Crouch had friends â who were they?â
âYou mean the white people they used to meet sometimes? â
âNo, those people were friendly with Mrs Crouch. She said that he had other Balinese friends that she didnât like.â
âI do not know them. But I have seen them around Ubud.â
This time even Bronwyn sensed that there was something Wayan was holding back.
Singh asked abruptly, âWhat was it about Crouchâs friends you didnât like, Wayan?â
He stared down at his feet. âWhy should I not like them?â
âThatâs what weâre wondering.â
âIt is nothing, Pak ,â Wayan said reluctantly. âOnly his friends were not Balinese.â
âNot Balinese?â Singh was surprised. âBut I thought both you and the wife agreed that Richard Crouch didnât hang around with expats that much?â
âThatâs right,â agreed Wayan.
âThen what do you mean?â Singh was fed up.
Bronwyn suppressed a grin. The Balinese could smile and talk and appear to co-operate without actually saying anything if they set their minds to it.
âHis friends were Indonesian, but not Balinese. They were mostly Javanese, I think.â
Bronwyn, unlike Singh, understood immediately. She told the inspector, âThereâs a lot of resentment amongst the Balinese about the influx of Moslem Indonesians from the rest of the country. The Balinese are extremely protective of their Hindu ancestry and culture.â
âIs that so, Wayan?â asked Singh. âDo you dislike the newcomers?â
Wayan was embarrassed but defiant. âThey take jobs from Balinese, sir. They work in construction and they run warungs . Also, they are all Moslem and we Balinese are Hindu. It is very important that we are a Hindu island â if too many Moslems come, there will be more mosques than temples!â
There was a silence as Singh and Bronwyn digested the information.
Wayan added defensively, âAnd now you see what the Moslems have done to Bali? It is they who do the bombings. Now all of Bali suffers.â
Â
âI want a divorce.â
âWhat?â
âYou heard me â¦â
Tim Yardley watched his wife carefully. She seemed genuinely shocked, her finely plucked eyebrows, redrawn with a dark pencil, were arched. The pupils of her grey-green eyes had grown large in the evening light.
âI donât believe you â youâre just upset.â
Tim sighed. He had been reluctant to take this step
without consulting Sarah Crouch. But it had been impossible to reach her. She was lost in an emotional maze of her own. And he could not help her, be there for her, until he was free of this woman staring at him, an expression of bemusement on her face. His gaze was drawn to the streaks of white across the orange sky, jets flying over and leaving their poisonous trail. The setting sun was behind a huge embankment of cumulus clouds but golden rays were pouring through the gaps like a benediction. Tim felt confident of his decision. He would not change his mind.
âStop staring into the distance and tell me what this is about!â
He turned back to Karri, noting the long-suffering tone she had adopted. She was still not taking him seriously, convinced that this was some minor rebellion that would soon recede.
âI want a divorce because I canât carry on like this â you treat me like dirt, you sleep with other men. Youâve destroyed our marriage â almost destroyed me. I want ⦠I need a last chance to look for some happiness.â
He saw that he had annoyed her. The scarlet tips of her long fingers were pressed together as she tried to keep her temper.
When she spoke, her tone was scornful. âWhat is this â some sort of mid-life crisis? You donât have the courage to make it on your own. Thatâs the only reason youâve hung around making a fool of yourself â
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