The Hour Before Dawn. Sara MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ I won’t leave you. There is just the three of us now and we’ll stick together always, won’t we?’

      Nikki smiled and curled in for sleep. ‘Yes.’

      Saffie could feel her mother’s body going slack as she fell asleep. After a moment she whispered, ‘Nikki?’ but no one answered. Nikki too was asleep.

      Lying in the dark, Fleur’s breath moving her fingers like the quiver of leaves, Saffie heard a fox bark suddenly out in the garden. It was a primeval sound that made her heart jump. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, wanting to sleep too. She thought it was the loneliest sound she had ever heard.

      The train slowed and stopped at a junction. Fleur smelt betel nut and curry powder and the musty smell of live chickens carried in cages. She felt a nudge and a fat smiling Malay woman with a child was holding out her bottle of water. Fleur took it gratefully, drank and then handed it back. The woman shook her head, showing her she had another bottle. ‘You keep. You keep.’

      Fleur thanked her and leant back and closed her eyes.

      After the funeral she had flown back to Singapore with the twins and Peter and Laura There was an army memorial service and a quarter to hand over…and then…And then I let it happen. I let my child die for one selfish craving for oblivion.

      The train shunted forward again. It seemed to stop at every single station. Fleur sat up and looked out. The day was ending. The carriages were emptying. People were leaving the train in droves now.

      The Malay woman and her child had gone. They were still travelling inland. Her heart jumped; she must be on the wrong train. Oh God, where was she going? She shook with jetlag and tiredness.

      A large Indian with a purple turban was watching her with gentle eyes.

      Fleur lent forward. ‘I think I’m on the wrong train.’

      The Indian smiled. ‘I was wondering, Madam. You are on what we call the Jungle Railway all the way to Kota Bharu. Mostly workers travel this line. The journey from Singapore takes fourteen hours, no less! Where is it you are wanting to be?’

      ‘Seremban. I must get off there for Port Dickson.’ Fleur fought panic.

      ‘Well, Madam, the next stop is Mentakab. Here you must get off immediately for the next stop is Jerentut. There is nothing in between. I am afraid there will be no train back to Gemas tonight. This is where you must return to catch the train to Seremban.’

      He watched Fleur’s face. ‘Madam, do not worry. Mentakab is where I alight. I will show you to the best place in Mentakab to stay and then in the morning you will catch a train back to Gemas and there change for Seremban. All will be well. Do not be afraid. I fear you are a little unwell.’

      The Indian accompanied Fleur off the train and took her in a taxi to a small guest house belonging to his sister. Very good and very clean. It wasn’t, but Fleur was grateful. She lay on the hard bed, stiff with anxiety, beyond tiredness, unable to sleep or shut her mind to the image she had seen in the paper. She was hardly aware of where she was.

      Early the next morning the Indian took her back to the station and made sure she got on the right train to Gemas. His sister had changed some of her Singapore dollars for her, and given her Malaysian ringgits.

      ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I have so little money on me to thank you for your kindness.’

      He drew himself up with dignity. ‘Madam, I do not wish for payment for helping a lady in a foreign land.’ He smiled, ‘I hope soon the thing that troubles you will disappear.’

      ‘Terima kasih. Thank you.’

      ‘Sama-sama.’ He smiled. ‘You speak a little Malay?’

      ‘A very little. Selamat tinggal. Goodbye.’

      ‘Goodbye, Madam and Selamat jalan to you. Do not forget Gemas. Change at Gemas.’

      The train drew out of the station taking Fleur backwards to Gemas, when all she wanted to do was travel forward to the sea. To reach the place where she could grieve silently and alone. Just for a moment to feel the warmth of a life lost. Just for a moment.

       TWELVE

      The name Montrose was niggling at James Mohktar as he drove home that night. It registered with him, seemed somehow familiar. It is an English name, he told himself, and you are bound to have heard it before. Yet as he lay beside his wife and listened to her even breathing in the dark, intuition told him it was important, this nebulous something he could not recall.

      He said to his inspector the next day, ‘Have you heard the name Montrose before?’

      Inspector Chan pursed his lips and thought about it. ‘No. Should I have done?’

      ‘I don’t know. Something I can’t remember. Annoying.’

      The phone rang and Chan picked it up. The day had started. Mohktar walked down the corridor to his office. He opened up his computer and then thought, How long ago did this missing woman live here? Twenty-eight years? Long before we were computerised. He would need to get someone to check the archives, find out how far back files were transferred onto disc and then search through old cases concerning Europeans or service personnel to see if that name came up. He got up again and went to find constables Ahmed and Singh.

      Detective Sergeant Mohktar had given the hotel permission to move Fleur’s belongings to our room. Her room was then cleaned and hoovered for the next guests; all trace of Fleur was extinguished.

      I woke before Jack and got up quietly so I did not disturb him. I bent over the small pool of my mother’s belongings. Two Chinese blouses beautifully folded, one red and one green. A length of batik. Presents for me? I opened the small overnight case again. Just her book, washing things, nightdress and underclothes. A white shirt, summer skirt and sandals.

      Fleur only had her handbag with her. No change of clothes and nothing to sleep in. Fear caught at me once more in the silent room. Fleur had so obviously meant to return to the hotel because she would never have gone anywhere without clean underclothes.

      Jack woke and sat up, fighting to get his bearings. He saw me sitting on the floor among Fleur’s belongings.

      ‘Come here.’ He held his arms open. I went over to him and he wrapped his arms around me. ‘Don’t think the worst. Don’t give up hope. I was thinking: do you think your mother might have had a sudden reaction to being back in Singapore? Do you think coming back triggered something unresolved? Could she be wandering about the city not knowing what she is doing?’

      I sat up. ‘It’s possible. That could be it, Jack. She might still return here to the hotel.’

      The phone rang. It was DS Mohktar. He asked me if I was rested. He would like to see me in an hour if that was convenient. He had witness statements from other guests in the hotel that he would like to go through with me. They had circulated Fleur’s photograph to all city patrols and they were hopeful that something positive would come from this.

      Mohktar caught up with us in the breakfast lounge. Apparently an old couple СКАЧАТЬ