by Tara Haigh
‘Did she tell you anything else?’ asked Ella.
‘He must have owned a plantation. That was apparently what Heiner thought anyway, since plantation owners in the British Crown colonies have grown extremely wealthy.’
Ella struggled to maintain her composure.
‘I’ve done a little research. Penang is primarily a trading outpost. Most of the plantations are located in Malacca, on the Malay Peninsula. Mainly in the south, in a region called Johore, which is also under British control – although there are plenty of Dutchmen living there too. They were the previous administrators.’ Rudolf looked pensive, then continued: ‘Considering that there can’t be more than a hundred rich families in Malacca who own plantations – perhaps two hundred at most – and there can’t be all that many whose surname begins with an F . . .’
‘You mean, it might be possible to find my real father?’ asked Ella.
‘I think so.’
Ella’s mother had remained silent throughout this exchange, her face blank. The scale of the lie that her husband had told her throughout his life was difficult to grasp.
‘He must be very wealthy,’ added Rudolf.
‘Ought we really to call him to account, after all these years? He’s been sending us money for so long, after all,’ interjected Mother.
Ella felt the same. The financial aspect, which Rudolf had quite rightly brought up, held no interest for her whatsoever – yet the question of who this man was began to rage within her like a wildfire. And there was another question that came with that too – one that Ella had already given some thought to, but which gained new force in light of these revelations.
‘How could a mother do that? Give away her own child?’ she burst out. The thought was a painful one, and only stoked the fire even further.
‘It’s difficult for me to say this, but in such circles, it wasn’t unusual to enlist the services of women of easy virtue . . .’ Rudolf tailed off.
Ella could imagine what he was hinting at, given Father’s lie about Mate Johansson. The possibility had been raised before, but it now weighed on her even more heavily.
‘Do you really think I could find out?’ asked Ella once more.
‘If you could enquire locally then I’m certain of it,’ opined Rudolf.
At that, Mother looked over at her. One didn’t have to be a mind reader to see what she was thinking. The question came soon enough: ‘Surely you don’t want to travel to Malacca?’ she asked, her eyes bulging.
Ella shrugged non-committally, although her desire to do so had only been born at that very moment.
‘What about your plans? At the hospital?’ Mother went on. Her words felt like a bucket of cold water, but though they poured directly onto the raging fire of Ella’s curiosity, they didn’t quite manage to extinguish it.
‘And then for a woman to travel alone to a foreign country and ask questions that some people there might find uncomfortable? My child, it’s far too dangerous.’ Ella was unable to argue with that, at any rate.
‘I would be happy to accompany your daughter – provided that she would want me to,’ said Rudolf, turning to Ella.
Mother shot him an accusatory look, while Ella offered a grateful one. All the same, the thought of hunting down the devil, as Father had apparently referred to him in Clara’s presence, seemed almost absurd at that moment. Yet even that thought wasn’t enough to quench the flames of her curiosity.
Ella had hoped she would find deliverance in sleep, and that her head would be clear again by the following morning, but the exact opposite had been the case. She had been plagued by nightmare after nightmare: Father sobbing incessantly as he begged her for forgiveness; a horned creature with cloven feet that prowled through the rainforest by night and loomed over her cradle; somebody counting money into Father’s hand. Even her walk to the hospital failed to refresh her. It was inadvisable to make any decisions in this condition – but she did so anyway, partly for her mother’s sake.
At breakfast, her mother had begun to torment herself again with questions. On the one hand, she didn’t exactly seem thrilled that her daughter was considering journeying to Malacca; yet on the other, Ella was sure that her mother would never find peace or get over her husband’s death until she found out what had happened all those years ago. After all, one could only forgive somebody when one knew what had really happened. Although Ella had resolved to confront the truth so that she could learn who she really was and where she came from, each step she took towards the hospital seemed to call everything into question once more. Would it not be better to leave the past undisturbed?
It came as no surprise to Ella that Gutenberg agreed to see her straight away. He probably assumed she wanted to talk to him about the training programme for the new nurses, and so his face fell when she outlined her intentions, her travel plans and the reasons for her decision.
‘A glittering future lies ahead of you. You’re putting all that at risk! And yet, to be quite honest, I would probably do exactly the same thing if I were you,’ he told her.
It seemed as though Gutenberg was positively encouraging her to undertake the journey – yet his next words told her how wrong she was.
‘In the end, it boils down to a choice between the past and the future. Rationally speaking, one should always look ahead,’ he continued.
‘But how can I look to the future when I feel I have become a different person overnight? When the solid ground on which I have built my life has suddenly started to shake?’ Ella almost stuttered as she endeavoured to communicate her feelings to her employer.
Gutenberg nodded sympathetically.
‘The new training programme won’t start until the new year.’ Ella tried to make her extended absence palatable to him, but she failed.
‘We need to begin recruiting a long way in advance, developing training plans, looking for suitable staff. That won’t be done overnight,’ he told her unequivocally.
‘It would only be a few weeks,’ Ella tried to persuade him.
‘And how should I explain it to your colleagues? Quite apart from the fact that the hospital directors won’t be prepared to grant you such a long unpaid leave of absence. We’re short on staff, so we would have to find a replacement for you straight away.’
Now it was Ella’s turn to nod thoughtfully. It seemed that she was not only obstructing her own professional prospects, but also putting her very employment at the hospital at risk.
‘Röttgers will be delighted, at any rate,’ said Gutenberg. That much was clear to Ella too.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to take some more time to think it over?’ Gutenberg’s appeal was an urgent one.
Mathilde, whom Ella had told about her plans immediately before her meeting with Gutenberg, had taken the same view. ‘Just don’t rush into anything. I’m sure it will all look very different in the morning.’ Mathilde’s words were meant well, but Ella didn’t agree.
Should she be tormented by nightmares for yet another night? Should she spend the rest of her life grappling with questions for which she would never find an answer? What would a few more days of uncertainty do to change all that? Ella plucked up her courage.
‘I will go to Malacca,’ she declared in a surprisingly steady voice.
Gutenberg took a deep breath as he reconciled himself to her decision.
‘I wish you the very best of luck and a safe journey,’ he finally answered sincerely. Here too, Gutenberg’s words chimed with those of Mathilde, whom Ella bumped into straight after the meeting. Mathilde’s warm hug gave Ella strength, though it also held the pang of a farewell. Before her lay the ward on which she had worked; here were the patients that she so loved tending to. This was where she could have trained a new generation of nurses. Ella closed her eyes to shut out everything beyond Mathilde’s arms around her.
‘Look after yourself, Ella,’ whispered Mathilde.
‘I won’t be travelling alone,’ said Ella, once Mathilde had released her from her
heartfelt embrace.
‘Are you going with your mother?’ she asked.
‘No, with Rudolf.’ Mathilde’s expression immediately lifted. She had listened to Ella’s rapturous description of him on the day after the anniversary celebration at the docks.
‘Well then, in that case nothing can go wrong,’ her friend grinned.
From her lips to God’s ears!
CHAPTER 4
Ella had postponed her travel preparations until after Father’s funeral, and not just for Mother’s sake. She had felt the need to bid him farewell. She owed that much to him, as well as to his friends, who had congregated in large numbers at the cemetery this morning. Mother hadn’t shed a single tear. That alone spoke volumes. His betrayal of her – and ultimately of his daughter too – removed any misgivings Ella had felt about going to the harbour with Rudolf that very afternoon to book their tickets for the big voyage. The steamers didn’t depart every day, and waiting any longer was out of the question.
Ella stood rooted to the spot in front of the colourful poster for the Imperial German postal service’s steamship line, which advertised the company’s fortnightly East Asian service. It inspired yearning and excitement for a journey to places that she only knew about from hearsay – and, of course, from her father’s stories. Ella’s heart beat faster, and for once not because of Rudolf, who had accompanied her to the harbourfront office of the North German Lloyd Shipping Company early that afternoon so they could buy their tickets. Looking at that poster was enough to send you into a dream world. It depicted an imperial steamship travelling along an unmistakably Asian coastline against an apricot-pink horizon. The thick jungle that awaited her there was no more than a vague grey silhouette on the poster, but there was a kind of canoe floating near the shore full of people from all the ports that the steamship line called at. A woman in a kimono represented Nagasaki, while a man swathed in billowing red fabric and wearing a flat hat must be from China – the North German Lloyd called at Hong Kong and Shanghai. There was also another figure on board with a turban on his head, presumably to represent the region around the Suez Canal.
‘They say that Malays generally wear very little clothing,’ remarked Rudolf, who must have thought the same thing as Ella when he saw the fourth occupant of the canoe – a short, dark-skinned man who wore only a red garment that resembled a loincloth.
‘I’ve heard that it’s very hot out there. Too much clothing might be a disadvantage in those regions,’ mused Ella.
Rudolf laughed.
‘That’s one way of looking at it . . . Although perhaps it’s more a sign of a primitive culture,’ he answered.
‘I expect you’ll change your mind once we have to cope with the heat in all our finery. Though as a man, you can at least take off your jacket without looking completely uncivilised,’ said Ella.
‘On the contrary – women have the advantage there. You can wear light and airy summer dresses, while all we have is short trousers.’
‘Like little boys wear?’ laughed Ella, immediately picturing Rudolf in shorts.
‘Other countries, other customs. Even the British Army wear shorts, judging by a photograph I saw recently. With pith helmets on their heads too. It isn’t an outfit that commands respect, I have to admit. Not to mention all the pests it leaves you exposed to.’
‘Pests?’ asked Ella.
‘Mosquitoes. I’ve been told that they practically eat people alive. And let’s not forget the tigers and cannibals,’ he added with a grin. It evidently amused him to see Ella’s eyes grow wider and wider.
‘You know how to put a lady in the mood for a voyage,’ retorted Ella promptly, and Rudolf laughed again. It felt so good to have a few moments’ distraction from recent events – to feel alive again, and to look to the future without despair. Rudolf seemed to sense this.
‘I’m happy to see you smile again, Ella,’ he said with visible satisfaction.
Ella realised that this was the first time he hadn’t called her ‘Miss Kaltenbach’. Given all they had experienced together and the journey that lay ahead of them, anything else would have been absurd.
‘We should book our tickets, Rudolf,’ said Ella, emphasising his name in a way that he could only interpret as a sign of approval.
He gave her his hand to escort her into the harbour office. It almost felt like he was asking her to dance.
‘There really are tigers in Malacca, though,’ he said.
‘I’m sure they won’t eat me,’ answered Ella, before seeking further reassurance. ‘What about the cannibals?’
‘They live on the neighbouring islands out in the Pacific. But I think German flesh would be too tough for them anyway,’ explained Rudolf as they reached the counter. The adjacent desk was selling tickets to the New World – to America. There was a long queue. It seemed that nobody wanted to travel to Asia.
‘The Danzig departs tomorrow morning, I believe?’ Rudolf asked the booking clerk – a stocky young man who wore a blue jacket over a white shirt, just like his colleague. It came as no surprise to Ella that Rudolf had already researched the various travel options. A businessman like him surely wouldn’t leave anything to chance. She felt very glad that he was accompanying her.
‘Indeed, at half past ten,’ confirmed the man behind the counter.
‘Are there any cabins available in second class?’ asked Rudolf.
‘I’m sorry – I’m afraid there are only twenty-three second-class cabins. Let me take a look,’ said the clerk, who began leafing through a list on the counter in front of him. ‘Yes, they’re all booked up. We still have five spots in third class, but then you would have to share your cabin with other passengers. As for first class . . . Only three cabins have been booked so far. There are still sixteen left.’
‘Third class is out of the question,’ Ella intervened, as she knew from her father how uncomfortable the conditions would be – indeed, ‘uncomfortable’ was an understatement.
‘The Danzig has a good third class. The cabins are clean, and the catering is decent,’ responded the clerk. He might well be right. Father had always sailed on tall ships, and never on a modern steamer.
‘The first-class tickets must cost around eight hundred marks?’ The way Rudolf phrased it made it sound like a question.
‘Between eight hundred and thirty and one thousand and sixty, to be precise,’ the clerk clarified. That was a considerable sum. As a schoolteacher, Mother earned eight hundred marks in a month.
Rudolf raised his eyebrows, although he could certainly afford it. He reached into his jacket for his wallet, clearly intending to pay for both of their tickets, but Ella forestalled him.
‘We’ll take two cabins in first class. I presume I can settle the bill with a cheque?’ she asked. She had agreed with her mother just that morning that they would pay for the tickets. After all, Rudolf was only travelling for her sake, and he would be neglecting his business for many weeks as a result.
‘Certainly,’ answered the booking clerk.
‘Out of the question. I’m the one paying for the tickets.’
Ella had known Rudolf would say that. ‘Please don’t make things awkward for me, Rudolf. You’re already doing me a huge service by coming with me on this trip.’
He was clearly unhappy about this. Ella could see him struggling with himself. She already had her chequebook in her hand and was reaching for the pen that the clerk held out to her.
‘That comes to one thousand, six hundred and sixty marks,’ he said.
‘Ella . . .’ began Rudolf once more.
‘I won’t argue with you. Mother insists on it too.’
As she wrote out the cheque, Ella quickly glanced over at Rudolf. He was shaking his head, but he seemed to have admitted defeat, since he remained silent until she had handed her cheque and passport over to the clerk.
‘The champagne on board is on me, then.’ Although he spoke with a wry smile and a theatrical gesture, Rudolf obviously wanted to preserve his honour
.
Ella was relieved to see he had recovered his humour. How would she get through the long journey if not at his side? Thirty-six days on the high seas, if Mother’s estimate could be believed. But at least she no longer had to travel as an unaccompanied woman.
‘I’m the one who should be thanking you. But I have no objections to the odd glass of champagne, given a suitable occasion,’ Ella replied warmly.
As she packed her bags the following morning, Ella couldn’t recall ever having experienced such emotional turmoil. Her mood shifted every fifteen minutes according to whatever thoughts happened to be drifting through her mind. On buying the two tickets, her excitement about the voyage had grown. After all, she was about to undertake a journey in first class together with a man who was making advances towards her. Yet all that pleasurable anticipation had disappeared by the time Rudolf brought her home. Her father’s death now overshadowed all other emotions – seemed to stifle them at birth. But those feelings in turn vanished when her mother once again gave voice to the bewildering tangle of questions about her husband’s secrets. At least she had finally come to approve of her daughter’s voyage – although presumably only because Rudolf would be going with her.
With all these thoughts gnawing away at her, it wasn’t surprising that it took her so long to pack two suitcases and a trunk, even with her mother’s help. The only easy part had been the night before, when she had picked out the reading material she wanted to take with her. There were still so many books about all kinds of new treatments that she intended to read on the voyage. After all, she would have to keep herself busy for four weeks while she travelled halfway around the world and crossed four major bodies of water.
When the time came, to her surprise her mother made their farewell surprisingly short and painless.
‘Look after yourself, my child,’ she said at the door as she helped Ella carry the two suitcases out to the coach, which Rudolf had already fetched from his home.
Her mother looked on bravely, but remained silent as Rudolf rolled up his sleeves and helped lift the bags onto the coach. All that remained was one final embrace. There was no need for Mother to say anything more; Ella could see in her eyes that she missed her already.