Wings of the Morning

by Julian Beale

  ‘Maybe later, if you’re still here. I’ve got my hands full right now.’

  Conrad found the determination to get absorbed in his creation, and was pretty pleased with the result: four hours later, he started the process of cleaning up. Suddenly, he was aware of the girl’s reappearance, standing straight and tall beside him and staring intently at his day’s work. She took a pace back and puffed out her cheeks in concentration.

  ‘Not too bad,’ she delivered her verdict, ‘really not bad at all ... except perhaps you might want to try...’ and she went on with a clipped critique which implied that she would have managed a superior job herself. But it was delivered in sunny tones, a little trace of accent which sounded European to Connie’s ear and delightfully mischievous.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right’, he said, ‘and I bet you’re as expert a porter as a painter. Would you like to help me carry some of this stuff?’

  There it was. The start of a love affair which he was sure would last forever.

  She was born Antoinette de Brue, the only child of a French Army officer and his Cambodian born wife. There might have been siblings to follow, but Major Pierre de Brue was on the staff of General Navarre and he was one of the seven thousand Frenchmen who fell at the battle of Dien Bien Phu in 1954, when Antoinette was four years old.

  Her mother, a gracious lady who could trace her origins amongst ancient Kampuchean nobility, took the child and returned to her native town of Kampong Som on the Bay of Thailand, better known as Sihanoukville. She did not remarry but eked out a precarious existence funded by savings and some irregular income from fine needle work at which she was adept. Her brother helped by providing for Antoinette’s education. Their life in this provincial town continued calm and quiet for twelve years until the tranquillity was shattered in 1965. By the time Conrad had come to know these bare bones of early life, he and Antoinette had met on two occasions, once more in the flower market where they discussed painting, and once when they walked on the beach, accompanied by the little boys.

  Then Conrad returned to work and was fully occupied for ten straight days with preparations for a possible mission to Burma. On his first free day, a Sunday, he had gone looking for her and finally found her in the market. This time she was alone and they went for cup of tea before going on to an early dinner. She was in no hurry and he assumed it was her day off.

  Over dinner, Connie asked for her address and a phone number. He was pleased to recognise the name of her road and she jotted the numbers on a scrap of paper pulled from her bag along with her keys. These were on a ring with a plain enamel badge marked with two initials entwined together but still clear as ‘TP’. He asked her about them and she paused in her writing to look at him.

  ‘Oh, that’s my nom de plume, or my nickname as you would say. It came from my father. When I was little, I couldn’t say my own name. ‘Antoinette’ was too much for me, so I used to say ‘Toiny’ and he converted that into ‘toni’. He would sit in the evening on our veranda while Mama was getting supper and he used to say it was our time of day: Toni and Pierre together.’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ cut in Conrad, ‘and that became just TP. Yes?’

  ‘You’re right. TP. Since then I have lengthened it again and call myself Tepee, so everyone thinks I was born in a wigwam!’

  She laughed at herself and blew him a little kiss as she went back to her writing. Conrad felt his heart turn over. Tepee finished her note and he asked her to continue with her story.

  ‘Normally I find all this pretty hard to speak about, Connie, but with you ... well it seems easier to talk: that’s because you’re quiet too and I think you keep a bit back, just like me.’

  She paused and looked at him, but Connie didn’t reply. Soon, she continued.

  ‘I’m lucky: I had a very happy childhood although there was sadness lingering in the background. That’s because of my father. My mother yearned for him the rest of her days and she resented his death in a pointless cause. But she bottled that up and put everything into all that was left of him ... and that was me. I had a terrific relationship with my darling Mama. We never had a cross word that I can remember, not even with me as a teenager. She was a marvellous woman, good fun and wise company, always immaculately turned out with a sort of serene poise. I don’t know how we managed financially. I knew we weren’t rich but I wasn’t conscious of the strain on her and that got worse when my uncle died suddenly.

  But even so, she somehow managed to make life secure and settled. I enjoyed growing up in Kampong Som and I loved our little house which Mama kept so perfectly. When I turned sixteen I was happy with life: happy at High School, doing OK to good, lots to do, plenty of friends. They were girls mostly, some boys too, but not boyfriends. I was not exactly naive, but not experienced either. I suppose it was a quiet and provincial life, but I was content.’

  Tepee paused in reflection for a moment and Conrad saw her eyes mist over. Then she pulled herself more upright and shook her head briskly before going on.

  ‘One evening I was going home after school and then a netball game. I was a bit late and had to run for the bus. If I missed it, I knew there would be an hour’s delay so I cut through a side street to save time. I had left the game in a rush so I was still in my shorts and a little blouse, with my long uniform skirt rolled up in my bag. That way I could run quicker and I was always pretty quick. Long legs, you see. Racing down that street, I felt really good. I could have gone faster than the bus.’

  She smiled at him, but there was painful memory in her expression as she continued.

  ‘I never made it to the bus stop. Suddenly, the door to a scruffy little bar opened right in front of me and figures were pouring out past the tables on the sidewalk. I didn’t dare dodge into the road. Instead, I tried to dash between the tables and the wall of the bar. I didn’t try to stop, although I should have done. I’ve often thought about that since. Anyway, I didn’t and that’s how I came to run straight into this man, knocking him into a table and falling headlong myself. The next bit is all confused for me but I know there were three guys in this group, all European and all drunk. I’m pretty sure they were short stay visitors in our town. In those days, there were few holiday makers but sometimes workers on a break by the sea. Always men, some pretty rowdy, probably down from one of the mines in Laos. These guys were rough and tough. They had drunk too much and were out on the town looking for more booze, for women and for any sort of action. They must have thought they had found it all at once, and my struggles to get up and get away only made it worse for me. I don’t think I screamed once. Probably there wouldn’t have been anyone to hear. It was a quiet street and they’d be no questions asked in that awful little bar. I was still fixed in my mind on getting to that bus. My silent struggles excited them, my blouse tore right open and my shorts rode even further up. They became animals.’

  There were tears streaming down Tepee’s face and she sat hunched over the table. Conrad registered that her language was harder. There was worse to come. She made a big effort to look him in the eye as she went on and he was determined to hold her gaze.

  ‘The three of them picked me up and one clapped a great sweaty hand over my mouth and nose. I could hardly breathe. I was kicking and struggling. I knew where they were taking me. There were plenty of unoccupied places in that part of our town. They kicked in the door of this house. The room was empty except for rubbish and a great roll of sacking on the floor. The guys were shouting at each other and giggling with excitement. They dropped me on the floor. I was choking and gagging, just trying to get my breath back. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. It was gloomy in there but not dark and I could see all three of them. They showed no hesitation and no mercy.’

  Tepee broke off again and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Conrad stayed motionless and did not shift his gaze from her by one iota. He had to see this out with her.

  ‘They raped me, Connie. They chucked me on the ground and they raped me and used me
and attacked every part of me for their gratification: all three in turn. I don’t know how many times and I don’t know how long it went on for. Finally I was left alone on that sacking, bloody, bleeding and devastated. But also, I had aged about ten years in one nightmare. Less than an hour before, I had been a schoolgirl, just growing up like a million others. Of course I knew about my body and that I was attractive to men. Of course I knew all the facts of life in theory. Of course I laughed and joked about sex with my girlfriends. But I had only ever kissed a couple of boys who were more nervous than I was. I was a virgin. I had never even started to make love to anyone. All that magic experience was still to come. And now three ugly strangers had stolen it from me. They fucked away the last of my childhood.’

  Tepee’s head drooped. Tentatively, he stretched a hand out towards her, and the strength of her grip rewarded him. Connie was good at waiting and they sat together there in silence, hands clasped across the table. Tepee moved first. She removed her hand from his and stood up, tall and graceful, beautiful even with her face ravaged by tears and her long black hair disordered. She still managed her golden smile as she spoke softly.

  ‘I will go to the Ladies, and I may be quite a while. When I come back, could we go for a walk on the beach please?”

  Connie just nodded as she turned away and he sat back to light himself a rare cigarette as he called for his bill. They were walking hand in hand for over fifteen minutes before Tepee took up her story again. She suddenly looked up at the moon rising over the Straits, gave that familiar shake of her head, and launched straight in again.

  ‘Somehow, I got myself home. Not on the bus or in a taxi. I was too ashamed for that. I walked all the way. I only had my shorts and they wouldn’t do up properly. My blouse was in tatters and my bra had disappeared. I found a filthy old tee shirt at the back of that room and I had to frighten off a big rat before I could get it.

  Mama was standing in the hall. She took one look and must have guessed. I collapsed in her arms. The rest of that night and the next few days remain a blur for me. Mama helped me to bathe and get into bed. Our doctor came round and examined me all over, left a load of pills and potions, promising to return the next day. I don’t remember his further visit, but I’m sure he was good to his word.

  It was ten days later when the next disaster hit our house. I had slept all through the night, which was a first, and I woke feeling a bit better. I looked at my watch and found that it was nearly midday, which astonished me. Normally, I would always hear my mother rising at 6 am. But these are not normal times, I thought to myself as I lay in bed. Perhaps she’s gone out and left me a note. I went downstairs to our small kitchen which was as neat as ever. There was no message. I climbed the stairs again and went across the landing into my mother’s bedroom. Mama was there and still in bed. As soon as I looked at her, I knew she was dead.’

  Tepee stopped abruptly in her tracks on the sand and turned to face Conrad who, as before, held her gaze and said nothing.

  ‘I don’t know if you can understand this, Connie, but it’s a funny thing about shock. You sort of get used to it. Here I was facing a much greater ordeal than even the rape. I was alone and frightened and very, very sad. I adored my mother: we were so close and such good friends. I should have gone instantly out of my mind, but I was quite calm. I walked out of her room and out of the house. I even locked the front door behind me. I went to the doctor’s surgery and asked the receptionist lady if I could see the doctor urgently. She knew what had happened to me. It was only a minute or so before I was with the doctor and he came with me straight back to our house. I half hoped that we would find my mother out of bed and her normal self, but of course that was not to be. The doctor examined her body for some time while I waited downstairs. Then he came to me and explained that she had a heart attack in the night. He believed she had died in her sleep. He was distressed, but perhaps I had not known that he had been treating her heart condition for some years. He would start to make suitable arrangements, and I must come and stay with him and his family for the time being.

  But I couldn’t do that: not yet. I couldn’t leave my mother lying there on her own. The doctor was very understanding and came to spend that night on the sofa while I went to my bed and slept with my door open so that I could look across to Mama’s room and hope this was a passing nightmare. Quite early the next morning, they sent a van to remove her to the funeral home. Our neighbours either side came out to hold me and we all cried together as she left our house for the last time. I asked to be left alone in her room for an hour or so and then I would go to them. But I didn’t do that. After a while, I changed into my best school uniform and left the house quietly. I still felt calm, just terribly detached as if I was watching my own life from somewhere far away. I walked to the bus stop and started the familiar journey to school. I had no trouble in getting there and I went straight to see the Girls head teacher. She was a really nice lady. She was popular with all the students and she had good advice to give you if you asked for it. So I asked. She was terrific. She hadn’t heard from my mother after the men attacked me, just had the message that I was sick and at home. So this news about the rape and about my mother’s death came as two complete and terrible surprises. We talked together for ages and she telephoned our doctor to tell him where I was. Then she called in my form mistress and my best friend, and we all talked some more and I cried a lot. Finally we left her office and the form mistress travelled home with me. When we walked into our street, the first thing that I saw was a huge shiny car standing outside our house, and eventually it brought me here and away from my home forever.’

  They had started walking again, and this was the moment when Conrad at last felt able to break his silence.

  ‘Who was in the car, Tepee?’

  ‘The family here in Singapore: Colonel Roger Mantel, his son Sebastien and Seb’s wife Izzy, who has become my best friend. But Connie, let me explain all this. It won’t take long.’

  She tucked an arm into his and continued as they walked.

  ‘My father’s best friend in the Para’s was Roger Mantel. Years ago, they served together in French Colonial Africa, but when my father was transferred to Indo China, Colonel Mantel remained in Cote d’Ivoire. They kept in touch of course, but weren’t able to see much of each other. My parents met and married in this region, so although my mother knew all about the Colonel, she had never actually met him.

  ‘After I was raped, I believe Mama was more traumatised than me. She had the support of our doctor, but she was a proud woman and she wanted help from her own. She would have shrunk from talking to our neighbours. She must have longed for my father, but without him, she turned to his best friend and set out to contact Colonel Mantel. He has told me since that Mama used her precious savings to go to the post office and make endless expensive calls to the necessary authorities in France, especially the Regimental Headquarters. She was told he had taken early retirement but she refused to give up. She got back on the phone to the Retired Officers Association and tracked down a number for the Colonel: at last, some luck for her. He was living here in Singapore with his son and daughter-in-law.’

  Conrad put his arm around Tepee’s waist and hugged her to him as they walked.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I can work it out from here. She called him, he came running to help, only to find the tragedy of her death just before he got here.’

  ‘That’s it exactly. He got in his big car and drove straight here.’

  ‘It would’ve been quicker to fly.’

  ‘Of course. But I guess he wanted a woman with him to win her trust and mine. That meant bringing Izzy and Seb wouldn’t be left behind. So they drove, with enough space to take us home with them. In the event, it was just me.’

  ‘So you’ve been living here with the Mantels for what ... five years?’

  ‘A bit more, actually. It’s seems like yesterday and a lifetime rolled into one. They’re my new and true family and I owe them eve
rything.’

  ‘Have you ever been back?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she shook her head, ‘but I want to. There are people I want to see again: the doctor, school people, my friends, our neighbours.

  Most of all, I want to go back and talk to my Mama. We held her funeral and everyone came. The place was packed out and overflowing. The burial was private: just the four of us as they laid my Mama in her grave. I couldn’t cry. I just stood there with Izzy by my side and Sebastien looming and brooding alongside us. And a little way off, Colonel Mantel, the tough old soldier at attention again, ram rod straight and the tears pouring down his face — weeping for his friend and for the lives which might have been.

  Tepee stopped at this point. She stopped both physically and verbally. Conrad just put his arms around her and held her whilst she sobbed silently into his chest. After two or three minutes locked together, she broke off, blew her nose and smiled at him as she took his hand again while they turned to retrace their steps along the beach. She spoke again.

  ‘Leave me here for this evening, Connie, and thank you for being such a good listener. I’m quite safe to walk home from here. I do so often when I have the chance for a little time to myself. But I’ll be here tomorrow evening at five. I‘ll have the children with me, and I hope you’ll come home and meet everyone. But you don’t have to be here — not if you can’t or if you don’t want to be,’ her voice trailed away. and Conrad was swift to reply.

  ‘I’ll certainly be here, looking forward to meeting the Colonel, Seb and Izzy too: and of course the children. What are they called?’

  ‘They’re twin boys, Connie. They’re called Peter and Oscar. They’re four years old, and they’re mine.’

  The silence stretched between them. Finally, Tepee said to him,

  ‘If you can’t handle that, Connie, I’ll understand.’

  ‘I’ll see you here tomorrow at five. Don’t be late.’

  He leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips, then turned away with a wave of his hand. When he reached the corner, he looked back. Tepee was moving off, and she was skipping.