The Son Read online

  ‘And that was how it started. We started meeting after that. Secretly. I didn’t want to hurt Khiem in any way, or Eric, and he didn’t want to damage his own marriage either. We went to hotels at first, but we didn’t like that very much, and it was too risky. So after a while Robert rented a flat, a small apartment in town, and we met there, when it was safe. I’d go there after work, once or twice a week, for an hour or two before I went home. I’d tell Khiem I was working late, or going out with friends after work. I didn’t like lying to him like that, but there was no way round, and he never questioned it. Sometimes we met on weekends, though that was harder to arrange.’

  ‘Khiem wasn’t sick then,’ I interrupted.

  ‘No. That came later. I knew I was behaving very badly, like a trollop, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed it too much. It was just sex, Paul. Maybe I did love him for a time. But when we were together all we did was have sex. As if I was trying to catch up, after all those years. I told myself it didn’t really matter, I wasn’t doing any harm, as long as Khiem never found out, it wasn’t as if I was taking anything much away from our marriage. I even looked on it as a kind of compensation sometimes, a reward – for all those hard years, the loneliness, the unhappiness – almost a revenge, for what had happened on the boat. I told you I wasn’t very nice.’

  ‘Why the boat?’ I asked. ‘That wasn’t Khiem’s fault.’

  She was silent for a moment.

  ‘No. You’re right. But there’s something I didn’t tell you about that. You remember when I said that some men had resisted, tried to stop the Thais from taking us, and they were beaten up and one man was killed? Well Khiem didn’t.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t do anything?’

  ‘No. He just stood there. As if paralysed. Even when we were being carried away to the other boat, screaming, calling out to him to do something, to save us, he didn’t do anything.’

  ‘What could he have done?’

  ‘Nothing. I know. He would only have been beaten up, and maybe killed. Like the man they stabbed and threw overboard. I know it’s unfair, it wouldn’t have made any difference. But he didn’t even try. And I could never forget that. I still can’t.’

  I was startled by this revelation, more than by the affair itself. From what she’d said earlier I’d assumed that Khiem had been among those who had resisted, and been beaten up for his pains. The reality it seemed had been very different. I pictured the scene – the women screaming, being dragged away, the threatening Thais, the men cowering, hanging back, even the rise and fall of the boats on the water. And I asked myself what I would have done in his place. Would I have had the courage to resist, to try and stop them, even though I knew it was hopeless, I would only get beaten up or worse? It was easy enough to imagine being heroic, leaping forward, fighting tooth and nail to save the woman I loved, but short of being there myself there was no way to know for certain. It was a frightening thought. And the knowledge of his failure thereafter, whether due to cowardice or simple awareness of the futility of doing anything, must have been almost too much to bear, must have eaten at him like a disease, like the cancer that had finally killed him. No wonder they’d had a poor sex life.

  ‘When Khiem fell sick I started to feel guilty. I didn’t stop seeing Robert straightaway. But I felt as if I was somehow responsible for his illness, had helped cause it with my behaviour. Robert said I was being superstitious, but I couldn’t help feeling that. When he got worse I told Robert we had to stop. I couldn’t go on sleeping with him while Khiem was dying of cancer. So we stopped, and I concentrated on looking after Khiem. It was a sad time. It was clear by then that he wouldn’t make it. I thought how unfair I’d been. He’d tried his best, he’d accepted Eric as his son, he’d worked hard to give us a decent life in England, and I’d repaid him by having an affair. I didn’t regret my affair with Robert. But it seemed so cruel, that he should have to die as well. He was still young, not yet forty-five. He deserved better than that.’

  ‘He never suspected anything?’

  ‘No. We were always very careful. That would have been too cruel.’

  ‘After Khiem’s death I went back to Robert. About a month later. I didn’t really want to then. We’d been apart nearly five months, and things had changed. I hadn’t missed him as much as I’d thought. We still saw each other at work of course. But Robert said he’d missed me too much, he needed me, it was time to move on. He even said if I didn’t want to I should think of leaving, find another job. He couldn’t go on working with me if he couldn’t have me. So I went back to him. I needed my job, especially now, with Khiem gone. And I still liked him, it was no great hardship. But I didn’t like it so much any more. Oh the sex was still good, he always made sure of that. But I knew now that I didn’t love him. And I missed Khiem too, more than I’d expected. It seemed rather sordid to be meeting like that just for sex. But I told myself it was no more than I deserved, for having had that affair in the first place. And so that’s what I did. Until I came here. And I met you.’

  ‘What did he say when you left? He must have been unhappy.’

  ‘He was. But there was nothing he could do about it. He knew how much Eric meant to me, how worried I was about him. He asked if I’d be coming back. I said I didn’t know …’

  She turned to me.

  ‘It was Robert who rang the other day. When you thought it was George. He didn’t want to use his own name, he thought I might have told you about him. He’s rung me several times since I’ve been here. He keeps asking when I’m coming back …’

  ‘But I’m not going back to him, Paul. It’s over. I know he loves me, he keeps saying how much he misses me, and I’m not really sorry I had that affair. It was devious and deceitful and not very nice, but if I hadn’t I think I would have done something worse, maybe left Khiem altogether. I couldn’t go on as I was, I was slowly going crazy. But I don’t love Robert. I don’t think I even like him very much any more. Whatever happens between us I’m not going back.’

  She sighed.

  ‘So this is me, Paul. This is the woman I am. I lied, I cheated, I had an affair with a man I don’t love – do you still want me, after what I’ve told you?’

  ‘Of course I want you. Do you think I’d stop loving you, because you’ve had an affair? I’ve had affairs too you know, and they haven’t always been very nice. I’ll tell you about them sometime if you want. I’m very glad your affair is over. I’m especially glad that you don’t love him. If you did I expect you wouldn’t be here. But I’m not worried that you had an affair. I’m only sorry you were so unhappy.’

  ‘But I liked it, Paul! Even towards the end, when I didn’t really want to be with him I still loved the way he fucked me! I couldn’t get enough of it!’

  ‘So what,’ I said, mildly shocked by the crudity. It sounded out of place in her mouth. ‘I like sex too. There’s nothing wrong with that. I can understand why you want to feel guilty towards Khiem. Though if you ask me I think he may have been asking for it a little. But don’t blame yourself because you enjoyed having sex with Robert. That’s what affairs are about. Stop blaming yourself, Hao. It’s not your fault that you were unhappy. It’s not your fault that these things have happened to you. You have a right to be happy too. You don’t have to feel guilty all the time.’

  I meant what I said. I wasn’t disturbed or even particularly surprised that she’d had an affair. A beautiful woman like her, lonely, trapped in an unhappy marriage, something like that was almost bound to happen. I wasn’t so sure about Robert. Maybe he did love her, as he claimed, but I couldn’t help feeling he’d taken advantage of her. I’ve never approved of married men who sleep with their assistant, especially when she herself is a vulnerable married woman. It sounds too much like abuse of power. If anything it was Khiem I felt sympathy for. Whatever his failings as a husband, he too must have suffered over the years. But the fact that she’d enjoyed having sex with Robert didn’t bother me. On the contrary, it was reassuring. I’d beg
un to fear she might be frigid.

  ‘There’s just one thing,’ I said. ‘I love you, Hao. I love you more than any woman I’ve ever known. Except for Rachel, and that’s different of course. I’d love you as much if you’d had a dozen affairs. But you need to be sure about this. I’m not Robert. If things don’t work out between us I won’t try to keep you. If you’re not happy with me, or you meet someone else you’d rather be with. But I’d rather not go through that. I’ve already been through one painful divorce, and you’ve been through worse. So if you have any doubts, about me, us, your feelings for me, now’s the time to say it. I don’t want to lose you. But I’d rather do it now than go through the pain of watching you leave in six or twelve months’ time because you realise too late you’ve made a mistake.’

  I must have spoken more harshly than I meant. She looked at me for a moment, as if assessing my words. Then she stood up. She took her dress off. She did it with the simplicity of a woman undressing in her bedroom, pulling it off over her head and putting it over the back of a chair. Underneath she wore a slip, which she also took off. She turned towards me. She wore stockings this time too, the old-fashioned kind, with a suspender belt and garters, minimalist bra and briefs. The stockings were black, sheer, the bra and pants also black, trimmed with lace and see-through, the nipples and smudge of pubic hair clearly visible. The effect on her slender frame was both graceful and fiercely erotic.

  ‘Tell me you don’t want me just for this.’

  ‘Hao, I would do without sex for the rest of my life if that was the only way I could be with you.’

  I noticed a scar, partly hidden by her underwear: a long thin runnel of shiny scar tissue that ran like a centipede down the length of her belly, from just below her navel to the top of her pubis, with little pock marks on either side like miniature lizard paws. I reached out to touch it, gently followed its course with my finger.

  ‘My hysterectomy scar,’ she said, looking down at herself. ‘I have colloidal skin, I scar very badly.’

  She looked briefly very sad, remembering no doubt what it signified. Then she seized my hand and held it against her.

  ‘Take me to bed, Paul. Take me to bed and make love to me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

  The next two days were some of the happiest that I’ve ever lived. We had made love during the night, not once but several times, with love, and lust, and tenderness and passion, and an intensity which took our breath away. Facing each other over breakfast the next morning we looked as if we’d been dragged through a hedge. But we were both deliriously happy, or would have been except for the shadow still hanging over us.

  ‘Will you marry me, Hao?’

  She was eating a fried egg, Vietnamese style, with chopsticks over a bowl of rice and a bit of soy sauce. She managed to do it without losing any of the yolk. She looked up and smiled.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  I told her about the Agency. I’d reasoned on the way back from Canberra that this was the best way to reassure her, showing her that Eric was in capable hands, and it was time for her to know anyway. She listened patiently as I went through my little speech, leaving out only the plot to kill Loc, and Eric’s role in it. He was right, she would have gone ballistic.

  ‘I knew,’ she said when I’d finished.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Hien told me. David had told her, when he asked her to marry him, and she told me after his death. We thought you must be too when you took over his job.’

  Lesson number one in the spycatcher’s handbook. How to spot the spooks in an embassy: through the line of succession. Those two would have made a formidable team.

  ‘How long will they want to keep him there?’ she asked. ‘With the Mad Buffaloes? What a silly name. Like children playing at a game.’

  ‘Quite. Not very long I expect. Until they know a bit more about what that mob are up to. After that they’ll pull him out.’

  ‘You’ll look after him, won’t you? You won’t let anything happen to him?’

  ‘Yes. I promise. But don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to him.’

  You’d better believe it, I told myself. Or my life wouldn’t be worth living.

  Vivien was the one who got a surprise, when I brought Hao to the office later that morning. I’d rung first to say I’d be late, but I hadn’t warned her what to expect. She almost wept with joy.

  ‘Oh you darling!’ she said, as she embraced Hao. ‘I’ve never seen anyone as miserable as that man last week. I thought I’d have to go and bring you back myself.’

  She was even happier when I told her Hao was going to join us.

  ‘Starting Wednesday,’ I said. ‘You’ll see, we’ll make this place hum.’

  That was something we’d agreed on during the night. Hao’s funds were running low, but she wouldn’t accept any from me, except as an advance. So we had reached a compromise: she would work for me, for a salary, as a prelude to full partnership. She wasn’t supposed to, under the rules of her tourist visa, but rules are meant to be bent, and considering what she and Eric were doing in the national interest, it was the least Australia could do in return.

  After that, Immigration. Roger was as good as his word, the reference number worked like a magic formula, in half an hour Hao had a new visa, valid for another three months.

  After which we went home, via a Chinese takeaway, had an early dinner and went straight to bed – mostly to sleep this time. There’s only so much the body can take, past the age of forty.

  The next day, Tuesday, was a holiday. Anzac Day, 25th of April, 1995, twenty years to the day since we’d flown out of Saigon in that RAAF plane, leaving behind all those we should have taken along. I didn’t remind her of that anniversary.

  Instead I took her up to the Hunter Valley, to see my sister and my brother-in-law. It was too early yet to expect any report from Eric. We spent the day there. Hao had already met them when they’d come down to visit me after my beating, now was a good time to know each other better. It was moving to see how easily they accepted her in the family. Geoff took us on the obligatory tour of the vineyard (it didn’t look its best at that time of year, with the leaves mostly fallen and the pruning not yet begun, canes and suckers straggling like a mad woman’s hair, but that didn’t lessen his enthusiasm) and Cathy showed her round the old farmhouse, Hao looking like a boy beside her.

  ‘This one’s special,’ Cathy said to me before we left. ‘You’ll look after her, won’t you? Don’t let her go, like all the others. I think she needs you.’

  ‘I won’t. I need her too.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX

  The next morning we came back to a harsher reality. We had just settled in at the office, at the start of our first working day together, when Jack Lipton rang: the police had released Quang’s body, he was being cremated that morning, ten thirty, at Rookwood Cemetery crematorium. It was the first time we’d spoken since that fateful morning nine days earlier, when he’d rung to announce Quang’s murder, and his voice was still heavy with suspicion.

  ‘I tried to ring you yesterday,’ he said. ‘What about your lady friend? Hao? I don’t know how to contact her.’

  ‘I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’ll want to come too.’

  ‘Of course I want to come,’ Hao said when I told her. ‘What about Eric? Do you think we should ring him?’

  ‘Better not. It mightn’t be safe if he was seen there with us.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said a little sadly.

  ‘We can take him there later, when this is all over.’

  ‘Yes. I think we should.’ I could tell she was disappointed. We still hadn’t heard from him. I was beginning to fret.

  It was a sad little group that met at the crematorium later that morning. The service had started when we arrived but we gathered outside afterwards, near the rose garden where Quang’s ashes would soon come to rest. Jack and Sen were there of course, and so were Nghiem and Ann: I didn’t know t
hey knew Quang, until Nghiem explained they’d been at school together. The world of the old Saigon elite was small. There was also a cluster of elderly Vietnamese in ill-fitting suits and áo dài that had grown too tight. I wondered if Quang’s informant was among them. I recognised Linh, the white-headed doctor who had treated me, and we exchanged a few words. He seemed glad to see me. A bonze in grey robes chanted some prayers. Nam Mô A Di Đa Phật.

  Jack introduced me to a thin, scholarly-looking Vietnamese woman in her twenties, looking remarkably like her father.

  ‘This is Nga. Quang’s daughter. She’s just arrived from France. She’s staying with us for a few days.’

  ‘I was terribly sad at your father’s death,’ I said to her formally. ‘I didn’t know him very well but I admired him a lot. We shall all miss him.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, in strongly accented English. ‘I hadn’t seen him since many years. But I will miss him also. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Nga lives with her mother in Paris,’ Jack explained while she talked with Hao and Sen. ‘They’d been separated for years. Quang had the sense to send them abroad before the end. He was prepared to stay and work for the new regime, but he didn’t trust them very far.’

  ‘Why didn’t he stay in France too when he came out?’

  ‘He didn’t want to live there. He blamed them too for the mess in Vietnam. He said it would never have happened if they hadn’t insisted on regaining their colonies in Indochina after World War Two. Same for the Americans. He didn’t blame them so much for the war, they’d let themselves get sucked into it, but he couldn’t forgive them for the way they had dropped the south in the end. He said at least Australia had a clear conscience, whatever our reasons for going to Vietnam we’d actually tried to help the country, and we’d also paid a heavy price. He liked this place better.’