On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  ‘So he gave you the name after all?’

  ‘No, but at least we now know where the money comes from.’

  ‘I thought it came from Hong Kong,’ said Ella with surprise.

  ‘No. It comes from Penang. Clausen sent a telegram. The Hongkong bank has an office there.’

  ‘Penang? Where is that?’ Ella wanted to know.

  ‘In Farther India. Penang is a British Crown colony. At least, that’s what your father told me,’ her mother recalled.

  ‘Isn’t that near Singapore?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Yes, that occurred to me too. There must be some connection between your birthplace and those payments,’ she observed. She sighed helplessly and sank into the armchair, without taking off her coat.

  ‘Why would somebody from Penang make monthly payments for the child of a German sailor who died of malaria on his way home? And all the while, your father tells us tall tales about Uncle Karl.’ Her mother said exactly what Ella was thinking.

  ‘What if it’s this Richard F?’ she suggested.

  ‘But who is he, exactly? The whole thing makes no sense,’ said Mother, sounding resigned. ‘What about you? Did you find anything useful in his diaries?’ she continued.

  Ella shook her head.

  ‘I fear your father will take this secret with him to his grave,’ Mother sighed.

  Ella reflected for a moment that the identity of her real parents was ultimately of little importance. She had grown up believing she was an orphan. Did it make much difference whether she came from the orphanage, or whether she was the product of a sailor’s dalliance in a foreign port? Until now, no – yet because her father had obviously made such a secret of the matter and hadn’t even told his wife the whole truth, suddenly Ella could think of nothing else. And then there were these mysterious payments, which must be connected to her birth since they had begun at the same time. The mystery of her origins now weighed her down more than even her grief, but Mother was probably right. Under the circumstances, they wouldn’t ever find an answer.

  Ella woke suddenly and was unsurprised to see that her mother was still asleep, though she had drifted off in the living room armchair as she still couldn’t bring herself to lie down in the bedroom they had shared – on her husband’s deathbed. Ella had managed to shut her eyes for a few hours too, in the end, and it must be around midday by now.

  The box containing her father’s diaries was still standing in front of her. It was pointless to keep rummaging through it. Ella closed the lid and placed it straight back in the cabinet. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She considered making a little breakfast for her mother too, but decided it would be better to let her rest.

  Now that she felt slightly refreshed after eating two pieces of bread with jam and drinking a cup of strong coffee, the stream of thoughts and questions that she had kept at bay while she ate came flooding back once more. They were joined by a mounting unease as she glanced at the clock in the living room. It was already half past two, and Ella had agreed to meet Rudolf at three o’clock. Cancelling was impossible – even if he also had a telephone and Mother was sure to know his number – for waking her up was out of the question. Besides, Rudolf would already be on his way to collect her. She would have to give him the sad news in person. Rudolf knew her father; his uncle had been his best friend. Decency dictated that she would have to tell him about his death sooner or later – but did it really have to be today? And was it seemly to meet with a suitor on the very next day after such a tragic bereavement? It was not; and yet all such thoughts were washed away by the hope that Rudolf might know something about Father’s past that would shed light on her origins. It was very possible that his uncle might have mentioned something to his family, even if many years had passed since then. That glimmer of hope was enough for Ella to hurriedly change her clothes and leave a note for her mother on the kitchen table. Rudolf was a friend of the family too, which further justified her decision.

  To avoid Rudolf ringing the bell and waking Mother up, Ella decided to wait for him on the street. You could set your watch by the man. The wheels of his coach rolled up to the front door at three o’clock on the dot. Rudolf beamed, and the sun shone down from an immaculate blue sky as though nothing had happened. Yet Ella couldn’t quite manage to hide her despondency, which didn’t escape Rudolf’s notice. He gave her a disconcerted look before dismounting and walking up to her.

  ‘Miss Kaltenbach. Have I come at a bad time?’ His voice was filled with concern.

  Ella forced herself to smile.

  ‘To see you looking gloomy on such a glorious day! I expect you’ve had a tiring shift at the hospital,’ he conjectured.

  She decided to make it brief. ‘Father died last night.’

  Rudolf stood thunderstruck before her, unable to make a sound.

  ‘It happened while we were at the opera. He had a stroke,’ said Ella.

  Rudolf took a few moments to digest this news. ‘I’m very sorry to hear it. Please accept my deepest sympathies. Under the circumstances . . . I’m sure you’d prefer to be alone . . .’ he stammered.

  ‘No . . . Some fresh air will do me good – though I don’t want to burden you with my gloomy thoughts.’

  ‘There can be no question of you being a burden. You’re quite right, it will do you good,’ he said, and proffered his arm. She accepted it gladly, although his presence had lost all its power of attraction at that moment.

  The news of her father’s death must truly have been burdensome to him, or at least touched him deeply, for no other words were spoken during the short ride to the nearby park. Ella was thankful for that, as it allowed her to distract herself by concentrating on the vivid sights offered by the coach journey – the passers-by and the verdant scenery – and to remind herself that life went on as usual.

  They continued in silence until they reached a patch of woodland known as the Sierich Grove, where Rudolf helped her down from the coach.

  ‘It makes a pleasant walk. I’ve heard that they plan to make a civic park here one day,’ said Rudolf, taking in his surroundings.

  ‘What an excellent idea,’ answered Ella, who was grateful for his efforts to lead her thoughts onto other subjects, even if they didn’t remain there for long. The local flora was beautiful; the trees and meadows simply magnificent – yet everything seemed to fade into insignificance at present as her mind was occupied with one thought only: she simply had to find out whether Rudolf knew anything about the circumstances of her adoption, or if his family had ever discussed the matter. Fortunately, Rudolf broached the subject himself. He was evidently empathetic enough to interpret her sorrowful expression.

  ‘I can readily understand how difficult things must be for you right now. It was the same for me when my father passed away last year, and just a few weeks ago I lost my uncle too. I tried to impress upon myself that all things come to an end, including our lives. That’s why we should live them to the fullest, while there is still time,’ he said. The sentiment was no doubt correct, but not especially comforting at present.

  ‘Father’s death . . . It isn’t the whole story,’ Ella began, after they had walked on a few paces. She knew that Rudolf would be surprised.

  ‘I don’t know if you are aware, but my parents adopted me when I was an infant. Father made a sort of confession on his deathbed, about the background to my adoption.’ Ella mentioned only the official version of her origins, since she supposed that Captain von Stetten wouldn’t have told the ‘truth’ to anybody in his family. There was a chance that Rudolf might know about the alleged adoption of Mate Johansson’s child, but he certainly wouldn’t know that her father had passed himself off as the natural parent of a child he had fathered with a whore, as stated on her falsified papers – though Ella now had to assume that neither version corresponded to the truth.

  ‘Did he tell you who your father is?’ asked Rudolf, putting two and two together. His surprise was written all over his face.

  ‘No, he didn’t.
There was no time for that. All I know is that he lied to us. He always told us that we received a lifetime annuity from his late brother in America – but in fact, the payments came from Penang, and they started in the year of my birth. And then he wrote something about a Richard F on a notepad. He died with the pencil in his hand. Beyond that, he could tell us nothing more.’

  Ella was unsurprised to see Rudolf’s eyes widen.

  ‘So this Richard could be your father?’ he speculated.

  ‘If only I knew . . . Why would this man have snatched me from my mother and given me away? Though perhaps all he did was send us the money,’ Ella pondered.

  ‘But why should this man send your family money? It almost seems as though somebody were paying alimony.’ Rudolf stopped for a moment and thought carefully. ‘But that can’t be it. Because if that was the case, your adoptive mother would not only have to be your real mother, but she would also have to have been married and to have conceived you in Farther India,’ he continued. His brow furrowed. ‘On the other hand, the start date of the payments does suggest that they have something to do with your birth. You could be illegitimate – the product of an affair.’ Rudolf’s reasoning was perfectly logical.

  ‘This mysterious Richard – my real father? In that case, he would have to be an Englishman or a Dutchman, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Is that so important to you?’ asked Rudolf.

  ‘Strictly speaking, no – but ever since I learned of these inconsistencies concerning my adoption . . . I can hardly think of anything else,’ admitted Ella.

  ‘You really want to know who your true father is?’ asked Rudolf frankly.

  ‘I would love to, yes! Although it would change absolutely nothing about my life . . .’ Only now did Ella fully acknowledge the fact.

  ‘The sums came from Penang, you say? That’s an island off the coast of the Malay Peninsula, to the south of Siam . . . It’s in British hands . . . Perhaps there’s another explanation for the payments. When did your uncle pass away? Wasn’t he called Karl?’ Rudolf pondered.

  ‘He died about a year before we started receiving the annuity,’ said Ella.

  ‘It’s certainly odd that it took so long for the payments to start. And no, I think we can also safely assume that the money wouldn’t have been diverted through Penang, for whatever reason.’ It was reassuring to know that Rudolf shared her opinion, and that they would no longer have to scratch their heads over annuity payments from Uncle Karl.

  ‘What would you do in my position?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Much like you, I would be interested to know who had been paying my family an annuity for so many years . . . and to be perfectly honest, if this Richard is your real father, that interests me all the more!’

  ‘I had hoped to find clues in my father’s diary, but the entries from my birth year have disappeared. He must have destroyed them, or hidden them.’

  Rudolf grew thoughtful and gazed into the distance. ‘Where would I hide something like that?’ he wondered out loud.

  ‘We haven’t searched very thoroughly yet. Perhaps they’re tucked behind a cabinet, or under a loose tile or floorboard.’

  ‘It’s possible . . . Supposing you knew his name: would you really undertake the arduous voyage to Farther India?’ asked Rudolf.

  Ella nodded without hesitation – taking even herself by surprise, since strictly speaking, she had already forged other plans. Her presence was needed at the hospital to train the new nurses.

  ‘I know that the question is absurd, really, since I can’t necessarily imagine that your uncle would ever have mentioned any delicate matters relating to my father in family circles, but . . .’ Ella hinted.

  ‘You mean to ask whether my family ever discussed your adoption?’

  Ella was relieved that he understood what she was getting at.

  ‘The topic did come up . . .’ He seemed to sink into deep thought once more. ‘Every now and then. But I would need some time to reflect on the matter. Speaking for myself, all I know is that you were adopted.’

  Rudolf looked as though he genuinely planned to give it some careful thought, as it was plain to see that the subject was playing on his mind. Nonetheless, it would be a minor miracle if he could remember anything that would help her.

  Two hours in the fresh air had certainly done her good, as had her conversation with Rudolf, who seemed to possess more qualities than she had realised. To his good looks and exquisite manners, she could now add sensitivity and an obliging nature. When they had said their goodbyes on the street in front of Ella’s building, he had promised to look through his father’s personal effects for any clue as to her origins. It was touching to see how worried he was about her. He had even offered to send over a servant to help her mother manage the household. He couldn’t imagine that she was capable of any such work at present, and his assessment was accurate. Her mother had only woken up at around half past six that evening in a desolate state, and remained so even after drinking a cup of extra-strong fresh coffee that Ella had brewed for her as soon as she woke up. Ordinarily, Mother would have mentioned Ella’s meeting with Rudolf, but she made no comment.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ That was her only reply when Ella had asked whether she should bring her something to eat in the living room. She had shuffled into the kitchen like a frail old woman and slumped down feebly once more at the kitchen table, where she now sat as if she had been turned to stone.

  Ella poured her another cup of coffee. But she refused to touch it.

  ‘Please drink something, at least,’ Ella urged her, sitting down beside her. Her mother seemed to have aged years over the last few hours.

  She obeyed reluctantly, her hand trembling as she lifted the cup to her lips.

  ‘Don’t you want even a little bite to eat?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Giving up on yourself won’t bring Father back,’ Ella pointed out with concern.

  ‘I know that, and his death is bad enough as it is . . . I just don’t know what to believe any more,’ she finally answered.

  ‘Father will have had his reasons. Perhaps his story is true and there’s a logical explanation for why Uncle Karl’s money was paid from Penang. Maybe this bank has offices in America too, and everything about the annuity will make sense.’ At that moment, Ella realised that she was only saying these things to console her mother. She didn’t believe it herself, even though it could plausibly turn out to be the truth.

  ‘He lied to us . . . I dearly wish I knew why,’ her mother said. Ella felt the same.

  ‘I wonder why I didn’t grow suspicious much earlier. A lifetime annuity from his brother? One only pays into an annuity contract when one has a family. Karl didn’t have anyone. So why would he make provisions for your father and for us? None of it makes any sense! But I can only blame myself for that. A sort of blindness descends when one suddenly receives the means to live well.’

  There was no time for further reflections, for the doorbell suddenly rang. They never normally had visitors in the early evening.

  ‘It might be the doctor. Papers to sign . . .’ her mother conjectured, but she was proven wrong.

  Ella was astonished to find Rudolf standing at the door.

  ‘Please forgive me for intruding. I wouldn’t normally have ventured to call without notifying you in advance, under the circumstances, but I simply couldn’t stop thinking about the matter of your adoption . . .’ he began agitatedly.

  ‘Is there news? Have you discovered something?’ asked Ella urgently. She immediately invited him inside.

  ‘Who is it?’ her mother called from down the corridor.

  ‘Would you prefer to discuss this in confidence, or . . . ?’ he began cautiously.

  ‘No. Mother must hear everything. She wants to know what happened back then too. It’s Rudolf,’ she shouted towards the kitchen in answer to her mother. ‘I hope it’s nothing bad?’ Ella sought reassurance.

  ‘Not in the least.’ Rudolf took off his
coat and handed it to Ella. ‘My deepest sympathies,’ he said on entering the kitchen and spotting her mother.

  She nodded gratefully and offered him one of the empty chairs.

  ‘I’ve told Rudolf about the inconsistencies relating to the adoption,’ Ella explained.

  ‘Please sit down,’ her mother urged him.

  Rudolf did as she asked, and Ella likewise found a seat at the kitchen table.

  ‘I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering how we might shed light on the matter. My father is dead. I’m sure he must have heard something back then, but what use is that to us? None at all . . . After all, I can’t ask him any questions about it now. The same goes for my uncle. What a pity . . . He was close friends with Heiner, and the captain of the ship to boot. But then it occurred to me that my mother got on very well with my uncle. She loved listening to tales of the high seas.’

  ‘Clara?’ asked Mother.

  ‘I decided to ask her.’

  ‘But your mother suffers from forgetfulness, doesn’t she?’ remarked Mother.

  ‘That’s true, but strangely enough, she can still clearly remember things that happened many years ago,’ said Rudolf.

  Ella caught herself picking at her fingernails out of sheer anxiety.

  ‘What did she say?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘I think it’s best if I try to use her own words as far as possible.’

  Rudolf took a deep breath before going on. ‘It seems that your dear father mentioned a completely heartless human being – the devil incarnate . . . This person must have been very influential.’

  Ella’s breath caught. What was Rudolf talking about?

  He seemed aware of the import of his revelations, and so proceeded carefully. ‘She said that Heiner was given money to take the child,’ he said.

  ‘You mean, somebody paid the annuity to my father in return for adopting me?’ Ella could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

  ‘That would be my interpretation,’ said Rudolf.

  ‘Did Clara know his name? Did she mention a Richard?’

  Rudolf shook his head.