THAT EVENING, as Sandilands sat on his verandah amidst the orchids, slowly getting drunk, there was a sunset remarkable even in that country of splendid sunsets. Sea, sky, sand, and trees were for a few minutes blood red; so too his hand holding the glass. No doubt his face was sharing the glory as well, or was it the cosmic shame? ‘You’re drunk,’ he muttered, ‘and like a true Scotsman you’re maudlin and self-pitying with it.’ The expulsion of three students, however unjust, was hardly a reason for the whole universe to blush. Besides, who was to blame? Everybody and everything. Therefore nobody and nothing.
As the splendour faded he thought of telephoning Maitland and arguing with him, but it wouldn’t have done any good and might have done himself harm. If the authorities could so callously, with a snap of the fingers as it were, deprive him of the promotion that he deserved they could just as easily tear up his contract and order him out of the country, on the grounds that he had interfered in matters that didn’t concern him. He had a right to look after himself. Didn’t everybody have that right?
There was such a hubbub in the jungle behind him, of frogs, cicadas, and nightjars, and such a buzzing in his ears of mosquitoes, that he did not hear the telephone ringing. Saidee came out to tell him. The way she told him, the peculiar voice she used, let him know the caller was a woman.
It would be Jean Hislop. He felt mean. He would find consolation in hinting to her that since he had been cheated out of the Principal’s job there was no need for him to acquire a wife.
But it wasn’t Jean’s loud, demanding voice that he heard. It was quieter and more sincere. Jean was always putting on an act.
‘This is Leila Azaharri, Mr Sandilands. I know we have never met but I hope you don’t mind my calling you. I would like to speak to you on behalf of the three students who were expelled today from the College.’
He was so astonished he sounded drunker than he was. ‘Me? You want to talk to me?’
She hesitated. ‘Yes. Perhaps this is not a convenient time. Perhaps I should call again.’
She meant when you’re sober, you slob.
He made a great effort to speak clearly. ‘No, it’s all right. I know what you’re talking about. I’d like to help them.’
‘You agree then that they have been disgracefully treated?’
‘Yes, I certainly do.’
‘They speak highly of you, Mr Sandilands. I intend to challenge the legality of their expulsions and I would be grateful for any help you could give me.’
‘Of course.’ But there was really no ‘of course’ about it. Hadn’t he decided it was none of his business? Hadn’t he just watched the sky blushing with shame? Yet he said it again: ‘of course’.
She hesitated again. ‘Would you be prepared to testify as to their good character?’
‘Yes, I would. They are fine young men. Lo, in fact, is our best student.’
‘Would you come to my office tomorrow morning at ten? It’s in Kotakinabalu Street, next to the Chuu-Chuu tailors.’
Did he have a class at ten? He couldn’t remember. Anyway he could cancel it.
‘Thank you, Mr Sandilands. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
Putting down the telephone, he went back out on to the verandah, but though the moon was now shining on the sea magnificently there was no peace for his soul there. Nor would he find it in that office next to the Chuu-Chuu tailors. He might find great joy there but not peace of mind.