The Small Fortune of Dorothea Q

by Sharon Maas

  Dorothea found it hard to keep her eyes on the road as she drove. It was as if not seeing him for even a moment would make him disappear again. As if gazing at him would fix him there forever, next to her, looking back, grinning that same old Freddy grin. His hand lay on top of hers on the gear stick, moved with hers as she changed gear. At the Camp Street junction she stopped for traffic and almost forgot to start again. Freddy had to remind her.

  She turned left, towards the Sea Wall. They had not discussed where they’d go. They knew. They did not speak. Not until she’d parked the car and they’d walked up the stone steps to the Promenade and walked the little way to their bench, his arm holding her close, so that by the time they sat down, she knew for certain that he was real.

  There was too much to say, so they said little, and for long stretches, nothing. The moment was just too vast to cram it with words that could never express the fullness in their hearts. Sometimes Dorothea began a sentence. ‘We thought you were …’ ‘It was so…’ ‘Where were you, why didn’t you …’ ‘I can’t believe …’

  But always Freddy broke her off by covering her mouth with his. He held her face up to his and kissed it all over; her lips, her cheeks, her nose, neck and ears, but most of all her eyes, placing his lips in their soft hollows and holding her still. She knew his own eyes were closed.

  It was Dorothea who pulled away first.

  ‘What is it, my sweet?’

  He pulled her back, began the kissing all over again. She resisted.

  ‘I forgot … There’s something …’

  He stopped, let go of her completely. Side by side they sat, like strangers.

  ‘You’re married,’ he said at last. ‘I should have known.’

  She turned to face him, took his hands in hers.

  ‘Freddy, I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry, I waited so long, I wanted to wait forever. But then …’

  ‘So it’s true? It’s what I feared the most. I hardly dared hope, when I came home, to find you there. And then you were there, just like you always were, just as if you belonged there. So I assumed you’d waited.’

  ‘I tried so hard. I wanted to. I didn’t say yes, at first.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Humphrey. Your brother. We’re engaged; the wedding’s next month. But maybe … I don’t know. He’s so sweet, so happy … he tried so hard. He kept asking, and we’re so close, and it just seemed the right thing to do. Freddy … I’m just so tired, so exhausted. Since you’ve been gone I’ve been running, running, running; fighting, fighting, fighting. But always it’s been like I’m running in one place and I just want to close my eyes and … be normal. Marry and have children. Especially, have children. I always wanted children. Remember? Your children, but if I can’t have those then … well, I began to think about it and then one day I just said yes.’

  ‘Old Humph,’ Freddie chuckled. ‘Who would have guessed? He always had a crush on you … since the day he met you. Humph. You could do worse; he’d be a perfect husband. But of course you can’t marry him. Not now. You’ll break it off.’

  He searched her face. She lowered her eyes, but only for a moment.

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. I feel terrible, but what else can I do? We were going to have you declared dead. But you’re not. You’re still my husband. He’ll understand. Humph’s like that.’

  ‘That’s the worst of it. On the one hand, Humph’s the best. But because he’s the best it’s the worst, doing it to him.’

  ‘I know. I feel so bad. But he won’t make a fuss.’

  ‘That’s what makes it so awful. Knowing Humph, he’ll just smile and be happy for you. For us.’

  ‘Yes.’

  For a while they said nothing, just sat there holding hands. The sea breeze had withdrawn; it was so still she could hear him breathing. Somewhere behind them, from the town, a dog began to bark, and then a second, and then a whole chorus of them. Dorothea examined the tight knot of guilt that had risen in her heart. Humphrey’s face appeared before her, on the day she’d said yes; the light in his eyes, the sheer joy of his smile. How could she take that away? How selfish, how mean! But then Humphrey’s face melted into Freddy’s and the guilt transmuted, became a bliss so perfect she knew there was no question; she was Freddy’s, had always been. Saying yes to Humphrey had been the betrayal. Understandable, forgivable, but a betrayal nevertheless.

  ‘Dorothea?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Have you – did you – you and Humphrey …?’

  She didn’t let him finish.

  ‘No. We’re doing it the traditional way, waiting for our wedding night. Humphrey was never one to break the rules.’

  ‘You used the present tense. As if there’s still going to be a wedding night.’

  She chuckled, and squeezed his hand.

  ‘A slip of the tongue … it means nothing.’

  ‘Nothing means nothing. That’s one thing I learned while I was gone.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me where you’ve been, what happened … Freddy, what’s the matter?’

  Shock, and then puzzlement, passed over his face, distorting it. Just for a moment, then it was gone. Now he looked dazed.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Blood just ran over my tongue.’

  The way he said it, awe-filled and in a whisper, sent a chill through her; like a cool breeze enfolding her body. But there was no breeze and the chill came from inside.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He smiled, and squeezed her hand, as if to reassure her.

  ‘Nothing, really. It was just weird; a taste on my tongue. Maybe a gum was bleeding.’

  ‘Gums don’t just start bleeding, and then stop.’

  ‘Well, mine just did, so they do. Let’s get back home. I’m tired.’

  ‘Wait a minute!’ Dorothea said, but Freddy was already clambering to his feet. He reached out a hand for her to take. She noticed his movements were slower than they used to be, that he winced when he pulled her up. There was pain there, physical pain, but also something in his eyes, in his expression, something new, deep, alien. She knew then that she was not the only one to have changed in the years since Freddy’d been gone. How could it be otherwise? He’d been through a war, and somehow survived. How? Well, that was the tale he’d have to tell. For the moment, though, it was enough to feel his hand in hers as they walked back to the car.

  She held it as if it were a lifeline.

  * * *

  Dorothea opened her eyes. Freddy was sitting beside her on the bed, gazing down at her in the half-light of early dawn. She smiled, and reached for him.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he sighed. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re back. Here, in flesh and blood. And last night …’

  His eyes softened at those words, and they gazed at each other, half-smiling, remembering the melting of their bodies that was simply the echo of a union that had already taken place; the union of two souls perfectly joined, two halves that craved each other and, having found that which was missing, dissolved into each other. She reached out and touched his lips.

  ‘And so are you. I love you.’

  He sank down to her, buried his face in her neck. She squirmed and laughed, delirious with happiness. But only for a second. She sat up in bed. The falling away of the sheet from her bare breasts, glistening smooth and brown, made Freddy reach for her again, but she brushed his hands away and stood up, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around her body, and stepped back from the bed.

  ‘Today’s a big day! Freddy, you go in the shower now, before they all get up. And at breakfast you make your grand entrance. I can’t wait to see Ma’s face!’

  ‘And Humph?’

  ‘I’ll go to him, as soon as I’m dressed, and tell him. The sooner he knows the better.’

  * * *

  Dorothea smuggled Freddy into the shower, tiptoeing with girlish giggles down the corridor. On the way there they bumped into Basmat
i, the maid, who let out a little cry of shock, as if she’d seen a ghost. Dorothea placed a finger on her lips and her eyes sparkled in mischief. Basmati smiled and nodded, and stepped aside to let them pass.

  They showered together, and tiptoed, still giggling, back to her room. They dressed. Freddy had a rucksack of old and faded clothes, and he put those on. Dorothea put on her best dress.

  When she was ready she hugged and kissed Freddy and walked slowly, solemnly, to the Annex. Humphrey was an early riser; she knew he’d be up, and when she knocked, his ‘Come in’ was immediate.

  He was sitting in the Morris chair, reading a book. His face broke into a smile of pleasure when she entered. Taking in her expression, it faded.

  ‘What’s happened, Dorothea?’

  She sank to the floor beside the chair, put both her hands on his knee, and looked up at him.

  He covered her hands with one of his own. She swallowed.

  ‘Humphrey, I …’

  She stopped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Freddy’s back. He came last night and I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry, but I can’t marry you. We spent the night together. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I should never have said yes. I …’

  The words gushed out, words that carried all she felt; the joy and guilt, and sorrow on his behalf. Humphrey slipped from the chair and knelt on the floor beside her. When the words stopped coming, he spoke.

  ‘Freddy’s my brother. I’m g-g-glad he’s back; of course I’m glad. And I’m glad for you, for your happ-p-p-iness. That’s what I want most, Dorothea, your happiness.’

  ‘But your happiness?’

  ‘Let’s just say, it will make me happy to see you happy. Maybe I never deserved you anyway.’

  Dorothea began to cry then, tears of gladness and of sadness. ‘No, no, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. I wish, I just wish …’

  But she didn’t know what she wished. She wanted them all happy, but that was impossible.

  ‘Shhh.’

  Humphrey placed his arms around her and held her close, rocking her sobs away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DOROTHEA: THE FIFTIES

  Dorothea and Freddy crept down the stairs and hid behind the curtain to the dining room. Ma Quint was walking back and forth between the kitchen and the breakfast table, serving breakfast to Humphrey and Pa, who were arguing about the two political leaders who had recently emerged in the fight for Independence; Forbes Burnham, of African roots and Cheddi Jagan, of Indian. Ma Quint’s voice broke into the argument.

  ‘Now you men just be quiet and eat! No politics at the table!’

  At once, the men were silent. A chair creaked; Ma Quint was about to sit down herself.

  ‘Now!’ whispered Dorothea in Freddy’s ear. She pushed him out. Freddy walked up to the table. Dorothea, her hands over her mouth to hold back her excitement, followed him in.

  ‘Yes, Ma, and we all know you’ll always have the last word!’

  Ma Quint looked up, the spoon in her hand hovering above her egg, ready to strike. She dropped the spoon and sprang to her feet; her chair clattered to the ground.

  ‘Oh my good Lord! Oh my sweet Jesus!’ Ma Quint’s hands flew to her heart and pressed against her breast, fingers splayed. Freddy took her in his arms, rocked her back and forth.

  ‘Oh Ma. It’s good to be back.’

  ‘You’re real! You’re not a ghost! Flesh and blood! My Freddy! I knew you’d be back! I knew it! I knew you weren’t dead!’ Ma Quint blabbered on, touching Freddy all over, ruffling his hair, feeling his arms, rubbing his back, sobbing and speaking simultaneously. Freddy continued to rock her.

  ‘Yes, Ma. It’s really me.’

  Pa and Humphrey were standing now, waiting their turn. Freddy had to forcibly pull himself out of Ma Quint’s clasp. He hugged his father, who said nothing more than a muted,

  ‘Well done, boy, well done.’ And then Humphrey.

  The slight hesitation before the brothers embraced came from Freddy, not Humphrey; and it was Humphrey, not Freddy, who spoke.

  ‘Welcome home, b-b-brother!’

  * * *

  ‘We were in Burma,’ Freddy said. ‘In the jungle. They call it ‘the green hell’, and that’s the proper name for it. Funny how I had to go halfway across the world to see the jungle, when we’ve got so much of it right here.’

  Breakfast was over, but they all still sat around the table as Basmati cleared away the remains. Even Ma Quint, having rattled on non-stop filling Freddy in on all the news of the last six years, was now silent. It was Freddy’s turn to speak.

  ‘War, and jungle; two hells by themselves, but in combination – well, there’s nothing worse.’ He paused, his eyes glazed over and he shuddered as if to shake off the memories. But then he returned to them, and his glance shifted to Ma Quint and then to Dorothea and back to Ma Quint. He spoke of war. Dorothea heard not a word; she wasn’t listening, simply drinking in the sight of him, the sound of his voice, melting in the glances he threw her way between words. But both Humphrey and Pa listened avidly. Pa’s shelves were filled with every book on the First World War ever published, and the next several minutes were filled with expressions such as ‘our battalion advanced’ and ‘the Japanese attacked’.

  Ma Quint and Dorothea glanced at each other, and each knew what the other was thinking. Finally, Ma Quint butted in.

  ‘But you, Freddy, what happened to you? You can talk the war talk later; just tell us what happened to you.’

  Freddy grinned, and poured himself another cup of coffee. ‘Well, see. There was this chap, a Scotsman, ‘Red’ we called him. Flaming red hair, he had. From Dundee. Hamish was his real name. Well, Red and me, we were best mates. And when he got wounded, and couldn’t walk, I helped him. Our battalion was making its way through the Burmese jungle, single file. There wasn’t a path, you see, it was thick jungle, and we were last, so by the time we came through, the others had trampled a way ahead of us. Still, the undergrowth was thick and progress was slow and we fell further and further behind. The last thing I remember was this terrible blast. Then I was out, gone. To this day I can’t tell you what happened. I don’t know.’

  Another long silence. Ma Quint rustled in her chair. ‘Go on, Freddy. What happened next?’

  Freddy laughed, a wry laugh, lacking mirth.

  ‘They found me, half-conscious. Red was dead by that time. I was dehydrated, dying. I don’t know how long I’d lain there, or why I hadn’t been eaten by animals by then. At least, nothing worse than insects. Flies and ants were all over me.’

  ‘Who found you?’

  ‘Monks. Buddhist monks, two of them. They had water. They carried me, miles and miles through the jungle, barefoot, to their monastery. Monastery! That’s a big word. It was a crumbling building, made of dried mud, with a couple of huts around it where the monks lived. It was a small community, just five of them. They nursed me back to health. They knew all kinds of herbs and things. It took a couple of weeks, but I recovered fully. But I had lost my memory.’

  ‘Amnesia?’

  ‘Yes. Total. I could not recall a thing; not my name, or what I was doing there, or where I came from. Or you, Dorothea. It was all gone, my mind a blank. That’s a strange thing. More so because I couldn’t speak a word of their language, or they of mine. But they taught me. I learned Burmese the way a child does and pretty soon I was fluent. And I lived their life. For years. It was a good life. It was as if a whole new person was born, they day they found me. Sometimes I had flashes of my former life; but nothing I could put together coherently.’

  ‘And that’s where you spent the last six years?’

  Freddy nodded. ‘I was happy. Like a child. It was all simple and good. I had no need to know the past; I didn’t care. According to their Buddhist teaching, the past was irrelevant anyway; there is only the present. There is only the here and now, and that was perfect. Always perfect. I could have lived that way the rest of my life.’

>   Another long silence.

  ‘But something happened. Your memory came back?’ prompted Ma Quint.

  ‘Yes. Now and then we had visitors, other monks from other monasteries. Some of these monks don’t even have a monastery, they are homeless, simply wandering on to the next stop, all their lives. Well, one day, two monks arrived. They’d been to Rangoon some time before. They didn’t have much baggage, they never do. But what they did have …’

  He paused. Dorothea’s eyes clung to him, to every word. She could hardly breathe. This wasn’t the Freddy she’d known, the Freddy she held in her memory and cherished in her heart. This was a new Freddy, a Freddy who had been through hell and survived, a changed man she could not grasp and did not know

  Freddy seemed to have drifted away again. He kept doing that, as if his time with the monks had usurped a space in his mind to which he kept returning, forgetting the present moment, and her. Dorothea felt almost jealous; was that space better than the space they shared? What was in it? Was he happier there than he was with her? But no, that could not be. After all, he had returned. He was here, in flesh and blood.

  ‘What did they have, Freddy?’

  He seemed to have completely forgotten his own last words.

  ‘Who? What?’

  ‘The wandering monks. You said they had something, something that reminded you. Of who you really are.’

  Freddy’s eyes locked with hers.

  ‘A mouth-organ,’ he said. ‘They had a mouth-organ. They had picked it up somewhere. One of them had a talent for music and had taught himself a few tunes. The moment I heard that sound … well, I asked for it, and he gave it to me. And I played. I could play, Dorothea! Everything I’d ever played, so long ago; suddenly I could play all those melodies again. And with the music came the memories. And I was Freddy again; Freddy Quint of Lamaha Street. And I remembered home, and you, and I wanted to come home. I had to go. I had to come.’

  Relief swept through Dorothea. However strong that Burma life had been, finally he had left it. For her.

  ‘So what happened then?’