The Forgotten Promise, page 1
Paula Greenlees
* * *
THE FORGOTTEN PROMISE
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Paula Greenlees has an undergraduate degree in English and European Thought and Literature, and a Masters Degree in Creative Writing. She spent three years living in Singapore surrounded by the history and culture that provided the inspiration for her novels.
Also by Paula Greenlees
Journey to Paradise
For those we have lost
CHAPTER ONE
Malaya 1920
One hundred and fifty eyes stared back at Ella as the peacock spread its tail in a glorious arc.
‘Do you think we can steal a feather from it?’ she whispered, clutching Noor’s hand, mesmerised by the iridescent vision.
Noor shook her head. ‘If you want one, you’ll have to wait for it to drop.’
The sun was beating down on them in the rose garden. Despite the fact Ella knew that her ayah would surely scold her if she dirtied her dress, or if her skin turned a darker shade from the tropical sun, today she didn’t care. It was her father’s birthday, and she wanted to surprise him with the card she had made. Earlier, she’d taken a sheet of white parchment, folded it in half and drawn outlines of the roses he loved so much, the ones that he had imported from England. Carefully, she had stuck on petals from the flowers she had pressed, re-forming the shape and depth of the blooms. At nearly eleven, she knew how to do this expertly, having watched her mother, who liked to collect and preserve exotic flowers from the gardens and landscape that surrounded the villa. The card was beautiful, but the problem was Ella wanted to deliver it to him at work, and she wasn’t certain of the way to his office at the tin mine.
‘Are you sure you know how to get there?’ She looked at Noor for reassurance.
‘Yes.’ The younger girl stood tall and nodded. ‘All the servants know how to get there, and my mother often takes your father food for his lunch, you know.’
Ella thought about this. It made sense. Her father would need to eat at work, after all, and Noor’s mother was their cook. As Ella thought a little more, she realised that she had indeed seen Noor’s mother carrying baskets of food through the garden and onto the jungle path. Usually, Ella didn’t pay too much attention to what grownups, particularly servants, did once they had left her line of vision – they merely came and went out of her focus until she needed them. Besides, there were many rooms in the villa where the grownups went without her. She spent almost all her mornings in lessons, but in the afternoons was allowed to sit on the verandah with her ayah. Sometimes, though, when he’d gone to work, she hid in her father’s study. She liked the soft leathery seats he had in there and the books that lined the walls. The room was different from the others in the house with strange paintings of a place called Scotland, which he had once explained was next to the country he had come from called England, but darker and colder with lots of castles and big lakes. Her father told her that he’d been born there before living in England and that one day, when she was a grownup, he’d take her there. She had wrinkled her nose, not because she didn’t want to go, but because she couldn’t ever imagine her father, who towered over everyone, with his big booming voice and red hair like fire, as a baby.
But now, her thoughts turned back to the task she had set herself. She needed to get to the mine. She’d been several times before, of course, once in the big black Rolls-Royce Phantom that Aati, their drebar, drove her mother around in, but never by herself. Ella recalled how she had sat on the back seat with the windows open while her mother stood outside the office talking to her father. Her mother held a parasol over her head and was dressed in a delicate cream lace dress that skimmed her ankles. Her jet-black hair had been arranged in a tight bun and held with a diamond clip that caught the light and sparkled like glitter. She had looked so small standing next to Ella’s father. In contrast to his sunburnt skin and red hair, she resembled the servants and workers while he seemed to belong to a different world. Her mother brought to mind the dolls in Ella’s nursery, with their delicate faces and beautiful clothes.
‘Well,’ Ella sighed, returning to the moment, ‘if you’re really certain you know the way, then I’ll follow you.’
Noor took her hand. ‘It isn’t far,’ she coaxed. ‘I’ve watched where my mother goes – there’s a path that leads from the kitchen to the back of the rose garden, then you follow a track through the palm trees and up there.’
Ella looked to where Noor was pointing and nodded, then she took Noor’s hand. For twenty minutes, they pushed their way through the jungle foliage, parted bamboo canes and dodged the spiders that had spun huge webs across the path. Ella’s cotton lawn dress stuck to her back as the sun beat down on her head and beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. Thirst gripped her and her courage evaporated. Fearful of being lost, she wanted to turn around; however, she pushed back the tears that were forming. How she envied Noor her loose-fitting abaya and the way her hair fell over her shoulders, shielding her from the burning sun. Then something rustled in the undergrowth, making her jump.
‘It’s all right.’ Noor stopped. She placed her hands on her hips and said a little breathlessly, ‘It’s only a grass snake. Come on, it isn’t far.’
They pushed on through the jungle path as monkeys chattered in the canopy overhead. Ella caught sight of a green stain on the hem of her white dress and saw that the lace had been torn. Her sash kept slipping from her waist and her shoes were rubbing her heels, while the card in her hand became limp in the humidity and she noticed that some of the petals had come unstuck and fallen away. She wished she hadn’t come now and wondered how much trouble she’d be in for leaving the villa without telling anyone where she was going. It was different for Noor: she could do what she liked, whenever she liked. She didn’t even have to go to lessons with the governess unless Ella asked for her to join them.
Meanwhile, the sounds of the mine grew closer and louder. She could hear the pounding of machinery that crushed the rocks that came out of the ground, the pounding of water as it dredged the ore clean. As she conjured up these images, the earth shivered, and a huge bang made her jump.
‘It’s just them using dynamite to open up the earth,’ Noor said. ‘It’s finished now.’
‘How do you know so much?’ Ella demanded.
Noor shrugged. ‘You are a funny one.’ She grinned. ‘Just think – one day, all of this will belong to you and I know more about it than you do.’
Ella stopped in her tracks. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, just that you’ll be the mine owner eventually, won’t you?’
Ella mulled this over. She didn’t know if she wanted to own a tin mine like her father did. His skin was sunburnt and he was out all day and often tired in the evening. She’d rather be like her mother – wearing beautiful dresses and diamonds in her hair or sipping cocktails on the verandah and dressing up for dinner parties.
‘I’m not sure what I really want do when I grow up.’
‘Well, perhaps you won’t have to. You might get married and move away, or your mother might have a baby boy.’
‘I don’t know. It’s such a long way off. Do you know what you might want to do?’
‘Not really. Perhaps my mother might get married again. Or I might be a cook like her. Who knows? Come on,’ Noor urged.
But Ella didn’t want to move. She turned and faced Noor full on. She’d been told that Noor’s father had died when she was a baby, and that was partly the reason Ella had first taken to her. It didn’t seem fair that this lonely little girl who followed her around the villa didn’t have a father of her own. After that, they’d become firm friends.
‘But you can’t be my cook. You’re my best friend. In fact,’ Ella paused then added, ‘you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.’
And it was true. Every day of their lives they had spent together, and they loved each other like sisters. In fact, they knew each other better than they knew themselves.
‘I know. But I wish you could come, too.’
‘It’s all right. I can go to the village school if I want to. We’ll see each other in the holidays.’
A lump formed in Ella’s throat. She didn’t want to go away to school, and she certainly didn’t want to leave Noor behind. It didn’t seem fair that there was one rule for her, because her father, Mr Ferguson, was the mine owner, and another for Noor, just because her mother was a cook. Ella had always imagined endless days in which they’d be friends and couldn’t bear the thought of them being parted.
‘Well,’ Ella picked at the hem of her dress where the lace had come even further adrift, ‘let’s be blood sisters then. I’ve read about it in a book.’ She took the clip from her hair. The pointed end was sharp and glinted in the light. ‘We have to make a bond by cutting our skin and mixing our blood together. It means that we’ll be close, like real sisters forever. Ready?’
‘All right.’ Noor hesitated as she looked at the sharp clip, then she nodded and held out her hand. Ella jabbed the meaty part of her thumb and watched as a ruby bead emerged from Noor’s flesh, then repeated the action on her own.
‘I promise you will be my blood sister forever.’
‘And you will be mine.’
Ella and Noor rubbed their thumbs together and, after their blood had merged, Ella spat on the palm of her hand. Noor did the same and they clasped hands, sealing their promise.
‘Right,’ Ella said. ‘Wherever we both go, or wherever we end up, neither of us can break that promise. It’s the strongest bond there is.’
They stood for a moment, encompassed by the jungle and their secret, before they linked arms and made their way along the remaining track until they reached the mine. A group of men, Chinese, Malays and Tamils, were loading rocks into carts harnessed to ponies. They turned their heads and watched as the girls approached the outlying huts.
‘Your father’s office is here.’ Noor pointed to where a door stood wide open. The girls made their way inside. The room was just as Ella remembered it: a large fan turned overhead; shelves displaying rocks and minerals lined the walls; and in the corner there was the big desk and the leather-covered chair where her father usually sat. But today he wasn’t there. She chewed her lower lip in disappointment.
‘Perhaps I should leave this?’ She made her way to his desk and placed the card in the centre. It looked a bit bedraggled after their journey through the jungle, and now that she’d achieved what she had set out to do, Ella felt tired and thirsty.
Footsteps sounded behind them and a man’s voice spoke.
‘Well, who do we have here?’
She turned. A man she recognised as Sid Collins, the mine manager, stood in the doorway.
‘I’ve brought my father a birthday card,’ Ella said. She felt a little foolish and embarrassed to see him standing there watching her, and she was suddenly ashamed of her dirty dress and messy hair.
Sid scratched his head as he took in the sight of them both.
‘Well …’ His voice trailed off. ‘I’m really sorry, he’s not here. He went down to Menglembu on business earlier. But he could be back any minute.’
Tears pricked Ella’s eyes and she could feel Sid’s gaze on her, detecting her disappointment.
‘Don’t tell me that you walked all the way here from the villa?’ His voice softened.
Ella nodded. ‘Noor showed me the way.’
‘Well,’ he came further into the room, ‘I guess you can rest here a bit while you decide what to do … you know, wait for your father or not. But I’m thinking, you must be thirsty after your walk. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some water? He should be back soon, you won’t have to wait too long.’
‘I’d like that, please.’ Ella’s throat was dry, and a headache had started pounding behind her eyes. ‘If it isn’t too much trouble.’
Sid went into the back office and she thought she could hear the murmur of his voice, then a moment later, the clatter of glasses. While they waited, Noor and Ella picked up the rocks from the shelves, attracted the most by the ones that sparkled with tiny crystals.
While they were looking at a black rock laced with copper, Sid returned with two glasses filled with water.
‘Take a seat,’ he said. ‘I see you’ve found the ore samples. Would you like me to tell you about them?’
Ella sipped her drink and looked at Noor who had left her water untouched and was lifting each rock in turn.
Sid started to explain the different grades of ore to them. Ella sat in her father’s big chair and half-listened, hoping that her father would appear soon. Minutes passed and her headache worsened. After a time, she heard the crunch of tyres and a car engine idling outside. It must be her father. She got out of the chair and made her way to the door, excited at the prospect of seeing him.
But it wasn’t her father or his green Ford Model T pickup. It was the black Rolls-Royce Phantom with Aati at the wheel. Sitting in the back seat like a princess was her mother, her face clouded by a frown. Aati got out and opened the back door so that Ella could see her mother.
‘Ella,’ she called without moving from her seat. ‘Get in the car, dear.’
Ella glanced at Noor, then took her hand and led her to the car. Reflected in the window she could see their misty figures, two pairs of brown eyes and their long black hair.
‘Look at what you’ve done to your dress, dear,’ her mother continued. ‘You really shouldn’t leave the villa without telling anyone where you’re going. We’ve all been worried sick searching for you. I can’t tell you how relieved we were when Sid telephoned.’
‘You shouldn’t have worried. I was with Noor.’
Her mother glanced at the other girl but didn’t smile. In fact, she seemed to look right through her.
‘Come on, Ella. Get in the car.’
She stepped forward, pulling Noor with her.
‘No, dear,’ her mother said. ‘Not Noor. She will have to make her own way from now on.’
Ella stopped in her tracks. ‘But if she’s not coming, I’m not coming.’
‘Ella, darling,’ her mother sighed. ‘Don’t argue. Things are going to have to change. I know you’re very fond of the cook’s girl, but soon you’ll be starting school in Ipoh and then you’ll have to behave like your father’s daughter. Now come along.’
Ella turned to Noor, tears burning in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Noor whispered. ‘I can make my own way back.’
Before she could protest, Noor dropped Ella’s hand and stepped back. Feeling like a traitor, Ella got into the car, then Aati closed the door behind her.
As the car drove off, Ella leant out of the window to call to her friend, but Noor had already left. Ella caught sight of her heading back to the jungle path, her long black hair flying behind her. It was at that moment Ella realised that Noor was right – and however much she wished otherwise, things had already changed between them.
CHAPTER TWO
Ipoh 1941
The shop façade was no different from any other building in the vicinity. There were white shutters at the windows and the entrance was shaded by a canvas awning – the perfect sanctuary away from the tropical sun. Yet there had been something about it that had captured Ella’s attention. Perhaps it was the noisy red-and-green macaw sitting on a perch that had first drawn her away from the dusty street, where bullock carts trundled along the bustling road while hawkers sat to one side of the pavement beneath the shade of the banana trees, selling peanuts. Their constant heckling for her to buy a paper cone of nuts was wearing, and she had been glad of an excuse to dart away from the cacophony of the street. The last thing she had been expecting, as she stepped away, was to find a sign on this building declaring that it was a music shop.
Despite her hat, the heat burnt the back of her neck as she stood before the doorway. In the window to her left, she caught sight of her reflection: her imported American sunglasses, her striped shirt-waister. All of it had been put together with care, and she was pleased to see that she looked as sophisticated as Ingrid Bergman. She shifted her handbag from her right arm to her left as she considered the wisdom of going into the premises – so many of the shopkeepers had accomplices who were pickpockets.
