Stars Over Sarawak (3 page)

 'Apart from what I've told you there doesn't appear to be any other information. From what Malcolm Romney says your husband just went, and nothing has since been heard of him.'

 'So he might be dead?' The unemotional tone was not lost on her companion and as before his gaze took on an examining quality. However, he made no comment on so irrelevant a matter as her indifference, but instead agreed with her that her husband might be dead.

 'Had he not been then he should have returned long ago,' he added, and Roanna nodded thoughtfully.

 'But I must know one way or another,' she pointed out. 'I can't simply presume him to be dead.'

 'If he isn't, then you're intending to divorce him, you said?'

 'Of course. I want to get married.'

 Carl Denver's thin lips curled derisively.

 'You appear extremely anxious to remarry,' he observed dryly. 'The disaster of the first venture hasn't deterred you from having another attempt, obviously?'

 She looked at him across the small table, fingering her glass absently. Undoubtedly he was a cynic where marriage was concerned and she wondered once again if he had suffered disillusionment at one time or another. Her gaze took in the clear bronzed skin and long angular features. His chin was strong and prominent below a mouth that was thin and harsh. The amber eyes seemed all wrong with the coppery hair — almost black, as were the straight eyebrows and long thick lashes. He was attractive in a stern, forbidding kind of way, and Roanna thought that if he had had a wife who had left him then there might have been some very good excuse. For the man was too forcibly imperious in his manner, too much the type who would expect his word to be law all the time and his wife to be totally subject to the unpredictabilities of his whims and moods.

 'I've found someone vastly different from Rolfe,' she informed Carl in reply to his sarcastically-phrased question. 'Andrew is kind and gentle and tolerant.'

 Humour lit Carl's eyes, unexpectedly.

 'And that's what you want — nothing more?'

 'I don't know what you mean?'

 'Your adjectives have a wishy-washy sound.'

 Roanna's eyes widened.

 'A what?'

 'They're colourless.'

 Her chin lifted; her eyes became more blue than grey as a sparkle entered their depths.

 'Andrew's a wonderful person,' she flashed. 'He's my ideal— He must be, otherwise I wouldn't be marrying him.'

 The thin lips sneered, although amusement remained in his gaze.

 'Congratulations on finding your ideal.' He continued to stare at her as he raised his glass to his mouth. 'Perhaps we should get back to your problem,' he suggested as uncontrollable colour began to flood her face, the natural result of his sarcasm. 'I felt I must come and tell you what my colleague knew, even though it isn't very much. And now, my advice is that you get in touch with a man whose name I shall give you. He's a retired social worker who is always willing to give assistance to people in difficulties. He'll set inquiries afoot and if there's any possibility at all of discovering what has happened to your husband then he's the man to do it.'

 'Thank you, Mr. Denver.' She looked gratefully at him. 'I'm so glad you decided to come,' she added impulsively, even though he was not at all the type of man with whom she would normally become spontaneously uninhibited. 'I was feeling so dreadfully lost and — and helpless — being in a strange country.' Her eyes misted at the memory of the deep dejection that had settled on her after that telephone call she had so optimistically made to him so soon after her arrival at the hotel. 'I'm most grateful to you.' Draining her glass, she replaced it on the table, watching as, taking a small notebook from the breast pocket of his shirt, he tore off the top page and handed it to her.

 'Charles Cosgrove's address,' he said. 'I shall be seeing him some time this evening, so I'll tell him to expect you. Phone him first, though. His number's on the paper I've given you.'

 'He lives near Kuching?' Roanna looked at the name of the locality as she asked the question.

 'It's in the rural area of Kuching, along the road to Serian. You'll have to get a taxi—' He broke off, frowning and shaking his head. 'You'd have done better to have waited until your young man could have accompanied you,' he said brusquely. 'However, you're here now and obviously anxious to get something moving. The taxi-driver will take you right to Charles's house.' Rising as he spoke, he merely added a good-bye before he was striding from the room, leaving Roanna alone once again but now not quite so lost and flat. She would ring this Charles Cosgrove after breakfast in the morning and arrange to visit him. What he could do to help she had no idea, but the very fact of having someone to contact made her feel a little nearer to success in discovering what had happened to her husband.

CHAPTER TWO

ABOUT a quarter of an hour before she was due to go down to dinner Roanna was again answering the telephone.

 'A gentleman to see me? The same gentleman who came earlier?'

 'No, madam, another gentleman. His name is Mr. Romney.'

 'Oh ... Er — tell him I'll be down directly.'

 'Very good, madam. He will be in the lounge.'

 'Thank you.'

 What could this visit mean? she wondered, slipping into her dress and giving a final flick of the brush to her hair.

 Malcolm Romney smiled as she entered the lounge, then came forward, extending a hand. He had felt he must come, he was soon telling her, as it seemed all wrong that she should be alone, this being her first evening in Sarawak.

 'Carl had told me about you — but I expect he's explained everything. When he got back and said you were quite alone I decided to come along and look you up. I hope you don't mind?' His voice was pleasantly cheerful, his blue eyes roving appreciatively over her.

 'Not at all,' she answered, taking in his frank open features and full, smiling mouth, He was dressed in a lightweight suit of off-white and looked attractive in a very different way from Carl. Malcolm Romney was younger, in any case and therefore he had not the hard cynical lines portrayed in Carl Denver's features.

 'I wondered if you would care to dine with me?'

 Roanna hesitated. After all, she knew nothing of the man.

 'I was intending to dine here,' she began.

 'That's all right. We'll dine here.'

 She brightened.

 'In that case, yes, I shall be happy to have your company.'

 'Good.' He beckoned the waiter. 'Let's have a drink first.'

 Sitting over their drinks Roanna and Malcolm talked, he explaining that he was under-manager to Carl Denver, but that Carl had recently taken over a large rubber estate which had been left to him by an uncle. He was leaving the oil company in about four months' time.

 'He's also interested in geology — it's his hobby — and he wants to finish his survey before settling down to run his estate. At present he has a manager looking after it.'

 'So he's really settled here for life?'

 Malcolm nodded.

 'Carl likes it here. He used to come and stay with his uncle years ago, when he was a kid. His parents allowed him to spend all his holidays with his uncle.' Malcolm stopped and looked at Roanna, inviting her confidence, so she in turn proffered a certain amount of information about herself, without of course going into details regarding her married life.

 'You were married only six months when he left you?' Malcolm was amazed. 'I can't imagine any man leaving a girl like you. I expect Carl said the same—' He broke off and grimaced. 'Or did he? He's so cynical where women are concerned. He probably concluded that you were to blame anyway.'

 'I don't think he did. I feel he wouldn't have offered help if he'd thought I was the guilty party. He's a cynic, though; I agree about that. Has he some reason for being like that — I mean, has he been married, or jilted?'

 'He was married seven years ago. Three years ago, while he was away on a job for the oil company, his wife had an affair with someone else. Carl took it pretty badly from what I can gather — he himself doesn't ever tell you anything,' he added. 'But things get around and I did hear that he was shattered by his wife's infidelity. However, he wouldn't take her back, even though she begged him to do so. She left and I believe she's just recently got a divorce. Carl wasn't interested enough to bother getting one himself.'

 'It's sad,' murmured Roanna. 'He seems such a genuine sort of man.'

 'He is — as straight a bloke as you'll ever meet. A bit aloof at work; he lets you know who's the boss, when an occasion necessitates it. But he'd never ask anyone else to do what he wouldn't tackle himself. He's tough, too, and goes off into the jungle on every vacation, working on his geological survey. You see, that kind of work, involving such things as chemical analyses of rocks and minerals, and palaeontological research, requires a lot of special equipment and this is available from the oil company, so Carl has an advantage here. He works independently, but yet he's in close touch with the Geological Survey Department, who think very highly of his work. There's no doubt at all that his knowledge is highly specialized.'

 'He must be a very clever man.'

 'He is, Mrs. Barrett— I say, must I call you that?' he wanted to know, and Roanna shook her head at once.

 'Call me Roanna by all means,' she said.

 'Thanks. And I'm Malcolm — please don't call me anything else.'

 Roanna smiled, feeling much more light in spirit now that she had company, for the prospect of spending the evening alone had not been a pleasant one at all.

 'Tell me some more about my husband,' she urged when the waiter had brought them a second drink. 'Mr. Denver said you knew about the rumour that Rolfe had gone into the jungle to find certain tribes who had valuable Chinese antiques in their longhouses.'

 'That's right. I heard the tale long after your husband had left, though—' Malcolm stopped and paused a moment, as if undecided. But then he continued, 'I have no idea which tribes they were, but we have some very primitive ones here and there's no knowing what might have happened to him.'

 Involuntarily Roanna shuddered.

 'You think that he might have been killed?'

 'As far as we know head-hunting doesn't go on any more, but how can anyone tell what takes place in the dense jungle where the tribes live? In any case, there are numerous other hazards awaiting the inexperienced. Frankly, I myself would never go off into the depths of the interior without having with me someone like Carl. You'd be as safe with him as anyone could be, and if the necessity of your ever having to go into the jungle should arise, then for heaven's sake consult him. Promise me, Roanna.'

 'Of course I promise,' she returned obligingly, but with an amused smile. 'There won't be any occasion, though, when I shall have to enter the jungle.'

 'No, I don't expect there will. However, I've proffered my very good advice, and I hope you'll take it if ever the time does come when you have to go into the interior.'

 Roanna made no further comment about this, convinced as she was that the occasion would never arise when she would be forced to enter the dark arid dangerous jungle of Borneo.

 Malcolm told her a little more about Rolfe, but his information was of little use from a practical point of view.

 'He lived with the woman whom everyone believed to be his wife, and they had access to the clubs we have here. They were always seen at race meetings, and at the regatta, but I myself never met them.' He took a drink and fell silent for a space. 'Didn't you think of trying to trace him long before now?' he inquired curiously at last.

 'There was no need for me to do so. But the position is changed now that I want to marry again.'

 Malcolm looked at her appreciatively.

 'You must have been terribly upset when he went off with someone else—' He stopped and flushed. 'I say, that wasn't very tactful, was it? And in any case, it's none of my business. Forgive me, Roanna, I was in fact speaking my thoughts aloud.'

 He was nice, she thought, and gave him a reassuring smile,

 'There isn't anything to forgive. Naturally you're curious, but I can't talk about it. All I will tell you — because you've been so very kind as to come here this evening and keep me company — is that the marriage was not a love match and therefore it was bound to be of short duration.'

 'You're so cool about it.' The statement was spoken in admiring tones. 'I think you're great to come out here all alone, no matter what Carl says to the con—‘

 'He considers me foolish in the extreme, I know,' she admitted, wondering if Malcolm realized he had once again forgotten to show tact. 'He said I should have waited until Andrew could accompany me.'

 'Andrew? That's the name of the man you're going to marry?'

 She nodded.

 'He's joining me in August, when he has his annual holiday.'

 Malcolm became strangely silent; watching his expression Roanna suspected that, like Carl Denver, he was thinking that he would never have allowed his future wife to come out to Borneo alone. Resentment rose within her; she disliked intensely the idea that these two men she had met since coming here should consider Andrew's character to be weak.

 However, she successfully hid her resentment and the meal was far more enjoyable than she had anticipated a few hours earlier. Malcolm stayed with her until almost eleven o'clock and on rising to leave he promised to get in touch with her again quite soon.

 'I'll take you around,' he said, adding that were she to be alone all the time she would very soon regret having come out here. 'You see,' he explained, 'Sarawak is not in any way geared to tourism, the government never having promoted it, since there is, quite honestly, very little to interest tourists. That isn't to say the country lacks attractions, far from it. Those who have lived here just love it, and I'm sure that by the time you leave you'll have reached the point where a distinct wrench is felt. Visitors are for the most part free to go where they like,' he continued after the small digression. 'They are not allowed on the Turtle Islands, as the eggs have to be protected. One can apply for permission to visit the islands, though, so if, later, you decide you'd like to go I'll arrange it for you.' 'Thank you, Malcolm, I'll remember that.' 'Visitors are not allowed in the remote Upper Regang and Balleh, as it's thought they would get into difficulties regarding transport and that the government might be called upon to foot the expense of extricating them. Otherwise, as I've said, Sarawak is open for exploration to all who might be interested.' 'Can one visit the Natives in their villages?' 'Of course; they're glad to see strangers. You must certainly visit a longhouse. I'll go with you if you like. We might have to take our own food and bedding, and a few presents to give the Natives. By the way, in Sarawak the word Native is a highly respectable one and must always be spelled with a capital letter.' 'Does it mean all the indigenous peoples?' 'It refers to the non-Chinese indigenous peoples.' 'There are a great many Chinese in Sarawak, though?'

 'They form the highest group, with the Sea Dyaks next and then the Malays.'

 The following morning she telephoned Charles Cosgrove and was cordially invited to visit his home, which was a Malay house built on stilts with rattan furnishings and Chinese tapestries on the walls, tapestries depicting tropical scenes including flying lizards and fruit bats and quails crouching in the grass. The inevitable dragon was boldly embroidered on another enormous tapestry covering the longest wall of the room into which Roanna was shown by the Native servant who, soft-footed and unsmiling, had been waiting at the open door for her arrival.

 'Good morning, Mrs. Barrett.' Charles Cosgrove extended a hand as he spoke, his deep-set brown eyes as piercing as those of Carl Denver, and as observant too. He seemed quickly to size her up and she felt instinctively that he would prove to be a friend. 'Do sit down, young lady. Carl warned me that you'd be phoning this morning, so I decided to see you right away. You will have a drink of cordial?'

 'Yes, please.' She sat down on the rattan chair and spread her arms along the curved supports at the sides. 'Mr. Denver told you the reason for my coming to Sarawak?'

 'Yes, he did. But although I shall do my utmost to be of some service to you, Mrs. Barrett, I can promise nothing. Your husband's disappearance will take some solving, from what I can see of the situation.' He paused to finger his long bristly moustache, twirling one end thoughtfully. 'You see, although Rolfe Barrett used the club at times, and went to the races, he made no close friends — not one, Mrs. Barrett. So although one or two people might have noticed that he never returned from his trip into the jungle, no one was interested enough — or anxious enough — to begin asking questions, and so the matter soon faded from people's minds. In any case, I believe his house, being rented, was just left. In other words, he and the woman with whom he was living just walked out of it and never returned.'

 Roanna gave him a troubled look.

 'Mr. Cosgrove, do you think it possible that I shall never know what has happened to my husband?'

 'It could be, my dear, it could be.' His lined face was turned towards her; she saw the deep hollows in his cheeks, the paleness of his lips, and she wondered how old he was. He looked about seventy, but she suspected he was rather younger than that. The heat had caused the skin to dry up, she supposed, and so the wrinkles were more numerous and pronounced than they would have been had he lived in a less hot climate.

 'That would be most unsatisfactory, as you can guess?'

 'Yes, indeed. You wish to get married again, so I understand?'

 'That's the reason for my being here. I must find out whether or not I'm still married.'

 'We shall do our very best,' he assured her, turning away to a cabinet on which stood a row of bottles and some glasses. He handed her the cordial and sat down opposite to her. 'Would you like to tell me the whole story, Mrs. Barrett?'

 'The whole story? Didn't Mr. Denver explain it all to you?'