to the floor and extinguished itself, leaving her in the blackest
darkness she'd ever seen.
A cold drop fell on her bare shoulder, then another. A leak. The roof
had not leaked before, but in this weather it was no surprise.
Carefully she lowered herself to the floor and, on hands and knees,
searched for the fallen candle. It took her several endless minutes
before she discovered it under a chair. She found the matches next to
the gas ring and lit the candle again, breathing a sigh of relief.
There was a small puddle of water near the door. Looking up at the
ceiling, she tried to locate the leak, but the candle was throwing wild
dancing shadows all over the walls and she couldn't make out
anything.
She found an enamel dishpan and put it under the drip. The water
splattered loudly on the bottom—split splat split splat. Well, what
was a little more noise? She ladled water into the kettle, lit the gas,
and settled down on a stool to wait for it to boil. It seemed to take
forever. Maybe she should light one of the kerosene lamps. Carrying
the candle she cautiously made her way to the living room and
brought one of the lamps back to the kitchen.
With a little more light, the world seemed not quite so hostile,
although the howling wind and the roaring ocean outside made her
feel anything but relaxed. Was Justin up too? Or was he asleep and
oblivious to the hellish spectacle outside? He was so close, yet so far.
A frightening sense of isolation began to take hold of her.
The water boiled and she made a pot of tea. First she carried the
candle and a cup to the bedroom, then went back for the lamp and the
teapot, walking slowly, looking for signs of other leaks.
Wrapped up in a sheet, she huddled in bed, holding the cup of
steaming flower tea in both hands. The din outside had not
diminished. Somewhere she heard the metallic screeching of tearing
metal. Maybe the corrugated iron roof of one of the houses had fallen
victim to the wind. She visualised water pouring into the house. She
thought of terrified children, crying babies, desperate parents. She
tried to banish the images from her mind. The storm raged on. Now
and then a coconut crashed to the ground and all around in the night
were other noises, unidentifiable, frightening. The rain kept coming
down on in a relentless downpour. The village would be flooded,
crops drowned in water and beaten down by the force of wind and
rain. Tomorrow when it had all finished, the spectacle would be one
of devastation. I hope nobody dies she kept thinking.
She willed the morning to come, but time crept by torturously slowly,
as she drank one cup of tea after another until finally the pot was
empty. She picked up the book she'd been reading before going to
sleep and tried to read, but it was useless. There was no way her mind
could be diverted with the racket going on outside. Closing her eyes
she lay back on her pillow and rolled up into a ball under the sheet.
Several minutes later she tore the pillow from under her head and
covered her face with it, but even then the noise was still there.
For a few moments she considered leaving the house and going over
to Justin's. Could she possibly make it? The wind might sweep her
away and smash her against a house or a tree, or wash her out to sea.
It would be madness, sheer madness.
A deafening noise of something crashing suddenly filled the air. The
house shook violently. Her body froze and her heart stopped for a
terrifying instant. The sound of tearing metal and splintering wood
screeched through the air. Her heart began to pound in heavy, painful
thuds and clutching the sheet, she looked in terror at the ceiling and
walls. The house was coming down. It had to be coming down. She
couldn't move, sat staring at the walls in frozen panic as the noise
suddenly ceased.
It was over. She jumped out of bed, looking around wildly. I've got to
get out of here, she thought. I've got to get out of here! Her legs were
shaking violently with the shock. With trembling hands she tied a
sarong around her, took the lamp and carefully opened the bedroom
door. Everything looked as it had before, except the front door which
was banging in the wind. She looked out into the night. There were
no stairs. The overhang, corrugated iron with thatch, was gone.
The wind whipped the hair around her head and the rain had soaked
her the minute she'd looked outside. I can't get out! The thought
filled her with panic. Down below was a swirling mass of mud and
what she assumed was the debris of the broken steps and overhang—
a heap of splintered wood and twisted metal. She'd break or lacerate
something jumping into the rubble.
Then she noticed the light. At the same time, above the howling of
the wind, she heard her name called. An indescribable sense of relief
flooded her.
'Justin! I'm here!' she called at the top of her voice.
The light came closer. 'Are you all right?' he shouted.
'Yes!' Could he hear her? The wind seemed to sweep her words
away, cutting off her breath. 'I'm all right,' she called again. 'But I
can't get out!' She was still holding the lamp, hanging on to the
doorpost with her other hand.
He was close now, slowly picking his way through the rubble,
fighting wind and rain. Then he was directly underneath her, moving
aside wood and metal. It seemed to take forever. By the light of his
flashlight she could see the remains of the steps and overhang, and a
coconut palm sprawling on top of it.
'Listen to me!' he shouted. 'Blow out the lamp!
Turn around and hang off the edge of the floor! Can you hear me?'
'I can hear you!'
'When you're hanging all the way down, let go. I'm right here. I'll
catch you.'
She blew out the lamp and put it inside. He shone his flashlight at the
edge of the floor. She tested it with her foot. It seemed solid enough.
She went down on her haunches and ran her hand along the edge to
check for nails or sharp splinters. It seemed all right. She turned
around and went down on her knees. Carefully she lowered her legs
over the edge and leaned on her stomach. The wind lashed at her
soaked sarong and the rain pounded down on her back. Then slowly
she slid the rest of her body downward over the edge until she hung
only by her hands. Her muscles cramped in fear and she had a brief
vision of broken arms and legs.
'Let go!' he shouted.
Closing her eyes, she released her hands from their grip. She felt his
hands slide over her thighs and hips, then they clamped around her
waist in an iron grip. The next instant they were both falling, landing
in the mud with her sprawling on her back across his chest.
She felt nothing. Then his hands moved her again, turning her over
until she lay with her face on his wet chest and the rest of her
dragging in the mire. She went limp. She couldn't feel, she couldn't
think.
'I'm sorry,' he said in her ear. 'I slipped and lost my balance. A
re you
hurt?'
'No, no.' She felt the drumming of his heart against her cheek. She
lifted her head, but it was too dark to see anything but the contours of
.his face. She pushed herself to her knees, realising the sarong had
come undone and was twisted half around her ankles, half dragging
in the muck. Justin came to his feet too and reached for the flashlight
which he'd positioned on a piece of the ravished steps and directed at
the doorway. He turned it on her and gave a roar of laughter.
'Please!' she yelled furiously. 'Do me a favour!' She grabbed the
sarong out of the mud, but he took the sodden thing from her fingers
and threw it down again.
'Leave it!' He took her hand and pulled her away, shining the
flashlight on the ground in front of them. 'Be careful!' He put his arm
around her shoulders to steady her.
It took all her strength to stay on her feet as they slipped and slithered
through mud and water with the wind tearing at them with
unbelievable force.
How they finally made it the short distance to Justin's house, she had
no idea. Somehow she must have climbed the stairs, somehow she
must have entered the house.
He pushed her into the bathroom. Her teeth were chattering and she
leaned against the wall with her eyes closed.
When she opened them again, Justin had lit a lamp and put it down
on a stool. She looked at him, not believing what she saw. He was
covered in mud from top to toe, one solid mass of wet brown. She
looked down at herself. She was stark naked, but covered with muck
it didn't make much difference. She began to laugh. First softly,- then
harder and she couldn't help herself. Her knees gave way and her
back slid down along the tile until she was kneeling on the floor, still
laughing.
She saw Justin's face break into a grin and then he was laughing too.
Tears were running down her cheeks and the relief it brought was
wonderful. Tension ebbed away and when the laughter finally
subsided, she felt almost normal again.
Only her legs were far from steady when she tried to stand up and she
was still shivering from cold.
'Grit your teeth,' he said. 'I'll rinse you off, but the water is cold.' He
lowered the blue dipper in the bucket of water and poured it over her
head. The breath caught in her throat, then she shrieked.
'Stop it! I can do it myself!'
'Like hell you can! You can hardly stand on your legs!' This was
followed with another dipper of water and she gritted her teeth when
the cold hit her. Then he threw some water over himself and washed
his face.
'All right,' he said then, 'let's get serious about this.' He picked up a
bar of soap and made an attempt to wash her.
She struck at his hands. 'You lecher! Give it to me!'
Grinning he handed it over and she turned her back on him and she
quickly soaped herself all over. 'Some more water, please.'
He poured more water over her, but the mud streaming down her
body never seemed to end. Her hair was full of it and it took forever
to get it all out. She was exhausted, standing there struggling with the
mass of wet hair in the middle of the night, shivering and shaking.
She was uneasy and uncomfortable with him standing right behind
her, but there was little choice but to bear it. He wouldn't leave her
and she hadn't the strength for a futile argument about it.
He gave her a huge bath towel to wrap herself up in and he watched
her until she was safely sitting on the couch.
'Just give me a few minutes and I'll get myself clean,' he said. 'Then
we'll have something to drink. Just don't move!'
Twenty minutes later, with a shot of whisky in her belly, she began to
feel warmer. 'Do you have another towel,' she asked. 'My hair is
dripping.'
He got one for her and she let him squeeze out the water from her
hair. 'Would you like me to brush it out?' he asked. 'If you don't mind
using my brush.'
She hesitated. If she didn't brush it out now, she would pay for it
dearly tomorrow. 'It should be brushed,' she said, 'but I can do it
myself.'
'I don't doubt it for a moment,' he answered drily, leaving the room to
find the brush. 'Sit up straight and lean your head on the back of the
chair,' he ordered when he returned.
She did as she was told, drowsy with the whisky and tired. She
closed her eyes. It was a wonderful sensuous feeling to have someone
do your hair. Some leftover primitive grooming instinct from the
darkness of the human past. It amazed her how gentle Justin was, not
tearing at her hair to straighten out the tangles. It took quite a while
before the brush ran smoothly through the whole length of hair, and
by then she was half asleep.
'Thank you,' she murmured. It was an effort to open her eyes. He was
standing in front of her, looking down at her.
'It's still wet.'
She nodded. 'Doesn't matter.' Her eyes drooped again. She felt herself
being lifted out of the chair and she opened her eyes again, seeing the
left side of his face.
'Justin, what. . .?'
'Put your arms around my neck,' he ordered. 'I'm not Samson and I
might drop you if you don't hold on.'
Again she did as she was told. It was a good, safe feeling to be held
so close and she leaned her face against his shoulder. He took her out
of the room and a moment later she was deposited on a bed, and she
had to let go of him.
She heaved a deep sigh and went limp again as she felt the comfort of
the mattress.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. She smiled
at him and closed her eyes again. It seemed impossible to keep them
open.
'Listen!' he said softly.
She listened. Something was different. The howling had stopped.
'The wind is going down,' she whispered.
'The rain too.'
'Yes.' It was still coming down heavily, but nothing compared to the
ferocious torrents of a while ago. 'I'm glad,' she murmured. 'Let's just
hope some of my house is still standing.'
'I think it's just the steps and the overhang. We'll see in the morning
when it gets light.'
'I'm so tired,' she whispered.
'I can tell.'
'I woke up at two. The noise was so bad, I couldn't sleep.'
'Now you can.' She felt his mouth on hers, a gentle touching that
stirred something deep inside her. She put her arms around his neck
and his kiss grew more intimate. A soft moan escaped her as she
responded to it. It felt good, so good, with the warmth sparking into
excitement and deeply buried longings surfacing. She clung to him as
he released her.
'Don't go,' she whispered.
'Go to sleep, Linden.' His voice sounded rough, but it didn't really
register. Thoughts faded as she drifted away into the soft darkness of
sleep.
Coming back to consciousness seemed to take a long time. She
floated back and forth between half-sleep and semi-wakefulness,
never quite waking fully. For short m
oments she would look around
the room in the dim grey light, not recognising it, then drifting off
again.
She surfaced, finally, remembering where she was and why.
It was still raining, a soft, steady splashing on the greenery outside.
The light was grey and dull.
The bed was much like her own with a kapok mattress. She was
covered with a sheet and a light blanket and the towel she'd been
wearing lay bunched up at her feet.
Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she sat up and pushed the
hair out of her face and over her shoulders. Her body felt heavy and
sluggish and she came to her feet slowly. Ouch! She lifted her feet to
look at them. Last night she'd been barefoot and there were scratches
on the soles.
A sarong hung over a chair and she wrapped it around her and
opened the door.
The house was silent. Where was Justin? On bare feet she walked
around the empty rooms. No Justin. No Ramaya, either. There were
signs of breakfast in the kitchen—an empty coffee cup, a frying pan
on the stove, a plate with bread crumbs and congealing egg yolk.
Where had Justin slept last night? It could only have been the couch
for there were no other beds in the house. She grinned. What a
gentleman, letting her take over his bed.
A grey-green, dripping world greeted her as she opened the front
door. She shivered. It was almost cold. Noises came from the
direction of her house and she peered through the curtain of drizzling
rain to see. A shape was moving around, lifting and pulling metal. It
must be Justin, examining the damage. She'd need something on her
feet if she was going over there to have a look. In the bedroom she
found a pair of Justin's thongs and slipped them on. They were miles
too big and looked ridiculous. Well, no matter. She flip-flopped
carefully through the house and down the stairs, feeling the rain cold
on her skin.
Last night in the dark she had not been able to see what exactly had
happened. In the light of morning it was quite clear. A coconut palm
had been uprooted, had crashed down on the overhang and the steps
and torn it all down. The roof had been spared, as had the main part
of the house. It really wasn't all that bad. Last night in that terrible
deluge it had seemed as if the house had been coming down around
her.
'What are you doing?' she asked, and he turned, surprised.
Pelangi Haven Page 8