German taxis, Fat opened the rear door. Out stepped Margey, dressed in her best white dress and wearing a hat.
‘Step on it!’ Johnny yelled, banging the Indian driver on the back.
‘Stop, you bastards!’ I shouted. ‘Stop, it’s Margey!’
Her face registered surprise that we were so close. She hesitated. Fat pushed her forward.
The Jeep accelerated. For a moment, Margey and I were no more than a yard apart. She reached out her arms to me. As I responded, our gaze met. Margey!
She called my name. I rose. I was going to jump out, but Charlie grabbed me, forcing me back.
‘Stubbs, you’re thick as they come!’
We were past her. I was looking back. At once, she and Fat were a long way behind us, standing forlorn in the road by the black car. Their hands were at their sides.
Johnny and Charlie were cheering.
‘Saved you from a fate worse than death, you sod,’ Johnny said. He gave his high inane laugh.
The Jeep rounded a bend, and the sight of her was cut off. I kept looking behind.
We roared up to the barrier of the airfield. A couple of members of the RAF Regiment came smartly out of the guard-house to meet us, bayonets fixed. The barriers went up.
Sumatra fell away beneath the plane, away in space and time. Swampy coast was visible almost immediately. Islands flecked the sea, which reflected the morning sun like a shield. The air was filled with brilliance. Somewhere ahead, concealed in light, lay Singapore and all my further destinations.
Automatically, I glanced down at my watches. My wrist was empty.