In the Mouth of the Tiger (28 page)

Tea had been set on the verandah, and we sat around a lacquered Chinese table while a boy hovered with the teapot and a tray of biscuits. ‘I remember you well, Nona,' George said. ‘You look very much the same. Even though you were only . . . what, six or seven when I last saw you? You've just grown taller.'

‘I'm afraid I don't remember you at all, Mr Fortin,' I said, ‘though I do remember lots and lots of children being here. Where are they all?'

George laughed. ‘Please call me George. Children grow up, Nona. It's been ten years since you and Robbie visited. All our children have flown the coop, except for the youngest two. They're with an aunt over in Ringlet for the day.'

‘Where are the older ones?' I asked. ‘Are they still in Cameron Highlands?'

‘All studying at the Technical School in KL,' George said rather proudly. ‘They're aiming for jobs as clerks, either in the Administration or in businesses. Nothing here for them, Nona. The plantation may be going well just now, but that won't last. I've seen these cycles too often in the past to be fooled. There will be another downturn in a year or so.'

‘In a year or so there will be a world war,' Denis said quietly.

John Morton leaned forward and replaced his teacup on the lacquered tabletop. ‘I agree. There will be a world war and Japan will be in it. We're letting them get away with Manchuria just as we let Hitler and Mussolini get away with blue murder. So they'll reach for more and more until someone cries halt – and then they'll trot out their army.'

‘Do you think they'll get this far?' George asked, gesturing to the peaceful tea-clad hillsides beyond the verandah railings.

‘No doubt about it, I'm afraid,' John said. ‘Which reminds me – what do you intend doing if the Japs come to Cameron Highlands?'

George didn't hesitate. ‘I wouldn't run away, that's for sure. This is my country now. Everything I have on earth is here. My living, my wife, my family.'

‘They'd intern you,' John said abruptly. ‘No two ways about it. If they didn't kill you first. Look how they've treated everyone else they've conquered. It's in their nature to despise anyone they can beat, and treat them accordingly.'

George smiled complacently. ‘I'd melt into the countryside,' he said. ‘Wear local clothes, live in an atap hut, speak Cantonese. Sieg Heil them if it saved my skin.' He turned serious. ‘I have a score of relatives around these parts. Or at least Li has, which means I do too. I have – let us say – contingency plans.'

‘Just what I was hoping to hear,' John said rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. ‘Now we'd better get down to business.' He shot me a quick, rather irritated glance. ‘Nona is completely in the picture, George, so we can talk freely. Have you any idea where we might bury this stuff for the stay-behind people?'

‘I know the perfect place,' George said. ‘It's a small valley, surrounded by jungle and with an access track running straight past my office window, which will let me keep an eye on anyone going in or out. And the Sakai trails run right up to the valley floor.'

I was quite sure he was talking about Happy Valley.

We finished tea, then George pulled on mosquito boots and took us to have a look at his ‘perfect place'. At first I had difficulty working out where we were going as everything looked bigger and wilder than I remembered. But once we got into the ferny gully I knew exactly where we were. It was cool under the shade of the trees, almost cold, and I took Denis's hand and held it tightly.

Then the meadow opened up below us, as vividly green and beautiful as I had remembered. It was nearly five o'clock and the shadows of the forest stretched across the grass, making it look like manicured parkland. This was supposed to be where I was going to establish Happy Valley farm, and all of a sudden I felt dreadfully sad.

‘Perfect', I heard John say quietly. Denis had said that Morton was an Intelligence bureaucrat, and that the bureaucrats were not entirely happy with
the plan to put in supply dumps. That may have been so but it was clear that John now had the bit well and truly between his teeth. ‘It's absolutely perfect, don't you agree, Denis?' he asked again.

But Denis had been studying my face and he didn't answer immediately. My lip was trembling and though I tried hard to prevent it tears had gathered on my eyelids. It should not have been like this. It shouldn't have been like this at all. Denis and I should have been standing here alone, with no talk of guns or war, looking at the site of our future home.

‘It's your Happy Valley, isn't it Nona?' he asked. ‘The place you told me about. Is it that you don't want us to put our guns in here?'

I didn't answer but looked away, across the golden meadow to the green wall of the jungle.

‘I say, it's perfect, isn't it, Denis?' John insisted. ‘Absolutely perfect.'

But Denis shook his head. ‘No,' he said, ‘I'm afraid it's not, John. It won't do at all. There are lots of reasons and I'll explain some of them to you later.'

John's face suffused angrily. ‘Here, I say . . .' he began, but Denis had already taken my arm and started back up the gully.

Chapter Eleven

P
at Noone had said that the ulu was a country within a country. If that is so, we entered that other country early the next morning as mist still shrouded the tops of the jungle trees and birds filled the air with their dawn chorus.

The relief syce had dropped us at the five-mile peg on the Brinchung road where two Temiar waited for us at the jungle edge. They were fine, healthy-looking young men clothed only in loincloths and carrying their long blowpipes with easy grace. Both had wicked-looking parangs hanging at their waists. Denis already knew them – Uda, the chief guide, had been one of Pat's first contacts with the Temiar, while Busu was one of Anjang's brothers.

We set off without ceremony, Uda leading, with Denis and me in the middle of the group and Ismail and Busu bringing up the rear. Busu had been given the task of carrying most of the gear and had grumbled at first, but there is an order of seniority in all societies and the Temiar are no exception.

The first half-mile was horrible. The Temiar like to hide their jungle trails from the outside world and they do this by the simple expedient of making the first part of every trail something of an obstacle course. We clambered over damp, slippery rocks, plunged into fern-choked gullies, and forced our way through patches of chest-high lallang, the razor-edged native grass of Malaya. But after this torrid baptism of fire we came to the Sakai trail proper – a real pathway through the forest, firm-footed and almost free of undergrowth.

‘This path looks as though it's been regularly maintained,' I puffed gratefully, then saw the reason why. Uda and Busu had their parangs out and both slashed regularly at any encroaching vegetation.

‘Their paths through the jungle are their lifelines,' Denis said, gesturing to the Temiar. ‘They ascribe almost religious significance to them. Pat once
told me that if a Temiar dreams that a particular pathway is overgrown, it is seen as a warning from the gods and the whole community turns out to do penance by clearing it.'

We were high above the Telom Valley now, walking easily through tall, cool jungle. In the distance there was a sound for all the world like the sound of naughty schoolchildren on a lark, and I asked Denis what it was. ‘Monkeys,' he said. ‘They sound like schoolchildren and they often act like them. If they take it into their heads to have a little fun they'll pelt anyone below with nuts and fruit and kick up the dickens of a row.'

‘What other animals are there to see?' I asked curiously. ‘I haven't seen a single thing yet.'

‘Evenings are the best times to see the locals. That's when they are all up and about, socialising and perhaps doing a spot of shopping for their supper. But quickly, have look over there!'

I looked where Denis was pointing and caught a glimpse of a tiny, pointed face peering from the undergrowth. Then it was gone.

‘What was it?' I breathed.

‘
Plandok
. Mouse-deer. They are lovely-looking little creatures. Just like European deer but a fraction the size. The Sakais attract them by drumming their fingers on a leaf. The plandok think it's a come-hither signal and run into nets the Sakais string in the undergrowth.'

‘Where are the tigers?' I asked. I tried to sound completely indifferent, but of course tigers were on my mind.

‘Could be anywhere. Probably asleep under a promising durian tree. Tigers have been known to keep watch under a durian tree for weeks at a time, waiting for the fruit to ripen and fall. They have enough sense not to try and get at the fruit before it falls because they know unripe durian will give them a pain in the belly.'

About mid-morning, the ground began to fall away steeply towards the east. ‘The Telom Valley,' Denis explained. ‘The Telom is a perfect valley for damming. One day, hopefully in the long distant future, some bright spark will dam the Telom and give Malaya half its electrical needs in one fell swoop.'

The pathway emerged from the green shadow of the jungle and we were suddenly overlooking one of the most enchanting prospects I had ever seen. Perhaps it was its unexpectedness that made me catch my breath. Green grassy slopes fell away from us like gentle terraces, shaded here and there by clumps of
towering teak and wide-branched meranti, many of the trees festooned with orchids – pastel pinks, yellows, blues and greens. Huge coloured butterflies darted and looped like jewels in the sunshine.

‘Here is your jungle paradise,' Denis said. ‘Enjoy it, Nona. You've earned the right. Few white women have seen this side of Malaya.'

‘Tiger country, Tuan,' Ismail said, coming up and joining us. He had Denis's rifle out of its bag and had it crooked comfortably under his arm as he slipped bright silver bullets into the magazine.

‘What does he mean?' I asked.

‘Tigers pick open country for their attacks,' Denis explained. ‘If we've had one trailing us, this is where it would choose to make its run. But I don't think for a minute that there is a tiger anywhere near. Even if there were, it wouldn't attack a group as big as ours. It would wait until someone lagged behind, or strayed for one reason or another.'

We set off across the park-like hillside, enjoying the breeze on our faces after the cloying humidity of the forest. We'd been walking since eight o'clock that morning and it was now nearly noon, but adrenaline kept the spring in my step. My expensive walking shoes had proved a good bargain and I felt I could keep walking forever.

‘Tired?' Denis asked, and I shook my head truthfully. He looked at me, his blue eyes dancing. ‘You really are a most incredible girl,' he said. ‘I want you to stay with me forever. Promise?'

I nodded as if it was the most mundane question a girl was ever asked, but there was a lump in my throat.

We finally broke for lunch beneath a clump of nipah palms. Ismail had made some serious preparations, and spread out a rug before opening a tin box with a flourish. ‘My cousin in Tanah Rata has prepared a chicken
sate
for us, Tuan,' he said proudly. ‘I told her Mem would be coming with us into the ulu, and she cooked two chickens in her honour.'

I felt so touched I kissed Ismail on the top of his fez. I don't know what the Prophet would have made of the gesture but Ismail was pleased.

After lunch we stretched out on the soft grass of the hillside and I realised just how exhausted I was. Within seconds I was asleep, my head full of happy thoughts and lovely images. I seemed to have been asleep for less than a minute when I was roused by laughter. Denis was crouching by my head taking a photograph of me while the others stood around laughing their heads off like silly schoolboys.

‘What on earth is so funny?' I snapped, scrambling hastily to my feet. ‘Sleeping Beauty', Denis grinned. ‘Or perhaps Babe in the Woods. Just had to get a shot of you, darling. The other fellows spoilt everything.'

It took another hour to traverse the grassland, and then we plunged back into the jungle. It was harder going this time, the undergrowth encroaching onto the path so that Uda and Busu had to slash at it constantly. It was also humid down in the valley, so that I was soon streaming with perspiration. It became a hard slog. I excluded everything else from my mind and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. My calves and thighs ached, I could hardly see through the sweat running into my eyes, but I refused to give in. It was finally Denis who called a halt.

‘Enough is enough!' he called, stopping me with his hand on my shoulder. ‘You really are a champion, Nona, but spare a thought for the rest of us! We'll take a break and have a drink of water.'

Ismail produced a canteen and we shared it, sitting on our gear in the middle of the track. Suddenly Uda reached for his blowpipe, loaded it with a dart from a pouch at his waist, and put it to his lips, lifting the long, thin weapon skywards as he did so. There was a ‘thut!' as he fired the dart, followed by a rustling and snapping of twigs as the body of a bird fell through the upper branches to land at our feet.

‘Good eating,' Besu said in passable Malay. ‘Temiar will eat now.'

‘The Temiar have no set meal times,' Denis explained. ‘They eat whenever providence places food in front of them. A pretty good idea when you don't know where your next meal is coming from.'

Busu built a small fire of twigs and bark while Uda beheaded and gutted the bird with economical blows from his parang. Within minutes it was sizzling and crackling in the flames, the feathers burning off to leave a rather scrawny carcass, a bit smaller than a chicken. Uda offered us all a portion, but I was not tempted. Denis ate a small amount, out of politeness I think, but Ismail joined the Temiar with gusto, the three of them pulling apart the sweet-smelling flesh and eating it with their fingers.