the good ones seem sweeter and the bitter ones even more sharp and sour. There doesn’t seem to be any awareness of a future, for how can a man look ahead when he can’t even see?’
Merlin’s arms tightened about her updrawn knees in the tulip silk, and her own slim knees were a poor substitute for the wide shoulders she longed to embrace.
‘A memory that haunts me is of Amsterdam the last time I was there, at my grandmother’s house,’ ash fell from his cheroot, spattering his trousers, and he was unaware of it. ‘A place so old the roof tiles are green-black as the shiny coat of a tramp, and rain, soft rain, had drenched the tulips in her garden and they shone like satin. I suppose you’ve never been there?’
‘No, but it sounds lovely, mynheer.’
‘It’s a very nostalgic city, and nowhere does the beer taste so cool as at a table beside one of the old canals, with wild onions, brown bread and cream cheese.’
‘Are you hungry, mynheer? I could make a snack.
‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m only hungry for the old days—God, what would I give to have it all again, the modest pleasures, the hard work.’
‘Please,’ A sob broke from Merlin. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘You mustn’t weep,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m a thoughtless fool to talk in such a way, when your nerves are already over-stretched.’
‘It just isn’t fair that you—a man like you.’ She couldn’t go on and had to cram her knuckles in her mouth or cry it all out, how she felt about him, the part she had played in the tragedy, letting it pour from her system but in the process losing what she had gained of him. He had to hate what had hurt him and cost him his brilliant career, and she would be his target, as they might be the target of that typhoon that roared in the stormy darkness out there.
‘I can feel you biting your knuckles,’ Paul said sharply. ‘If it will help to give way to a good cry, then give way.’
‘But you said you couldn’t stand a whining woman.’
‘Merely a ruse to try and make you go down into the valley. If the typhoon comes this way, then it will take this house apart like some great beast from out of a Lovecraft story.’
‘Then,’ she forced the humour from twisted lips, ‘if I give a curdling scream at the next loud noise you won’t take me for a complete coward?’
‘You are no coward,’ he told her. ‘You have spirit and feeling, and I couldn’t wish for a better companion in a crisis. Your nurse’s training, eh, and something tenacious in your character.’
Twinges of panic and pleasure were induced by what he said, but her endurance was welded to his, to that core of steel in his nature; the tempered strength of a fine blade that could yield without breaking. The hardest, bravest test for her was that she couldn’t find safety and sanctuary in his arms.
The music had died away and she lay back against the cushions of her long-chair and tried to relax. Long since her hair had loosened into a gleaming disarray about her shoulders, for every now and then she would press her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sounds of trees whose very roots were being torn from deep in the soil, where they had stood since the days of the Dutch colonials. She knew that small, defenceless animals and birds were being driven crazy and she was frightened she might hear their cries.
She had played all those rather scratchy records and she supposed they could play them all again, but somehow she couldn’t make the effort to go and wind up the machine, and she could feel herself beginning to tremble.
‘Why do cruel things have to happen?’ she asked. ‘All those pretty children—the islanders—I can’t bear to think about it!’
‘The people of Pulau-Indah are extremely nice, aren’t they?’ His face was stern and shadowed in the moody light of the hurricane lamps. ‘I had to let them go to the valley, but I’m not certain it was a wise thing to do. A tidal wave would cost
Merlin’s arms tightened about her updrawn knees in the tulip silk, and her own slim knees were a poor substitute for the wide shoulders she longed to embrace.
‘A memory that haunts me is of Amsterdam the last time I was there, at my grandmother’s house,’ ash fell from his cheroot, spattering his trousers, and he was unaware of it. ‘A place so old the roof tiles are green-black as the shiny coat of a tramp, and rain, soft rain, had drenched the tulips in her garden and they shone like satin. I suppose you’ve never been there?’
‘No, but it sounds lovely, mynheer.’
‘It’s a very nostalgic city, and nowhere does the beer taste so cool as at a table beside one of the old canals, with wild onions, brown bread and cream cheese.’
‘Are you hungry, mynheer? I could make a snack.
‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m only hungry for the old days—God, what would I give to have it all again, the modest pleasures, the hard work.’
‘Please,’ A sob broke from Merlin. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘You mustn’t weep,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m a thoughtless fool to talk in such a way, when your nerves are already over-stretched.’
‘It just isn’t fair that you—a man like you.’ She couldn’t go on and had to cram her knuckles in her mouth or cry it all out, how she felt about him, the part she had played in the tragedy, letting it pour from her system but in the process losing what she had gained of him. He had to hate what had hurt him and cost him his brilliant career, and she would be his target, as they might be the target of that typhoon that roared in the stormy darkness out there.
‘I can feel you biting your knuckles,’ Paul said sharply. ‘If it will help to give way to a good cry, then give way.’
‘But you said you couldn’t stand a whining woman.’
‘Merely a ruse to try and make you go down into the valley. If the typhoon comes this way, then it will take this house apart like some great beast from out of a Lovecraft story.’
‘Then,’ she forced the humour from twisted lips, ‘if I give a curdling scream at the next loud noise you won’t take me for a complete coward?’
‘You are no coward,’ he told her. ‘You have spirit and feeling, and I couldn’t wish for a better companion in a crisis. Your nurse’s training, eh, and something tenacious in your character.’
Twinges of panic and pleasure were induced by what he said, but her endurance was welded to his, to that core of steel in his nature; the tempered strength of a fine blade that could yield without breaking. The hardest, bravest test for her was that she couldn’t find safety and sanctuary in his arms.
The music had died away and she lay back against the cushions of her long-chair and tried to relax. Long since her hair had loosened into a gleaming disarray about her shoulders, for every now and then she would press her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sounds of trees whose very roots were being torn from deep in the soil, where they had stood since the days of the Dutch colonials. She knew that small, defenceless animals and birds were being driven crazy and she was frightened she might hear their cries.
She had played all those rather scratchy records and she supposed they could play them all again, but somehow she couldn’t make the effort to go and wind up the machine, and she could feel herself beginning to tremble.
‘Why do cruel things have to happen?’ she asked. ‘All those pretty children—the islanders—I can’t bear to think about it!’
‘The people of Pulau-Indah are extremely nice, aren’t they?’ His face was stern and shadowed in the moody light of the hurricane lamps. ‘I had to let them go to the valley, but I’m not certain it was a wise thing to do. A tidal wave would cost
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