He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, his voice cracked with defeat and weariness. ‘No, she’s not dead, Helena.’
Helena glanced swiftly down the corridor. The door to Elizabeth’s room was open, and the ward sister’s voice rose clearly. ‘Only husbands are allowed to visit, Mr Elliot!’
‘Oh God,’ she said beneath her breath, understanding. She turned once more towards him. ‘Come along, my dear,’ she said compassionately. ‘Let’s go and have a coffee somewhere.’
He nodded. She was an inch or two taller than him with her wedge-heeled sandals on, but he didn’t mind. There was something very comforting about Helena. Something he had begun to depend upon.
Raefe had arranged that the baby be buried in the Elliot family vault. The quiet simple service, attended only by themselves and Helena, brought Elizabeth a measure of peace. Raefe had intended that she have a long period of rest and recuperation when she was discharged from hospital, but she had shaken her head vehemently at the thought. She didn’t want rest. It would give her too much time in which to brood. She wanted to ease her pain in work.
For the first few weeks, to avoid her becoming overtired by the journey into Kowloon, Raefe arranged that a chauffeured car bring Li Pi to the house and that her lessons take place in the large sunlit room that looked out towards the sea.
The war being waged by the Japanese on the Chinese had intensified in recent weeks, and Li Pi had begun to smile less and less. ‘Fighting is taking place just beyond the border now,’ he said to her at the beginning of June. ‘Red Cross trucks bring wounded from China into Hong Kong every day. It is growing bad. Very bad.’
‘It’s horrendous,’ Helena said to her on the telephone. ‘Several schools in Kowloon have been turned into makeshift hospitals, but I’m sure the wounded that are brought over the border are only the tip of the iceberg. I drove up towards Fanling yesterday, and the smell of dead bodies was unmistakable. I doubt if any proper burials have been earned out in weeks.’
‘You are going to have to leave,’ Raefe said to her grimly when he returned from a visit to Government House and a meeting with Sir Mark Young.
‘Leave?’ She looked up at him, startled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, a music score in her hands. She put it down as he sat beside her.
‘The government is going to demand that all European women and children leave the Colony immediately,’ he said wearily. ‘It will be official tomorrow.’
She had known that something was very wrong for days. Intelligence meetings now took place in Hong Kong, as well as in Singapore, and they had begun to last until late into the night. ‘Are the Japanese going to attack?’ she asked quietly.
‘The government thinks so. The fighting in China is only miles away now.’
‘But that’s against the Chinese. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the Japanese will turn their attention towards us.’
‘No,’ Raefe agreed, ‘but it’s a risk the government can’t take. It’s been arranged that two Canadian ships, the Empress of Asia and the President Coolidge, take evacuees to Australia.’
‘How soon?’ she asked, her voice fearful.
His hand tightened on hers. ‘By the end of the week,’ he said bleakly.
She had not argued with him, because she had known it would be pointless. He loved her, and he would miss her as agonizingly as she would miss him, yet rather than have her remain in Hong Kong in danger he would carry her forcibly aboard the Empress of Asia himself. If she was to stay behind when other women left, then she would have to do so by subterfuge.
Very early the next morning, before Raefe was awake, she tiptoed downstairs and telephoned Helena.
‘Thanks for the information,’ Helena said appreciatively. ‘It might be sensible to leave now, but I don’t think I will. Not yet.’
‘Will you have any option if it’s a government demand?’ Elizabeth asked curiously.
‘I’m a State Registered Nurse,’ Helena reminded her. ‘I haven’t practised for years, but that makes very little difference in a situation like this. No one enlisting as an auxiliary nurse or air-raid warden or stenographer or cipher clerk will have to leave. They will be too necessary.’
‘Thanks, Helena,’ Elizabeth said, now knowing what it was she had to do.
‘Darling, I really would be happier if you left for Australia,’ Ronnie said miserably. Julienne was sitting at her dressing-table. She was wearing an oyster silk lace-edged camisole and nothing else, and was carefully varnishing her fingernails a searing scarlet.
‘I am not going, chéri,’ she said for the twentieth time. ‘C’est compris? Understood?’
‘No, I don’t understand,’ Ronnie said irritably. ‘All the other wives are going. It isn’t just the usual scare. This time it really does seem as if something is going to happen.’
Julienne inspected her nails carefully. ‘What is going to happen is that I am going to stay here, with you,’ she said, waving them gently in the air to encourage them to dry. ‘I am not going to be packed like a sardine aboard a ship crammed with hundreds of crying fretful children. Merde alors! How can you ask it of me?’
He felt ashamed of the relief he felt. The thought of Julienne thousands of miles away was unthinkable. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said, standing behind her and sliding his hands down over her shoulders. ‘It’s just scaremongering. It won’t come to anything.’ His hands slid lower, cupping her breasts.
‘Be careful of my nails, chéri!’ she protested laughingly.
‘To hell with your nails,’ he growled, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bed. ‘Let’s celebrate the feet that you’re staying here with me, where you belong.’
‘But of course,’ Julienne said, a delicious shiver rippling down her spine. ‘After all, I love you very much, chéri. It is something you must never forget!’
Raefe spent the next two days making arrangements for Elizabeth to leave aboard the Empress of Asia. He was tightlipped, his face grim. He didn’t want her to go, but there was no alternative. And God knew when he would see her again.
Her cases were packed and sent down to the docks to be winched aboard. She had hardly spoken to him since he had told her what it was she must do, and he guessed it was because if she spoke she would also cry.
Adam telephoned her, his voice harsh with anxiety. ‘Are you leaving aboard one of the evacuee ships, Beth?’
She looked across to the desk where Raefe was checking her travel documents. ‘Yes,’ she lied, hating herself for the deception she was playing on both of them.
‘Thank God!’ he said thankfully. ‘Perhaps you would have a word with Helena. She’s adamant that she’s staying. I can’t seem to make her see sense at all!’
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth promised, wondering what on earth would happen when the Empress of Asia sailed without her.
She went through all the motions of leaving. She said goodbye to Mei Lin and she clung to Raefe in the last few minutes before he led her outside to the car.
‘Oh God, but I love you, Lizzie!’ he said thickly, his face ravaged by grief at the prospect of parting from her.
She wanted to tell him, her very soul crying out in protest at the deceit she was exercising. But she knew that if she told him she had no intention of leaving he would force her to do so. The only way she could remain was to carry out this charade of pretence.
Both ships were berthed at the Kowloon docks, their funnels spouting black smoke as hundreds of rickshaws and cars descended on to the dockside, spilling out women and children and mountains of luggage.
For one brief second, as he walked her across to the foot of the gangplank, she wondered if, for his sake, she should leave with the others for Australia. She looked up at the high sides of the ship, the rails crammed with waving, departing women, and then back at him and knew that she could not do so. Most of the women who were leaving had children. If the baby had lived, then she knew she would h
ave gone without a second thought. But the baby had not lived, and if war came to the Colony there would be plenty of work for her to do. She wasn’t a trained nurse, but she was competent and quick-witted. An overworked hospital would surely be able to put her to use.
‘I love you!’ he said savagely when the time came for them to part. ‘Only you, Lizzie! For ever!’
The tears spilled down her cheeks. She had never lied to him, never been deceitful, and her guilt was crucifying.
‘I love you, too,’ she whispered, touching his strong-boned face with her hands. ‘Oh, my darling, I love you, too!’
There had been hordes of people pushing past and around them. Unable to endure any more, he had kissed her deeply and had then swung on his heel, forcing his way through the crowds back to the Chrysler, knowing that if he stayed a second longer good sense would desert him and he would plead with her to stay.
She had watched him through her tears, wondering what expression she would see in his eyes when next they met. He would be furiously angry. She was prepared for his anger and knew that she could bear it. But what if there was another expression in his eyes? What if he was disappointed in her? What if her childish deceit diminished her in his opinion?
Dark was beginning to fall, and the last clutch of anxious women were boarding. Elizabeth began to make her way back down the gangplank, easing her way past a member of the crew. ‘We’re sailing in a few minutes’time, ma’am,’ he said warningly.
‘I’ve forgotten something. I won’t be a minute,’ she lied.
The dockside was crowded with husbands waving final farewells. She pushed a way between them, looking for a rickshaw-boy. She would go to Helena’s and in an hour’s time, when the Empress of Asia and the President Coolidge were far out at sea, she would telephone Raefe.
‘I don’t imagine he’s going to be very pleased,’ Helena said drily as she poured her a large gin and tonic. ‘Why couldn’t you have told him to his face that you weren’t going?’
‘Because he would have made me,’ Elizabeth said simply.
Helena dropped ice cubes into the glass and did not argue with her. ‘If you need somewhere to sleep tonight, or for subsequent nights, there’s a room here,’ she offered, handing her the gin and tonic and pouring another for herself.
Elizabeth’s skin lost a fraction more colour. ‘Oh God, Helena, do you think it will come to that?’
‘I think he’s going to be extremely angry,’ she replied. It was an understatement.
‘You’re what?’ he shouted down the telephone. ‘You’re where? My God! Of all the idiotic … stupid … crazy.…’ The telephone receiver had been slammed down on its rest, the furiously flung words still vibrating in her ears.
‘He’s angry,’ Helena said unnecessarily.
Elizabeth clasped her hands together in her lap to prevent them from trembling. ‘Yes,’ she said unsteadily, ‘he’s angry.’
Less than twenty minutes later they heard his car skid to a halt in the street outside. ‘I think’, Helena said nervously, ‘that another gin and tonic is called for.’
They could hear the vibration of his feet as he took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t bother to knock. The door rocked back on its hinges and he stormed into the room, his brows pulled together demoniacally, his lips white. ‘Do you realize the danger you’ve put yourself in?’ he thundered, seizing her by the arms and pushing her down into a chair. ‘Do you realize what you’ve done? There’ll be no other sailings for God’s sake! You’ll have to stay here now!’
‘I want to stay here,’ she said quietly, her face white. ‘I’ve enlisted as a volunteer nurse.’
He ran his hand through his blue-black hair, staring down at her in disbelief.
‘I wanted to tell you, but I knew that if I did you would have me locked aboard the Empress of Asia until she sailed.’
‘Too damned right I would!’
She bit her bottom lip, steadying her voice, and then said: ‘If you don’t want me to return home with you, I can stay here with Helena.’
His brows shot high. ‘What the devil are you talking about? Of course I want you to return home! Jesus God, Lizzie! Don’t you realize that I nearly died when I said goodbye to you on that bloody ship?’
‘Then, tell me you’re not angry with me,’ she said urgently, rising to her feet.
His arms closed around her. ‘I’m furiously angry with you, but I’m not a certifiable lunatic! I’m not going to banish you from my bed!’
In unspeakable relief her arms slid up around his neck. Raefe lowered his head to hers, a blaze of such fierce love in his eyes that Helena discreetly turned away. She poured herself another gin and tonic. Her spare bed was not going to be needed after all.
All through the remainder of the month, reports of heavy fighting beyond the border continued, but the Japanese made no attempt to cross into the Colony. By the end of the month, when Raefe flew down to Fort Canning, it was generally agreed that the crisis was over.
Elizabeth was pruning back the lush azaleas that crowded down from the hillside towards the house when she heard the throb of an engine. She paused, a slight frown creasing her brow. Raefe wasn’t due back for two more days at least, and she wasn’t expecting Julienne or Helena to call on her. A jeep lurched into view, a cloud of dust in its wake, and she put down her secateurs, removing her gardening-gloves as she walked curiously to meet it. The sun was strong in her eyes, and for several seconds she couldn’t see who was driving; then, as it shuddered to a halt and a huge bearlike figure emerged, a huge grin splitting his face, she dropped her gloves to the ground and began to run joyously towards him. ‘Roman! Roman!’
He swung her up in his arms easily, swinging her round and off her feet. ‘Witaj!’ he said exuberantly, a deep laugh rumbling up from his chest ‘Are you trying to tame the azaleas and hibiscus into a neat and tidy English garden?’
She giggled. ‘No,’ she said happily as he set her back down on her feet. ‘I’m just trying to prevent them from smothering the house completely.’
His grin deepened, his eyes creasing at the corners, his thick shock of dark-blond hair as thick and curly as a ram’s fleece. ‘Where is Raefe?’ he asked as they began to walk towards the house.
‘He’s in Singapore. But he’s only there for another two days. You’ll be able to stay until he returns, won’t you?’
He shook his head regretfully. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said as they stepped into the sun-filled room where her concert grand held pride of place. ‘I’m on my way from a brief trip back to Perth en route to London. I’m going to apply for a commission in the Royal Air Force. My ship leaves at nine tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh!’ She was devastated with disappointment. ‘Raefe will be furious when he finds out that he missed you! It might be ages before he sees you again.’ She paused, her voice suddenly desolate. ‘Years, even.’
The shadow of the war fell across them. Roman dismissed it with firm optimism. ‘The fighting may be over by the spring. When it is, I shall want you to play for me. In Palestine perhaps.’
She grinned, dizzy at the thought, knowing that he was going to ask her to play for him now and that her fingers itched to do so.
‘What is it to be?’ he asked, strolling over to the concert grand, his tall powerful physique filling the room. Musingly he ran his fingers over the keys.
‘Would you play for me?’ she asked impulsively, no longer overawed by him as she had been in the concert hall in Perth, as at ease with him as if she had known him all her life.
‘A farewell performance before the rigours of fighter command?’ he asked quizzically, his blue eyes grim despite the lightness of his voice. ‘Of course I will. There’s nothing I would enjoy more.’
He sat himself at the keyboard, adjusting the piano stool, flexing his strong, large, beautifully sculpted hands. She stood beside him, tense and waiting, forgetting all about the war raging in Europe, forgetting even the disappointment that Raefe was not with them.
Roman was a conductor, not a pianist, and she was uncertain of what to expect. His fingers touched the keys, and the opening notes of Beethoven’s Appassionata filled the room. She sighed rapturously, knowing immediately that, if he had wished, he could have made the piano, not the rostrum, his life.
The music ebbed and flowed, enveloping and consuming her. She closed her eyes, rocked by a feeling of such unity with him in the passion they shared that it was almost sexual. The ordered calm of the andante was followed by the great tidal wave of the allegro, the musical menace so relentless and mounting that she opened her eyes, wondering how she could possibly bear the terrifying beauty of it. Li Pi had described the last movement of the Appassionata as mounting until, amid the thunder of sudden sforzati, the edifice of the world collapses. Lucifer, once the bearer of light, plunging down from heaven into eternal darkness. He had not exaggerated. For several minutes after the final chord reverberated throughout the room, neither of them spoke. Then Roman said: ‘I once had the privilege of playing Beethoven on an old piano, an 1803 Broadwood. The excitement of playing the Appassionata on the kind of piano it was composed for was indescribable. I was convinced that the piano was going to break at any moment under the stress, but that terror became part of the wonder of it.’
A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said, feeling so emotionally and mentally close to him that the breath was tight in her chest. ‘It’s as if Beethoven is shaking his fist in the face of heaven.’
He nodded, his eyes holding hers, the rapport between them electric. ‘Beethoven thought it his greatest sonata,’ he said, appalled at the mood that had sprung up between them and trying to bring it back to normal, ‘and I’m in complete agreement with him. What about something entirely different? Something lyrical and joyful. The sonata he wrote immediately following the Appassionata. Sonata number twenty-four in F sharp, opus seventy-eight?’
A Multitude of Sins Page 40