Treacherous Paradise (9780307961235)

by Henning Mankell

  Halvorsen placed a hand on her breast and gave it a squeeze. She was reminded of Carlos’s hairy fingers, and pushed him away. Halvorsen thought it was the start of a game, and felt her again. This time she slapped him hard and shouted for O’Neill.

  “Throw this man out,” she said. “And make sure he’s never allowed back in. Never ever.”

  Halvorsen didn’t even have time to protest before O’Neill had pulled him up off the sofa and dragged him out into the street.

  The door closed behind him.

  Ana thought that the difference between Captain Svartman and Crewman Halvorsen had been ironed out the moment they entered the establishment where women were for sale. But she couldn’t get over the fact that Halvorsen had thought she was a whore. At that moment something ended irrevocably.

  61

  After Halvorsen’s unexpected visit, Ana began noting things down in her diary more often. What had previously been an occasional activity now became more and more important for her. She wrote down in minute detail absolutely everything about Halvorsen’s visit, and his churlish behaviour.

  The day after his visit she went with O’Neill down to the harbour. There were two English ships and one Portuguese berthed at the quay. She had no way of knowing which of the ships Halvorsen was a crew member of. Nor could she work out afterwards why she had made that visit to the quay. Perhaps it was nothing more than curiosity that she had no control over?

  During the night a swarm of grasshoppers had descended on Lourenço Marques. Nobody knew where they had come from, nor why they had chosen Lourenço Marques to fall down and die in. There were dead or dying grasshoppers lying all over the place—in the streets, on steps and on roofs. When she walked from the brothel to the harbour, she had the impression that this was what a battlefield looked like: every grasshopper was a wounded or dead soldier.

  The only one who seemed to appreciate all these grasshoppers was Carlos, who sat on the roof of Ana’s house feasting on the insects.

  That afternoon, when she made her usual visit to Isabel in the fort, she was confronted by an officer she had never seen before. That day she had chosen to take O’Neill with her rather than Judas. Commanding Officer Lima had succumbed to some illness that was probably malaria, and had been taken to hospital. His military adviser had taken over Lima’s place. He introduced himself as Lemuel Gulliver Sullivan. Despite his English name, he spoke fluent Portuguese. He was a young man, and could barely have celebrated his thirtieth birthday. Ana hoped that his youth would contribute to more tolerance and consideration for Isabel than Lima had displayed.

  But the moment he started speaking, she realized that what she had hoped for would not, in fact, take place.

  “As long as I am in charge here, stricter rules will be applied,” he began. “Those who are imprisoned in this fort are criminals. Their punishment must be felt. At this very moment I am discussing with my fellow officers about the possibility of re-introducing whipping. Giving miscreants a good walloping has always produced good results.”

  Ana thought at first that she had misheard what he said. Was Isabel’s life in her wretched cell going to become even worse than it was already? She said as much, without attempting to conceal her concern.

  “Her crime must be treated extremely strictly,” said the new commanding officer. “The only thing that matters in this case is that she killed a white man. If we don’t clamp down strictly on that, it could be interpreted as a sign that the respect we demand is not total and unconditional.”

  Ana could see that it was pointless to try to argue with Sullivan.

  “Are there other regulations that will come into force from now on?” she asked instead.

  “We shall not permit more than an extremely limited number of visitors.”

  “Who, to be precise?”

  “You, of course. And that priest who keeps turning up and trying to accumulate lost souls. Plus a doctor, should that become necessary. But nobody else.”

  “What about if she should acquire a legal adviser?”

  Sullivan burst out laughing and advertised the fact that he was short of quite a large number of teeth, despite his age.

  “Who on earth would want to advise her? And about what?”

  Ana asked no more questions. She went down the stairs into the darkness where Isabel was sitting motionless on her bunk bed, looking as if she hadn’t moved since Ana’s visit the previous day. But the basket was empty: Isabel was still alive. She was eating.

  “Somebody will come to visit you,” said Ana. “I think and hope he’s a clever man who might be able to help me to have you set free. He’ll pretend to be a doctor when he enters the fort. As he speaks the same language as you, nobody will be able to understand what the pair of you are saying, not even me.”

  Isabel didn’t respond, but Ana had the impression that she was listening.

  “The next time I come I’ll bring you some clean clothes,” she said. “By then it will be three months since you were locked up here. I’ll ask once again for them to give you sufficient water for you to get washed.”

  Ana only stayed for a few minutes. The important thing now was not her visits, but whether or not Pandre would be able to change her situation.

  On the way back she made a detour via the harbour. When O’Neill wondered why, she snapped at him. She didn’t like him asking questions all the time. She had begun to discover sides of O’Neill she didn’t like. She was annoyed by the way he eavesdropped on her, and, moreover, she had heard that he’d been seen in the company of the owner of another of the town’s brothels. Perhaps she had made a mistake in employing him?

  “What does she do all day?” he asked. “Does she regret her sins? Does she hammer on the cell walls as if they were tom-tom drums? Does she turn up the whites of her eyes?”

  Ana stopped dead.

  “One more word from you and you can go away and never come back.”

  “But I’m only asking a few questions.”

  “Not a word. Not a single word. From now on part of your duties is to remain silent.”

  O’Neill shrugged, but Ana could see that he had understood the risk he was running.

  When they came to the harbour Ana noticed that one of the English ships had left. She suspected that must be the ship that Halvorsen had signed on to as a carpenter.

  She had also noted that O’Neill was staring hard at her. When she left the harbour she told him to stay where he was until she had disappeared round the first corner.

  A few days later Pandre sent a telegram to say that he was on his way. Ana met him at the newly built railway station. Although Pandre had said in his telegram that he only intended to stay for two days, he had a large number of suitcases, bags and hat boxes with him. Four porters and two trolleys were needed to transport the luggage to the car that she had once again borrowed from Andrade. A horse-drawn carriage was filled with all the luggage for which there was no room in the boot of the car.

  They drove to the hotel where, in accordance with the instructions in Pandre’s telegram, Ana had rented the largest suite they had. Ana had been a little worried when she went to the hotel: would they accept Pandre, who was coloured, as a guest? But the hotel manager had assured her that a lawyer of Indian origin would be most welcome. Ana was committed to paying all expenses for Pandre’s visit, and handed over a sum of money to pay for his stay. She began to wonder if Pandre was intentionally doing all he could to squeeze out of her as much money as possible; or was this the way he always lived whenever he left Johannesburg on business?

  After Pandre had taken a bath, changed into a newly ironed white linen suit and then spent some time admiring the view, they sat down to eat in the empty dining room.

  Dark clouds were gathering over the inland mountains, presaging a storm that would arrive in Lourenço Marques by the evening. Ana told Pandre about her conversation with the new prison governor, and explained that Pandre would only be allowed in if he played the role of a doctor.
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br />   “I don’t have a white coat with me in my luggage, I’m afraid,” he said. “Being a lawyer doesn’t normally mean that one needs to adopt a disguise.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, either.”

  “Tell me more about this man. Officers in the military are often suspicious by their very nature. Will he be able to see through a false doctor?”

  “I don’t know. He introduced himself as Lemuel Gulliver Sullivan. But he spoke fluent Portuguese so I suspect he’s only an Englishman by name.”

  Pandre burst out laughing as he rolled a gleaming serviette ring between his fingers.

  “Is that really his name? Lemuel Gulliver Sullivan?”

  “I wrote the name down the moment I got back home.”

  “Was he surrounded by horses?”

  “The soldiers’ horses are stabled in the outskirts of the town. There are only a few goats inside the fort.”

  “I mean his soldiers. Did they look like horses?”

  Ana didn’t understand his question. She was immediately on her guard.

  “Why should he be surrounded by horses?”

  “Yes, that’s a good question. Perhaps he was surrounded by unusually small people instead? People who would be able to stand inside this serviette ring as if it were a wine barrel. Or are his soldiers giants?”

  He could see that she didn’t understand his references.

  “Lemuel Gulliver is a character in a novel,” he said with a smile. “I’ve never heard of anybody cheeky or conceited enough to call their son after that remarkable fictional character. I take it you don’t know about the books featuring that man?”

  “I run a brothel,” said Ana. “I’m trying to help a woman to get out of prison. I don’t read books.”

  “That sounds reasonable enough,” said Pandre. “I don’t suppose that young commanding officer reads all that many books either. If any at all. But in any case, his father must have read Gulliver’s Travels.”

  They ate in silence. Pandre occasionally asked her a question, mainly as a polite indication that he hadn’t retired entirely into his own private thoughts. He asked about the climate, the rainy season, animal life and various tropical illnesses. She answered as best she could, and wondered if he intended to visit her brothel that same evening, to take advantage of the special offer he had asked for and received.

  But that wasn’t his plan. After the meal he stood up, bowed and asked to be collected at ten o’clock the following morning. Then he bowed again and left the dining room. Ana paid the bill, and was driven home.

  Carlos had come down from the ceiling, replete with all the grasshoppers he had been gobbling. He was lying on her bed, belching contentedly. Ana sat down at her desk, opened her diary, but left it untouched to start with. She thought about the impression that Pandre had made, now that she had spent some time with him, and only then wrote down everything that had happened since he arrived.

  One of these days she hoped to be able to read aloud for Isabel everything she had written. The story of the long journey she had undertaken in order to secure Isabel’s liberty.

  She knew now how she would conclude her diary: she would note down the date and time when Isabel had been set free.

  And she would also write the answer to the question she spent most of her time thinking about: was everything that had happened since the death of Lundmark merely a temporary parenthesis in her life?

  The last thing she would write would be about Isabel’s and her own freedom.

  She closed the diary, extinguished the paraffin lamp and remained sitting there in the dark. She thought: Isabel is locked up in her disgusting dump. And I’m confined in a different sort of prison.

  62

  The following day: intense heat.

  Pearls of sweat were glinting on Pandre’s brow when he came out of his hotel and stepped into the car. He was carrying a leather briefcase. It occurred to Ana that it could very well have contained a stethoscope and other instruments that a doctor would need.

  Lemuel Gulliver Sullivan was waiting for them on the steps, just as his sick predecessor had always done. Ana thought he looked like a little boy in a uniform that was too big for him and boots that were far too shiny.

  She introduced Pandre.

  “Here is the doctor I spoke about with your predecessor—I assume he told you Herr Pandre would be coming?”

  The commanding officer nodded, but he regarded Pandre with undisguised antipathy.

  “I thought I had better come with you,” he said, “and listen to the doctor’s conversation with his imprisoned patient.”

  “The conversation will take place in the patient’s own language,” said Pandre in a friendly tone of voice. “That is purely in order that she can describe her aches and pains properly, so that I can ask the right questions and give answers that are clear to her.”

  “I’ll come with you in any case,” said the governor. “I’m interested to see if you can persuade her to talk at all. So far she hasn’t uttered a word. Perhaps she was born without any vocal cords? I don’t even know if her voice is low or high-pitched.”

  “It’s low,” said Ana. “I shall understand what they say to each other in her native tongue. I can translate for you.”

  Pandre looked fleetingly at her. He understood what she was intending to do, and regarded her for the first time with genuine approval.

  They walked down the stone steps to the fort’s basement. A half-asleep soldier quickly straightened his back, saluted and began to raise the grating in front of the iron door. The commanding officer turned to Pandre.

  “I assume that you don’t have a gun in your briefcase,” he said. “Whether it’s to shoot the prisoner dead or to set her free.”

  Pandre opened the briefcase and took out the stethoscope Ana had imagined might be inside it. How on earth had he managed to get hold of that? He’s prepared himself well, she thought. Perhaps he’s the right man to help Isabel after all.

  They stepped into the dark basement where the musty air was motionless. An unshaven, half-naked white man was shaking in his cell as they passed by.

  “He’s going to be moved to a lunatic asylum,” said the commanding officer. “He is convinced he has a large insect in his stomach that is eating him up from the inside. He beat a man to death because he refused to listen to him going on about the insect’s insatiable hunger.”

  Pandre listened attentively and politely to what the officer had to say. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the musty air, Ana thought. Perhaps there are similar prisons in the town and the country where he comes from.

  They passed by another cell where a man was lying asleep, stretched out on the floor, gasping for air.

  “He’s a Spaniard by the name of Mendoza,” said the commanding officer as he continued to guide them through the darkness. “He killed his brother on a coaster, and now he’s trying to punish himself by refusing to eat. He ought to go to the asylum as well, but they refuse to accept him. I expect him to die within the next few days. Some of my soldiers are placing bets on how long he will live. I don’t like that, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

  They entered Isabel’s cell. Ana noted that the basket was empty. Isabel was sitting motionless on her bunk.

  “You have a visitor,” roared the commanding officer.

  Isabel didn’t react. Pandre nudged the officer’s arm to indicate that he shouldn’t yell at her again, then went up to Isabel and sat down beside her. Ana stood by the side of the bunk, while the officer remained in the half-open doorway. Ana had no idea of what Pandre was saying to Isabel, but Isabel bucked up the moment the lawyer started speaking to her, and answered his questions in her own language.

  The commanding officer rattled his sabre impatiently. Ana took a step closer to him and began to tell him the story she was making up as she spoke.

  “They’re talking about her children,” she said. “They are discussing her great sorrow at having been deceived by her husban
d, and her regret for what she has done. She’s telling him how much she wants to leave this dump of a prison and start work in one of the white missionary stations, spreading the true faith among the black population.”

  Ana tried her hardest to imbue the story she was making up with as much conviction as she could possibly muster. The commanding officer listened in stony silence. He’s not really interested, she thought. Isabel means nothing to him. It doesn’t matter to him if she lives or dies. He only came along with us because he was bored stiff.

  She continued to elaborate on her story while Pandre and Isabel spoke quietly to each other. When the conversation was over—and it stopped suddenly, as if absolutely everything had now been said—Ana rounded off her account by repeating what she had said about Isabel’s longing to devote her life to a Christian missionary station.

  When they returned to the hotel they sat down in the shade of some frangipani trees and gazed out over the sea. Pandre had said nothing in the car after saying a polite goodbye to the commanding officer. Now he swayed slowly back and forth in the garden hammock, a glass of iced water in his hand.

  “Isabel is ready to die if she has to,” he said. “She will die rather than admit to any guilt. Her silence is due to her dignity. Her soul. She kept repeating that word over and over again. ‘It’s all about my soul.’ ”

  “Doesn’t she want to live for the sake of her children?”

  “Of course she wants to live. Perhaps she might be able to escape. But if her only way out is to admit to being guilty, she would rather die.”

  Pandre continued rocking back and forth, gazing out to sea. He stretched out the hand in which he held the glass of water and pointed at the horizon.

  “That’s India over there,” he said. “Thirty years ago my parents came to Africa from there. Perhaps I or my children will go back one of these days.”

  “Why did your parents come to Africa?”

  “My father sold pigeons,” Pandre said. “He heard that there were a lot of white people in southern Africa who were prepared to pay large sums of money for beautiful pigeons. My father had learnt how to glue extra tail feathers onto his pigeons so as to get a higher price for them.”