The Son

by Marc Santailler

  ‘You’ll miss your plane,’ I said. I had no idea of the time.

  ‘I’ve already missed it.’

  ‘Oh God! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be such a nuisance.’

  ‘It was my fault. I should have listened to you.’

  ‘What are you going to do? What about your job?’

  ‘I rang them. I used your phone, I hope you don’t mind. They said they’ll try to keep it open. But I don’t really care. I can find another.’

  She wore the same clothes as the night before. Even in my doped-up state I could see she looked exhausted.

  ‘Can I take up your offer? Stay here for a few days, until you get better?’

  ‘Of course.’ As if I’d say no.

  She fed me more tablets and I drifted back to sleep, to be woken again when Quang returned with his friend. Quang also looked as if he hadn’t slept much, but his friend smiled when he saw I was awake. I took a closer look at him. He was a short, sturdy man in his early sixties, with the lined face of someone who had seen a lot of hardship, but a patient, understanding look in his eyes. His English was barely comprehensible and Quang had to interpret.

  ‘He doesn’t think your hand is broken – just badly bruised. And your ribs should be alright if you lie still for a few days. It’s probably just a bruise, or at worst a cracked rib. But if it doesn’t improve you should go to a hospital.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to get better, won’t I.’

  The friend shone his torch again into my eyes, took my pulse, made me count his fingers.

  ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘Sore. And I get headaches.’

  ‘You’ll have to stay in bed for a few days anyway. In case you have concussion.’

  ‘What about my office? I need to ring my assistant–’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Hao said. ‘You just rest. Anh Quang, we shouldn’t tire him too much.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Em, I won’t let him get tired.’

  Anh Quang, she had called him, Big Brother Quang, and Em, he had replied, Little Sister. Quang gave me a roguish smile.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was your friend?’

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘I knew her family in Saigon. I met her father a few times. A good man, if a little impractical. I was sorry when he died.’

  ‘And her husband? Did you know him?’

  He gave me a bland look. ‘Yes. I knew him too. You’re in good hands with her, Mr Paul. I can see now why you’re so concerned about her nephew.’

  It seemed I was in good hands with his friend too. According to Quang he’d been one of the best army surgeons in Vietnam in his day. And he knew the communists too – six years in the camps, before they let him out. He wasn’t allowed to practise in Australia. His English was too poor, and he couldn’t be bothered requalifying. ‘So please don’t tell anyone. He only came because I insisted.’

  Quang sat down. ‘I can’t stay long. But this is serious, Paul. It’s the first time they’ve attacked a non-Vietnamese. You’re sure you don’t want to go to the police?’

  ‘Absolutely. But now I really want to find out more about them. When’s that friend of yours coming out? The politician from Vietnam?’

  ‘Loc? Soon. I haven’t tried to contact him yet. I want to find out more about what they’re planning. There’s something I don’t like about all this, Paul. Vo Khanh, and that Mr Bach. Something doesn’t feel right.’

  ‘Be careful. You’ve seen what they did to me.’

  I was exhausted when he left. Hao stuck her head in briefly, asked if she could borrow the car.

  ‘Of course. But I need to see Eric.’

  ‘I’ve rung him. He’ll be here later. You need more rest first.’

  Eric came late that afternoon. I heard Hao’s voice sharp in the sitting room, and then she came in, looking angry.

  ‘Eric’s here,’ she said. ‘Are you fit enough to see him?’

  ‘Yes. But Hao – it might be best if I talk to him alone.’

  She seemed about to argue, then nodded and walked out. Eric came in, looking chastened and uncomfortable. I guessed she’d given him a good talking to.

  ‘It was your friends who did this, wasn’t it?’ He nodded glumly. ‘I thought I recognised one of them. The young man at your place, who had a tattoo on his arm.’

  ‘I didn’t mean this to happen. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes. I never thought they’d go so far. I told them you were bothering me, asking questions about the Mad Buffaloes, going round to the restaurant, and they said they’d fix it, they’d scare you off – but they didn’t tell me they were going to beat you up like this.’

  ‘Well, now you know what kind of people they are.’

  ‘My aunt said you don’t want to go to the police.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to get you into trouble. You’ve already been questioned once, if the police bring you in again on something like this they may well try to have you sent back to Britain, and I don’t want that to happen. But they have to be stopped.’

  He stared down at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, except that he didn’t seem to be enjoying it.

  ‘For that I need your help.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By telling me everything you know about them.’

  He didn’t say anything, looking down at me with his dark serious eyes. I let him stew in his silence for a while.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Sit down, and let’s talk about this.’

  He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, still looking at me.

  ‘You’re asking me to rat out on my friends,’ he said. ‘I know what they did was wrong, but you’re asking me to betray my friends.’

  ‘It’s not your friends I’m worried about. It’s the people behind them. People like Vo Khanh, and Mr Bach. Think about it, Eric. I’m not trying to get your friends into trouble. But if this is what they do to someone who simply asks questions, what will they do to their real enemies? Next time someone could get killed. And it could be someone like your aunt. So I want you to tell me all about them. Who they are, and what they’re up to. And I don’t want you to tell them. Do you think you can do that?’

  Still he didn’t answer, and I used my trump card.

  ‘It’s not an easy thing to do, Eric. It takes courage, and a sense of what’s right and wrong. Your father had courage, and so did your mother, and I know they’d be saying the same thing to you. So go away and think about it. And come back when you’re ready. And Eric?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Let’s keep your aunt out of it. This is between us.’

  He nodded, and left soon after, still looking sombre. Hao came back.

  ‘What have you said to him?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen him so grim.’

  ‘We’ve just had a good talk. Can you pass me the phone? I need to ring Viv. Otherwise she won’t know what’s hit her when she walks in on Monday.’

  ‘I’ve already rung her. We’ve been round and cleaned up the mess.’

  ‘You went to the office?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was fair to leave it to her. She wanted to come and see you but I told her you were still under sedation. She’s coming this evening.’

  ‘You’re a bit of a wonder,’ I said. ‘I can see why they want you back in Leeds.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  By Tuesday I was starting to get about. I wanted to be back on my feet before then but Hao and my personal physician both insisted I needed more rest, and practically forced me to stay in bed – and later sit fretfully in an armchair – while Hao cosseted me and people dropped in with expressions of concern: Vivien of course, several times, to report on progress at work, Cathy down from the Hunter Valley as soon as Vivien had rung her, Jack Lipton and Sen, alerted by Hao, the people next door. Vivien had also phoned Rachel, who rang back at once. She had tests on that week, b
ut she said she’d be up on the Friday.

  ‘Dad, who was that who answered the phone?’

  ‘That? Oh. Just a friend, who’s helping to look after me. Maybe she’ll still be here when you come.’

  ‘She sounded foreign.’

  I’d have some explaining to do.

  To each of them I gave the same story: a random attack in the street, by some yobs who had objected when I’d tried to stop them breaking into my car. Only Vivien knew the real story, and not much of that either: that it was the work of some Vietnamese thugs, angry that I’d been sticking my nose into their private affairs. She had agreed to keep quiet, for fear of getting Hao’s nephew into trouble – I assured her he wasn’t involved – but she was shocked and outraged by what she saw as an affront to civilisation. Not everyone would have been so understanding.

  Even with Hao I was economical with the truth. She knew of course that it was members of Eric’s group who had attacked me, and she was very angry with him – he had the sense to lie low most of that week – but she accepted my explanation that it wasn’t his fault; and while she knew by now that Quang was conducting his own investigation into their activities, and I’d told her about the farm, I’d made no mention of Loc, nor of firearms, nor of my request to Eric. There’d be time for that when I knew more myself. I saw no point in alarming her unduly.

  Our relationship was slowly changing. From patient to nurse, to something more like friendship, and perhaps deeper still. We didn’t talk about it, but I sensed she was aware of it too. When she looked at me sometimes I thought I detected a softness in her eyes. At other times she seemed to be quietly assessing me, as if she had yet to reach a decision. I kept my distance. It was a long time since I’d shared my living quarters with a woman, other than Rachel when she came to visit, and as I started to mend I felt once again that familiar stirring in the blood. But this time I wasn’t going to rush things. I’d already spooked her once, I didn’t want to lose her a second time, however tenuous the link still between us.

  Meanwhile at the office things were happening. On Sunday Hao had gone back with Viv – they had become allies – and together they had repaired as much of the damage as they could. Apart from tossing everything upside down my assailants had done little lasting damage. By Monday things were almost back to normal. Vivien rang to reassure me and told me what they’d done. She regarded Hao with something like awe.

  ‘She’s coming back later today. Would you mind if she helped with the interviewing? We’re having a lot of responses to Saturday’s ads.’

  ‘Has she done this sort of thing before?’

  ‘No, but she’s very good, Paul. She’s much more than a secretary. She runs the whole office for them, back in Leeds. I’m sure she’ll be alright.’

  ‘Oh alright,’ I grumbled. I was in no shape to argue.

  Later Viv reported. ‘She did those interviews marvellously,’ she enthused. ‘Much better than I could. She’s a real treasure, Paul, I’ll be sorry when she’s gone.’

  So will I, I thought, not wanting to think that far ahead.

  On Wednesday Quang came back, without his friend the unlicensed doctor. Loc was due in the first week in May, and large-scale demonstrations were being organised in both Sydney and Canberra.

  ‘By the Mad Buffaloes?’

  ‘Not just them, the whole community. But they’re involved alright, they’re right in the thick of it. They really are barking up the wrong tree, you know. They should be supporting him, not attacking him. If anybody’s got a chance of changing things in Vietnam it’s him, and people like him. But they’re blinded by their hatred and their resentment.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you,’ I said.

  ‘Well, he’s such an unusual man, for a communist. Did I tell you that he lost most of his family in the war? He was badly wounded himself once, in a B-52 raid. But he bears no bitterness, he doesn’t hate the Americans. He saw it as an inevitable part of the struggle. I remember him telling me, it’s all history now, we won, that’s what matters, now and the future. It’s up to us to make it work. If he’d had his way there would have been far less of all this re-education.’

  He was getting carried away again.

  About the Mad Buffaloes there wasn’t much to add. Vo Khanh was just what he appeared to be, an unreconstructed hot-head.

  ‘It’s Ho Xuan Bach I’m worried about,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty certain now that he’s behind them. He’s attended a couple of meetings, and one of his assistants is also involved, that man Binh I told you about. Have you heard anything from your young man?’

  ‘Not yet. I had a good talk with him, and he seemed to take it seriously, but he hasn’t come back to me.’

  ‘Let me know when he does. I’d like to ask him some questions. Did you know that back in Vietnam Bach was doing good business with the communists, before he escaped? He got out in 1981, organised a large boat with all his family and friends, made it out to Pulau Bidong off the Malaysian coast, over two hundred and thirty in all. But before that he’d managed to stay in business, working with the army, it seems he even helped them prepare for the invasion of Cambodia in ’79, he had a factory that made military equipment, tents and things like that. That’s how business goes, deep down, they always follow the money. He must have managed to get a lot of money out, because as soon as he came to Australia he started up again in business, buying up real estate. He’s very clever. But it’s his role in the Mad Buffaloes I want to know more about. Let me know when you hear from the young man.’

  That afternoon Eric rang me. Hao was out, we spoke freely.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ he said. ‘I know what they did was wrong, but I just can’t.’

  ‘Have you said anything to them?’

  ‘Only that I’d come to see you. I said my aunt made me. I didn’t tell them what we talked about, I just said they shouldn’t have done it, they’d gone too far. They said they only wanted to frighten you, but you fought back and – things got out of hand. They said they didn’t mean to hurt you like that.’

  That wasn’t the way it had felt.

  ‘They said they won’t bother you again. But I can’t betray them, Mr Quinn – Paul. I hope you understand.’

  There was an unusual note of apology in his voice, as if he really felt sorry for what had happened.

  ‘Well, I hope you can still come round, at least while your aunt’s here. My daughter’s coming up, I’d like you to meet her.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Soon after there was another phone call. This one was for Hao, from her office in Leeds. She was still out and I offered to take a message.

  ‘It’s probably easier if I call again later.’ A man’s voice, English, managerial, a little bossy but otherwise pleasant, with that flat smooth tone which gives nothing away. ‘Are you the friend she’s been looking after? I understand you’ve had an accident.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said cautiously.

  ‘How are you now? Getting better?’

  ‘Improving slowly. Who shall I say called?’

  A slight hesitation.

  ‘Tell her it’s George. She’ll understand.’

  ‘Will do. I’m Paul.’

  ‘Thank you Paul. I hope you get well soon.’

  I passed Hao the message as soon as she returned. She didn’t say anything, and when George rang again that evening, at my suggestion she took the call in the study. It lasted a good half hour. When she came out she looked troubled and a little angry.

  ‘Everything alright?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘It was just my office, They wanted to know when I’m getting back. I told them I didn’t know yet.’

  Going by her expression, I thought there must be more to it.

  By chance Eric was there on the Friday when Rachel arrived, having caught an afternoon flight and a taxi from the airport. She gasped at the sight of my face, gave me a hug a little too tight for comfort, and looked enquiringly at Hao and Eric. I int
roduced them.

  ‘Hao’s been kind enough to look after me since my incident. You don’t mind using the study? I’ve given her the second bedroom. Eric’s just visiting.’

  They smiled politely at each other and made the right noises, and then Hao withdrew, taking Eric with her. And the questions began.

  ‘Who is she, Dad, and what’s the connection? You’ve never mentioned her before.’

  ‘She’s just a friend, to coin a phrase. Someone I met a long time ago in Vietnam. No, don’t go fantasizing, she was never my girlfriend, and Eric isn’t my natural son. Things are exactly what they seem.’ Liar, liar! ‘She’s visiting from Britain.’

  She stared, clearly not believing me.

  ‘Are you sleeping with her?’ she asked with all the tact of a sixteen-year-old.

  ‘In my condition? I have enough trouble sleeping on my own, thank you very much!’

  ‘Well … you know Mum’s remarrying.’

  ‘You told me. Bernard, isn’t it? What’s he like?’ She told me. Bear-like, balding, and kind. Should make a good stepfather.

  ‘What about you, Dad? Thinking of remarrying?’

  ‘You’re the second person who’s asked me that in a fortnight. Can’t you women bear the sight of a man on his own?’

  She saw through my bluff with the sharpness of a professional poker player.

  ‘She’d be good for you.’

  ‘Really? Maybe she has other ideas. And how would you cope with a Vietnamese step-mother?’

  ‘In this day and age? Come on, Dad. Just because you sent me to an expensive girls’ school. We’re not all racists in the stockbroker belt.’

  That evening we had a companionable meal together, cooked by Hao, with several Vietnamese dishes which Rachel certainly enjoyed, and their wariness slowly dissipated as they talked while doing the dishes. I expected more caution with Eric, and they took their time sniffing each other out: the rough-looking lad with the suspicious eyes, the cool-eyed red-head with the imperious tilt to her chin. I foresaw clashes and was pleased when they sat and talked on the balcony.