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‘I’m exhausted,’ she said invitingly. ‘I just want to lie here forever.’ They lay side by side on the soft grass, hand in hand. A red streak appeared on the horizon, leaving a threadlike line down to the horizon. They whispered to each other as they watched it. ‘A sunrise in the west? A flare? If it’s a flare, it could be an alert. Didn’t hear the siren.’ Then, complete darkness and silence.

Over twenty years have passed since the evening on the lake. In that time almost everything around the lake has changed, yet the spirit of it lives on, unchanged. Immense, looming, leisurely romantic.

Kien had never returned to the school. Nor had he been back to the lakeside pavilion, or along the little path at the back of the schoolyard. He had looked from afar, unwilling to retrace old tracks.

The lake became a symbol of Phuong in her beautiful youth, symbol of the marvels and grief of youth, of love and lost opportunities. On many occasions he sat by the lake, lingering until the last trace of red had left the same sky where he and Phuong had been together twenty years ago.

They had lain together under the star-scattered sky, unwilling to move despite the cold setting in. He seemed unwilling ever to leave their special place and she sensed this, saying softly, ‘The school gate’s closed. Stay here.’

‘Aren’t you cold?’ he asked, hoarsely.

‘I’m…’ Phuong moved to embrace Kien, pulling him close to her. He trembled in the embrace, first uneasily, then as he relaxed he felt a powerful, uncontrollable urge burn within him and he began tightening his grasp. He closed his eyes and buried himself in her soft fragrant embraces and she responded passionately.

As he kissed, a sudden sharp pang struck within him and he breathed in sharply, withdrawing. A sudden, darkly powerful sense of guilt had struck home; he responded prudishly, tearing himself from her arms. Astonished, Phuong reacted with fright, shame and confusion, rolling herself away and buttoning her blouse over the swimsuit.

During a long silence neither of them moved. The lake waters lapped against the shore and far away they saw an anti-aircraft gun on a pontoon in the water. From even further away a gong sounded.

‘You’re afraid, aren’t you?’ Phuong said, suddenly breaking the silence between them. ‘Me, too. But just realising it makes me more keen.’

‘I just think we shouldn’t,’ he blathered. ‘I’m going off to war. I’m going away,’ he said unconvincingly. ‘Better not.’

‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘But there’ll never be another time like now.’

‘I’ll come back,’ he said urgently.

‘When? A thousand years from now? You’ll be changed and so will I. Hanoi will be different. So will this West Lake.’

‘Our feelings won’t change, that’s the most important thing,’ he said.

She remained silent for a moment then said, ‘I can see what’s going to happen. War, ruin, destruction.’

‘Maybe. But we’ll rebuild.’

‘You’re a simpleton; your father was different, he saw it coming,’ she said.

‘I’m different,’ he said defensively.

‘You didn’t love him, did you?’ she asked. ‘Don’t be angry at the question, just answer me.’

Kien simply stared at her.

‘Did you ever really talk to him?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘We talked about lots of things. What a question!’

‘So did he tell you why he destroyed all his paintings, why he lost the will to live?’ she asked.

‘No, he talked about other things. Why did he destroy them? I don’t understand.’

‘You knew nothing about it. But I did. He confided in me. We were closer to each other than to you. When he burned the paintings I could see the future through the flames. He was burning my life as well as his own,’ she said.

‘What are you saying?’ he shouted. ‘Are you mad!’

Kien had no understanding of her emotions. Suddenly she was a stranger to him. The whole strange evening seemed to concern something in the distant future, nothing to do with his imminent departure to the battlefront, or their forced parting.

When Phuong next began speaking she spoke so softly it was almost to herself. ‘Since your father’s death I’ve often wondered why I loved you so passionately. I’m a free spirit, a rebel out of step in these warring times. You’re perfectly suited to them. Despite these great differences we loved each other, regardless of everything else. You understand me, don’t you?’

‘Let’s go home,’ he said, fear in his voice. ‘We’re talking nonsense. What do you mean, you’re a rebel?’ But he knew she was right.

Phuong continued softly, ‘Had your father been you I would have loved him even more than I love you.’

‘I see that now,’ she said, placing a finger on his lips to seal any response. ‘You had little in common with your father and as you grew you resembled him less and less. You didn’t love your father, nor your mother. You loved the idea of going to war; you were headstrong, you wanted to remain pure and loyal to your ideals. I don’t want to sound disdainful, but there’s nothing original in all that,’ she said.

Kien grew uncomfortably sad. He was unable to understand everything she said, but as he listened to her, sounding like a medium telling incredible fortunes, he knew that although she sounded like someone high on magic mushrooms, he would long remember everything she had said.

‘Why speak of my father now?’ he asked. ‘I know you often talked to him. You must know he had such wrong-headed notions. He had no comprehension of our modern values and ideals; he clung to old-fashioned values.’

‘I speak now because there may be no other night like this, no time like the present. Because when you’ve gone your way, I’ll go my own way, too,’ she replied.

In his naivety he had not quite understood her. ‘But where will you be going? You have university exams in three weeks. Then you’ll be going to university. And as for me, well, I’ll be back soon.’

‘You’re strange,’ she said, almost giving up on him. ‘War, peace, university, joining the army. What’s the difference? What’s good, what’s bad? To volunteer for the army at seventeen is nobler than going to university isn’t it? I won’t bother taking the entrance exams, if that’s so.’

‘Where would you go?’ he asked.

‘To the war. See what it’s like,’ she replied.

‘It might be horrible.’

‘And it might be death. A long, permanent sleep. Still, we’ve only one death, haven’t we. Just what makes you crave so much for that one death? It seems so attractive to you that I think I’ll go along too.’

‘What!’ He was astonished, incredulous.

Phuong started laughing, pulling him down closer to her again, caressing his hair, pushing his face into her breasts. She said softly, ‘There’s no other night like this. You’re offering your life for a cause so I’ve decided to waste mine, too. This year we’re both seventeen. Let’s plan to meet each other again somewhere at some future point. See if we still love each other as much as we do now.’

She gently lifted his face, softly kissing his eyelids, then his lips, then again buried his face into her breasts. ’I love you. I’ve loved you since we were children. I’ve loved your mother and your father, as I would have if I’d been your sister, or brother. From now on I’ll be your wife. I’ll go with you. I’ll see you to the gate of the battlefront, just to see what it’s like. I’ll stay until we’re forced to part. That moment will be with us very soon.

‘But for tonight, be with me. We’re here together, alone. It’s here your heroic journey to the front starts. Don’t be scared, of me or of anything else. From now on I’ll be a lover and a wife to you; I’ll never be angry at you and remember I’m not taking leave of my senses. Not yet.’