Heather had seen him, but she hadn’t moved. Barefoot and wearing a white tank top, her yellow skirt and the thick gold bracelet Indiri had given her, she appeared to be uncertain of herself.
In case she was feeling intimidated by the crowd, he pushed through the people and made his way over to her.
The flecks in her eyes were more noticeable, and her hair was slightly more sun-bleached and a little longer, but otherwise she was exactly as he remembered her.
Saying nothing, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth, holding on to him while he ran his fingers through her hair and breathed in the fragrance of her perfume and the fresh clean smell of her skin.
It wasn’t until he broke off their embrace to look at her that he saw her cheeks were wet with tears.
‘Hey.’ He wiped them away. ‘You’re supposed to be pleased.’
‘I am.’ She attempted a smile. ‘Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other?’
‘Thirty-one days.’ Coburn had worked it out on the plane. ‘Are we going to carry on saying hello here?’
‘Only if there’s something you need to talk to Hari about before we go.’
Hari was still enjoying his welcome from two of his so-called wives. With his arms round their waists and surrounded by children at the end of the jetty, it looked as though he was going to be busy for some time.
‘Never mind him,’ Coburn said. ‘Where are we going to?’
‘Our hut, of course.’ Taking his hand, she began to tow him away. ‘Indiri helped me clean it yesterday. It’s all ready for us.’
Apart from a new building that was under construction on the site where the two huts that had been destroyed during the attack had once stood, the village was largely unchanged, and although the surrounding marsh and the drainage ditches appeared to be drier than when he’d been here last, the hum of insects was as loud as ever, and, if anything, there were even more butterflies flitting about.
With most of the people yet to return from the jetty, the place was unusually quiet, giving Coburn the impression that it was slumbering in the sun beside the estuary. It was a bit too peaceful, he thought, a village with no name that looked as though it was sitting on a riverbank where nothing much ever happened or ever would.
She tugged at his hand to keep him moving. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Who’s going to be living in the new hut?’
‘It’s not a hut. It’s a school — well, it will be. While you were away I asked Hari what he thought about the idea of me teaching English to the children. He said that if I wanted to try, he’d put up a building. It’s only temporary — until we see how things turn out. Didn’t he tell you?’
Coburn shook his head. ‘Have you decided you want to carry on living here?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ She stopped at the door of the hut to let him go in first.
Inside, it was cool and airy, smelling faintly of her perfume and the cut flowers she’d placed in vases on two of the windowsills.
‘OK,’ Coburn said. ‘Answer my question.’
‘What question?’
‘About you staying on here.’
‘Oh.’ She shuffled her feet. ‘It depends. I thought maybe you’d like to stay with me — you know, for a while, until you find out whether you still have a job — and because you don’t have anywhere else to go — not since you blew up your apartment in Singapore.’
To give her a better reason, he swung her round and propped her up against the wall, pinning her there by her wrists while he kissed her and only letting go when she started wriggling.
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘What was that for?’ she said.
‘To show you I missed you. What did you think it was for?’
‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed. ‘Does that mean you’re too tired to show me properly?’
Coburn had never been less tired in his life, but before he could tell her so, she decided to find out for herself.
Reaching under her top, she removed her bra then, with her arms round his neck started smothering him with kisses, pressing her nipples hard against his chest, as eager to discover if he’d really missed her as he was to show her by how much.
For a minute he considered trying to slow things down, but soon found he didn’t want to.
He’d got as far as lifting her skirt and had begun to slip his hand between her thighs when she suddenly made him stop.
Hari was standing in the doorway, looking at the ground to conceal his embarrassment. ‘You must forgive me,’ he said. ‘I should have thought.’
Heather was quick to put him at ease. ‘It’s all right.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’s my fault for leaving the door open.’ She turned away while she rearranged her top and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Come on in.’
‘No, no. I have caused you enough trouble. I come only to ask you to dinner tonight so we may celebrate our good fortune and safe return — and also to give you this.’ Hari held up some sheets of paper. ‘I am told that late last night the fuel boat brings this fax from the post office in Bengkalis.’
‘Who’s it for?’ Coburn made an effort to think.
‘I read the beginning to you.’ Hari cleared his throat. ‘It says Dear Mr Tan, The office of the US National Counter-Proliferation Centre is in receipt of an email from Mr O’Halloran asking us to send you this fax with a request that it be passed on to Mr David Coburn, if you have an address for him or know where he can be found.’ Hari handed the fax to Coburn. ‘It is signed by someone called Alicia Richardson who, I imagine, will be a secretary to Mr O’Halloran. I think it is not important for you to read it now when you have other things to occupy you. We shall talk of it when I see you this evening.’ He turned to leave. ‘In the meantime I wish you a most pleasant afternoon.’
Heather closed the door behind him. She was still flushed and breathing quickly, but seemed more amused than annoyed. ‘That serves us right for being in a hurry,’ she said. ‘What’s in the fax?’
Coburn hadn’t looked, not sure whether the interruption had spoiled the moment to the point where they’d be better off waiting for a while before they started again.
Heather had decided already. Taking the fax from him, she spread out the sheets on the table. ‘Copies of press clippings,’ she said. ‘One taken from the New York Times and one from The Press Observer. Do you want me to read them out?’
‘Sure.’ Endeavouring to forget the feeling of the silkiness of her skin against his palm, he went to sit down in a chair by the window.
‘This is the clip from the Times,’ she said. ‘It’s headed US General indicted for sedition.’ She glanced up. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Carry on.’ He was more relieved than anything, glad that at least some of the truth was going to be leaked to the public.
‘It’s only short — not what you call headline news.’ She began to read again. ‘“Following a US Navy investigation and an unconfirmed report of a naval confrontation involving the launch of a surface to surface missile on August 9th off the coast of South Korea, retired Brigadier General George W. Shriver was yesterday arrested for unspecified offences against the State. Shriver is best known as the founder of the right wing Free America League, and for some years has been a leading proponent of military intervention to contain the nuclear ambitions of North Korea’s communist government.
‘“The Free America League are denying all knowledge of the August 9th incident and have issued a statement condemning the indictment of Brigadier Shriver as a further example of this Administration’s attempts to trample on the rights of all Americans to freedom of expression.”’