‘That boy Josef was always greedy for more and more,’ Anna began as they sat at the table. ‘The Guisans move here when you all left.’
‘Into the bungalow?’ Blanche demanded, and Anna nodded confirmation.
‘Not the Japanese?’
‘Them too, later.’ Anna went on, ‘I went home to my village. Then there was much killing by the Japanese — my family, Mr Guisan ... Long time, years, before I see Josef again. Mrs Guisan and Lee came once to see me after her husband shot slashing trees so Japanese cannot have rubber. I have never seen since.’ The old lady paused and the incomprehension on her face was echoed in both her listeners’ minds.
‘Josef said his mother was a traitor in the war — ’
‘Josef traitor now,’ Anna commented matter-of-factly before going on with her story. ‘At first it was all buddies using my home to leave messages for Chinese fighting in the jungle against the Japanese. Then I thought we were all helping Mr Hammond win the war.’ She paused to sip the sweet lemon tea Liz had made for her. ‘But I knew he really wicked when Mr Hammond come back. Josef he so, so angry.’ She shook her fists in the air to emphasise the point.
‘Why should he be angry, for God’s sake?’ Blanche asked.
‘Josef thought he was new tuan until Mr Hammond came back.’ Anna nodded with deep conviction. ‘Soon then the communists with the red stars on their hats came to village and demanded money to pay their soldiers. I told I must store things in my roof — and hide terrorists — or they would kill grandchild and cut out tongue, make me “dum-dum amah”. They laughed about that; one caught and twisted tongue out, pretended slice off.’ Anna’s voice fell as she admitted, ‘I very afraid.’
Liz remembered her visit and how the old lady had refused to speak. ‘Anna, I’m so sorry, we didn’t know ... how awful!’
‘The bastards!’ Blanche breathed.
‘They gave me papers to give out, but ... ’ She stopped and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I never ... I let them burn in house, all but one in pocket.’
‘Papers?’ Blanche queried.
Anna fumbled in the pocket of her sarong and brought out a folded leaflet.
Blanche took it, spread it out on the table and read:
The Min Yuen, the masses’ movement of the Malayan Communist Party, call for all members to prepare for more effective violence. The people cannot tolerate British imperialist suppression any longer and are pledged to use action to smash their reactionary legal restrictions.
We drove the Japanese out when the British ran away. Now it is time for us to drive out the imperialists.
DEATH TO THE RUNNING DOGS!
‘Where do these papers come from?’ Liz asked. ‘Where are they printed?’
‘Josef brings them out of the jungle,’ Anna answered, ‘is all I know.’
‘We should ask Joan about the best guns to get,’ Blanche said thoughtfully, ‘and where’s best for us to set them up.’
‘I should learn shoot,’ Anna said.
The laugh that rose in Liz’s throat at the thought was silenced as her mother answered, ‘Yes.’
In the back of the Sikh-driven hire car Liz asked whether her mother thought Anna would be able to settle again at Rinsey.
‘She gives every sign of knowing her role will be different.’ Blanche’s tone was brisk, unsentimental, as if she was already preparing herself to deal with the authorities in Ipoh.
‘We mustn’t ever, ever let her down again,’ Liz urged. ‘She’s been through too much.’
‘Again! I didn’t think we ever had.’
‘No, perhaps not … ’
‘Definitely not.’ Blanche settled the matter and went on to what was before them. ‘You know it’ll be that same precise little Inspector Aba. Well, we can deal with him!’
‘No problem,’ Liz agreed and put her fingertips together in the fastidious manner of the Ipoh police commander before asking, ‘Do you think the police will be involved in this latest thing Major Sturgess is planning?’
‘No idea, though with this being an “emergency” and not a declared war they are the ultimate authority, so quite probably. Why?’
‘I wondered how busy the inspector might be.’ Be still my heart and my conscience, she ordered. The silent yearning to know where Alan was and what the new mission involved quite blotted out what her mother was saying, though it sounded like a mighty tirade.
When they arrived at the police station and walked inside, the man behind the desk rose and backed up a step as Blanche demanded, ‘Is the inspector in?’
‘Inspector Aba busy, can I help you?’ the man asked hesitantly, obviously recognising them from their last visit. He appeared somewhat flustered as at that moment they all heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
The inspector came in, holding out a handful of blown-up photographs. He looked, Liz thought, as if he wished he had the courage to spin on his heel when her mother waylaid him in no uncertain manner.
‘Ah, Inspector Aba, just in time! We may be just the people you need to save you a lot of trouble. We can take Mr Harfield home with us.’
‘Mrs Hammond.’ His features spelled resignation as he bowed in the direction of Liz and her mother. With a little shrug, as if he had absolutely no alternative, he said, ‘Perhaps you should come into my office.’ He ushered them towards the stairs, then went back to speak rapidly to the man behind the desk. The withering tone of his voice was so different it sounded like quite another man.
‘This ludicrous charge against Mr Harfield,’ Blanche began as the inspector closed the door of his upstairs office.
Inspector Aba held up a hand. ‘Madam,’ he began, ‘Mrs Hammond, I do not have to speak to you, but out of respect for your grief I do so. Mr Harfield is, however, held under damning evidence so damning I could not possibly release him.’
Liz could see her mother was shocked but she did not give up. She was insisting that bail be arranged when Liz noticed the photographs that lay on top of the inspector’s pad of blot-ting paper. They were blown-up photographs of a Chinese girl’s face. One eye was swollen, one lip split and bleeding, and there seemed to be marks on the girl’s neck. She could see one photograph underneath was of the upper legs; these bore marks as if clawed by an animal. She swallowed and looked away so quickly that Inspector Aba turning his glance to her momentarily, did not realise she had seen.
Was this the girl George Harfield was supposed to have raped? Someone had viciously attacked her, that was for sure.
‘I cannot believe you are actually going to keep him locked up,’ Blanche went on. ‘He has a mine to run! His people rely on him. Surely he can prove he was not there?’
‘Mem! He was there.’ The Inspector seemed to become aware again of the photographs under his hands, for the fingers were suddenly spread and still over the glossy prints. For a moment Liz thought he was going to display them, but instead he picked them up, levelled the stack with a quick tap on the desk and slid them into a drawer. ‘We had a call and he was found in the room with this distressed girl.’
‘Then we’d like to see him,’ Blanche demanded, taking hold of her handbag and preparing to rise. ‘And arrange for him to consult a lawyer?’
‘His solicitor has been. All the business has been done, all statements taken and Mr Harfield was transferred to Pudu Gaol, Kuala Lumpur, early today.’
Blanche rose, all formal courtesies forgotten now. ‘All damned quick, isn’t it? All a bit cut and dried, isn’t it? Does the British high commissioner know?’
‘He is being informed.’
‘Is being? George Harfield fought in the jungles against the Japs for you lot, is this how you reward him?’
‘I know Mr Harfield before the war,’ the inspector said with some quiet dignity, though Liz noticed his fingertips shook a little as he meticulously put them together. ‘I was there, Mrs Hammond, when the arrest was made — the girl who accuses him is the daughter of one of his foremen. At Pudu Gaol they have facilities for visiting; you must apply there in a few days’ time. Until then ... ’ The fingertips pressed together until the ends were noticeably paler. ‘Regulations must be kept and rules obeyed.’