imagined my father throwing his hands in the air and rolling his eyes, shaking his head with a worried face, smiling charmingly at Veronica, to sort of suggest his helplessness.
From outside I heard Veronica say, ‘Don’t be too hard on her. She’s missing her mother.’ It made me feel doubly bad for turning my back on her.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of Malaya, of the deepest places where I’d never been, but imagined in the middle of the night when I woke from a dream.
Our gardener used to say beware the lure of the dusk, when demons would come out to play in the shadows of the long grass. They called to children with sweet dainties made of coconut and threads of spun sugar and only came out if somebody was lost. You had to be careful not to be lost, and if you went further and further, trying to find your way, they tempted you with sweet limes and sugar trees. And if you followed them, even once, you’d never be seen again.
Yet despite all of that, it felt safer there than it did here in Worcestershire, being left alone in a house with Mr Oliver.
14
Lydia woke to a room exploding with sunlight, a cup of cold tea on the bedside table. The girl must have come in to open the window. Lili. Wasn’t that her name? She sat straight up, stretched her arms out wide and yawned, feeling energy in her blood for the first time in days. She’d talk to Jack today. She could hardly wait. After all, talking didn’t count, did it?
An ice-cold shower, a book from the bookshelf and breakfast on the veranda.
On a small wooden table, next to a bowl filled with mango-steens, a jug of coffee and a plate of toast sat beside a copy of the
Malay Mail
. Until Jack got back she decided to enjoy the peace. Even though the sun had not reached its full strength, warmth rose from the land in waves, and the air was tinged with the smell of charcoal. Tall round-headed rubber trees towered close by with shiny, dark leaves, and incisions made into their bark. There the strange sweet smell of latex took over. This was Jack’s world, and she breathed deeply.
A large patch of springy grass grew in front of a wooden platform, enclosing the house on three sides. On the furthest side, a covered corridor led to the servants’ quarters, and from beyond the rubber trees strong jungle scents drifted over.
Leaving her book and taking a second cup of bitter coffee, she explored the outside of the house. It was a large rambling building, brick and wood built, with fancy ochre roof tiles and brown shutters. If not for the Emergency it would be beautiful. Was beautiful.
This was where Jack had been when he wasn’t with her. For the whole year of their affair, this had been his place. And though she’d imagined it a million times, she’d never seen it. But now, asif to make up for that, she saw him in the shadow of every tree, heard him in every rustle. Despite everything she’d promised Alec, and even though she’d been the one to end it, she could barely admit to herself how much she longed to see Jack again.
At the back of the house, a number of fruit trees grew clear of the rubber plantation. Bananas, papayas and chakka fruit. And from behind a tall tree, the sun lit dozens of fluorescent parrots as they flew off one by one.
She stepped back in through tall French windows and found herself in a large wood-panelled office. No rugs, no pictures, just one lamp on Jack’s metal desk and a single comfy-looking chair. Choosing the further of two lacquered doors, she opened it silently and entered another hallway with pale painted walls. This room had two brown doors, both ajar. Peering in, she discovered one led to a badly lit corridor, the other to Jack’s bedroom. She padded into the latter.
It was cool and dark. The windows were wide open for air to pass through the wire mosquito mesh, but with the slatted shutters and the door to the veranda firmly closed to keep out the sun. She inhaled deeply, smelling Jack’s leathery
From outside I heard Veronica say, ‘Don’t be too hard on her. She’s missing her mother.’ It made me feel doubly bad for turning my back on her.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of Malaya, of the deepest places where I’d never been, but imagined in the middle of the night when I woke from a dream.
Our gardener used to say beware the lure of the dusk, when demons would come out to play in the shadows of the long grass. They called to children with sweet dainties made of coconut and threads of spun sugar and only came out if somebody was lost. You had to be careful not to be lost, and if you went further and further, trying to find your way, they tempted you with sweet limes and sugar trees. And if you followed them, even once, you’d never be seen again.
Yet despite all of that, it felt safer there than it did here in Worcestershire, being left alone in a house with Mr Oliver.
14
Lydia woke to a room exploding with sunlight, a cup of cold tea on the bedside table. The girl must have come in to open the window. Lili. Wasn’t that her name? She sat straight up, stretched her arms out wide and yawned, feeling energy in her blood for the first time in days. She’d talk to Jack today. She could hardly wait. After all, talking didn’t count, did it?
An ice-cold shower, a book from the bookshelf and breakfast on the veranda.
On a small wooden table, next to a bowl filled with mango-steens, a jug of coffee and a plate of toast sat beside a copy of the
Malay Mail
. Until Jack got back she decided to enjoy the peace. Even though the sun had not reached its full strength, warmth rose from the land in waves, and the air was tinged with the smell of charcoal. Tall round-headed rubber trees towered close by with shiny, dark leaves, and incisions made into their bark. There the strange sweet smell of latex took over. This was Jack’s world, and she breathed deeply.
A large patch of springy grass grew in front of a wooden platform, enclosing the house on three sides. On the furthest side, a covered corridor led to the servants’ quarters, and from beyond the rubber trees strong jungle scents drifted over.
Leaving her book and taking a second cup of bitter coffee, she explored the outside of the house. It was a large rambling building, brick and wood built, with fancy ochre roof tiles and brown shutters. If not for the Emergency it would be beautiful. Was beautiful.
This was where Jack had been when he wasn’t with her. For the whole year of their affair, this had been his place. And though she’d imagined it a million times, she’d never seen it. But now, asif to make up for that, she saw him in the shadow of every tree, heard him in every rustle. Despite everything she’d promised Alec, and even though she’d been the one to end it, she could barely admit to herself how much she longed to see Jack again.
At the back of the house, a number of fruit trees grew clear of the rubber plantation. Bananas, papayas and chakka fruit. And from behind a tall tree, the sun lit dozens of fluorescent parrots as they flew off one by one.
She stepped back in through tall French windows and found herself in a large wood-panelled office. No rugs, no pictures, just one lamp on Jack’s metal desk and a single comfy-looking chair. Choosing the further of two lacquered doors, she opened it silently and entered another hallway with pale painted walls. This room had two brown doors, both ajar. Peering in, she discovered one led to a badly lit corridor, the other to Jack’s bedroom. She padded into the latter.
It was cool and dark. The windows were wide open for air to pass through the wire mosquito mesh, but with the slatted shutters and the door to the veranda firmly closed to keep out the sun. She inhaled deeply, smelling Jack’s leathery
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