The Woman at the Top of the World

'He was a wanderer between two worlds and must ever wander...'― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Prelude in Hell

The Road to Darjeeling, 1979

It was said that there were no neutral feelings about India, you either loved it or you hated it...Phil Danté was finally going from the latter to the former in his sojourn from soldiering.

After fun and adventure in Sri Lanka, a colourful smaller island nation he much preferred to India, he flew with the proverbial good intentions to colourful Madras. It was interesting, but he had his introduction to dysentery that manifested itself on his flight to Bombay. It made him the most unpopular man on the plane and India's most unwanted, a true untouchable.

His memory of Bombay would always be squatting over a hole in a concrete floor where the shithouse rat that his sergeants had said he was as cunning as made an appearance. She stood on her hind legs and sniffed to watch him with sympathetic eyes. Both of them somehow seemed glad of each other's company...the Rat in a Hot Tin Shed was a consoling companion. As there was no lock on the tin shed he was in, he had no idea whether their unwanted visitors ran away screaming due to him at his worst or the giant rat at her best.

When you're all the way down, there's only one direction...

By keeping to Chinese food and bottled drinks, he came right for his trip to Calcutta. He also recharged his finances with an international bank transfer.

The Toy Train to the Himalayas

Now he was literally going up in the world...on his way North to the East Himalayan mountain city of Darjeeling in West Bengal; he was having a wonderful time.

The quaint Darjeeling Himalayan Railway resembled a toy train which had it all over Thomas the Tank Engine. His travelling companions from Calcutta were three lively young Indian men journeying to Darjeeling for a Boy's Own holiday; the type of trips students took in the movies but were never allowed to do by most parents in real life. Phil sucked in their enthusiasm and joy of life, and at their request he told amusing anecdotes of his selected travels around the world making him feel like their eccentric uncle. He told them true traveller's tales of Australasia, New Caledonia, Europe, the British Isles and North America; he didn't mention his soldiering in Vietnam, Guatemala and Rhodesia, where he was literally 'shooting through', or assassinating a jungle fanatic for the Sri Lankan police...

When their train would make some winding turns, his three new friends would take turns leaping out and outrunning the train to get back into the carriage. Phil hadn't the nerve, believing that once outside the train he'd suddenly have another dysentery attack that felt like a fart, but aromatically filled your trousers. He'd be left in the middle of nowhere to no doubt freeze to death at night with Bugs Bunny waving farewell from the back of the train,

'So long, stinky! See ya in Helsinki!'

He had had many scenic railway rides around the world, and many interesting travelling companions, but this was the best train journey that he had ever had in his life. Thanks to his new friends, he actually felt like a teenager again. As the Chinese said, the journey is the reward. He then recalled Robert Louis Stevenson's foreboding take on the phrase, it is better to travel hopefully than arrive...

* * *

He bid adieu to his three friends and found accommodation in a reasonably priced guest house. Mrs. Cameron, the Anglo-Indian proprietress and her well-fed former pariah dog Kim, now living in canine heaven, sat him down for a wonderful cup of tea, biscuits and a chat in her apartment that resembled an Englishwoman's flat. Darjeeling was his favourite tea, with Ceylon running it a close second; it was a major accomplishment he prided himself on to enjoy them both in their lands of origin. Kim was in Seventh Heaven from Phil's lovingly patting her, the feeling of a good dog was just as heavenly for Phil.

After tea she introduced him to her other guests, the Abercrombies and the Donaldsons, two middle aged English couples who seemed to be in purgatory. They remained there indefinitely awaiting approval of their travels to the Mysterious Lands of Sikkim and Bhutan that the Indian government was then limiting travels to. They passed the time with games of bridge in the evening and walks during the day. It was a homey version of the Hotel California song.

Darjeeling was a border town and border towns were full of danger, intrigue, and eccentric characters. He vowed to watch his tongue and his step. The suspicious Phil wondered whether his new landlady was trying to find out if he was some Thunder in the East Alan Ladd type adventurer who'd try to take Tibet, seize Sikkim or blast Bhutan; as he was the only single guest there.

As he left his guesthouse, he passed an expensively dressed couple walking up to it. The woman trudged behind the man like a Japanese couple. He warmly smiled and nodded at the pair as he continued on his way.

The Lady from Kathmandu

After exploring the town, Phil found a Tibetan restaurant with wonderful hearty food. With its mixed population, Darjeeling seemed like occupied Nepal or a Tibetan colony whilst Mrs. Cameron's cosy British guesthouse was a Hill Station of the Raj that he felt at home in. After his meal he wrote his picture postcards and was introduced to one of the most unusual drinks that he had ever had, what the locals called Tongba.

The woman he had viewed much earlier entered the restaurant and looked at him. Her presumed husband was not with her.

'Bonsoir monsieur, qu'est-ce que que tu bois?'

Phil rose to his feet,

'Tongba, Madame; une bière Népalaise, voulez-vous en goûter?'

She stood hesitantly, had he spoken French too quickly for her?

'Have a go, it's not bad.'

'You speak English...'

'It's not bad either...'

She laughed and the ice was broken.

'I thought you were French.'

'Well, I am...and I'm not...my parents were born in France, but both of their families emigrated to England about the time of the Great Slump. After the war my parents migrated to Australia, where I was born. My Auntie went back to France, but they booted her out and now she lives in Oz too.'

'How does a Frenchwoman manage to get booted out, as you say, from France?'

'She and her mates became persona non gratia with DeGaulle.'

'Oh...'

'A. S.! Won't you please join me? I'm Phil Danté, and I believe we're staying at the same guest house.'

'I'd love to join you, I'm Camilla Reynolds and I'm English. Now what on earth is that in your wooden tumbler?'

As she shook hands and sat down, Phil signalled the smiling owner to bring another one.

'Tongba is actually the name of the wooden tumbler as you call it that holds millet seed. You pour hot water over it and it ferments, the longer you let it stay, the stronger it gets. I believe the drink itself is...

'Mandokpenaa thee', smiled the owner as he brought another wooden tumbler filled with black millet seeds that had a built-in wooden straw to drink it with along with a pitcher of hot water.

'Did you come by train?'

'No, we drove from Kathmandu. My husband has some urgent business. and he was called away to fly out somewhere.'

'Where does he fly from?'

'The Indian Air Force base at Bagdogra.'

'He's in the IAF?'

'No, my husband is a VIP who does medical work for the Indian government.'

'I hope you won't get the wrong idea, but would you like to come sightseeing with me tomorrow?'

She clinked her wooden tumbler to his and toasted,

'I'd love to!'

* * *

The pair breakfasted together with Phil explaining that he was going to chaperone Mrs. Reynolds about town. In his Indian travels Phil had discovered that most Indians were more English than the English when it came to good manners.

They shared an English breakfast and traveller's tales with the perpetually waiting travellers to Bhutan and Sikkim. The couples related the most frightening time in their life was when they went on a cable car adventure on the Darjeeling Ropeway. Due to power brownouts in the afternoon, they were suddenly left mid-air with only the sound of the high winds that terrified them as they swung from side to side and believed they'd fall to the earth below...

'Can you see Mt. Everest from here?', Camilla asked.

'Would you like to see it at sunrise?', answered the gracious Mrs. Cameron, 'There are tours by jeep to Tiger Hill where you can see it at its best. I will be happy to make a booking for the pair of you, at a very good price.'

Mrs. Cameron poured Phil another cup of tea,

'You look so happy, Mr. Danté...'

'I am, thanks to you...I feel at home here, like I'm staying with my relatives in Cornwall...'

'Cornwall!'

Everyone brightened up even more than they had been, Camilla was ecstatic. She and the other guests related stories of their childhood seaside holidays where and when everything was beautiful and pleasant...

The Temples and the Trek, Talks and Tea, Tom and Jerry and the Golden Dawn

They explored the Mahakal and Kali temples with Phil telling her after the latter that Gunga Din was his favourite movie; she replied that Lost Horizon was hers, they agreed that they loved both films as well as The Razor's Edge.

After morning tea, they went on a small trek riding Himalayan mountain ponies who were cuter than the train. Phil's mount proved that like dogs and cats, horses had a sense of humour when he suddenly ran out of control up to a wall and halted at a sheer drop of a couple thousand meters down. His pony looked down and from side to side at the drop and seemed to be smiling and laughing at the shocked Phil. Camilla laughed uncontrollably; her mount had the same expression. Near death adventures and bizarre humour blended together in the Wide World of Phil.

The green hill country tea plantation views were splendid. He had no idea why he burst into lustily singing We're Riding to the Never Never, but his little crazy horse seemed to love his song, as did the others.

After the trek, Phil related his imaginary background of being an Australian public servant on long service leave. After a childhood of desiring an interesting life, once he finally had one, he couldn't talk about it. As someone once said, irony was God's sense of humour.

She talked about her physician husband's humanitarian work around the world; they had previously been in Sri Lanka as well. It was after their late lunch that she began to open up to him.

Now she confided that her marriage was a nightmare; her husband resolutely believed that his benevolent work allowed him to behave abominably with her and his subordinates as he showed off his charitable accomplishments.

'You married the Abominable Showman of the Himalayas?'

'Well put, Phil...he makes me feel so small. I have nothing to talk to his peers about, and they seem to revel in putting me down. You're the first person in quite some time that I can really talk to...'

His mind went back to his enforced silences by his Auntie and her remark,

'What women really want is a good listener...'

She confided her life story to him...a child in a mill town encouraged by her ambitious mother into escape through acting, dancing and beauty contests, her work as an international air hostess, then her meeting the renown humanitarian surgeon, Dr. Bill Reynolds. His courtship, their marriage and her entry into the Mount Olympus of celebrity benefactors who were similar to movie stars in Hollywood's Golden Age.

Her price of admission and remaining in his heaven was her hell of degrading submission to him in everything; an abortion made her unable to ever have children, her husband's sexual infidelities with not just other women and men, but with some of the children he helped in his charity medical work...

'The higher you go, the lower the morals', Phil reflected.

He had never known of anyone to be so low as to attack children, he wondered if there was any truth in her allegations.

'I was supposed to be grateful to help the world's children, Bill would beat me when I told him I wanted one of my own and gave me a lecture on overpopulation...Now I have nothing but my looks...I've hurt my family and I never see them...all I am is a cheerleader and a beard for my husband and his disgusting friends...

'I believe Sartre got it right, Hell is other people...

'You're always on your own, aren't you, Phil?'

'Down to Gehenna or up to the throne...'

'I've never been so alone as I am within a crowd at a party. I finally feel that I'm not alone when I'm with you...I can be myself.'

'That's what it's all about...not The Hokey Pokey.'

'You're wondering why I don't leave him...'

'Once upon a time a man went to the circus. He was coming back to his seat after the intermission and he heard an old man crying...What's wrong?'

Phil's voice changed to an old Australian man's,

'I've been with the circus all of me life and all I do is shovel the shit in the elephant's cage and clean it up in the ring when they drop their load...I can't take it anymore...I'm 65 years old and I've been shovelling shit since I was a boy, and now I'm older than my father was when he died doing it...I just can't take it anymore...'

Camilla resembled a surprised faun in the forest.

Phil put his hand on her shoulder and sympathetically but intensely looked into her eyes and her soul, like Tyrone Power hypnotising John Payne in The Razor's Edge. He returned to his own strong voice,

'You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life...leave, because it's never too late to start over again...leave, because you have to live with yourself...'

His expression turned to horror, his voice returned to that of the old man,

'What??? And leave show business???'

Camilla's laughter was a shriek, he removed his hand, but she grabbed and squeezed it.

'That's exactly what it's like, Father Phil. At first I was addicted to the fame, then I became addicted to other things...but Bill's a cruel man who'll follow me to the ends of the earth to torment me...'

'Up to you...'

They turned to look up a hill after hearing some noises. One of the ponies of the type they had ridden slipped and fell downhill on the cobblestone streets. Camilla screamed and they ran towards the horse. The pony seemed to be used to it and was back on his feet.

Camilla put her arms around the pony and gave him a love-up that was appreciated.

'Didn't the trek master say that the ponies were sure footed and never lost their balance?'

'Anyone can fall from grace', Camilla soothingly lamented, as she kissed the pony's head.

The pony looked at Phil; he hugged the pony from the other side.

'When you least expect it.'

They returned to the guest house where Mrs. Cameron informed them that she would wake them early for their journey to view the dawn. The pair joined Mrs. Cameron, Kim, the Abercrombies and the Donaldsons for tea and trading Tales of the Far Away set to the sound of the Victorian grandfather clock in Mrs. Cameron's House of Forever England. It was another irony that now their British homes were the Far Away; it wasn't only the coolness that drew the British living in the hot lowlands of India to the Hill Stations, it was their own Far Away of returning home for tea...

The two couples declined their invitation to dinner and to view the sunrise, saying that they were carefully watching their finances due to their indefinite wait. Again, they made Phil think of the surrounded group in Thunder in the East passively awaiting their inevitable doom...

Their plan after dinner was a walk through town and an early night, but when they passed a cinema that advertised it was showing a Tom and Jerry festival,

'Let's go, Phil...please!'

Together in the cinema the pair laughed so hard at the 1940s and 50s antics of their childhood friends who were trying to kill each other that Camilla had tears going down her eyes. After hearing her life story, he recalled Sullivan's Travels with the damned chain gang prisoners laughing themselves into happiness...Vietnam, Guatemala, Rhodesia and elsewhere...he suddenly realised his life was one big Tom and Jerry cartoon...

* * *

Their jeep picked them up in the darkness of the night of a thousand stars; Phil wore nearly every piece of clothing he possessed to stay warm.

Upon arrival at Tiger Hill, their driver and guide provided welcome hot tea and biscuits.

The sunrise appeared slowly in the quiet...the skies became red, then gold, then blue...the colours were so vivid that he felt them in his soul...it was like viewing the beginning of the world from Heaven...

They looked at each other radiantly,

'You're the woman at the top of the world...'

Camilla looked like she was in shock, or she had seen her entire life flash before her eyes,

'Phil...I felt like I saw the face of God...'

She fell into his arms, and they kissed and embraced each other; they became one with the stunning view until it was time to return...

They held each other in the back seat, she whispered in his ear,

'I have to go to sleep...would you like to spend the morning with me?'

It was another irony attack. First he couldn't speak about his interesting life, now he was with a truly wonderful and sensitive woman who made herself available after they shared the most beautiful sight on Earth...but he would not sleep with a married woman, whether the marriage was a happy one or not. The irony was that single women ignored him...

'If you weren't married, I'd be proud too, but...'

'You're too much of a gentleman...'

'Someone has to be...'

'Someone has to be...You're a dying breed...'

'I hope not.'

Back at their guesthouse, Mrs Cameron had a late breakfast for them.

Camilla gave him a longing look before she returned to her room; leaving that look that no woman had ever given him before was the hardest thing he had ever done...

He went for another solitary walk through town and would have an early night.

The Return of the Demigod

He returned to the guesthouse for afternoon tea. Instead of the usual joy, everyone was on the proverbial tenterhooks. Kim was missing; in the dog's place was a glaring man who resembled Dracula's understudy,

'Do you know who I am?'

Phil looked at the frightened Camilla,

'Your husband's a doctor, isn't he? Can he cure amnesia?'

Everyone but the Reynoldses roared with laughter, Camilla bit her lip, then nervously said,

'Phil, this is my husband, Dr. Reynolds.'

'I beg your pardon, sir. It's so nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you...'

He refused to shake Phil's hand; his glare was nastier than Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee put together. He spoke with an American accent,

'I've just returned from Bagdogra.'

'How was it?'

He glared like so many people he knew in Australia or Rhodesia who profoundly announced that that they had just come back alive from a location with an exotic sounding name. When Phil asked how it was and whether they had a good time there, they responded with an identical glare, because coming back alive to tell the tale from a place with an exotic sounding name was the point; who cares what they actually did there? It was rude to ask, you were merely supposed to be impressed.

'I want a word with you! In private!...Let's step outside!'

In Australia the last three words were a cue for a blue, an invitation for a fight; if they didn't think they could beat you up they'd hit you with a bar stool when you weren't looking.

'Let's...after you, sir.'

Once outside, Dr. Reynolds produced a cigarette and lit up. He didn't offer Phil one like people did in Australia, Great Britain or Africa; he never smoked anyway, but it was the thought that counted. He wondered if the Doctor was trying to act like William Holden, the obnoxious alkie anti-British tough guy who lived in Commonwealth countries but badmouthed the English every time he opened his mouth.

The Abominable Showman dramatically blew smoke at him, obviously he'd seen the same corny movies...

Phil always had funny things pop into his mind at the least appropriate moment. Suddenly he recalled a cartoon of an ancient Greek looking into his own reflection with the sad woman behind him asking,

'Is there someone else, Narcissus?'

He broke out laughing.

'What have you been up to with my wife?'

Using his polite Tom Conway accent, he gave a lengthy and detailed account of their activities. Dr Reynolds' eyes showed surprise, as if he expected him to deny things.

'What gives you the right to rustle cattle wearing another man's brand?'

He laughed again that made Dracula glare even more.

'Ah reckon ya been watchin' too many cowboy films, pardner.'

He thought saying, Smile when you say that would've been a bit too much.

'Mouth off to me and I'll knock your Limey block off!'

He laughed again.

'Are you related to Jerry Lewis and the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots?'

Dr. Reynolds threw a punch. Phil sidestepped and blocked it, but kept holding the doctor's arm and whirled around taking him to the ground with his arm in an armlock.

'And this egomaniac went all the way home! Me me me me!'

Phil's 'me's sounded like the little piggy from the childhood rhyme. Then he coldly quoted an American paratrooper he saw quell an assailant in a barroom brawl in Saigon,

'Never let your alligator mouth overload your parakeet ass...'

Dracula transformed into Don Knotts and cried out in pain; Phil increased the pressure and quietly quoted his Company Sergeant Major in Vietnam,

'If I hear one more sound out of you I'll rip your arm out of the socket and beat you to death with it.'

Looking into Phil's eyes the quaking Doctor well believed him...

Again, he politely explained the activities of their day and sunrise outings, that he had informed Mrs Cameron and everyone that they would be going together as he felt being an unescorted woman could be asking for trouble...then informed him if he was looking for trouble he had found it...did he understand and was everything righty dighty?

The Doctor agreed with all points, Phil helped him to his feet.

Now, may I shout you and your Missus a drink?

'That won't be necessary.'

'It's not necessary, it's good manners...'

The pair returned to the parlour, Phil began telling a joke. Everyone laughed, the Doctor attempted to do so, with an expression like he was undergoing dental work without the benefit of novocaine.

'We've had a tiring day, Mrs. Reynolds and I will be turning in.'

Once she heard the slam of their bedroom door, Kim came running down to the parlour and leapt into Phil's lap for petting.

* * *

The next morning the Reynoldses weren't at the breakfast table; he had the feeling that the Doctor wasn't much one for the forgive and forget business. He didn't linger as long as he usually did in order to allow them to have a Phil-free morning.

The Long Arm of the Law

Later in the day a police Land Rover stopped near him; several of Darjeeling's Finest stepped out of their vehicle and surrounded him.

'Your passport, please.'

He handed one of them his British passport who examined and pocketed it.

'Mr. Danté, would you please come with us?'

* * *

Phil never argued with police. He entered their station and found himself face to face with a large Sikh sergeant who resembled a heavyweight boxer.

'Do you enjoy beating up women in Australia?'

'Only in self-defence, Sergeant.'

The Sikh seemed surprised by being addressed by his rank and smiled at Phil's quip. He made a point of putting on kid gloves; in the police, the phrase 'handling with kid gloves' meant leaving no tell-tale marks...

'Come with me, Mr. Danté...you will be able to telephone the Australian Embassy after the telephone lines are repaired...We require your presence to assist with our enquiries...'

Think fast, Danté...

'Are the lines right enough to telephone the Sri Lanka Police? They can vouch for me.'

Everyone froze in surprise. An Inspector who looked like a former rugby player entered the room and all snapped to attention, including Phil who stamped his foot and shouted,

'Sah!'

'What kind of trick is this, Mr. Danté...'

'None, sah!'

Phil gave them the name and office of the Member in Charge who recruited him to work as a Special Constable with extraordinary powers. He looked at the Sikh Sergeant,

'You can do double or nothing.'

The Sergeant smiled and gave the weird head shake that meant 'yes' in the Subcontinent...

* * *

It seemed a very long wait in the cell he was put in, but every minute was one where he wasn't being used as a punching bag.

Three stern constables unlocked his cell and beckoned him. He rose, they silently and grimly escorted him to the Inspector's office.

There was a tea set on the table, the Inspector introduced himself, as did the Sergeant who produced a tray of gulab jamun sweets that he said were made by his wife. They smiled, shook hands and took tea...

The Inspector was fortunately curious and eager to telephone a police Inspector from another nation to gain a network contact.

'Your Sri Lankan Inspector-in-Charge you worked with gave you a very high recommendation of trustworthiness. He also informed me of your British South Africa Police experience, that explains a lot about you..."public servant"...Between us, he also said things about the Doctor that did not make him welcome again in Sri Lanka, namely allegations about his sexual activities with minors...'

'So it's true! Why don't you-'

'As the Americans say, the Doctor has a lot of "pull" here...he and his friends are a "protected species"; true untouchables. He is immune from any prosecution.'

Camilla was telling the truth...had he known what he knew now, he probably would have beat her husband to death...but then he'd be found hanged in a cell with his family denying his suicide...

On the bright side, it was one of the happiest days in his life, and he had two powerful friends who appeared to be on his side. He'd rather have a Sikh for a friend than an enemy...

The Inspector explained that the Doctor had brought his obviously beaten wife into the police station where she nervously said that Phil had beaten and anally raped her. The Inspector was a master at friendly interrogation and felt that the story didn't ring true.

'We will not have you stay with us, but we will put you up in another place of accommodation, where you will remain until the Doctor and his wife depart, which will not be too long of a time.'

* * *

Phil's luggage which had been taken to the police station was sent to his new accommodation. Being in Darjeeling was no longer fun; like limbo, there was no longer any joy as he was on his own again. Now he was in Purgatory-with-a-View like the Abercrombies and the Donaldsons, but between the heaven of Mrs. Cameron's Forever England Hill Station guesthouse with Camilla and the others and the hell of the police changing their mind on him to please the humanitarian mafia. Upon his release, he planned on descending by train from his Darjeeling High to Calcutta where he'd fly to Burma then journey beyond Rangoon On the Road to Mandalay; perhaps he could find a job as one of the Never So Few...

* * *

Phil was visited by the Police who said his presence was required. He wondered whether Dr. Reynolds' 'pull' had overrode the sensible Inspector and he was in for a term of imprisonment or disappearance.

At the police station he was greeted by his Sikh Sergeant, who didn't return Phil's smile, rather he had a sad look on his face. He escorted Phil to the Inspector's office in an ominous silence and put his hand on Phil's shoulder in some sort of reassurance. He feared the worst...

Instead of a tea set, there was a bottle of Solan Number One malt whisky and two glasses. The Inspector returned his passport.

'Please sit down. I received this note, Mr. Danté...'

The summation of Camilla's lengthy handwritten epistle was an apology that she had falsely accused Phil, it was her husband who had worked her over and as no one was willing to stop his raping children due to his high-profile humanitarian work, she would take matters into her own hands...

'Their vehicle went off a mountain road, we will be unable to get to the scene of the wreckage...it may have been an accident...'

'I believe she literally took him down, because she was the only person in the world who could do it, sir.'

The Inspector poured two whiskies neat, Phil toasted her,

'She'll forever be the woman at the top of the world...'

FIN

Author Notes: I am the author of three Extra Dimensional/Ultraterrestial military science fiction novels MERCENARY EXOTIQUE, OPERATION CHUPACABRA and WORK IN OTHER WORLDS FROM YOUR OWN HOME! as well as two travel books THE MAN FROM WAUKEGAN and TWO AUSTRALIANS IN SCOTLAND (all from Lulu.com). I live happily ever after with my wife in paradise (coastal Kiama, NSW Australia).

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