Once upon a time in Chinatown

by Robert Ronsson

  ‘Pineapple curry?’ he said.

  ‘And boiled white rice, please.’

  ‘Off course. And to drink?’

  ‘Coca-Cola.’

  ‘Do you mind if I have a beer?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Across the road from the street stalls, customers filed in and out of the Ipoh branch of Maybank. She wondered how many of its tellers she had trained. Probably most of them. She imagined the upselling conversations they should be initiating about the advantages of Premier Banking or the better interest rates from such and such an account.

  Luis returned with the food and drink on a red plastic tray. She didn’t offer him money. The cost of everything would have been less than he would have paid for a sandwich in Portugal. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and perched it on the edge of the ashtray. With his mouth still full of smoke, he took the first spoonful of curry.

  She couldn’t resist. ‘You should cut down your smoking, you know.’

  He shrugged. ‘Of course. I know. But it’s an addiction. Knowing it’s bad for you isn’t enough. Anyway—’ he indicated the traffic that buzzed past only feet away ‘—I could try to cross the road after this meal and not make it to the other side. The number of cigarettes—’

  ‘Sorry! It is not my concern.’

  ‘But it makes people think I must be stupid to still smoke in spite of the evidence against it. Sometimes… in my job… it is a good thing for people to think you are stupid.’ He looked up from his food, his eyes trying to fix on hers.

  Nancy focused on her plate. Was this a warning that she shouldn’t under-estimate him? Did he expect her to confess to being part of the family that owned the Kellas land there and then? Nancy busied herself by fishing a particularly fibrous chunk of pineapple from her curry and placing it on the side plate.

  ‘Aren’t you interested in the rest of the story about Kellie’s Castle?’ Luis asked.

  She looked up. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Where was I?’

  ‘William Kellie Smith was dead and his widow had sold everything to the British company.’

  ‘Correct. And the British Company ran it well until the Japanese invaded and appropriated all the production. None of this was legal. I don’t know what happened to any British people who worked there. From what I have read they either fled before the troops arrived or were interned. But that‘s the story of the people not the land.’

  She finished her meal and pushed the plate to one side. The coke bottle perspired in the heat and she wiped it down with a paper napkin before picking it up.

  ‘The Japanese weren’t interested in the palm oil so the Kellas plantations reverted to jungle. The land had lost value by the time the war was over. It was taken over by a Chinese family. This family had behaved very honourably during the war. As you know, there is no love lost between the Chinese and Japanese at the best of times so it was the Chinese who were on the end of Japanese atrocities; it was the Chinese who led the resistance. The family that led the resistance in the area around Batu Gaja was your father’s family – the Lee family.’

  ‘We were resistance heroes against the Japanese? I didn’t know this.’

  ‘Your family should be proud of their actions in the war. But afterwards,’ he shook his head, ‘the family kept its band of fighters together and, as far as I can tell, they operated on the edge of the law under the post-war government. The Kellas estate was among the assets they acquired.’

  ‘What do you mean acquired?’

  He pushed his chair away from the table, leaning back and extending his long legs almost into the road. ‘They bought it – or rather your family did. That what the records show.’ He suddenly took an interest in the traffic passing by as if he was waiting for her to respond in a way that incriminated her.

  ‘You mean my father owns Kellie’s Castle?’

  ‘The whole estate. Not him alone though. Your father has brothers and together they own a company called Leeyate Holdings and it’s the company that is the registered owner of the Kellas Estate. I’m surprised you didn’t know.’ His body language – the studied nonchalance – screamed that he knew he had caught her in a lie. On the roof of the house she had said the owners were British or American.

  She followed her father’s line. ‘It’s strange my father never told me. Maybe if I was a boy… a son…’ The fakery of each word shone like a KL-market Rolex. She picked up the napkin and dried her upper lip.

  He seemed to pick up the hint. ‘Mmm. Look, do you mind if we move? I need to get out of this heat and I can smoke another cigarette as we walk.’

  They crossed the road, his hand on her back, ushering. She wondered what he thought of her. He knew she had lied about her family’s connection to the land but he didn’t challenge her. Was it because she was a woman and he was acting out of old-fashioned chivalry? Did he think it was a cultural thing that it would be grossly offensive to confront her in a lie? Was it merely that he, like most Western men, felt attracted to her and threatened by her at the same time and didn’t want to do anything to endanger the delicate balance of what he thought was a relationship?

  Mercifully, when they reached the safety of the other side, he needed both hands to light his cigarette. ‘You didn’t know?’ he said after he had inhaled as if his life depended on filling his lungs with smoke.

  ‘I’m not really involved in father’s business.’

  ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters? Sorry, is it all right to ask?’

  She marvelled again at the way Europeans had such strange ideas about what offended people from East Asia. It wasn’t as if he’d asked whom she had slept with! ‘I don’t have any siblings. My mother had illness, women’s problems. Only me.’

  He pulled his hat down to lower the brim over his eyes. ‘Will you inherit your father’s share of the business?’

  ‘I suppose so. I studied business management in England with this in mind. When my father dies, I suppose I will run the hotels part of Leeyate Holdings. Unless some other member of the extended family steps forward – a man.’

  ‘Your father’s involved only in the hotels?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wondered where this was going.

  ‘But he knows the Holdings Company’s affairs?’

  ‘With his brothers, I suppose he must.’

  ‘Then he’s the man I ought to speak to. Can I see him this afternoon?’

  ‘If he’s not too busy. I could try to arrange it. What do you want see him for?’

  ‘Look, I have to buy some cigarettes. I’ll meet you back in the hotel lobby…’ he looked at his watch ‘… in half an hour. Can you try to speak to your father before then and arrange something for later?’

  She nodded.

  He dropped his cigarette on the ground, stamped it into the pavement and went into the mall.

  S Y was in his office and he looked up from examining spreadsheets as Nancy approached. ‘Awah! My spy in Mr Escobar’s camp! How is he today?’

  ‘He’s well but he’s very suspicious.’

  ‘Suspicious!’ He made big round eyes and his mouth gaped. ‘Of what?’

  ‘Well, Mr Innocent, he’s suspicious of me not knowing that it’s Leeyate Holdings that owns the Kellas Estate. And he seems to be suspicious about the way the estate ended up being owned by the Lee family after the war.’

  Her father washed his face with his dry hands and then swept them back over his sparse greying hair. ‘Mmm. Perhaps it was a tactical mistake not to say about your connection from the start, Lai Ping.’

  ‘I did what you told me, Father.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. ‘The big question is, what does he want now?’

  ‘That’s easy. He wants an appointment to see you. This afternoon.’

  S Y flipped open his diary to an empty page. ‘I think I can fit him in. What time?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘If we say 4pm it will give me time to find out if there’s anything
else you should know in advance.’

  ‘Good girl.’ He pushed the diary to one side, drew the spreadsheets towards him and looked up sharply. ‘Well, get on with it.’

  She took the penthouse elevator to the lobby and spied Luis cramped into one of the deep sofas by the window. He was looking at a sheaf of what appeared to be faxes. They had a just-come-off-a-roll unruly bounce to them. ‘Hi!’ she said. ‘You’re in luck. My father can see you at 4pm.’

  He flipped his left wrist. ‘Mmm. Just over an hour.’ He stood up and hesitated.

  ‘Shall we have some tea?’ Nancy suggested.

  ‘I’d prefer coffee,’ he said.

  She signalled for the lobby boy and ordered the drinks. Luis resumed his seat and she sat alongside, perched on the edge so that she could face him. She crossed her legs and tucked her right foot behind her left ankle. ‘You were going to tell me why you want to see my father.’

  ‘Yeeess.’ He stroked his chin.

  She looked through the window at the passing traffic. Men and women hurried by in front of buildings that shimmered in the heat rising from the asphalt. European men were notable for the dark sweat patches that spread across their backs. She could almost see the air, it was so heavy. An afternoon rain shower was in the offing. She waited for Luis to speak.

  He leant forward but, at the same time, the waitress appeared with the tray of drinks and afternoon cakes. He waited while she poured. When everything was set out in front of them, he said, ‘It’s a pity that the business centre here has had technical problems and I have not been able to send e-mails.’

  ‘Has it? I didn’t know. You should have told me. I can make alternative arrangements for you.’

  ‘Mmm. I’m not sure that you could. No matter. I’ve managed with faxes.’ He waved the sheaf of curling paper. ‘The issue I want to discuss with your father is that there are questions about the ownership of the Kellas estate.’

  She felt the ground shift beneath her feet. Her chest constricted, compressing her heart. ‘I promise you,’ she said, ‘this is first I have heard of this. It is news for me.’

  ‘You didn’t know?’ he said. ‘Well, the library has copies of the northern edition of the Straits Times since the occupation. Stories with relevance to Perak and Ipoh in particular have been cross-referenced – which must have been a very labour-intensive task—’

  ‘Labour is the cheapest thing in Malaysia.’

  ‘Just so. Anyway, there is a record card for the Kellas estate and from this I was able to read everything that’s been in the paper since 1945 about the plantations and the Castle.’

  ‘Was there a lot?’

  ‘No. Mostly reports from the Leeyate Holding Company about profits, changes in senior personnel – that sort of thing. All very straightforward.’

  ‘Good!’

  He smiled and bowed his head. ‘But… in 1974 an investigative reporter with the Times—’

  ’Straits Times not London Times.’

  ‘Yes. The reporter was worried that Kellie’s Castle was falling into disrepair and he saw its potential as a touristic attraction. He researched the history of the house and it’s his work that is the basis for much of what we know about it today. He wrote a story back then about the transfer of the Kellas Estate to Harrisons and Crosfield before the war. He had seen William Kellie-Smith’s will and discovered that my grandfather had left the estate to his wife but he bequeathed – do you understand “bequeathed”?’

  She nodded. ‘He left it in his will.’

  ‘Exactly! This reporter discovered that my grandfather had left the houses and their grounds to the two children. His widow only owned the plantations, not the houses and the lands they stood on. She only had the capacity to sell the plantation land not the houses – not the castle.’

  Nancy quickly worked out what this meant for Leeyate Holdings. If Harrisons and Crosfield only owned the plantations before the war, even if her family had acquired everything legally after the Japanese left, her family’s right to the buildings was flawed. No buildings meant no spa hotel. Her father’s secret dream, their shared dream, was in danger of being snatched away. She gripped her arms across her chest as if assailed by a sudden blast of cold air from the air conditioning. ‘Was he able to prove anything?’ she asked, determined her voice stay calm.

  ‘It doesn’t look like it. He failed to get the Perak government interested in taking the house over – which was all he wanted.’

  ‘Did he write more about the house?’

  ‘The later stuff about the estate was all by different reporters.’

  ‘Do you think he was right?’

  ‘It looks like he may have been. I looked at the copy deeds when I went to Batu Gajah. Even if the Kellas estate was properly transferred after 1945 there’s a question about the houses. The estate boundary is clearly marked on the deeds and doesn’t change. But there’s another line marking the parcel of land within it that the houses stand on. This line appears for the first time on the transfer from my grandmother to Harrison and Crosfield. It’s not there on the post-1945 deeds.’

  ‘Is there anything to say that the houses were not in the first transfer?’ Nancy could see how crucial this would be to her father. If there was a line of text in a contract that specifically excluded the houses, when Luis’s grandmother sold the estate, the spa hotel would never be more than a dream.

  Luis drained the last of his coffee and placed the cup down slowly. He appeared to be taking pleasure from her discomfort. ‘In fairness, it’s not clear either way. There’s nothing specific to say the houses were included. But there’s nothing to say they were excluded either.’

  Nancy poured a second cup of tea and offered to pour more coffee for Luis. He shook his head and looked at his watch.

  ‘I understand what you are thinking, Mr Luis,’ she said. ‘If you can prove that the houses – the castle and the original Kellas House – were not included in the first transfer, it means that Harrison and Crosfield never owned them. It was not theirs to sell after Japanese left. If the houses were passed by your grandfather’s will to the children, your mother and your uncle, you could be real owner of at least half of Kellie’s Castle.’

  ‘Exactly. This is what I want to see your father about. It’s a ruin. It’s worth nothing to him. But for me… who knows.’ He looked at his watch again. ’I just have time to go for walk and a cigarette before the meeting.

  And I have enough time to warn my father, Nancy thought. ‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘Don’t get caught in the rain.’

  Later, from her seat in the hotel lobby, Nancy watched the puddles, from the afternoon’s heavy rain, steam under the early evening sun. From time to time, she glanced at the indicator above the private penthouse lift. It was resolutely fixed on ‘8’. She checked her watch again. Luis had been up there for nearly an hour. When she had told her father what the foreigner knew, she asked if she could stay for the meeting but he had banished her downstairs. All she could do was wait.

  The hour point passed and just as she was steeling herself to go up and interrupt them, the illuminated number turned to ‘7’ and then to ‘6’. She stood and moved around a corner so that she could watch Luis leave. She had no wish to talk to him until she knew what had happened with S Y.

  Luis’s tall figure ducked out of the lift. He paused momentarily to get his bearings and headed towards the exit, presumably to light a cigarette. She emerged from her hiding place, pressed the elevator button and stepped forwards as the doors slid open.

  At the top floor, her father was sitting behind his desk finishing a telephone call. ‘Make sure it does!’ he said before returning the handset with his characteristic firmness.

  ‘Make sure what?’ she said as she took the low seat facing him.

  He smiled. ‘Awah! Lai Ping. Nothing to concern your pretty—’

  She sighed. ‘I know – man’s stuff, nothing for my pretty little ears.’

  He ignored her testiness. ‘Presumably, y
ou’re here to learn how things went with Mr. Escobar.’

  ‘If you think you can share such information with a mere woman.’

  He ignored her tone again and merely shrugged. ‘Escobar talked about the ownership of the house as you warned me he would. He wanted to know whether we knew that our title was unclear. I told him it was very clear as far as we were concerned. It had been brought up before when the Japanese cleared out. But the records of those events had been lost during the emergency. There is no dispute about Leeyate Holdings owning the houses as well as the estate.’

  ‘Did he really accept it?’

  ‘He was a bit angry at first. It is understandable. He had hopes that he might own a substantial piece of real estate. But he accepted that he only knew half the story. He left me quite satisfied.’

  She had second-sight as far as her father’s lying was concerned. Was it the way he pulled at an ear and stroked a palm back over his head? Was it the intonation in his voice? Whatever it was, it had happened while he described the meeting with Luis. ‘But he was here for an hour or more.’

  S Y spread his hands. ‘What can I say? He presented a case. That took up most of the time. I listened patiently. But as I explained to him, the only evidence for his doubts about the houses’ ownership was based on supposition by a journalist. This was refuted at the time.’

  ‘Are you saying he went away convinced?’

  He shook his head. ‘More persuaded than convinced. But he’s happy not to pursue anything. I’ve said that we’ll carry on maintaining the house. I even said that we would erect a memorial to his grandfather.’ He smiled. ‘But I did say that he’d have to pay for it!’

  ‘What happens now?’

  ‘He said he’d go and take one last look at the house and then he’d go home. On Monday, I think.’

  ‘What about me? Does he want to see me again?’

  S Y shrugged. ‘Who knows? I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to. Why not wait until tomorrow? I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you then.’