The Plantation - Di Morrissey [30]
She was hot, perspiring with fear as much as from the claustrophobic heat. She imagined that she could hear rustling and noises in the undergrowth and the more she hurried the more she stumbled over roots and stones, her breath coming in short gasps. She glanced at her watch and realised that it was already noon and the car would be at the hotel to take her to the pre-arranged luncheon.
She stopped to catch her breath, her hand on her heaving chest, trying to think calmly. No one would know where she was, but her disappearance would certainly raise the alarm. Roland could be gone till late afternoon, playing golf, and not give her a thought. These scenarios played out in her mind, although she was more overwhelmed by the embarrassment of her misadventure than anything else.
She set off again and couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down her face. She had a terrible feeling she was walking in circles, for everything looked the same. To her eyes there were no identifiable landmarks. Then she heard a movement behind her. She stopped, closing her eyes, not daring to look, waiting for whatever creature that was there to pounce on her.
‘Mem?’
She spun around to see a barefoot Malay wearing a checked sarong topped with a khaki jumper and carrying a long knife.
‘Oh. Oh dear,’ said Margaret recalling how Malays could sometimes run amok.
The man looked puzzled. ‘Mem, kamu sesat?’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Margaret fearfully. ‘I was near the golf club, but I changed trails and …’ Seeing his uncomprehending expression, she used her walking stick as a golf club and swung it awkwardly.
On her second swing there was a flicker in the man’s eyes. He pointed in the direction opposite to the way she was headed. ‘Nanti saya tunjuk jalan.’ He turned and trotted away from her, signalling her to follow.
For a moment she hesitated, wondering if she should trust the short, brown-skinned man with the large bush knife. Then, drawing herself up, Margaret strode after him, even though he was going in the opposite direction to where she thought they should go. Suddenly she recognised where she was. She saw in the distance a green fairway and a fluttering flag on a green.
The man stopped and pointed with his parang.
‘Oh, I see it. Oh, thank you, thank you so much.’ She started to run towards the golf course, then turned to thank the man again, but he had disappeared. As she approached the clubhouse she could see a group of men gathered in front of it, including Roland and a man in a khaki uniform who was obviously a policeman.
She hurried forward, trying to maintain her dignity.
‘There she is! Oh my Lord. Margaret! Where have you been? We were about to send out a search party!’ Roland came towards her.
‘I’m so terribly sorry. I went for a bit of an explore and I got lost, I’m afraid.’ She smiled, putting on a brave face. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced everyone …’
Roland put his arm around her. ‘Are you all right, my dear? This has been such a worry. You can’t just walk off into the jungle on your own.’
‘I hadn’t planned to, Roland. I got lost, but here I am.’
He smiled at the police inspector and shook his hand. ‘All’s well that ends well, eh? Frightfully sorry for the call out. My wife has found her own way back.’
‘I’m pleased you’re all right, Mrs Elliott. I know you are a newcomer, but this is not England. You can’t walk unattended in these forests. I’m surprised you didn’t run into any of the Orang Asli, the local tribesmen.’ The inspector gave a brief salute. ‘Happy to be of service, Mr and Mrs Elliott.’
‘Oh, how embarrassing,’ said Margaret. ‘And those ladies, I’m dreadfully sorry to miss their luncheon.’
One of Roland’s golfing partners stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘I’m Reginald Broadstairs, Mrs Elliott. My wife was expecting you for luncheon and it was she who raised the alarm when no one could find you.’
‘Please thank her. Very silly of me, I know. I was trying to get to the peak