The Moonlit Garden

by Bomann, Corina

  “I will,” Lilly promised, looking into his eyes.

  A thought seemed to enter his head but remained unspoken.

  “We’ll keep in contact, OK?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “And I will you.”

  They looked at one another briefly; then Gabriel suddenly leaned forward and kissed her.

  At first Lilly froze, but as he put his arms around her and drew her to him, she yielded. The touch of his lips sent a warm shiver down her spine.

  “I hope I haven’t lost the chance of you writing to me,” he said softly as their lips parted.

  Lilly stared at him in confusion, at first unable to reply.

  “Of course not,” she managed to say. “On the contrary.”

  Gabriel nodded with a smile. “OK, I believe we’re a little closer now to our dinner together. As soon as you’re back from Sumatra, I’ll be taking you up on it, you understand?”

  Lilly nodded. Her cheeks felt feverish, and she wanted to press her ice-cold hands against them. Gabriel held her tight and looked into her eyes for a moment more before they had to part.

  During the flight to Dubai, Lilly couldn’t get the letter out of her mind. Rose had a child by an English nobleman. What had become of the child? Had she vanished without a trace, like her mother? After Rose died, had the child been sent to an orphanage or a foster family?

  Anything was possible, and Lilly decided to make a list of the places she needed to visit to look for information. As Rose was half English, it was possible that her child had been baptized. If there were any surviving church registers, the baptism would be in there. Gabriel had limited the period to between 1902 and 1909—the truth must lie somewhere between those dates. Looking through church records for an eight-year period would still mean a lot of work, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to manage it in just a week.

  They landed in Dubai at a quarter to seven. Lilly had two hours to rest a little before the plane took off for Jakarta. First she got something to eat, and then she strolled through the shops in the airport building, although she had no real desire to buy anything. She finally found a place in the terminal and settled down to watch the people who were hurrying through the airport.

  She saw a very stout Arab man in a traditional djellaba accompanied by two women in burkas. She sometimes saw similarly dressed women in Berlin, but these burkas were richly embroidered, and the man who walked before them was clearly wealthy. A group of Arab businessmen were deep in a lively conversation accompanied by animated gestures. The Germans, on the other hand, stood stiffly when talking to one another. As well as the traditionally dressed Arabs, there were also many Asian and European tourists; most of them, like her, were only changing flights here.

  A glance at her watch told her that only a few minutes had passed, and she got out her travel guide. The illustrations were wonderful and awoke memories in her. Memories of a travel fair she had visited with Peter. They had made travel plans for the future, for when he had more of a foothold in his job. At times like that she could not have imagined that it would never happen—at least not together.

  “You haven’t found anything to take your fancy in the duty-free shops then?” came a voice next to her.

  Lilly almost dropped the guidebook in surprise. The man, who had sat down on the seat beside her, gave her a broad smile. His dark blond hair was graying a little at the temples, and his face was tanned. His words were colored by a distinct Dutch accent.

  “No, I couldn’t think of anything to buy there. I’ve got all I need in my luggage.”

  “Are you going to Padang, too?”

  “Yes,” Lilly replied, a little perplexed, and closed the guidebook. “How do you . . . ?”

  The man pointed at the guidebook. “I’m good at guessing. I think I saw you on our plane. Qatar Airways, wasn’t it?”

  Lilly nodded, completely caught off guard.

  The man seemed to be considering something for a moment before adding, “I’m Derk Verheugen, and you’re the first German I’ve seen here since we landed.”

  “Really?” Lilly asked in amazement before it occurred to her that she ought to tell him her name.

  “I swear it.”

  “Lilly Kaiser,” she said by way of introduction.

  “Pleased to meet you. I hope I’m not disturbing you. It’s just that it’s nice to find a kindred spirit. What takes you to Padang? Or is that a bit too personal?”

  Lilly was taken aback, and a little afraid of him, since no one had ever been so forward with her. Besides, he wasn’t her type, although his blue eyes looked friendly, and he didn’t seem any more than ten years older than she was.

  Perhaps he’s a human trafficker, she thought uneasily. She was relieved to see that there were two airport police officers standing nearby, just in case, and hoped she would at least be free of him once they got on board the plane. “I’m on the trail of a violinist,” she replied.

  “Are you a concert promoter?”

  Lilly shook her head. Perhaps he’s not such a madman after all, she told herself, still careful to stay on guard.

  “No, I’m researching a violinist who lived more than a hundred years ago. She vanished without a trace in Sumatra. And she had a child there, whom no one knows anything about.”

  “She probably met a rich plantation owner. There used to be a lot of them on the island.”

  “But that wouldn’t be a reason for her to disappear! No, I believe there must have been something else. I’d like to find out what it was, and also why the violin she owned found its way into the hands of another violinist who was also born in Sumatra.”

  “It sounds very exciting. It almost makes me sorry I didn’t study history.”

  “What do you do?” Lilly asked, realizing that her inhibitions were gradually receding. There was something about him that inspired trust, although it would show through more clearly if he weren’t so direct.

  “I’m a dentist.”

  “A dentist?” Lilly had expected all kinds of things, but not that.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve left my equipment at home,” he joked. “I’m traveling for completely personal reasons and don’t intend to be pulling any teeth. Unless you need it, that is.”

  “But I thought you didn’t have your equipment with you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure something could be arranged.” Verheugen laughed. “But you’re right—I’m not planning anything like that. I’d rather be free to enjoy the beauty of the country.”

  At that moment the flight was called.

  “I think we should be going,” Verheugen said cheerfully. “Do you think the person sitting next to you would change seats?”

  “I doubt it.” Lilly smiled. “But there’s no harm in trying.”

  Of course Lilly’s neighbor didn’t want to swap, and they had no better luck on the next flight. Lilly was unsure whether she should be happy or sad about that. The Dutchman had a good sense of humor, and she felt sure he had a store of interesting anecdotes, even though his manner was a bit too direct for her. She appreciated the quiet presence of the Indonesian businessman sitting next to her reading some local newspaper, and she concentrated on her guidebook.

  Minangkabau Airport was largely destroyed in the tsunami of 2004 and subsequently rebuilt in the style of the island’s traditional buildings, she read before craning her neck to look out the window. Her book had told her that the extensive palm groves of the island could be seen when arriving from the air, but today they lay beneath a thick blanket of fog. Only a few isolated green mountain peaks emerged from the white veil.

  The guidebook also stated that the green carpet of palms had numerous gaps caused by felling and clearance by fire, but the government was making efforts toward reforestation. Perhaps it was a good thing that the forest was hidden by fog.

  She got a brief glimpse of the airport before the plane was readied for landing. The building was designed in the traditional Minangkabau st
yle, with its layered pointed gables resembling a series of recumbent crescent moons. It seemed fitting, as did the name of the airline she had changed to in Jakarta—Garuda, which was also the national symbol. Garuda was a part-bird and part-human divinity reputed to protect the people of Indonesia.

  What would she find here? Was there still a “moonlit garden” waiting for her to discover it? Would she find out what had become of Rose Gallway and how the violin had come into the hands of Helen Carter?

  Dr. Verheugen was waiting for her in the airport building. Lilly was still not entirely sure what to make of him, but her instincts told her that he was simply being helpful. Perhaps he needed a bit of company, too.

  “Have you got all your things?” He indicated her suitcase.

  “Yes, and now I need a good sleep.”

  “I can understand that, but you should leave it for as long as you can to help accustom yourself to the time difference. Or you could have a little nap and set your alarm to wake you in time for dinner.”

  “Are you a regular visitor to Sumatra?”

  Verheugen smiled. “I think of the island as a kind of second home. I come here twice or sometimes three times a year.”

  Lilly stopped herself from widening her eyes in surprise. When she thought how much Ellen had paid to get her here!

  “I hope you’re staying at a good hotel,” he said.

  “The Batang Hotel,” Lilly replied, opening her guide to the relevant page. “But I only know what it says here in my guide.”

  “The Batang is very good. It’s run by an English couple. It was built by Dutchmen, as far as I know, and it’s been used as a hotel for a long time. I’ve only heard good reports from anyone who’s stayed there.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “With some people I know in the city. I’m glad you’ve chosen the Batang—it’s not far from me, and if you like I can show you where to find the archive where the documents from colonial times are kept. Don’t expect miracles, though. There have been a number of earthquakes since then, and some items may have been lost forever.”

  “You’d do that? I mean, show me the archive?”

  “Yes, I’d be glad to, provided you don’t think I’m being intrusive. I realize it’s one of my bad habits to be a bit impulsive—if I hear of something I can help with, I feel compelled to do it. If you think I’m acting inappropriately, I’ll happily step back, but I’d be pleased to assist. If you like, I can also act as interpreter. Many of the documents were produced in Dutch, and although the archivists speak English, of course, you’ll get a lot further with Malay and Dutch.”

  “But won’t I be inconveniencing you?” Lilly asked a little uncertainly. Apart from Ellen, she had rarely met anyone who was prepared to help her unconditionally, without her having to ask. “You must have plans of your own.”

  “The person I want to meet isn’t arriving for another two days, so I’ve got some time for you. And it’s not every day I meet someone who wants to dig around in the colonial history of Sumatra. I’d be pleased to be at your service if you’d like to tell me a bit more about these two women. I need some exciting stories to tell my patients when I’m back in Amsterdam.”

  As if it isn’t exciting enough simply to be here, Lilly thought. She was glad that she hadn’t ignored or rebuffed Verheugen.

  “Great, I’ll look forward to it. Thank you for your help. I’ll be pleased to tell you something about the former owners of my violin.”

  “Great. Shall we meet tomorrow at ten outside your hotel? I’ll only stay around for as long as you need me. If I’m getting to be a nuisance, you only have to say.”

  “OK,” she replied and shook hands with him. Verheugen smiled, and they went outside to the waiting taxis.

  22

  Padang, 1910

  Helen ran as if she were fleeing from a pack of wild dogs. Her mother had gone off on her daily rounds later than expected, and even the maid seemed reluctant to budge from Helen’s side. But now she was finally free to run upstairs and fetch the violin case. Completely out of breath, she reached the hedge and paused a moment to recover before slipping across the neighboring garden to the pavilion.

  With a thumping heart and the violin under her arm, she carefully opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief as the dusty light falling through the window illuminated the figure in the blue dress. Her lips had regained their color, and she looked very calm as she watched the girl enter. While waiting, she had been writing something down in a notebook, which she hastily put aside.

  “There you are!” she said with delight, reaching out a hand to stroke Helen’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get away before,” Helen said, eager to apologize for being a few minutes late.

  “It’s fine. This pavilion is nice, hidden from the sight of people on the street. And I’m certain now that no one lives in the house, so we won’t be disturbed.”

  She took the violin case from Helen and opened it. As she gently ran her finger along the strings, a melancholy expression came to her face. It was as if she were looking at the picture of a friend who had died a long time ago. Helen had noticed the way her mother looked at the picture of her sister, who had been dead for several years. She always looked like that, and after a while she would turn away in embarrassment and wipe away a few tears with a handkerchief. But this lady wasn’t crying as she carefully lifted the violin from the case.

  “Have you tried holding it in position?” she asked. “Do you know how to hold it?”

  Helen shook her head. “No, I didn’t dare.”

  “But you must have looked at it?”

  “Yes, of course!” Helen replied.

  “What do you think of it?”

  “It’s wonderful!”

  “Did you see the rose on the back?”

  Helen nodded eagerly. As soon as her mother had left her alone, she had rushed to her room and taken a look at the violin. She had never seen anything so beautiful. When her fingertips touched the varnished wood, as gently as if it could disintegrate at her touch, she knew that this was the instrument she wanted to play.

  “Good, then that’s something I don’t need to show you.”

  “Why does the violin have the rose on it? Did someone paint it on?”

  “No, darling, the rose was burned into the wood by the person who made it. He wanted to make it especially pretty. Fortunately it doesn’t affect the sound.”

  “Can you play it for me so I know what it sounds like?” Helen asked.

  The lady hesitated before nodding. She tucked the violin beneath the left side of her chin and began to draw the bow across the strings. Although she tried not to play too loudly, the melody filled the pavilion. She hardly played for a minute before laying the bow down.

  “I’m afraid that will have to be all for now.”

  Helen beamed at her. “That was beautiful! Will I be able to play like that one day?”

  The lady gave her a broad smile. “I hope you’ll be able to play a lot better than I do, but let’s start by teaching you how to hold it.”

  She got Helen to position the violin exactly as she had, although she did not allow her to use the bow but made her hover it above the strings. It seemed difficult to Helen at first, but she kept trying until the lady was satisfied.

  “What’s happened with your music teacher?” she asked when she allowed Helen to take a short break—something that Miss Hadeland never did.

  “Mama dismissed her for a while,” Helen replied, not without a little malicious satisfaction. Miss Hadeland had looked really silly when her mother had reprimanded and suspended her for four weeks.

  “Once you have given some serious thought to your teaching methods, we’ll let you continue with the lessons,” Ivy Carter had said as she sent the teacher on her way. “If you don’t reconsider, we’ll not only cease to employ you, but we’ll spread the word that you strike your pupils. I find it hard to believe that another family would take you on in that case
.”

  Miss Hadeland could have claimed that she had plenty of other work and did not need their money, but she said nothing, merely creeping meekly from the house. The sight of her leaving had caused Helen to clap her hands with pleasure. The hated piano lessons were over for the time being.

  Before the lady could tell her any more, Helen was distracted by a movement. A huge, colorful butterfly was fluttering at the windowpane, clearly unable to see that a glass pane separated it from the outside world. When the lady noticed it, she smiled.

  “Look, here’s your first audience! But the butterfly will have to wait a while for your playing to be good enough to enjoy.”

  “Do you think butterflies can hear?”

  “Why shouldn’t they? I believe that even plants can hear. It’s said that if they hear beautiful music they will grow better.” The lady fell silent for a moment before adding, “Why do you think the jungle grows so well on this island? There’s always music here somewhere in the evenings, and the monkeys have their songs, too.”

  “Is that true?”

  The lady nodded. “Later, when you can play properly, you can try it out. But now we have to practice the fingering. I’ll tell you where to put your fingers and sing you the note the violin would make. I hope my singing won’t hurt your ears.”

  Helen laughed, and the lady showed her what it would sound like. The girl was struck by her fine singing voice. She was sure she could easily have been an opera singer.

  The lesson flew by. Helen was annoyed that she had lost those precious minutes when she had not arrived on time. Her friend comforted her. “We’ll see each other again on Tuesday. Try to play whenever you can. Even if your playing doesn’t sound quite like mine, don’t give up. One day you’ll get there—you wait and see!”

  Back in the house, Helen’s cheeks felt flushed with excitement. Since she heard the sounds of the maid moving around, she quickly ran upstairs to prevent her from seeing the violin. She would have liked to practice, but a coach stopped outside the house and her mother got out.