I wondered what would happen if we did have to spend the night in the car. Would I choose such a moment to speak to Johnny? If we perished here in the jungle I might never need to confront the subject, and he would die without ever knowing that I was prepared to leave him.
“Wait,” Johnny said, leaning forward. “Up ahead. I think there is another road.”
“Are you sure? I can’t see anything. We need a bigger road than this, not a smaller one.”
“Johnny?” said Mamoru.
“I don’t know. I think there is one.”
“We’ll keep going until we find it,” said Mamoru.
“There it is,” cried Peter. “I can see it, just beyond that clump of palms!”
Honey hurried the car along, and we saw the curve of a road previously obscured by trees. This road seemed wider and firmer than the one we had been on earlier, and we made better progress. We drove in silence — we were too relieved to speak, I think — with only Johnny’s occasional directions puncturing the dark. In our retreat from the jungle, we had tacitly given up hope of catching the ferry that evening. I did not know where Johnny’s directions would eventually take us, but I hoped that they would lead us back to the rest house from which we had set off. It was as if there was a wordless agreement amongst us that we should seek refuge in a place we knew could offer us comfort.
At last, we found our way back to the rest house.
That night I experienced the strangest sensation, a feeling of deepest sleep and perfect lucidity. I did not dream, yet I knew — I saw — with complete clarity that I would soon walk out of Johnny’s life.
The next morning I was the last to emerge. I found the others packed and ready to go. A map was spread out on the vast bonnet of the car. Mamoru was pointing at it; he drew his finger across it in a slow, smooth arc, tapping it now and then. Honey and Johnny stood with him, nodding and muttering in agreement; Peter was nearby, throwing pebbles at a tree trunk.
“Isn’t this exciting,” Peter said to me as he picked up a stone, “it feels as if we’re on a quest for Tutankhamen’s tomb.” He did not smile. His brow remained locked in a frown.
The mood, it seemed to me, was different today. Honey was civil to Peter, who was almost monosyllabic by his standards. I looked at Peter to try to discern the possible onset of illness, but his eyes and complexion were clear. Apart from a strangely vacant expression, he seemed in decent health.
“You wear a troubled face,” I ventured quietly.
“How preposterous, my dear,” he protested, his face pulling into a broad smile. “I expect it’s the heat.” Immediately he fell silent again and looked out the window.
We travelled swiftly. The roads had dried up a little and afforded us smoother passage than before. “We have to keep up our momentum before the rains come again,” Mamoru said.
Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, I noticed, the air was beginning to change. It felt softer on my face and I tasted a faint tinge of salt. We were nearing the sea, I knew. I was not sure if anyone else sensed the change in the winds around us. I looked at each of the men in turn, but their faces showed only a stony blankness. What was this look that I had seen before so often on the faces of men? I do not know what emotions this façade protects, nor may I ever find out. I am locked away from that world.
Our conversation was polite, flitting from one insubstantial subject to another — I scarcely recall the things we touched on. Nor can I recall how this aimless chat turned so quickly into another row. This one again involved Honey, but this time — to my surprise — Johnny was his antagonist.
“It is simply ignorant,” Honey said, “to believe that Communism can solve the woes of China. The Communists are no less beastly than anyone else who came before them.”
With speed of response that seemed surprising, Johnny said, “The ordinary people of China would not agree with you.”
“Wouldn’t they?” Honey seemed taken aback by this. “You mean they’d surrender to a band of thugs who are trying to pull apart an ancient civilisation?”
“It is not the Communists who have trampled on China and pulled it apart.” The end of his sentence created a huge, awful silence in the car. Honey did not reply. Immediately, I felt for Mamoru. Johnny’s words felt strangely condemning of us all, but particularly of Mamoru. Everyone has heard stories of what the Japanese are doing in China at the moment. I wanted to say that it was not fair to include Mamoru in this, but I could not. Do not ever forget: Johnny is the one you chose, he is your husband. Mother’s admonishment rang in my head. Besides, how could I defend Mamoru when no accusation had been made? I waited for him to respond, and prayed a row would not ensue.
