HE WAS so eager to get home, to take Leila in his arms and tell her how he had stood up for her, that it was a bigger disappointment than it should have been when he found that she wasn’t there to welcome him. Saidee, reluctant clype, said that she had gone off in her car with two young Chinese men. That had been half an hour ago.
He found himself trembling. It was stupid, there was no reason for it. As he poured himself a whisky he whistled jauntily, or tried to, but his hands were shaky. He stared at himself in the mirror, despising what he saw there, and asking what kind of love it was that was so willing to find fault. She had taken the youths to Lo’s home. That was it, the simplest of explanations. Yet doubts, black as leeches, clung to his mind, sucking out trust. Why had they not waited till he came home? Were they deliberately avoiding him? Had he not remarked once, more or less facetiously, that Lo in particular was the kind of idealistic young Chinese who would have accompanied Mao on the Long March and considered it an honour to be allowed to wash the great man’s feet?
Into Sandilands’ mind then, sucked dry of trust, came a vision so horrible that he could not bear it, though he could not get rid of it either: a row of bodies dangling from ropes, Leila’s among them.
It could happen. No special mercy would be shown because she was a woman.
The Resident would be shocked in his gentlemanly way but he would do nothing to save her. The British government would express regret but point out that since Savu was no longer a colony it had no authority to intervene. One or two Members of Parliament, eager to sustain their liberal reputations, would ask questions but would easily be put off with the polite evasive answers.
But it would never happen. There was no secret band of suicidal rebels. Leila was in no danger. She was more likely to become a member of His Highness’s government.
Misgivings and doubts, though, persisted. Only Leila could rid him of them. Why was she not there to do it? What was keeping her? In the past few weeks whom had she associated with, behind Sandilands’ back? No, that was unfair. They had agreed that it would be better for him, a foreigner after all, not to be seen taking part in the elections. Therefore she had conferred with men whose trustworthiness he had had no opportunity of judging.
He sat out on the verandah, among his orchids, heedless of mosquito bites. Because of the din the cicadas were making he did not hear her car until it was almost at the house. He did not, this time, hurry down the steps to open the door for her and kiss her as she stepped out.
She came up the steps slowly. Was it simply because she was tired, or was she hesitant about facing him?
She was wearing a red kebaya, with sarong to match. Though tired, she was as affectionate as always.
She came over and kissed him on the head. ‘You’re back earlier than I thought,’ she said, smiling.
‘Yes.’
He should have been on his feet, embracing her, but he sat there dourly.
‘For goodness’ sake, Andrew, let’s go in,’ she said.
She took his hand and pulled him into the house. ‘You’re covered with bites. Is anything the matter? What had His Excellency to say?’
‘Where were you?’ he muttered, more huffily than he’d intended. He was in danger of losing control of himself.
‘At my father’s. Albert and Richard came to visit me. I took them to my father’s.’
‘Lo’s people live here in Savu Town. Why didn’t you take them there?’
‘They’ve got hold of a small printing press. They’re turning out leaflets for us.’
The three printing firms in Savu Town had refused to print leaflets for the People’s Party. According to Leila they had been threatened with having their businesses shut down.
‘It’s very warm tonight,’ she said. Sitting under the fan she took off her kebaya. ‘I expect Saidee’s gone to bed.’
‘Yes.’
She pulled her sarong up over her knees. Her legs were bare. ‘Am I not shameless?’ she said, laughing. ‘Could you please get me a drink of cold lemonade, Andrew?’
He went into the kitchen.
‘Aren’t you going to tell me what was said at the Residency?’ she called. ‘Or were you sworn to silence?’
He came back with her drink. ‘I gave no promises,’ he said.
‘Who were there?’
‘Harvey, Alec Maitland, and Sir Hugo. That’s all.’
‘Ah. So it wasn’t just a social meeting. What important and urgent matters were discussed?’
‘Harvey said it was very imprudent of you to visit Dr Wong in Singapore.’
He had never seen her so haughty. ‘What business is it of his whom I visit?’
‘That’s what I told him.’
‘Did you, Andrew? Thank you. I suppose those secret police told him.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ve got secret police here too. Not very secret really, for we know who they are. They attend our every meeting. There were two outside my father’s house. Do they think we’re a gang of dangerous terrorists?’
‘Yes, that’s what they think.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘No. Maitland said there had been break-ins at some police posts. Guns and ammunition were stolen.’
‘What posts?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Because it was a lie. Why wasn’t it reported in the newspapers?’
‘That’s what I asked him.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Nothing. He didn’t seem comfortable about it.’
‘Because he’s an honest man and it’s a lie. They must be desperate. They must realise they’re going to lose.’
‘I don’t think that’s it. He said Chia and Lo were implicated.’
‘What rubbish! What despicable rubbish! You see how easily Savu could become a police state. It is almost one already, and the British government approves. What about me? Was I accused? And my father?’
‘Not your father.’
‘But I? Did they accuse me of being involved in a plot to steal guns?’
‘Maitland said you probably didn’t know anything about it.’
‘So if I’m not a terrorist I must be a credulous fool? And what did you say, Andrew? Did you defend your wife?’
She undid her brassiere and dropped it on the floor.
What did it mean? Were her breasts to be witnesses of her innocence? Was she reminding him that he was her husband to whom she had given herself body and soul, because she loved him and because she thought he loved her?
He remembered Maitland’s advice to order her to give up politics. Would she obey him? For a few shameful moments he was tempted.
Then, in a moment, all doubts vanished and he felt wonderfully cleansed and happy.
There were no words to express his relief and love.
He went over and, on his knees, kissed her breasts.
Her haughtiness was gone; humour took its place. She laughed. She pressed his face against her breasts.
‘Now that the elections are so close,’ she said, ‘and I don’t have to consider my figure, we could have a child. What do you say?’