Colin Cotterill - Disco for the Departed

Although Hong Lan didn’t tell her who the man was, she talked about him as if she knew him intimately. She said there was good reason why she couldn’t mention his name.

But, by then, H’Loi had already started hearing rumors. She knew about the black magicians and their love potions and their hypnotism and their sacrifices. H’Loi’s people had their own share of occult practices so she knew how dangerous they could all be. In spite of her love for the girl she’d nannied for nine years, H’Loi feared she didn’t know what she was saying. She’d been bewitched. She’d never before talked of love, never shown an interest in men. Then, suddenly, after six weeks in a cave hospital, she’d fallen head over heels in love with a man, someone she hardly knew; a man who was totally wrong for her.

When she finally confronted Hong Lan with her suspicions, H’Loi didn’t pretend to mask the hatred she felt for the Cubans. It didn’t matter to her whether they were black, pink, or cobalt blue. They were bad. She told Hong Lan they were devils, and her relationship with the girl soured.

The colonel’s death had been so unexpected it left them all stunned. The war was over and the family had dreamed of a normal, happy life. As a military family under the Viet-minh, they’d never had a permanent home. So close to their dream and suddenly the old soldier had managed to get himself killed. After the funeral, the mother started preparations for their journey back to Vietnam. They had a small army pension, enough for a little house. Perhaps Hong Lan could even go to college.

But, just before the departure, the girl was kidnapped. She was taken right from their wooden shack in broad daylight. At the time, the mother had been away making final arrangements for transport. H’Loi was out picking fruit for the journey. When she got back to the house, Hong Lan was gone. There were signs of a struggle. A strongbox had been broken into and the housekeeping money was missing. According to H’Loi, everyone knew who was responsible. There was a huge search. The colonel’s old regiment was mobilized. They scoured the whole province. After two weeks, when there was still no sign of the girl or the Cubans, everyone assumed they’d taken her out of Laos. The mother had returned to Vietnam, leaving H’Loi to fend for herself.

Siri had so many questions about this amazing story he didn’t know where to begin.

“Why didn’t you return with the mother?” he asked.

“She didn’t ask me to. She blamed me for not watching her daughter that day. She vanished with all their belongings and my wages, what little there was owing to me. I didn’t have any money at all. The regional command sympathized and they kindly found me a husband.”

“Very nice of them,” Siri said. “And you didn’t hear anything else of Hong Lan?”

“Oh, there were stories. This is the world capital for rumors. I’m sure you know that, uncle.”

“Were there any credible ones?”

“Not really. There was one that they’d murdered her and buried the body. Another was that the blacks had smuggled her to Cuba to use as a sex slave.”

“And what do you think happened?”

She gave him a look as if it had been a very long time since anyone had sought out her opinion on anything. “I really have no idea, uncle. I’d like to think, spell or no spell, that she enjoyed this love she thought she’d found, and that she’s still living in blissful ignorance somewhere.”

“How was Hong Lan’s relationship with her mother?” Siri asked, again catching the woman by surprise.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I doubt I’ll ever see the old witch again. You know? If they were close, they wouldn’t have needed me. It was as if she’d done her national duty, produced the child the colonel expected, then left it to grow by itself. The mother was politically active. She ran seminars and organized this and that. But I never once saw her hold her daughter. I wasn’t the first nanny. The girl had had half a dozen before I came along.”

“Yet she turned out okay?”

“She turned out lovely. See what happens when you have a montagnard looking after your children?”

“I’ll keep it in mind when I have my next.” They both laughed, and the husband poked his ugly head in through the window to see what was happening.

H’Loi ignored him. “I often wonder whether she would have been so susceptible to the magic if she’d had a little more love from her family.”

“The day of the kidnap, whose decision was it for you to go and pick fruit?”

H’Loi laughed again. “Do you really expect me to remember such a thing? I’m just a simple housewife, remember?”

“Madam,” Siri said in all sincerity, “I have met many simple housewives in my life, and, believe me, you are not one of them. You are a very astute, intelligent woman.” She looked at him with her mouth open, astounded. Never in her life had she received such a compliment. The fact that it had come from a man of letters, a physician no less, made it all the more incredible. All the more profound. A solitary tear gathered momentum in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

“I suppose it had to be Hong Lan,” she said, wiping it hurriedly away.

“What did?”

“Who suggested I pick fruit. She was the only one who ate the stuff. I’d never seen anyone get through so much fruit without spending the day in the toilet. Her mother lived on a diet of rice and pork rind for years. That was probably the root of her nastiness.”

“Do you believe Hong Lan might still be alive?”

“Doctor… honestly, I don’t feel her presence anymore.”

Siri got lost three times on his walk down from the hills, but as any way down would lead him to the only road, he was never in a state of panic. He arrived at the guesthouse just as the day ended. He found himself mesmerized by the setting sun. He saw it as a huge bullet puncturing the horizon in slow motion. The horizon bled, red seeping from the entry wound, and oozing across the landscape. It occurred to him that forensic pathology might be damaging his appreciation of nature.

Before he reached the front steps of the building, he saw Dtui and Panoy under a don soak, the sad tree. He walked over to them.

“Hello,” he said. “Having a picnic?”

“They won’t let us in,” Dtui told him.

“In what?”

“In Guesthouse Number One.”

“Why on earth not?”

“They say this little girl here”-Panoy looked up and smiled and tried to reach for Siri’s eyebrows-”is illegal. They say they can’t allow guests who are not on the official Party register.”

“But she stayed here last night.”

Dtui put on the strict tone of the guesthouse manageress. “‘That was an absolute infringement of regulations for which somebody will be punished.’ If they’d known we’d smuggled her in, they’d probably have shot us on the spot.”

“I take it you’ve already argued the point?”

She smiled. “Isn’t my face still blue?”

“Then let us once more attempt to champion our opposition to silly rules.”

The manageress, still in her apron and army fatigues, stood at the top of the steps with her arms folded. It appeared she’d anticipated this second foray. Siri took a moment to size up the enemy. She’d never formally introduced herself, though Siri had noticed her lurking in the background of every meeting, meal, and melee. She was fortyish and formidable, but Siri had battled worse.

“Good evening, comrade,” Siri smiled.

The woman responded with a line she’d obviously been rehearsing. “I’m sorry, Doctor. She can’t come in. There are rules. I’ve already reported last night’s infringement.”