THE LAST STREAK of sunlight disappeared into the horizon. Without warning, the jungle was thrown into darkness. May shivered. She squatted down by the stream and splashed water on to her face. Then she cupped her palms together and scooped up the water to drink. Hunger gnawed. The night sounds of the jungle increased in intensity. She jumped at every movement and every sound. Shadows lengthened and waned; wind howled. She couldn’t stay in the jungle. She would have to make her way back towards the plantation. Gingerly, she placed one foot in front of the other. Each step was an agony. Her shoes had worn through and the sharp blades of lalang were cutting into her soles, turning the blisters into bleeding open sores. She stumbled. Instinctively she placed her hand on her tummy. What would happen to her and to the child within her? What had happened to Mark? Was he dead? “Please, please,” she beseeched, her face turned upwards to a sky as dark as ink, “let him live.”
She pushed through the thick undergrowth towards Mark’s house. Bright light beckoned from within. May leaned forward, straining to see if Mark’s wife was there. She thought of the letter left on the mantelpiece. She made her way towards the backyard. She remembered the gap in the fencing. With infinite care, she angled herself into the gap, her body jammed half in and half out, when suddenly a slim silhouette of a woman appeared at the window. Light turned the woman’s hair into a halo of gold. Unlike the previous day, she could see her face. May gasped. It was Ruth, Mark’s wife. May had not expected Ruth to be so young and pretty. In the flesh, Ruth looked vulnerable and sad. Bewildered, May sank down on the ground wedged between the fences. She had always thought Ruth to be older, much older. She was a fool. Before Mark had told her he had a wife, she had imagined the woman in the photograph to be his sister. He did not clarify when she asked. She remembered the night when he had told her that he was married. It was a week after he first came to her bed. After that she had assumed the photograph of Ruth on the shelf was an old photograph of a young Ruth. She had imagined Ruth to be dour. She had believed that Mark’s marriage was over, no matter that he had said that their affair would have to stop when Ruth came. She wanted to believe that Ruth was old and dour. Why else would he take May as his lover? Perhaps she had deluded herself to assuage her guilt. When Fu Yi learnt of the affair, she had been furious. May remembered the two words Fu Yi used to describe her – ‘young’ and ‘stupid’. May had retorted that she was nearly seventeen, and not a child. Perhaps Fu Yi was right after all.
May crouched, jammed in between the planks in the fence. She was not sure if she should go into the backyard. Ruth’s presence changed everything. She had hoped to catch Fu Yi on her own and beg for some food and perhaps a blanket. A car turned into the drive. She heard the engine of the car switch off and a door slam shut. May slunk back. She pushed the fencing together again. She couldn’t go into the backyard. She’d wait.
Footsteps followed. Through the slit between the fence, May could see a man and a woman come out to the terrace. She pressed her ears to the gap between the fences. She recognised the man. He was Major Hugh, Mark’s friend.
***
“I am glad to see you settled.” Hugh steered Ruth to a chair on the terrace. He lowered himself on to a seat opposite her.
“Any news?” Ruth’s eyes were bright with expectation.
“I am sorry. I’m afraid not. I came not because I have information about Mark’s disappearance. I just wanted to see if you are all right. The situation is deteriorating rapidly in this area. We are telling everyone not to go out unnecessarily. I have said this before but thought I should say it again. Please stay away from the plantation. Do not step near the jungle. Don’t go anywhere near the New Settlement, no matter how tempted you might be to investigate on your own. It is not safe. I can’t tell you more.”
Ruth could not contain her disappointment. She hardly took in Hugh’s warnings. For a moment she had allowed her hopes to rise. Why else, she had thought, would Hugh come to see her at this late hour if not for news about Mark? She didn’t know him well enough to expect a social visit from him. Dampness gathered in the corner of her eyes. She brushed it away fiercely. She had kept herself in check even when she had discovered May’s belongings. She was not going to cry now, not in front of someone she hardly knew. She saw Hugh watching her apprehensively. It struck her then. Hugh was Mark’s friend. He must know of Mark’s affair. He was hiding it from her. She must have the truth about May.
“About May,” Ruth’s cheeks were a bright pink, “the cook would not tell me much about her. Is she ... is she Mark’s lover?” It was a relief to say it out loud. A part of her wished to be contradicted. “Mr Fletcher, Bill hinted. He ... he said that it is strange that she should disappear on the same day Mark vanished. That their disappearance could have been pre-arranged, a lovers’ flight. That Mark,” her lips trembled in her recollection, “was assisting the insurgents.”
“Damn the man! I know Mark. He wouldn’t enter into any arrangement that would cost a life! His driver was killed! Mark is not a traitor. He does not support the insurgency. You should believe in that, Ruth, and hold on to it, for others will use his disappearance to distort the truth. According to Bill, even I, perhaps even the whole British regiment in this district, is in cahoots with the enemy. Only he and his men could save the British Empire.”
“Please tell me. Is May Mark’s lover?” Ruth’s stoicism left her. Her eyes once more glistened.
Hugh was pushed to a corner. He had vowed not to be the one to tell. Yet, there was no escaping from such a direct question.
“Men sent out here on their own are lonely.” His voice was quiet and measured. “If it makes you feel better and if indeed he had an affair, he would not be the only one that had strayed.”
The pool that had gathered in Ruth’s eyes spilled over. A drop splashed down on to her blouse. Hugh leaned over and took Ruth’s hands in his own. They felt small and helpless in his. He cursed himself. His words sounded hollow even to himself.
“Please,” he continued hoping to dissipate his own words, “I am not saying that they were lovers. He has never said.”
He realised that he had dug a hole for himself. Ruth withdrew her hands from his clasp.
“Sorry, I am so sorry. I am just making things worst. Everything we say or Bill says is conjecture. No one knows the truth except for Mark. Let’s concentrate on rescuing him. I’d rather you did not go by my words. It is only fair that you wait for Mark to explain. Ignore what I said.”
“What happens if we don’t find him?”
Hugh could not reply; he did not know what to say, for what could he say that would bring her comfort? This limbo of not knowing was much worse than knowing for certain.
“I went to May’s room. I searched her belongings. They were all hung out neatly in the cupboard.”
Ruth did not mention that she could smell the scent May used in her clothes, the same scent she had found on Mark’s pillows. She knew then, though she fought against the knowledge, that her suspicions were correct. She had also found the missing jar of Ponds cream on May’s dressing table. Fu Yi must have retrieved it from Mark’s bathroom.
“Surely that meant that she had not planned to disappear with Mark? Their disappearance at the same time must be pure coincidence.” Ruth clung to this fragment of evidence. It was her only hope that Bill’s cruel supposition of a lovers’ flight was untrue.
“Don’t take notice of Bill. He is a dangerous man. Be wary of what he says and what you say to him. He is not what he claims to be. Try to get some sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow.”
On the other side of the fence, May heard it all. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She did not know if they were prompted by compassion for Mark’s wife or sorrow for herself. Perhaps both. May was ridden with guilt. Ruth clearly loved Mark, as she did. Was it true that Mark had turned to her only because he was lonely? That he had not loved her as she had thought. Was she like the other women? Like Ah Lan to be used and then discarded? She got up and ran. Tears blinded her. She did not feel the blisters and the cuts on her feet and arms, the hunger that gnawed and sapped her strength. She tripped, fell and picked herself up. She ran as though she was running for her life.
***
Two sentries stood outside the New Settlement. In the sentry box, a guard lit a cigarette. The red glow of his cigarette end sparked and ebbed. May could smell the pungent smoke from where she squatted. It would not be possible to get into the Settlement. The barbed wire fences were too high. It was quiet, the silence interrupted now and then by the shrill wails of babies or the harsh coughing of the elderly. May waited. She hoped for a glimpse of her parents. She needed to be assured that they were all right. She was worried that they had been taken on account of her. Suddenly dogs began to bark; their yelping grew to a frenzy and as suddenly as they had started, they stopped. May tensed up, every fibre in her body was drawn like strings on a harp. She rose on her haunch, a sprinter ready to run. A hand grasped her mouth from behind, clamping it tight.
“It is me, Chun.”
May’s feet slipped from her and she fell back.
“Shhh!” Chun released her. “Come. Move away from here. They will find out soon about the dogs. I have poisoned them. Quick!” He pulled her urgently deeper into the jungle. She followed without thinking. They moved silently and quickly. They reached a stream and waded across, heading still deeper into the jungle. “My men are waiting for me.” She stumbled. He grasped her hand and pulled her urgently forward. “We cannot slow down. We have to make haste.”
May stopped. She tugged her hand away from his. Her breath came in great gulps. “I can’t run any more. I don’t want to run. I don’t want to join you. I have my parents to think of. If I go with you and Mark is found, I will not be able to go to him. I will be cut off from him and from my family forever.”
“You fool! He is dead. You will never be with him. You are a wanted woman; they believe you are one of us. You cannot go back.”
May’s legs collapsed under her. Dead! How could that be? She had been so sure that Chun would spare him after she had pleaded for Mark’s life. That was why she had not gone to the police. Wasn’t he a relative? Wasn’t he supposed to look after her? Chun’s face loomed, dark and imperious, as he bent down towards her. His cheekbones stood out from his hollowed cheeks like the cropped wings of a bird. She shuddered. She had not known Chun until recently when, out of the blue, he had appeared at her parent’s house and persuaded them that he was her cousin. He seemed to know their relatives from China. From then on, her parents had urged her to look to him as a brother. He persuaded them that he would look after her when they were gone. Neither she nor her parents knew that Chun was an insurgent. She knew that he was active in the trade unions. But wasn’t that true of many?
“You, you killed him!” She lashed out. He caught her, deflecting her blow with his wrist.
“No. I did not kill him. I just know that he would not survive the jungle. The jungle is booby-trapped. Bombs placed by his own people. Bombs set by us. Wild animals would tear him apart even if he managed to negotiate a way around these traps.”
“You dragged him there knowing full well what would happen.”
“My men did it. In hard times, men act like they must.” He hauled her to her feet.
“You took him because you found out about the baby!” She lashed out again landing a slap on his face.
Chun brushed his cheek; he felt the sting where the slap landed. His ears tingled. Without a word, he grabbed her and hoisted her up on his shoulder. “I have no time for hysterics,” he hissed. He ran sure-footed into the jungle.