by Tara Haigh
‘He . . . Rudolf . . . I’ve been waiting for him since dusk. He was travelling alone, and . . . he still hasn’t returned.’
Amar and Mohan exchanged glances.
‘If you like, we could look for him,’ Amar offered without hesitation.
‘But where would you look? He might be anywhere.’ Why on earth had Rudolf changed his plans?
‘If he isn’t back by daybreak then I will look for him,’ Amar insisted.
‘You don’t have to. I’m sure he’ll turn up . . .’ Ella tried to sound optimistic.
‘There are snakes around here, and the ways are treacherous. A branch on the road would be easy to miss, or his horse might take fright.’ Amar’s explanations weren’t exactly reassuring.
‘You aren’t giving me much hope . . .’
‘It’s happened to me too in the past. But somebody always comes along. There’s no need to worry.’ His words were well intentioned, but just then they were far from consoling.
‘Your chicken curry.’ The waitress served it on a plate and with cutlery. Although it smelled delicious, she had lost her appetite. The idea that Rudolf might be lost in the jungle or lying helplessly on the side of the road made her stomach close up. Ella fished a few ringgits from her leather purse and placed them on the table.
‘Don’t you want it?’ asked Amar.
Ella shook her head. ‘If you like curry then please help yourself,’ said Ella.
Amar ignored the food. He was visibly concerned at her agitation.
‘I have a few biscuits in my room. He might already be waiting for me.’
Amar nodded sympathetically.
‘If I hear anything . . . where can I leave a message for you?’ he asked.
‘I’m staying in the Chinese boarding house at the other end of the street,’ she said, and stood up to leave.
Amar nodded.
Ella fervently hoped that Amar wouldn’t hear anything about Rudolf’s whereabouts, since whatever the truth turned out to be, she felt certain it wouldn’t be good news.
With every hour that passed, the hope that Rudolf would return to their lodgings that night dwindled further. After two more hours of pacing up and down the courtyard, Ella had given up waiting up for him there. Anybody who walked past the entrance and glanced inside would have wondered what she was doing there in the middle of the night. Yet she found no rest in her room either. More and more questions began to present themselves: about the Fosters, about Rudolf’s presence on their property that day, and about Amar too – and not just how such a mild-mannered person knew how to wield a whip. He had been sitting on the steps of the house across the road for hours now. That meant Ella had two reasons for constantly going to the window overlooking the street: to keep watch for Rudolf, and to check whether Amar was still waiting there. Why was he doing that? To protect her? To launch a search for Rudolf if he didn’t reappear by dawn? At any rate, there was no question of getting any sleep tonight. The oppressive humidity and an armada of mosquitoes played their part in that. There was nothing worse than lying motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and finding no relief in sleep. For the fifth time, she got up and went to the window. Amar was sitting resolutely on the steps – as if he had taken root there.
After another hour of restlessness, Ella found it harder and harder to raise herself from the bed at all. Her body was tired, but her incessant thoughts stopped her mind from switching off. She had expected Amar to have fallen asleep by now, but he was still sitting upright in the same spot. From time to time, she saw his eyes gleam under the streetlight as he looked up at her window.
It must be five or half five in the morning by now and the sky was starting to brighten in the east. Ella gave up any further attempts to get some rest, and instead reached for her diary to write down at least a short summary of the last few hours. It felt good to unburden her soul in this way.
The next time she looked outside, the day was already dawning. Amar was still there. It was already so bright that he must be able to see her at the window. Was she imagining it, or did he smile up at her? She decided to write that down in her diary too, but there was no time. At first, she had assigned no special importance to the sound of an approaching carriage, since Rudolf was travelling on horseback. But then somebody drove into the courtyard of the boarding house. Ella hurried over to the other window that overlooked the atrium. Two uniformed policemen were standing by the fountain talking to Lee, who must have already returned for the early shift. She pointed up to Ella’s window, looking deathly pale. Barely three minutes later came a knock at the door. Ella’s heart began to race. She could put two and two together. Something must have happened to Rudolf.
When she opened the door, a middle-aged Malayan police officer with speckled grey hair stood in her doorway. His expression grave, he introduced himself as Officer Puteri.
‘Miss Kaltenbach?’ he asked, and Ella nodded.
‘Has something happened to Rudolf? An accident? I’ve been up all night waiting for him,’ she said.
‘He was found by some farmers by the side of the road this morning. They couldn’t do anything for him,’ he explained, with great sympathy.
Ella grew dizzy and clung to the doorframe. It took her a moment to regain the faculty of speech.
‘Did he fall?’ asked Ella.
‘We don’t know, but there don’t appear to be any external injuries. It was probably the heat. His heart may have given out, or perhaps he was bitten by a snake. We won’t know for certain until the coroner completes his investigation.’
‘Where did they find him?’ Ella demanded.
‘Around a mile outside Johore,’ said the younger of the two officers.
‘I’m very sorry . . . If there is anything we can do for you . . . The police station is in the town centre.’ Puteri looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Were you close to him?’ he asked.
‘He’s a family friend, and he accompanied me on the journey here,’ Ella answered. The fact that he had passed himself off as her fiancé on board and that she would have given anything to kiss him a few weeks ago was of no concern to the local police.
Puteri appeared satisfied with her response. ‘You can collect his personal effects tomorrow,’ he said.
Ella nodded.
‘My deepest condolences,’ said the younger policeman before he too turned to leave.
Lee was standing rooted to the spot in the corridor. Ella could see in her face that she was deeply affected by the news.
‘I need to rest now,’ murmured Ella in a choked voice.
Lee nodded understandingly and followed the policemen downstairs.
Ella closed the door behind her. For a moment she was unable to move. All the same, she felt drawn to the window to check whether Amar was still sitting there. He was. Ella opened it and revealed herself to him.
Amar looked up at her. The two policemen had just left the building and were climbing into their carriage.
Ella simply shook her head in response to Amar’s questioning look.
She thought she could see sympathy in his eyes – he looked sad, and his shoulders sagged; there was nothing more for him to do. Amar stood, looked up at her once more, and then disappeared from view in just a few steps. Ella hoped that he would get some rest now.
She closed the window and finding she could no longer hold herself upright, collapsed exhausted onto the bed in the hope of recovering her strength with some sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Ella still felt utterly exhausted when she woke up, even though she must have slept until around midday, judging by the position of the sun. For a moment, she tried to convince herself that it had all been a dream. Rudolf was sure to be sitting in his room next door, and he would tell her all about his journey of the previous day over breakfast.
But he wouldn’t. Rudolf was dead. Why should she even get out of bed? Should she carry on without him? Searching for a phantom, and exposing herself to all sorts of dangers? Was it even
worth it? Ella seriously considered travelling back to Hamburg. Would anything in her life really change if she found out who her real parents were? Surprisingly enough, that last thought was what gave her the strength to get up, and a few gulps of water from the jug on the locker seemed to reinvigorate her spirits. Give up? No. Out of the question. Ella decided to freshen herself up, put on some clean clothes, have a quick breakfast and then go to the police station. Perhaps there would be some new information about how he had died. Besides, he apparently had some personal effects on him that needed collecting. She supposed these would be just his passport and his pocket watch, as well as the copy of Otto’s map that he had drawn up yesterday morning.
Around an hour later, that same map was lying on the wooden counter of the austere police station, which was decorated only by two framed paintings of the sultan’s family. The younger of the two policemen who had brought her the terrible news during the early hours of that morning was reaching into a linen bag for a second time. Ella was unsurprised to see Rudolf’s passport and watch emerge – however, she could see that there was something else still inside the bag. The young policeman rummaged for it and then placed it on the counter. It was Rudolf’s wallet.
Ella froze. Hadn’t that been stolen from him in Lisbon?
‘Could you confirm receipt?’ asked the policeman, placing a document on the counter that listed the items.
Ella was unable to respond. Instead, she picked up the wallet and leafed through the banknotes she found folded inside it. There had to be at least three hundred marks in there.
‘Is everything in order?’ the policeman enquired.
‘Certainly . . .’ answered Ella, lost in thought, though that was far from the truth – and things grew even more puzzling when a receipt from the Lisbon bureau de change fell into her hands. Ella couldn’t believe her eyes. Rudolf had exchanged one thousand marks. The betting slips tucked behind the receipt amounted to roughly the same amount in Portuguese réis. He had gambled away a small fortune.
‘Mr von Stetten will be examined tomorrow. We still can’t say what caused his death,’ explained the policeman once Ella had finally looked up from the wallet.
She nodded mechanically. The cause of death was certainly of interest to her, but right now, she was far keener to know why Rudolf had lied to her.
She signed the document without really looking.
‘Can I do anything else for you?’ asked the policeman.
Ella shook her head – but then something occurred to her. She unfolded the map on the counter.
‘Could you tell me exactly where he was found?’ she asked.
The young man didn’t need long to think about it. He pointed at a spot along the road that she had already travelled down with Rudolf. It was the route through the Foster plantation that led back to Johore.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I was there myself,’ he confirmed.
‘Did you interview any of the workers on the plantation there?’ she enquired.
‘A few of them saw him in the afternoon. He was riding back to Johore.’
‘So he was on his way back . . .’ said Ella, her brow furrowed.
‘That’s what the witness statements suggest, but of course, he could well have been travelling in the other direction just before he died. We don’t know the exact time of his death.’
‘Thank you for your help.’ There was nothing more to say, but plenty of food for thought.
Rudolf’s brazen lie about the gypsies had almost entirely extinguished Ella’s grief for her ‘fiancé’ by the time she got back to her room in the boarding house. It was now perfectly clear why Rudolf had claimed that he had been robbed. He had gambled away the majority of his travel budget and had only three hundred marks left. Taken together, his loss on the horses and the alleged robbery both pointed to an obvious answer: he had obviously intended for her to finance the entire journey. Ella would have been happy to do so – after all, she had paid for their tickets too – but this flagrant betrayal weighed heavily on her. Otto had tried to warn her. Her conversation with him on board immediately after their trip to the racecourse now echoed in her mind. Did Rudolf have any more secrets up his sleeve? She would probably never find out – though at that same moment, it occurred to her that she should take a look through his luggage.
Ella no longer had any qualms about opening Rudolf’s suitcases, which Lee had already placed in her room. Inside the larger suitcase, she found his clothing – which was familiar enough to her – as well as some toiletries in a cloth bag, and three pairs of shoes in a separate bag. There was nothing else of interest. The main compartment of the smaller case contained more shoes and underwear, but it also had a sewn-up side panel and two other, smaller compartments. These held two books of travel writing and a quantity of newspaper cuttings. Ella removed the entire bundle of papers and spread them out on the bed. Rudolf had prepared for this journey more thoroughly than she realised. One article was about rubber cultivation in the south, and described the wealth of the local plantation owners. There was also a map of Malacca.
Ella couldn’t believe her eyes. The map was in colour and looked newer than Otto’s – but the most striking thing about it was that the route from Singapore to the Foster plantation had been marked out. Ella picked up the map and stood in the light by the window. There was no doubt about it: Rudolf had sketched out this route and this route alone. Why on earth had he singled out this particular plantation? What facts had he been withholding from her? He must have learned much more from his mother than he had let on – or perhaps even from his uncle, when he was still alive. Clearly, he had told Ella and her mother only half the truth in Hamburg. There could be no other explanation for why he would mark the Foster plantation on his map.
There was no time to ponder the matter further, for when she placed the map to one side and casually looked out onto the street, she saw Amar. He was sitting in exactly the same place as the previous night. Her mind raced. Amar might be able to find out who had seen Rudolf at the plantation. Perhaps one of the workers would know what he’d been doing there. It was worth a try. At any rate, there was no way to avoid going downstairs now, since Amar had already spotted her and was waving up at her. His presence alone spoke volumes. There was no doubt that he wanted to see her.
A warm smile could provide so much hope and consolation when it came from the heart. Ella sensed that Amar felt deeply for her loss. His eyes were sad, and as they looked into hers, he seemed to be trying to gauge how she was feeling. Was that why he remained silent for so long? In any case, it was Ella who spoke first.
‘You waited here all night.’ Her voice was filled with gratitude and appreciation.
‘I was worried about you.’
‘About me?’ she asked in surprise.
‘You might have gone to look for him yourself,’ he explained.
‘Do you already know . . . ?’ Ella began to ask, to check whether he had interpreted the police visit correctly.
He nodded mutely.
‘I’ve found a map in one of his suitcases. According to the markings, he was trying to get to the Foster plantation,’ she said.
‘He was visiting the Fosters? But why?’ asked Amar.
Ella debated whether she could fully trust him. Was it really any of his business to know whom she was searching for and why she was really here? She looked directly into his eyes once more, and felt sure that he wouldn’t reveal her secret. He would hardly have sat outside her window all night if he meant her any harm. Besides, he was the only person she knew who also knew the Fosters.
‘I’m searching for my real father,’ confessed Ella.
‘Here in Malacca?’ Amar could scarcely believe it.
‘All I know is that his name is Richard, and that his surname begins with an F. He might be Richard Foster. Rudolf must have known that, or at least suspected it.’
‘Nobody has ever spoken of him at the plantation. I didn’t know that Mrs Foster’s
husband was called Richard,’ said Amar thoughtfully.
‘That’s unusual, don’t you think?’ Ella observed.
Amar nodded thoughtfully.
She sat down beside him on the wide ledge. ‘Do you know anything about the other members of the family?’
‘Mrs Foster manages the farm, together with Raj.’
‘Is that the Indian I saw?’
‘Yes. He’s spent half his life working on the plantation. Raj is her right-hand man.’
‘And clearly a very harsh one . . .’ Ella recalled.
‘I can’t say anything bad about him,’ replied Amar.
‘And the daughter? I believe her name is Heather?’
‘I’ve barely even seen her. They say she’s very shy, and that she almost never goes out. I’ve never spotted her in town.’
‘How old is she?’ asked Ella.
‘I don’t know. It’s hard to say. The one time I saw her close up, she looked like a young woman. Her skin is as white as snow and she’s very beautiful. Like a princess,’ he gushed.
‘She seems to keep herself hidden away like one too,’ answered Ella.
Amar had to grin at that, but then he looked at her for a moment.
‘You have her eyes,’ he declared.
Ella was struck by that remark, for it suggested that this woman might actually be a blood relative. Then again, how often was it said of people that they resembled somebody or other? She had heard comments like that all the time at the hospital, and never taken it as a sign of a genuine family relationship. For that reason, she tried to take his comment in good humour.
‘The eyes of a princess. I’ll take that as a compliment.’
Amar smiled again, but he didn’t stop looking at her.
‘You really could be sisters . . . It’s the way you move too, and your curly hair . . .’ he went on.
Ella’s heart raced. Was she already so close to her goal?
‘Perhaps all young European women just look the same to you,’ she said, trying to avoid losing herself completely in speculation.
‘You should see her for yourself.’ Amar seemed enthusiastic about the idea.