The Glass Palace (57 page)

She said: ‘I don't know, Dinu. There were always rumours.

But nobody's ever said anything directly—not to me anyway. You know how it is—people don't talk about these things.'

‘And you? Do you believe these . . . these rumours?'

‘I didn't used to. But then Grandfather said something that made me change my mind.'

‘What?'

‘That your mother had asked him to look after Ilongo.'

‘So she knows—my mother?'

‘I think so.'

He lit another cigarette, in silence. Alison knelt beside him and looked into his face: ‘Are you upset? Angry?'

He smiled, stroking her naked back. ‘No. I'm not upset. . . and no angrier than I've always been. That's the strange thing really—knowing the kind of man my father is, it comes as no surprise. It just makes me want never to go back home . . .'

A few days later Alison sent up a letter that had just arrived. Dinu was working in his dark room and he broke off to look at the envelope: it was from Rangoon, from his father. Without another thought, he tore it up and went back to work.

That evening, after dinner, Alison asked: ‘Dinu, did you get the letter?'

He nodded.

‘It was from your father, wasn't it?'

‘I suppose so.'

‘Didn't you read it?'

‘No, I tore it up.'

‘Didn't you want to know what he was writing about?'

‘I know what he was writing about.'

‘What?'

‘He wants to sell his share of Morningside . . .'

She paused and pushed her plate away. ‘Is that what you want too, Dinu?'

‘No,' he said. ‘As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to be here for ever . . . I'm going to set up a studio in Sungei Pattani, and make a living from my camera. It's what I've always wanted to do—and this is as good a place as any to do it.'

thirty-one

T
he night Ilongo brought Arjun to Morningside House, Dinu, Alison and Saya John were in the dining room, sitting at the long mahogany table. On the walls glowed the bamboo-shelled sconces that Elsa had designed. The room was filled with a rich, warm light.

Ilongo was smiling broadly, in anticipation of Dinu's surprise. ‘Look who I've brought with me.' Then Arjun walked through the door, dressed in uniform, with his cap in his hands. His Sam Browne glistened in the golden glow of the bamboo sconces.

‘Arjun?'

‘Hello.' Arjun walked around the table and patted Dinu on the shoulder. ‘Nice to see you, old chap.'

‘But, Arjun . . .' Dinu stood up. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I'll tell you soon enough,' Arjun said. ‘But won't you introduce me first?'

‘Oh yes. Of course,' Dinu turned to Alison. ‘This is Arjun. Neel's brother-in-law—Manju's twin.'

‘I'm so glad you came.' Alison leant over to Saya John and spoke softly into his ear. ‘Grandfather, this is Dinu's brother-in-law,' she said. ‘He's posted at the army base in Sungei Pattani.'

Now it was Arjun's turn to be surprised. ‘How did you know I was posted at Sungei Pattani?'

‘I saw you in town the other day.'

‘Really? I'm amazed that you noticed.'

‘Of course I noticed,' She threw back her head to laugh. ‘In Sungei Pattani a stranger stands out.'

Dinu broke in. ‘You didn't say anything to me, Alison . . .'

‘I just saw a man in a uniform.' Alison laughed. ‘How was I to know he was your brother-in-law?'

‘I knew,' Ilongo said. ‘I knew the moment I saw him.'

‘He did.' Arjun nodded. ‘I walked into the estate office to ask for Dinu. And before I'd even opened my mouth he said: “Aren't you Mr Neel's brother-in-law?” You could have knocked me over with a feather. I said: “How did you know?” and he said: “Mr Dinu showed me a picture—from your sister's wedding.”'

‘So I did.'

Dinu recalled that it was two years since he and Arjun had last met—in Calcutta. Arjun seemed to have grown in the meanwhile—or was it just that he had filled out his uniform? Even though Arjun had always been tall, Dinu could not remember ever feeling dwarfed in his presence as he did now.

‘Well,' said Alison brightly. ‘You must have something to eat—both you and Ilongo.'

The table was spread with dozens of small, colourful china bowls. Most of them still had their contents intact.

Arjun eyed the food with longing. ‘A real meal, at last . . .'

‘Why?' said Alison. ‘Don't they feed you at your base?'

‘They do their best I suppose.'

‘There's plenty here for both of you,' Alison said. ‘So sit down—Ilongo, you too. The cook's always complaining that we send the food back untouched.'

Ilongo shook his head. ‘I can't stay . . .'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes. My mother will be waiting.'

Ilongo left and another place was laid at the table, next to Alison's. Arjun seated himself and Alison began to pile his plate with food.

‘We call this
ayam limau purut—
chicken with lime leaves
and tamarind; and here's some prawn sambal with screwpine leaves; and these are belacan brinjals; and over there is some chinchalok with chillies—shrimps, pickled in lime juice; and this here is fish steamed with ginger buds . . .'

‘What a feast! And this was just an everyday dinner?'

‘My mother was always very proud of her table,' Alison said. ‘And now it's become a habit of the house.'

Arjun ate with gusto. ‘This food is wonderful!'

‘Your aunt Uma loved it too. Do you remember, Dinu? That time?'

‘Yes I do.' Dinu nodded. ‘I think I even have pictures.'

‘I've never eaten anything like this,' Arjun said. ‘What is it called?'

‘It's Nyonya food,' Alison said. ‘One of the world's last great secrets, my mother used to say.'

Suddenly Saya John spoke up, catching them all by surprise.

‘It's the flowers that make the difference.'

‘The flowers, Grandfather?'

Saya John looked at Arjun with eyes that were fleetingly clear. ‘Yes—the flowers in the food. Bunga kentan and bunga telang—ginger flowers and blue flowers. They're what give the food its taste. That's what Elsa always says.'

A shadow passed over his face and his eyes grew cloudy again. He turned to Alison. ‘We must remember to send Matthew and Elsa a telegram,' he said. ‘They should stop in Malacca on the way back.'

Alison rose quickly from her chair. ‘You must excuse us,' she said to Arjun. ‘My grandfather is tired. I should take him up to bed.'

‘Of course.' Arjun stood up.

Alison helped Saya John to his feet and led him slowly across the room. At the door, she turned to look back at Arjun. ‘It's nice to have a visitor who likes our food—the cook's always saying that Dinu doesn't eat at all. She'll be delighted you enjoyed her cooking. You must come again.'

‘I will.' Arjun grinned. ‘You can be sure of that.'

There was a warmth and lightness in Alison's voice that
Dinu hadn't heard before. Watching her from his place at the table, he was conscious of a sudden rush of jealousy.

‘Well old chap,' said Arjun, in a booming, hearty voice, ‘did you know that you've got everyone worried at home?'

‘No.' Dinu flinched. ‘And there's really no need to shout.' It was a struggle to muster the self-control to go on talking to Arjun.

‘I'm sorry.' Arjun laughed. ‘Didn't mean to put you out . . .'

‘I'm sure you didn't.'

‘I had a letter from Manju, you see—that's how I knew where to find you.'

‘I see.'

‘She said they hadn't heard from you in a while.'

‘Oh?'

‘What would you like me to tell them?'

Dinu raised his head with great deliberation. ‘Nothing,' he said flatly. ‘I'd like you to tell them nothing

Arjun raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I ask why?'

‘It's not very complicated.' Dinu shrugged. ‘You see . . . my father sent me here because he wants to sell our share of Morningside.'

‘And?'

‘Now that I'm here . . . I've decided it wouldn't be a good idea.'

‘You've grown to like the place I suppose?'

‘It's not just that.' Dinu looked Arjun straight in the eye.

‘It's Alison really.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, you've met her . . .'

‘Yes.' Arjun nodded.

‘You probably know what I mean.'

‘I think you're trying to tell me something, Dinu.' Arjun pushed his chair back from the table. ‘Let me guess: are you saying you've fallen for her?' He laughed.

‘Something like that.'

‘I see. And do you think she's keen on you too?'

‘I think so.'

‘Hasn't she told you so?'

‘Not . . . in so many words.'

‘Hope you're right then.' Arjun laughed again and the light sparkled on his perfect teeth. ‘I have to say I don't know if she's right for a chap like you—a woman like that.'

‘It doesn't really matter, Arjun . . .' Dinu tried to smile. ‘In my case it's something I have to believe . . .'

‘And why is that?'

‘You see—I'm not like you, Arjun. It's never been easy for me to get on with people—especially women. If something went wrong . . . between me and Alison, that is . . . I don't know how I'd cope . . .'

‘Dinu, am I right to think that you're warning me—telling me to stay away?'

‘Perhaps I am.'

‘I see.' Arjun pushed his plate away. ‘There's really no need, you know.'

‘Good.' Dinu felt a smile returning to his face. ‘Well, that's out of the way then.'

Arjun looked at his watch and stood up. ‘Well, you've certainly made yourself clear. So perhaps I should be off. You'll make my excuses to Alison?'

‘Yes . . . of course.'

They went together to the front door. Arjun's Ford V8 staff car was parked outside, under the porch. Arjun opened the door and held out his hand. ‘It was nice to see you, Dinu,' he said. ‘Even if briefly.'

Dinu was suddenly ashamed of his lack of generosity. ‘I don't mean to send you away, Arjun . . .' he said guiltily. ‘Please don't think that you're not welcome. You must come back . . . Soon . . . I'm sure Alison would like that.'

‘And you?'

‘Yes. Me too.'

Arjun appraised this with a frown. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, of course. You must . . . you must come back.'

‘I will then, if you don't mind, Dinu. It would be nice to get away from the base every now and again.'

‘Why? Is something wrong?'

‘Not wrong exactly—but it's not always as pleasant as it might be . . .'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know how to explain, Dinu. Ever since we've got to Malaya nothing's been the same.'

Arjun's entry into their lives was like a turning of the seasons. He dropped by almost daily, often bringing Hardy or some other friends with him. Sungei Pattani had now become the headquarters of the 11th Division, and Arjun had linked up with many old acquaintances and friends. In the evenings he would gather them together and drive up from the base, in whatever vehicle was at hand—sometimes an Alvis staff car, sometimes a Ford V8, sometimes, even, a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Usually they came after nightfall, driving up with their headlights blazing sounding triumphal flurries on their horns.

‘They're here!' Alison would run down to the kitchen to warn the cook.

It was evident that she enjoyed these visits; Dinu could tell that it delighted her to see the house filled with people again. She produced clothes that he did not know she possessed: until then he'd seen her only in the plain dresses she wore to the office, and an occasional silk cheongsam. Now richly coloured, beautifully tailored clothes poured out of her closets— elegant hats and gowns that her mother had ordered from Paris, in Morningside's heyday.