The Pearl of Penang

by Clare Flynn

  Unable to sleep all night, Evie was up and dressed at dawn and asked Benny to drive her to the car ferry and on to the hospital in Butterworth. When she arrived, she found Arthur Leighton sitting in the corridor outside Doug’s room. Seeing Evie, he rushed towards her and wrapped her in his arms.

  Evie stood rigid as a pole. To give in to her emotions, break down and be comforted by Arthur, would feel like an act of disloyalty to Doug. To be embraced, however innocently, as her husband lay dying a few feet away, was not something she could allow, no matter how much she longed to.

  ‘Have you seen him?’ she asked, pulling away.

  Arthur shook his head. ’The doctors are in with him now.’

  ‘How did you know? When did you get here? I thought you were in Singapore.’

  ‘The bush telegraph travels fast. As soon as I heard what had happened, I drove up. I was in Klang so it wasn’t so far. I drove through the night. I got here about ten minutes ago. No one’s told me anything yet. Is he all right?’

  ‘No. He’s not all right,’ she snapped, nerves frayed. ‘If they don’t amputate his leg he’s going to die. He’s refused to let them. And it may already be too late.’ She crumpled into a chair and Arthur sat down beside her. He took her hand but she jerked it away. Seeing him there, his long legs whole inside their light flannel trousers, his skin tanned and healthy, made Evie want to scream.

  ‘Have you talked to him?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘Yes, but he won’t listen. Seems to think it’s better to die than to be without a leg. Never mind his children. Never mind me.’ She gave a groan of exasperation.

  ‘Would you like me to have a go? Maybe I can talk some sense into him.’

  Evie was irritated. Why did he think he would have more influence than she had, when she was Doug’s wife? But anything had to be worth trying. And arguing with Arthur, who was, after all, Doug’s only friend, was not going to solve anything. She nodded, helpless and angry with the world.

  The door opened and Dr Van Den Bergh emerged with another doctor. Evie jumped to her feet.

  ‘Mrs Barrington, can we have a word? This is my colleague Dr Fabian. He’s our expert in tropical medicine and infectious diseases.’ Seeing Evie hesitate, he added, ‘It won’t take long and afterwards you can see Mr Barrington.’

  ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Arthur’s voice was tender and concerned.

  She shook her head and followed the two medical men down the corridor and into an office.

  It was Dr Fabian who spoke. ‘You need to prepare for the worst, Mrs Barrington. Your husband has deteriorated during the night. While we can’t confirm septicaemia until we have time for the blood cultures to show it, he has the symptoms. His breathing is rapid, he has a high fever and his blood pressure is dangerously low. He’s passing no water and there are signs that organ failure is beginning. It’s also possible that his kidneys were crushed in the impact of the fall and that is contributing to their failure.’

  Evie gasped. It was too late. She looked at Dr Van den Bergh, who shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do now except make him as comfortable as possible.’

  The room was spinning around her and she tried to make her mind focus. ‘But the drugs? Are you saying they didn’t work?’

  ‘The conditions he was lying in at the bottom of that mine shaft and the high temperatures made his open wounds a breeding ground for bacteria,’ said Dr Fabian. ‘Sulpha drugs are the most effective we have at combatting bacteria, but to be honest your husband was probably already beyond our help by the time they got him out of the mine. He was down there for more than fifteen hours. My opinion is that, even had we removed the limb last night, it would have been too late to halt the progress of the disease. It was already almost twenty-four hours after he sustained the injuries before we received him here.’

  She was trembling. ‘How long does he have?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. He has a strong constitution but he has been through a lot and his resistance is extremely low. I’d say it’s a matter of hours. I very much doubt he’ll survive another forty-eight, and it may be less. I’m sorry.’

  Evie couldn’t take it in. It was too fast. Time was running out. She was utterly helpless. ‘Is he conscious?’

  ‘Barely. He’s drifting in and out. We’re giving him a lot of pain relief and that makes him very drowsy. As his body gradually loses function he will drift into a coma. I suggest you go in and say your goodbyes, Mrs Barrington.’

  Walking back down the corridor, Evie was unsteady on her feet. She took large gulps of air and forced herself not to give way to tears. She had to be strong for the children. She had to find a way to be strong for herself. Douglas was the father of her child, the man she had tried so hard to love and who had, in his awkward way, claimed to love her.

  Arthur was waiting where she’d left him. She quickly told him the prognosis and he closed his eyes and his mouth set hard. ‘I’m so awfully sorry, Evie. For Doug and for you and the children.’ His eyes were welling but his voice was steady.

  She avoided his gaze. ‘I’m going in to see him. I’d like some time alone then you can see him.’ Heart hammering against her ribs, and skin prickling, she went into the room.

  Doug lay surrounded by tubes, one from an oxygen cylinder into his nose, another attached to a plastic bag, presumably a catheter, a drip attached to his arm, his eyes shut, his breathing jagged. Evie approached the bedside, shocked at the deterioration in his appearance. A nurse was shaking a thermometer and frowned as she noted the reading down on a chart that hung on the end of the bed. Only six months ago, Evie had lain in a similar bed in the same hospital holding their new baby, with Doug as her visitor. How was it possible that here they were, the same people in the same place, yet in such horribly different circumstances?

  ‘Is he unconscious?’ she asked the nurse.

  ‘He’s semi-conscious. But he may not be able to speak.’

  Evie wanted to scream.

  ‘So I’m too late?’

  ‘No. Talk to him. He might respond, and if he doesn’t, he’ll hear you. The last sense to leave is hearing. I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be just down the corridor if you need me.’

  When she was gone, Evie sat at the bedside. She was afraid. This stranger wasn’t Doug. This couldn’t possibly be her strong and athletic husband: the man with a powerful tennis serve, the tuan besar who walked for hours around his rubber estates giving orders, his dog at his side, the man who had fathered two children and loved to drink whisky, the man of changing and unpredictable moods, and of few words, the husband who struggled to express his feelings and who had sometimes caused her to doubt he had any. The man lying in front of her was grey-faced and wizened, his breath barely discernible, his body broken, his strength gone.

  Her over-riding emotions were pity and sadness. How had it come to this? How was it possible that a split second’s inattention had led to this shocking transformation and imminent death?

  Swallowing her fear, she wrapped her warm fingers around his cold ones. There was no response. It took an act of will for her to speak to him, as if she were already addressing a corpse.

  ‘Doug, my darling, can you hear me? It’s Evie. I’m here. The nurse says even if you seem to be asleep you can probably hear me.’

  No response.

  ‘I have a letter for you from Jasmine. I’m going to read it out to you.’ She reached for her handbag and took out the folded note paper. ‘Here’s what she says, “Dear Daddy, I’m sad that you have had a bad accident and are very poorly. Miss Helston is going to ask our class to say prayers for you. I am saying extra special ones. Just for you. Baby Hughie sends his love. Even though he can’t speak I know he loves you as much as Mummy and I do.”’ Evie struggled to steady her voice as she read the words. Gulping, she continued. ‘“I got a new proficiency badge at Brownies. It’s for swimming and has a frog on it. Mummy’s going to sew it on my uniform. Got to go now. Lots and lots of love fro
m Jasmine.” She’s added about a hundred kisses and she’s drawn a picture of you–’ Evie had been about to say that the picture was of Doug playing tennis but stopped herself just in time.

  She took another slow deep breath. She had to keep it together. Be strong. She mustn’t make it harder for him.

  Brushing a lock of hair away from his brow with her free hand, she noticed his normally thick lustrous dark brown hair was limp and thin under her fingers. God – even his hair was dying.

  ‘Evie…’ His voice was so faint she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. But he persisted. ‘Want you…be happy… someone…love you …you deserve.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Please, Doug. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘You made me happy… good wife…now you…loves you…’

  ‘Oh, Doug. What are you saying?’

  ‘Badger … Reggie.’

  ‘You want Reggie to take care of Badger?’

  He nodded. ‘Arth…’

  ‘Arthur’s here. You want to see him? He’s outside.’

  She felt a faint squeeze to her hand. Afraid she was going to break down, she said, ‘I’ll tell him to come in.’

  She rushed out into the corridor, afraid that she was about to collapse completely. ‘Go in,’ she said to Arthur. ‘He’s asking for you. I’m getting myself a glass of water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ She half ran down the passageway through the main door and into the garden, where she flung herself down on a wooden seat and gave in to tears.

  By the time she returned, ten minutes later, Doug was sleeping. Arthur looked up from the bedside and stretched his lips into a wistful smile. She sat down on the other side of the bed and held her husband’s grave-cold hand. The room was silent for several minutes, apart from the tick-tock of a wall clock. Ticking down Douglas’s remaining time on earth.

  At last Arthur spoke. ‘He asked me to tell you he loves you and he’s sorry for what’s happened.’

  Evie bristled, exposed, vulnerable, sat here with the two men she had cared most for, with the man she loved, relaying the dying declarations of the one she had married. It was absurd. Horrible. And it was wrong to be talking about Doug across his dying body. She choked back her need to cry out to rail against the horror of it all.

  A nurse came into the room and took Doug’s temperature. She studied her fob watch as she took his pulse, giving a sympathetic smile to Evie, then mouthed, ‘Not long.’

  After the nurse had gone, Arthur spoke again. ‘I’d like to stay here with you both, if you don’t mind me being here.’

  ‘Don’t you need to head back to Singapore?’

  ‘I telephoned and left a message for Sir Shenton. I’m staying in Penang as long as I can be of help. Doug asked me to stay.’ He looked down. ‘Apparently I’m his executor.’ His voice was low.

  ‘I didn’t know that. Thank you.’ Far from angry at Arthur, she was grateful for his quiet presence.

  The day passed. They kept a silent vigil at Doug’s bedside, leaving only for Evie to telephone home to check on the children.

  The nurse approached her as she finished the call. ‘Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, Mrs Barrington?’

  ‘I’m not leaving him.’

  The nurse nodded, her face sad. ‘You and the gentleman need to go and eat something. I have to change the dressings. You need to leave the room for about twenty minutes. The canteen’s open for another half hour.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Arthur, steering her along the corridor.

  In the canteen, Arthur ignored her protestation that she couldn’t eat, and ordered a plate of fruit and some sandwiches. As soon as they were in front of her, Evie realised she hadn’t eaten in almost two days. She devoured a sandwich.

  ‘I can’t help feeling guilty, sitting here eating while he’s lying there dying,’ she said at last.

  Arthur said nothing, but he nodded agreement.

  ‘I still can’t believe it’s happening.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ he said. He sucked in his lips. ‘It’s so wrong. So unfair. Seeing a man like Doug laid so low.’

  Evie put down the piece of mango she’d been eating and began to cry. Arthur leaned over the table and took her hand.

  ‘I may not have loved him in the way I should have done…’ She left unsaid the obvious reason for that. ‘But I do love him, you know.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘Even though he’s often cold and finds it hard to express his feelings… but maybe that’s why I care for him. Because I know how hard things are for him.’ She paused. ‘Did he tell you about his brother?’

  ‘He has a brother?’

  ‘Had. He died when they were children. See – he couldn’t even bring himself to tell you, his best friend that.’ She explained the story of Bertie’s death and how Hugh was named after him.

  ‘That explains a lot.’

  ‘If he dies… when he dies… I don’t think I’ll ever get over it, Arthur. I’ll always wonder if I could have done more for him. Made him happier. Been better at reaching him. He was so closed off. I tried but maybe not enough.’

  Arthur smiled sadly. ‘You couldn’t have done more, Evie. And you did reach him. He told me this morning that you were the best thing that happened to him. You were everything to him, Evie. You have nothing to regret.’

  ‘He said that?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘He really loved you. He’s still full of shame about what he did with that woman. I told him you had forgiven him.’

  ‘I have.’ She voiced it with certainty. She had forgiven him. ‘I know he was remorseful. He just struggled to articulate it. He hurt me, but I believe if he’d known the consequences he’d never have done it.’ She squeezed her hands into tight fists. ‘Or am I being too generous? Just because he’s dying?’

  ‘We both know Doug’s a complex character – that’s why we both love him.’ Arthur gave her a thoughtful look.

  Uncomfortable, Evie changed the subject. ‘How are things with Veronica?’

  He looked down and sighed. ‘She’s in a place in Singapore. They’re trying to sort her out. She’d gone haywire. Drinking.’ He put his palms together and intertwined his fingers. ‘The doctors there are confident they can help her.’

  ‘And you? What do you think?’

  ‘She’s admitted she needs help. They say that’s half the battle.’

  ‘Good.’ Evie pushed away her plate and got up. ‘It must be twenty minutes now.’

  Back in Doug’s room, Evie and Arthur drowsed, drifting in and out of half-sleep, unable to settle, unwilling to leave, sentinels either side of Doug’s bed.

  At one point during the night, she awoke to see Doug had opened his eyes and was looking at her. She bent forward and took his hand. ‘I love you, darling,’ she whispered. Unable to reply, an oxygen mask clamped over his face, his mouth quivered into an approximation of a smile and his eyes sent back a silent message of love and sadness. He closed his eyes and there was no sound other than the slow rasp of his breathing.

  She looked up to see if Arthur was awake, but he was dozing in his chair. She turned her gaze back to her husband. His face was grey, lined, haggard, the toll of the past days etched there. He was unrecognisable, helpless. She had already lost him. The man lying here was a shell, the remnants of what Doug Barrington had once been. A silent tear rolled down her cheek.

  The hours passed. A nurse came in from time to time to monitor his vital signs, and night turned into early morning. Around the edges of the ill-fitting hospital curtains the pitch dark was softening into a grey dawn. In the distance she could hear voices, footsteps and the clatter of metal. The world was waking up. She yawned.

  Something else had changed. She sat bolt upright and saw Arthur do the same. They exchanged a wordless look that indicated they both knew Doug was no longer there. No death rattle. No last gasp. Just a soft fading away. Arthur got up and went to fetch the nurse who confirmed Douglas Barrington was gone and offered her sympathies. Evie bent over
her husband’s body, stroked the stray lock of hair back from his brow and dropped a kiss onto his cold lips.

  It had happened so quickly. The previous morning, she had arrived at the hospital determined to convince Douglas of the need for amputation, and here she was, just a short time later, looking at the empty shell of his broken body.

  She was a widow with an infant son and a little girl who had now become an orphan. How had it come to this?

  Arthur Leighton took care of everything. He informed everyone who needed to know of Doug’s death, arranged the funeral, ensured the bank would release funds for wages to be paid at Batu Lembah, asked Mike Overton to act as estate manager until Evie could make a decision on the future of the estates. He even collected Badger from Batu Lembah and transported him into Reggie Hyde-Underwood’s care at Bellavista. Evie was particularly relieved about this last matter. Badger would have been a constant reminder of his master’s absence.

  Veronica did not attend the funeral, presumably because of her treatment. Evie was grateful that she didn’t have to contend with her.

  Afterwards, there was a small gathering back at the house. Evie could barely take in what was happening, sitting listlessly as a stream of people offered their condolences. She had cause to be grateful to Mary. Her friend ensured that Evie’s guests were all watered and fed and moved among them, acting as the hostess that Evie lacked the strength to be.

  27

  Jasmine was at school and Evie was sitting in the garden, staring into space. Now that Douglas had been laid to rest, the shock of his death and its manner was receding, to be replaced by a numbness and a feeling of being cast adrift. Even though Douglas had rarely been present at the George Town house, the knowledge that he would never return made her feel as if she no longer had any right to be there.

  Before the funeral, Arthur had assured her that there was plenty of money in the bank, and the income from the two rubber estates, and from an inheritance from Douglas’s late mother, meant that she and the children would be well-provided for. Money was the last thing she needed to worry about.