The Plantation

by Di Morrissey

  Margaret glanced at Bette and nudged her, indicating Gilbert with a questioning look. Bette smiled and shook her head. But they both stifled a giggle.

  Roland drove the car steadily towards the hills, and then turned off and headed along a cleared grassy track towards the river. At the water’s edge beside a small kam-pong was a boat landing. From one of the huts came a Malay, who took them over to a long open wooden boat with an exposed engine in its centre.

  ‘How far are we going in that boat?’ asked Bette as they walked over to it.

  ‘Not very far. It’s the best way to get to the pagar,’ said Roland. ‘Usually when we come up here we drive along the road through the plantation, but it’s much longer and not very interesting.’

  ‘I have to say that this looks fun. Just as well we brought sunhats.’

  ‘We have umbrellas, too, if you want them,’ said Roland.

  ‘Come on, Philip, let’s go and see the boat,’ said Margaret.

  ‘I don’t suppose there is a problem with crocodiles,’ said Bette, remembering her earlier encounter.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ said Roland. He spoke to the boatman, and another bare-chested man, wearing a checked cotton baju, sauntered over to them. Roland had them both unload the car and pile their belongings into the boat. Then he explained, ‘We’re leaving the car here. It’ll be safe with the villagers.’

  The man in the baju nodded. ‘Yes, tuan.’

  They all enjoyed chugging through the thick brown water, the wind in their faces, hats protecting them from the sun. Passing a village at the water’s edge they waved to the children, who waved back. As they got near to where the jungle grew close to the river’s edge, the water became clearer. The boatman angled the boat towards the bank and rounding a bend they came to a cleared area under shady trees. There was an attap hut with a verandah and a thatched lean-to over a large table. Next to the landing bamboo poles jutted above the surface of the water and made a fence that staked out the swimming area.

  ‘This is just beautiful,’ said Bette to Margaret.

  The boatman, helped by Roland and Gilbert, hauled out the picnic baskets and cotton bags containing their clothes and put them in the shade of the table, while Roland opened up the little hut.

  ‘Basic change room, a water jar to rinse off, and thunder box.’

  ‘I’m going in for a swim! Coming Philip?’ Bette pulled off her sundress, which she’d worn over her swimming costume.

  ‘I’ll be there in a minute, too. I’m going to change in the hut,’ said Margaret.

  Holding Philip’s hand, Bette walked to the water’s edge and peered into the cool clear water. ‘Looks safe enough. It certainly looks refreshing.’

  Gilbert came up behind them, and swung Philip onto his shoulders. ‘Come on, young man, let’s jump in!’

  ‘Be careful,’ called Margaret as she followed them to the river.

  Gilbert waded in and with Philip clinging to his back, arms tight around his neck, he swam out into the river, followed closely by Bette.

  ‘This is glorious! Come on in, Marg!’ shouted Bette.

  Roland soon joined them, and they all splashed and played and Philip, now feeling brave, tried to swim, but needed a lot of help. Everyone applauded his efforts.

  On the bank the boatman had started a small fire and began cooking savoury meat on skewers, turning the sizzling meat and dribbling peanut and coconut sauce over them.

  While Margaret and Roland dried Philip, Bette and Gilbert spread towels and sarongs on the grass and dried off in the sun.

  ‘They seem to be getting on well,’ Margaret said quietly to Roland. ‘Do you think they like each other? I mean, are they attracted to each other?’

  ‘Early days, dear girl.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if Bette met someone and stayed out here. It would be lovely to have some of my family around,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Well, there’s been no shortage of interested chaps,’ said Roland. ‘But Gilbert still has a couple more years of his contract to run before the company will let him get married.’

  ‘I think that’s such a dreadful restriction,’ said Margaret. ‘I can’t believe that companies dictate when their employees can get married.’

  ‘Not really. It’s sensible. Men have to prove that they have what it takes to work on a plantation before a company goes to the expense of paying a wife’s fare out here. The single men can be flexible and live in pretty basic accommodation. That changes when they get married, so companies have to make sure the chaps are the right sort. It’s paying one’s dues, as Father says.’

  Margaret watched Gilbert and Bette lying side by side and talking. ‘Perhaps I’d better make Bette aware of his situation before she falls too heavily for him,’ murmured Margaret.

  ‘I don’t think she’s very serious about anyone . . . she just loves being here, though I have to admit she’s the perfect kind of a girl to fit in out here. Like you.’ He gave her a quick kiss and picked up Philip. ‘Come on, soldier, let’s go eat. I’m starving.’

  They sat on the grass in the shade eating the satay sticks with their fingers.

  The next two days were ones they all remembered for the rest of their lives. Roland was right. The lodge that Eugene had built years before was only basic, but the setting was perfect.

  Local villagers cooked them curries, rice and fish. They had pineapples, bananas and papaya for breakfast. With simple food and simple surroundings, the lazy days passed gently. Swimming, afternoons spent sleeping in a hammock, playing board games and talking into the night by kerosene lamplight, sharing a bottle of whisky, and sometimes just sitting in companionable silence. Philip slept curled between his mother and father under the cloud of mosquito net. Bette tried to stay awake as long as she could, listening to the night sounds of the forest.

  Both women enjoyed Gilbert’s company. They found him amusing and easy going. Because he was Roland’s friend, he seemed to treat Bette as though she was the younger sister of his best friend’s wife, and as a result Bette relaxed and didn’t worry about what sort of impression she was making or how she looked. Margaret also eschewed make-up and didn’t fuss about what she wore. The two sisters dressed in sarongs over shorts and swimsuits and found they were reminiscing and laughing more than they ever had. Everyone felt comfortable in each other’s company.

  On their third morning, Roland announced that he’d better to do some work. ‘Sorry, but I did come up here to see how the new palm oil plantation is going. Who wants to come along?’

  Everyone was lazing along the verandah so there wasn’t an immediate flurry of interest.

  ‘Gilbert and I were just about to hike down to where one of the villagers told us there’s a little waterfall,’ said Bette.

  ‘Who’s managing the place for you?’ asked Gilbert.

  ‘Smedley-Smith. Frightfully good chap. I’m very pleased with him. It’s his first contract, but he’s made some remarkable advances for us,’ said Roland.

  ‘He mightn’t take too kindly to my arriving with you unannounced. Really none of my business,’ said Gilbert.

  ‘All right, Gil. You stay with Bette and find the waterfall. I’ll take Margaret and Philip with me.’ He turned to Margaret. ‘You haven’t been up to the place for awhile. I think you’ll be impressed with what he’s done.’

  Margaret smiled to her husband as they took the boat back to the small kampong where they had left the Oldsmobile. ‘Nice manoeuvre, dear. Leaving them alone in a romantic spot. I wonder how Bette feels about that.’

  ‘Gilbert is a gentleman, she’ll be safe as houses.’

  ‘Hmm. We’ll see. Well it’s up to Bette.’

  ‘Gil’s a good chap, but do you really think that your parents would like Bette to end up in Malaya, too?’

  As Margaret got into the car, she remembered her mother had joked that she hoped Bette wouldn’t fall for some planter fellow too, so she let the subject drop and concentrated on trying to stay comfortable on the bone jar
ring road. Philip bounced, enjoying the ride.

  Roland drove past the deep dark rows of the oil palms arching towards each other, making long dark tunnels. Mounds of large red prickly nuts were heaped at regular intervals along the ground. Roland stopped, got out and picked up several of the nuts to check them and got back into the car. Then he turned off the dirt track and drove slowly up and down through some of the avenues of trees.

  ‘Hmm. It’s well cleared and maintained. Smedley-Smith is doing a good job. We’ll drive by the bungalow. He’s probably there having lunch and might welcome some company. Gets lonely up here by oneself.’

  ‘It’s rather basic housing,’ commented Margaret as she saw the small bungalow. A not very successful attempt had been made to establish a garden.

  As they walked towards the house, a lanky young man wearing a khaki shirt over a sarong came out to meet them.

  ‘Ha, Mr Elliott, you’ve arrived. What a pleasant surprise. Excuse my dress, I was having a rest before the afternoon inspection. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I change. Tea? Or a soft drink?’

  ‘Ask your boy to get us some ginger beer, and we’ll sit on the verandah,’ said Roland.

  Margaret knew how fortunate they were to be living at Utopia, and not in a tiny house like this, equipped only with simple rattan furniture, and no trimmings, in absolutely the middle of nowhere. She heard glasses rattling, and while Roland was showing Philip a small gecko that was clinging to one of the chick blinds, Margaret went inside.

  A pretty, young Malay girl came towards her with a tray of glasses and a large bottle of ginger beer and pieces of fresh lime. To Margaret’s surprise the girl handed her the tray and scurried out of the room as Smedley-Smith reappeared in a planter’s cotton suit, buttoned to the neck, and leather shoes.

  Margaret returned to the verandah, but despite the lowered blinds and fan, she was hot as she listened to the two men talking about the plantation, while Philip was clearly bored.

  ‘I’m very hot here. I’ll take a little stroll outside under the trees. Come on, Philip,’ she said.

  It wasn’t long until Roland emerged from the bungalow, followed by Smedley-Smith, who had donned a solar topee. The assistant manager shook Margaret’s hand and said goodbye to both the Elliotts, before jumping on an ancient bicycle and pedalling away along the rutted plantation paths.

  ‘That was all very satisfactory,’ said Roland as they drove away.

  ‘Roland! You have to get rid of that young man. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘What do you mean? The fact we caught him having an afternoon nap? No harm in that. In fact, I think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘No. That young Malay girl. She’s living with him,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Nonsense. That’s not on. Not allowed. She’s just a housegirl from the local kampong.’

  ‘She might be. But she’s also living there,’ said Margaret firmly. ‘When I was walking outside I passed his bedroom and I saw her clothes in there. When I asked her why they were there, she got very embarrassed and ran away.’

  Roland paused. ‘Well, it’s not an uncommon situation, Margaret. It gets pretty lonely way out here. Hard for a young man to be on his own all the time.’

  ‘Then why do all the big companies forbid their single white staff from fraternising with local women? If Smedley- Smith was working for one of them and they found out what he was doing they’d ship him home. Anyway, what would your father say if he knew?’

  ‘He wouldn’t like it,’ admitted Roland. ‘But we are a family concern and I can bend the rules a bit.’

  ‘Your father wouldn’t. He’ll send him off once he knows,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Margaret, Father is not going to know. Smedley-Smith is an excellent worker and I simply can’t replace him. There’s a war on in Europe, in case you’ve forgotten, so where do I get someone else to take his place?’

  Margaret stared at Roland. ‘So you’re going to let this situation persist? And are you telling me not to say anything about it?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I have to be practical.’

  Margaret was quiet a moment then said briskly, ‘Well, if that’s the way it is, I’ll strike a bargain with you. I won’t mention this situation to your father . . . but in exchange I think you should get me that Baby Austin car that Gilbert told you about.’

  ‘Margaret! That’s blackmail,’ exploded Roland but just the same he sounded amused by her cheek as they got into the car.

  Margaret stared out the window. ‘I’m so looking forward to driving Bette around and showing her a few new places in my own car.’

  Roland said, ‘Well, I hope you girls enjoy Ipoh.’

  When they pulled up back at the lodge, Margaret marched up the front steps and stopped as she saw Bette stretched out on a sarong on the floor of the verandah in her swimsuit and Gilbert bending over her, his face close to her bare leg.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ she demanded.

  Gilbert straightened up and held up a jar. ‘Leeches, I’m afraid. We’re covered in them.’

  ‘Ugh. I hate those things,’ said Margaret.

  ‘I’ll get the salt,’ said Roland. ‘That gets rid of them.’

  True to his word, Roland bought the Baby Austin Tourer for Margaret, and Gilbert drove it to Utopia from Kuala Lumpur.

  ‘I’ll drive Gilbert back up to KL in the Olds mobile, as we have to attend a planters’ meeting,’ Roland told Margaret.

  ‘Roland, the car is gorgeous. It will be so useful, thank you, darling,’ said Margaret, experimenting with the fold-down roof.

  ‘A deal’s a deal,’ grinned Roland. ‘Father agreed, when I told him that I’d bought it. Said he didn’t want women stranded here with no transport, especially as I’m moving around a lot more these days.’

  ‘Gilbert, can you entertain Bette? I won’t be long. I just want to savour my independence and get used to driving the car before I take passengers.’

  ‘I love the shape and the open roof. It can fit four passengers, too,’ exclaimed Bette as Margaret took the key from Gilbert.

  ‘It’s been checked out, and it’s as sound as a bell. I had no trouble driving it here,’ said Gilbert. ‘So, Roland, we’ll leave early tomorrow morning for the meeting then?’

  ‘Yes. And thanks for bringing the car. Bette, make sure Margaret doesn’t drive too far until she’s familiar with it,’ said Roland.

  ‘She’s a good driver. What meeting are you going to?’ asked Bette. ‘Aren’t you going too, Margaret?’

  ‘I don’t think Margaret would be all that interested. My friends are telling me there is talk of Malays in the countryside aligning themselves with the communists,’ said Roland. ‘These communists are a loose, somewhat unstructured group and usually they have been in the big towns. Communist alliances in the countryside will destabilise the local communities and plantations, so there’s an extraordinary meeting of the Planters’ Association to see what can be done about it. With the war favourably affecting exports, we have to make sure that these communist groups don’t upset the applecart.’

  Bette stared at Roland in alarm. ‘So it could be trouble for the plantation, then?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so, but best to be on top of things,’ said Gilbert.

  ‘I still think we should have a few more precautions in place other than what the government here is doing,’ said Roland.

  Gilbert wrapped his arm around Bette’s shoulder. ‘Keep smiling, Bette. Next time I come back what say we go into Taiping for a day, go to the pictures, have a slap-up meal?’

  ‘Sounds fun. I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘Well, I’m taking the car for a drive around the estate. See you in half an hour,’ said Margaret gaily, as she drove off in her little Austin Tourer over the bumpy roads of the plantation.

  *

  The two men left for Kuala Lumpur early the next morning and Margaret insisted on driving her new car over to show Eugene.

  ‘I know you like walking
over there, Bette, but come with me for a change. You must know every tree on the estate by now.’

  ‘Not quite, but I do enjoy the silence and the smells and the scenery.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s time for a sisterly talk. What do you think about Gilbert?’

  ‘That’s a pretty direct question. Let me see,’ Bette replied. ‘He’s a nice man. I think he would be steady and reliable. He’s quietly amusing, too. Different from other men I know who always laugh uproariously at their own jokes. Gil is not too competitive, either. He’s a good tennis player, but he seems happy to fool around and make me laugh and he lets me win. I like that.’

  ‘I hate it when people hold back and don’t play properly,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Yes, and then you hate it when you don’t win against them. Margie, you’re way too competitive, sometimes. I think I like Gil because he’s a bit like me and doesn’t take everything too seriously.’

  As soon as she could organise it, Margaret drove Bette to Taiping and they spent a day there, shopping and seeing Margaret’s friends for lunch before returning to Utopia. Margaret was thrilled with her independence and had the gardener polish her car each day.

  Bette had by now become known to many of the plantation workers as she took her drawing book into the avenues of rubber trees to sketch scenes and people. Margaret thought Bette’s fascination with the workers odd but, nevertheless, she supplied her sister with clothes to protect her from the mosquitoes. Bette drew the tappers working and sometimes walked back with them through the rubber trees to their kampongs. She had also started doing a series of sketches of two pretty Indian women tappers.