Free Separation, The by Dinah Jefferies Page B

slumped on to a metal bench. Sticky, tired, and with angry bites on her ankles, she would have given anything for a soak in a bath. The child wrapped an arm around her waist and slept with his head against her chest. A few leaflets flapped about declaring death for those who supplied insiders with food, and on the hoardings two posters advertised Tiger Beer, and the songs of Dinah Shore.
    ‘You’ll be looking forward to seeing your girls again,’ Adil said.
    Lydia frowned. Had she told him about Emma and Fleur? Maybe she had.
    ‘Nothing more important than family.’ He reached into a pocket hidden in his sarong, and pulled out an orange. ‘Here. Share it with the child.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I love oranges and I am thirsty.’
    She peeled off the skin. The citrus scent was mouth wateringly lovely, but when she saw the longing in Maznan’s eyes, she passed the entire orange to him.
    Adil said nothing.
    Hearing a rattle, she glanced at the rails, and prayed the train would be cool inside. Then, as it passed, her shoulders sagged as she stared at the clouds of dust obscuring its rear.
    Unused to being out in the late afternoon, she was melting in the heat, and hoped rain wouldn’t be long. Adil didn’t seem to suffer from humidity the way she did, and had carried her case all the way. He nodded slowly with pursed lips, his brows furrowing.
    ‘It seems the line is undamaged, at least for part of the way,’ he said. He looked about, then told her he had something to see to and headed for the booth.
    While he was gone, she spotted an excitable little spider-hunter bird, angry because she’d sat right beneath its nest. But she was too hot to move, and when Adil came back, she made no attempt at conversation. She sniffed the salty, sticky smell coming from her armpits and cursed Alec. She felt a tap on the arm and glanced down at the child.
    ‘I am still hungry, Mem,’ he said, rubbing his tummy and looking at her with huge eyes.
    She smiled for his sake. ‘What’s your favourite?’
    ‘
Nasi Dagang
. My mother made.’
    It was the first time he’d mentioned his mother. ‘Whereabouts in the jungle is she, Maz? Do you know?’
    He shrugged and hung his head.
    ‘Did your mother buy you that shirt? Is that why you didn’t want me to take it off?’
    He sniffed.
    She thought for a moment. ‘Tell me about
Nasi Dagang
.’
    ‘It is coconut rice, with fish.’
    She searched her pockets. A mangy dog slunk by, eyeing them hopefully. She had no choice but to speak to Adil, though something about his reserve tied her tongue.
    She lowered her voice. ‘What can we do? There’s nothing left.’
    His eyes were watchful, intelligent. She became aware they were staring at each other and turned away.
    ‘If a train comes, we can buy food. Some travel only to sell. You still have money?’
    She nodded, then found her voice again. ‘I thought nobody was allowed to travel with food, and isn’t the money they make wasted on the price of their tickets.’
    ‘They don’t pay. Just jump on and off,’ he said, still looking straight at her.
    ‘Don’t they get hurt?’
    ‘They’re only natives,’ he said, with a straight face.
    He was teasing her. She observed the weeds growing in dust at the edges of the concrete platform, and thought of another journey. The time she and Alec had smuggled two Siamese kittens through customs at Johore. Somehow it had been all right for
them
to break the rules.
    She glanced at the man sitting beside her. She knew nothing about him, but in the minutes that followed, she became intensely aware of hairs beginning to show up on her bare legs. She shuffled them further back under the bench.
    When a battered train came to a screeching halt, a distinct scent of ginger and tamarind mingled with smoky engine fumes, and the smell of rain in the air.
    They climbed on, found seats, and from a thin-haired woman wearing baggy trousers, they bought guava, and curried rice patties. Lydia saw for