Hothouse Flower (44 page)

‘Come,’ she said, extricating herself, ‘it is not far now and we can be comfortable.’

Twenty minutes later, with scratched feet and bites from all manner of insects that lurked in the undergrowth, Harry entered the clearing around the waterfall to the sound of crashing water, cascading down from the mountain. He looked down into a cool, clean lagoon surrounded by lush vegetation. Lidia pulled a bamboo mat out of her basket and Harry sank down on to it and reached for some water.

He was puffing and panting like a pensioner. ‘I am sorry, my darling girl, I’m afraid I’m yet to get back to full physical strength.’

Lidia knelt like a small, delicate Buddha next to him, and handed him some fruit. ‘Eat this, I understand. Your poor body, it need rest and peace to recover. But –’ she indicated the magnificent setting – ‘I think it is worth it, yes?’

A shack in a shanty town would have sufficed Harry, as long as Lidia was by his side, but he nodded. ‘It is indeed wonderful. Now, my darling, come here.’

She lay her head on his knee and they talked like lovers, eager to discover how and when their mutual feeling had begun and then developed. After a while, he lay down and she lay next to him, and nestled into his body. He kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, her hair and, unable to resist, his hand began to travel downward to explore parts of her he had so far only reached in his imagination.

When he unbuttoned her blouse, she did not stop him – if anything, seemed eager for his hand to stroke her tiny, perfect breasts, and for him to reach down with his lips to kiss them. His body was calmer today, and he took his time exploring every part of her soft, honey-coloured skin. He undid the three buttons that kept his own torso from her and pulled off his shirt so that their naked skin touched for the first time.

Harry felt a jolt of electricity run through him. Reaching his hand down, he put his palm gently to the place he had dreamed of for weeks, feeling its heat and wetness. A timid hand searched to find the ties of his trousers.

And at last they were both completely naked, the centre of him hard and hot and straining against her. Their mouths were locked together, as their hands travelled to probe and touch and learn.

Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Harry rose above her and looked down into her eyes.

‘Lidia, please, tell me if you don’t want –’

She raised one finger to his lips to silence him. ‘Harry, I do want, I love you. And I trust you.’

He understood that she was telling him this was new to her, that he would be the first.

Gently, he eased himself inside her, revelling in the heat of the tight, wet walls of her inner core. He bent towards her face, kissing her gently and asking her to tell him if it hurt and he would stop. When he penetrated her more deeply, she stared into his eyes, and they rose and fell together as the gentleness turned to urgency, she meeting him with the same passionate need, until the moment came and Harry screamed out her name to the skies as he drowned in the pain and pleasure of ecstasy.

Afterwards, with her small naked body wrapped around his, Harry thought that he truly had seen the face of God.

39

They began the return journey to Bangkok the following morning, Harry sitting in Tong’s boat, staring back at the island that had restored his belief in the beauty and sanctity of life. He only prayed he would see it again one day.

On the train, Harry kept his arms round Lidia. She felt so small, her weight so light against him. He dozed intermittently, but woke with a jump, not wanting to miss the last precious moments of her being his completely.

They parted near the hotel, behaving like strangers because Lidia was afraid someone might see her with him.

‘Tomorrow, my love,’ he whispered into her hair.

‘Tomorrow,’ she answered, climbing back into the tuk-tuk to head home.

That evening, Harry was grateful for the distraction provided by the piano and the lively atmosphere in the bar. But, afterwards, although it was past midnight and he was exhausted from the long journey, he didn’t feel like sleeping. He wandered down to the river, smoked a cigarette and replayed in his mind every moment of the past three days.

He paced for some time, wanting so much to stay in the cocoon of what had been, but knowing the future was already upon him. The fact was, he had ten days before his ship sailed for home. And everything here was at an end.

It was an untenable thought.

Harry walked slowly back to his room, lay down on his bed and tried to sleep. But when dawn rose beyond his shuttered windows, he had still found no rest.

He kept telling himself to buck up and remember he was a married man with responsibilities: not only to his family but to the estate workers and their families, people who would one day depend on him. Yet he could not dismiss the incredible changes to himself since he’d been shipped overseas four years ago. He had survived deprivation and brutality, the like of which was impossible for any civilian to imagine. And then he had fallen in love for the first time, not only with Lidia, but with a country and its people.

How could he leave it behind? Or her?

Guiltily, Harry turned over and forced himself to face the fact that he had lied to Lidia. If he had told her he was married, she almost certainly would not have given herself to him as she had.

‘
I trust you, Harry
…’

He groaned, feeling like the bounder he was.

As the new day began, Harry finally drifted into sleep, his turmoil unresolved.

In the following three days, Lidia and Harry met whenever they could. She refused to come to his room, driving Harry into a miasma of frustration. He had to make do instead with snatched kisses across the wooden table where they spent her lunch hour, and some hand-holding as she took him along the river after she had finished for the day. She was distracted by her family’s imminent move to Japan and Harry was at a loss to know how to begin to tell her what he should. Instead, he held her as often as their circumstances allowed, left her little notes of love at reception and made himself available to her whenever she had the time to see him.

One afternoon, less than a week before Harry left, Giselle stopped him in the lobby and handed him a telegram.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured and made to walk away.

‘Captain Crawford, a word in my office,
oui
?’

‘Of course.’ As he followed her, Harry felt like a naughty schoolboy about to be reprimanded by his teacher.

Giselle shut the door and smiled at him. ‘It seems Thailand has worked its charms with you,
n’est-ce pas
? And one
jeune femme
in particular.’ She picked up one of the notes he had sent to Lidia and flapped it in front of him.

Harry reddened and nodded. ‘Yes. And,’ he added defensively, ‘I am in love with her.’

‘So I gather.’ Giselle handed the note back to him. ‘Take it, it is yours after all. Captain Crawford –’

‘Harry, please.’ He took the note and stowed it in his trouser pocket.

‘Harry,’ Giselle corrected herself, ‘it would not be my usual way to interfere in affairs of the heart. But do you realise you are running the risk of Lidia losing her employment here? It is strictly forbidden for members of staff to fraternise with the guests.’

‘I’m so sorry, Giselle. I had no idea. Please don’t dismiss her. She needs the work. Her mother is –’

Giselle held up her hand to silence him. ‘I know all about Lidia’s family. Which is why I must come up with a solution. I am aware it is quite pointless and cruel to stop two young adults from being together. Lidia is in love with you, Harry. I see it in her eyes every moment of the day. Forgive me, but I am concerned for her. You are leaving for England soon, are you not?’

Harry sank into a chair. He shook his head in despair. ‘I just don’t know.’

‘I see. I presume Lidia does not know you have a wife?’

He blushed. ‘Sebastian told you?’

‘
Eh, oui
,’ Giselle confirmed ruefully.

‘No, she doesn’t, but believe me, my marriage is only in name. Because of –’ Harry shrugged – ‘who I am, I had to marry before I went to war, to try and secure the future of our family estate with an heir. Unfortunately, the child my wife was carrying when I left was lost.’

‘I understand this,’ Giselle nodded, ‘it is similar in France for aristocratic families to plan for the future. And Lidia knows nothing of your … heritage?’

‘No.’

She sighed. ‘I ask this now as someone who cares for Lidia: for you, is she an amusement, a distraction before you return home?’

Harry looked Giselle squarely in the eye. ‘No. If I could, I would stay here with her for the rest of my life. But what can I do?’

‘Harry, it is not for me to say,’ she sighed. ‘Perhaps you must tell Lidia the truth.’

‘How can I?’ he muttered. ‘She has trusted me. And I have lied to her.’

Giselle studied him in silence. ‘Well, maybe, if you can explain to her the responsibilities you have, she will love you enough to understand. Here in Thailand too, and all over the world, these things happen.’

‘I don’t see how I can go back. I doubt I can live without her,’ Harry replied helplessly.

Giselle reached out and patted his shoulder gently. ‘
C’est un coup de coeur.
Well, I cannot tell you what to do, for only you can decide. But, in the interests of my hotel and Lidia, I have a suggestion for you both: whilst you are still here, I wish to officially employ you as a member of staff at my hotel. You will become resident pianist, in return for your lodging. Food and drink will, of course, be extra. That way, as two employees, you are free to spend time together. Lidia will also be living in when her family move to Japan, until she finds other accommodation. Perhaps this will make the situation easier for everyone,
n’est ce pas
?’

Harry was so unused to kindness, his eyes misted with tears. ‘Thank you, Giselle. If that makes things easier for Lidia and yourself, I am awfully grateful.’

‘
Bonne!
That is settled.’ Giselle stood up. ‘You leave in a week for England?’

‘Yes,’ Harry nodded sadly, ‘unless …’

‘Only you can decide, Harry,’ she said.

‘I know.’ He followed her to the door. ‘Thank you, Giselle. And can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘If I decide to stay, would you be happy to continue employing me?’

‘Harry,’ she smiled, ‘I would be most happy to do so. You are a very talented pianist and make money for my bar.’

‘Thank you,’ he said gratefully, and followed her out into the lobby.

Over the next twenty-four hours, Harry wrestled with his dreadful decision. He was convinced, heart and soul, that Lidia was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; she was the other half of himself, the part that made him better and stronger, his salvation, his love.

He knew everyone else would try to convince him otherwise, citing his traumatic three-and-a-half years in Changi, the mystique of a woman from another world, that it was a passing phase and he would soon get over her. They would tell him he hardly knew her, that they had nothing in common, that it could never last because their worlds were so far apart.

All these things were true, and the logical part of him accepted them. But his soul could not.

Finally, Harry reached a decision. He must return home: it was only fair and decent of him to do that, at the very least. He would tell his family the truth about the woman he had found and his love for her. He would tell his father that, on his death, the estate could be handed over to his cousin Hugo, Penelope’s brother. And he would ask Olivia for a divorce.

Then he would return here, to the country that had bewitched him and the girl he loved. He would work as a pianist, free to be himself for the first time in his life. Lidia and he would find a small house together and live with nothing in the way of material possessions, but honestly, and with true love.

Harry smiled to himself as he entered the lobby, looking for Giselle. If anyone had told him when he arrived here six weeks ago that he would be prepared to give up his heritage, his parents’ love and his wife for the sake of a young Thai girl, he would not have believed them. But, now the decision was made, he had never felt so sure of anything in his life.

Giselle was sitting at her desk and gave him a half-smile as he walked in.

‘You have decided what to do?’

‘Yes,’ Harry nodded. ‘I’ll be taking the passage home.’

Giselle raised her eyebrows then sighed. ‘Harry, I understand, but I will be sad to see you go.’

Harry put both his hands on the desk and leant towards her. ‘Giselle, I am going home because I must do the decent thing and explain in person what has happened to me. But then, as soon as I can, I shall return. So, I would be awfully grateful if you could hold open my job at the bar. I will be gone no longer than three months.’

Giselle removed her reading glasses and stared at him in shock. ‘Harry, are you sure? It is a lot to give up.’