Recorded Books Inc. - Hendersons Spear

BOOKS BY RONALD WRIGHT

Fiction
Hendersons Spear
A Scientific Romance

History
Stolen Continents

Travel
Time Among the Maya On Fiji Islands
Cut Stones and Crossroads

Essays
Home and Away

To the memory of my father
A.E.A. Wright
19141995

Keeper of the family stories
and the spear.

Womens Prison, Arue. April, 1990

A NOTE IS ALL I HAVE FROM YOU . I think of it as yours despite the formal stationery and wary tone: We have recently been contacted by a young lady whose particulars appear to match your own. It found me here just before Christmasa few weeks after my arrest.

Id left my name with the contact agency several years ago, long enough to grow discouraged and then push discouragement to the back of my mind. So your note was a shock, though Id invited ita shock followed by relief and joy. You were alive! You wanted us to find each other. You werent hiding, werent exacting a sullen revenge that might last until I died.

Particulars. They mean dates, ages, numbers on certificates. These arent always reliable in our family, as I shall tell. But there can be no mistake; only your particulars could possibly appear to match my own. This young lady is you. And this older one is me, who gave you life at sixteen, and gave you away.

Who are you now? And how and what and where? Im brimming with questions. Im ready for the best, the worst, the in-between. Like most of us youre probably in between. And twenty-two is so damn young, but for the first time in your life youre feeling old. Youre thinking of endings and beginnings, which is why youve begun to look for me. But maybe you havent yet made up your mind youll even see me. So Ill go first: Olivia Wyvern, Cell 15. Your mother.

Theres this tiresome obstacle to our reunion: Im imprisoned on the far side of the world (assuming youre still in Britain). Its not a bad jail. How many have palm trees in the yard, French bread, an ocean view? And a good friend is moving heaven and earth to get me out of it. My governmentIm a Canadian nowis sympathetic. The consul here is on my side. Ottawa is asking questions about the charge, the so-called evidence. People are beginning to see that. been framed.

It cant be easy finding your mother after all these years, only to learn she stands accused of murderwell, for complice, which means accessory. But truly there was no murder. Or if there was it had nothing to do with me. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She would say that, wouldnt she? Will you allow me the presumption of innocence, which is more than Ive had from the Napoleonic Code? (Tahitis a French colony.) I am not guilty. But I do plead guilty to a charge concerning you: I threw away the life we might have lived together. No law sets penalties for that; it was a crime of the will and the heart. Both you the innocent and I the guilty have served over twenty years for it.

The people in London who matched our particulars have also offered advice on how to proceed. Phone calls out of the blue are not recommended. Start with a letter, they sayenclose photos, snippets of hair, take your time. Phone calls and meetings will come later. Phoning is difficult here, anyway, and a meeting out of the question. But I have plenty of time. So this is a long letter to prepare you for the next step, if and when.

Already Ive a lot to thank you for. Without your note I might still be stewing in the bath of outrage, fear, and hate in which I fell at my arrest. Youve kept me busy writing this since January. They let me spend four hours a day in the library. The lights good in the morning, a breeze comes through the bars, mynah birds squabble in the palms, and its the only room without a reek of sewer. This place is so French: good food, bad drains. The washbasin in my cell is a mixed blessingno plug or trap to keep down smells and cockroaches. Until Pua showed me the remedy (chewing gum and a coin), I thought I might be gassed in my sleep or nibbled raw. Tahitian roaches are as big as mice and they go for the dead skin on your feet.