Oriental Hotel (63 page)

‘No, not the Peninsula,' Katy continued. ‘It's a fabulous place, of course, but I didn't mean that. I meant Hong Kong itself.'

‘You like it?'

‘Oh, I love it! It's so different! There's a feeling of excitement in the air and yet at the same time it's not like being in the rat race any more.'

‘You never were,' Elise reminded her.

‘I suppose not. Though I assure you that even my job has its pressures, whatever Daddy may think.'

‘And that feeling of freedom simply comes from being on holiday. It would soon wear off if you lived here all the time, as I'm sure Stuart would tell you.'

‘Yes, but all the same, I love it,' Katy said.

‘I'm glad.' Elise smiled. She had loved Hong Kong so much that she was happy that Katy felt the same way.

‘And you were quite right about the smell,' Katy added wickedly. ‘I don't even mind that any more.'

‘I told you!'

‘Yes, you did! I suppose it's like Mummy and her stables. She loves the horses, so the pong is all part of it. I think I must be an awful disappointment to her, you know, because I just couldn't feel the way she does. And a disappointment to Daddy for not wanting to go into the business.'

‘Katy,' Elise said firmly, ‘you are not a disappointment to anyone.'

‘I would have been a disappointment to you if I hadn't liked Hong Kong,' she teased.

‘All right – yes, you would.'

‘There's a Rolls Royce coming along the road now,' Katy reported. ‘I think this could be Stuart – unless it's one of the Peninsula rollers. No, it doesn't look like a uniformed chauffeur and there's no one else in the car. Did you say you were ready, Granny?'

‘I think so,' Elise said, but her heart seemed to be pounding against the walls of her chest and a voice inside asked: Are you really? Are you really ready for this? To see his grave for the first time forty years after his death?

She stood up, smoothing down the skirt of her silk dress and taking a breath that seemed to catch and hold in her lungs, imprisoned by that painfully beating heart.

I have done a great many things in my time, but none that needed more courage than this, she thought. Yet I have no choice. Now I know where you are, Brit, how could I stay away?

‘Yes, Katy, I'm ready,' she said.

The Rolls Royce pulled on to the hard standing at the roadside overlooking Chai Wan harbour.

Directly opposite, three columns of pale stone roofed together with light green tiles rose behind a low wall. Between the columns the skyscrapers around the bay and the distant peaks of Lei-Yue-Mun were clearly visible. The central column of the three bore a stark black cross.

Stuart opened the door of the Rolls and Elise stepped out from the air-conditioned interior into the warm, damp wall of humidity, carefully balancing an armful of deep pink roses which she had bought from a flower-seller's stall on the way. The choice had been fantastic – deep purple spider orchids, imported from Singapore, and every shade of chrysanthemum, but she had chosen the roses. The orchids had seemed too fussy for Brit, the chrysanthemums too funereal. Roses simply expressed her love.

Not waiting for the others, she walked towards the columned entrance, catching a glimpse of the first neat row of creamy white tombstones, erect and uniform as the men they honoured, and her heart began to pound again, sending sickening echoes through her veins and forming a hard lump in her throat. Once through the entrance, three shallow steps led down to a lawn, incredibly green, bordered with evergreens and flowering shrubs. There was a memorial carved out of the same rock as the tombstones, engraved simply: ‘THEIR NAME LIVETH FOR EVER MORE.' Her heart twisted again as a painful combination of grief and pride rose to overwhelm her.

Stuart and Katy had followed her through; now Stuart led the way without speaking between those first evenly-spaced white tombstones. Her eyes skimmed them: ‘A soldier of the 1939-1945 War. Known Unto God.' Endless rows of stone all with the same legend. Endless graves for soldiers with no name – ‘Known Unto God'. At least Brit's tombstone would bear his name. Unbearable sadness for all those unknown soldiers who had died in defence of the land she loved swelled her personal grief. She turned, her eyes full of tears, and saw that Katy was hanging back uncertainly by the stone arch. She was glad: she could not have talked to Katy or anyone just now and instinctively the younger woman had realised it.

The cemetery was much larger than she had imagined it would be, falling away to the very edge of the hillside and centred by a tall cross. The paths were well-kept and between the graves roses, hibiscus and frangipani flowered, lending splashes of red, orange and yellow to the soft green and white. Beyond the evergreens and the banana palms the skyscrapers rose on the reclaimed land in junk Bay, but they were dwarfed by the majesty and the reverence, the silence and the tranquillity. The sky, the sea and the distant mountains provided a back-drop in varying shades of blue and the air was heavy with the scent of roses.

Three-quarters of the way into the cemetery, Stuart turned off the gravelled way and on to a springy green side path. A butterfly big as a small bird sailed past her, but she was unaware of it. She had eyes only for the tombstone he was indicating: so like the others, identical but for its inscription. Her feet stopped moving and a stillness seemed to lie in the very heart of her, as if every pulse had been deadened, every breath frozen. Life and living, times past and present were suspended then, and in that pool of stillness she heard her own voice – soft, silent except to her own ears – putting into words the inscription her eyes were reading:

FLT LT. GERALD BRITTAIN, RAF
12TH DECEMBER 1941
AGED 24 YEARS

Beneath it was carved the crest and motto of the RAF:

PER ARDUA AD ASTRA

For a lifetime it seemed she stood there without moving. This was it, then, a small voice reminded her, this was the spot where Brit had been buried; his mortal remains lay beneath this soft green turf. Yet now she was here it seemed impossible to believe it. Theee was sadness, yes, but it was sweet sadness rather than the swamping grief of yesterday. There was a sense of loss, a piercing nostalgia for what might have been – and a comforting knowledge that now, whatever happened, there were not many years left to live through without him.

Her eyes misted; she swallowed at the lump that was sending sharp, treacherous darts to scorch her eyes and throat. Then slowly, with the slight stiffness of her sixty-four years, she knelt on the turf, leaning forward to heap the roses on the grave.

Through the silk of her dress the grass felt cool and slightly damp; it reminded her of the cool damp earth beneath and something within her cried out a sudden protest.

Brit, no! You can't be there, decayed and gone, the face I loved, the body that loved me. I can't bear it!

Her hands clenched as the agony scythed through her and she stiffened against the urge to throw herself down on the turf. Even now, with grief bearing in on her with startling suddenness, she was conscious of Katy and Stuart waiting for her at a discreet distance, but watching and waiting, none the less. There was pain inside her chest and a blackness before her eyes, as the injustice of it screamed at her down the years.

Oh God, why? Why? Oh Brit – Brit!

The tears poured down her cheeks and she let them come, unable to think of anything but the pain. Then, just when she had thought it would never end the spasm began to pass. She opened eyes which had been tight-closed over those tears, to feel the peace and serenity still there just as before. Only there was something else besides, some extra dimension …

Brit!

It was as if the air was full of him, borne on the scent of the roses; the chirping of grasshoppers and the humming of bees seemed to contain the echo of his voice. She could not see him, could not touch him, yet she knew he was there. The wonder of it lifted her suddenly, lighting her face and making it young again.

Brit. You are not under the cold, damp earth. You are with me – with me always, because I love you. And as long as I am alive, you are alive too. Brit, my love, my one real true love!

She leaned forward, touching the roses and tidying them into place. She would leave them here because this memorial was to his mortal remains. But she would not leave Brit. Never again. Perhaps she never had.

Slowly, slightly awkwardly, she got to her feet. She almost believed she could see the shadow of his face on the creamy stone. Touching her fingers to her lips, she pressed them for just a moment against that cool stone slab. Then she turned away.

Stuart had retreated to the archway at the entrance in order to leave her in privacy. She could see him sitting with Katy on one of the carved stone benches, waiting for her.

The warmth of the sun had already dried the tears in her eyes but she passed one finger swiftly across her cheeks. Then, without a backward glance, she walked up the path towards them.

‘Granny, Stuart has very kindly offered to take us sightseeing this afternoon,' Katy said as the Rolls purred back along the coast road. ‘He suggested a trip on the tram to the top of Victoria Peak.'

Elise, still deep in thought, came back from a long way off.

‘Oh Katy, I don't think we can impose on Stuart's time any more. He has been far too kind already.'

‘It's no problem.' Stuart swung the car around a hairpin bend with the expertise born of long practice, plus some of the natural flair that was evident in every aspect of his driving and flying. ‘ I have already arranged to be away from the office today.'

‘I would like to see Hong Kong from the Peak,' Katy continued. ‘And you've always told us what fun the Peak Tram is.'

‘Absolutely – at your age! I think I could live without it.' Elise felt very tired suddenly, exhausted by the depth of emotion she had experienced in the cemetery.

‘Well, why don't you have a rest this afternoon?' Katy suggested ‘If Stuart doesn't mind taking me?'

‘It would be a pleasure.'

‘All right,' Elise conceded. It did seem a shame for Katy to make such a long trip and not see the sights while she was here – sights which Elise had known and loved herself.

‘Shall we take you back to the Peninsula Hotel when we've had lunch?' Katy suggested.

‘I thought perhaps we could eat at the Jade Gardens,' Stuart offered. ‘Genuine Chinese cuisine for a genuine English lady!'

‘Better and better,' Katy laughed. ‘I must say I'm enjoying every moment of this, aren't you, Granny?'

Elise nodded. Just at the moment, however, the comfort and luxury of the Moon Pearl Suite at the Peninsula was the most inviting prospect she could envisage.

But after a glass of cool Perrier water, a light meal of some of the Chinese delicacies she had most enjoyed during her time in Hong Kong and a refreshing pot of jasmine tea, she was beginning to feel revived, in part at least, and her mind was returning to the other purpose behind her visit to Hong Kong – the attempt to persuade Cormorant to come to the aid of Sandersons.

Since she had been unable to approach Charles Brittain under social conditions as she had hoped, one alternative was left: she must meet him on a business footing, in his business premises. And how much easier that would be with Stuart and Katy safely out of the way on Victoria Peak and not on hand to ask awkward questions.

‘We'll drive you back through the tunnel then, Elise,' Stuart said, signing the bill for a boy who bowed and scraped with even more respect than usual when he heard the name ‘Brittain'.

‘It's all right, you need not bother.' Elise injected buoyancy into her voice and Katy glanced at her, fingering the long-stemmed red rose with which the enchanted waiter had presented her.

‘Have you changed your mind and decided to come to the Peak with us after all. Granny?'

‘No, I don't think so. But I am feeling much better. I shall stay here – have another cup of jasmine tea and then perhaps take a look round the shops. It's so wonderfully cool in the big arcades, I'll be absolutely fine. And I really should find some little gifts to take back for Marcus, Paul and Julian.'

‘My cousins – Uncle Alex's boys,' Katy enlightened Stuart. ‘Quite honestly, the only thing I've ever known them to be enthusiastic about is food – apart from cricket and rugger, I suppose.'

‘Give them time. In a few more years you will be proud to be seen with such good-looking young men.'

‘Well, all I can say is it was very inconsiderate of Uncle Alex to leave it so late having them,' Katy twinkled. ‘I could do with three handsome escorts now, not in ten years' time.'

Elise fixed her with an amused look. ‘ Since when, Katy, have you been short of escorts?'

‘Oh, Granny!' Katy's dimples played. ‘ She makes me sound like an irresistible playgirl, Stuart!'

‘And you're not?'

‘There you go, you're just as bad! Come on, are you going to take me up in the Peak Tram or not?'

‘Where shall we meet you, Elise?' Stuart asked.

‘Oh, heavens …' She tried to think of somewhere and failed. All the rendezvous had changed since her day.

‘I know, why don't we say the foyer of the Cormorant building?' Stuart suggested. That's easily identifiable, and above all it's cool, with some comfortable chairs – just in case we should get held up. Do you think you can find it all right?'

If only they knew! thought Elise, suddenly feeling a little like a deceitful child.

She watched as they left the restaurant, then gathered her things together. In the cloakroom she tidied her hair and retouched her lipstick under the eagle eye of the little Chinese attendant who followed her every move attentively, sweeping away the odd hair from beneath her comb, offering her fresh hot towels – and hovering for her expected tip. Elise handed her a two-dollar piece and she beamed her satisfaction.