The Plantation

by Di Morrissey

  ‘I know, I’ve just been so bound up in my own personal journey. Even my parents and brother don’t know everything I’ve discovered, and I think they’ll be pretty excited when I tell them.’

  ‘You’ll certainly have a lot to talk about when you get home. Now, would you like to take a bit of a walk? It’s all quite colourful around here. Then we can grab a taxi and I’ll drop you off.’

  ‘This has been fun, thanks, Chris. Where are you staying?’

  ‘I’m bunking down at a mate’s flat. His parents have a place here. They never mind when I use it.’ He linked his arm through hers as they pushed their way through the jostling crowd. ‘I have tomorrow free. Could I come with you to Rose Mansion, or do you want to plough through the nostalgia there on your own?’

  ‘I’d love you to come with me tomorrow! And it’s not at all nostalgic as I’ve only just heard of the place, so we can nose around it together.’

  Julie stood speechless as the taxi pulled away leaving her and Christopher staring at the enormous old mansion. The street was wide, and lined with similarly grand old buildings that appeared to be either consulates or wealthy private homes, although one house on the corner was a private club. Beside the ornate double doors of number 211 was a discreet sign in gold lettering indicating that this was the ‘Hotel Tsang’. The building faced the sea and behind the tall fence with its security gate, a short driveway curved through formal gardens. Julie instantly noticed the topiaried shrubs, every tree and plant pruned and clipped to such perfection that they almost looked plastic. The soft peach pink stucco three-storey mansion had gold filigree trim around all the windows. The red tiled roofline supported colourful figurines, flowers and birds at the corners and on the eaves. To Julie the size of the windows suggested that the rooms would be huge.

  ‘It’s pretty formal,’ said Christopher. ‘I feel as though we’re at some palace. It looks like it would be an expensive hotel, too.’

  ‘It’s stunning. I can’t believe it was once a family home, let alone my family!’ said Julie. ‘It’s been brilliantly maintained. I wonder what the view is like. This splendour isn’t quite what I’d imagined. Do you think they’ll let us in?’

  ‘Let’s say we want to make a reservation,’ said Christopher, leading her to the sentry box that stood at the entrance to the driveway.

  An elderly Indian security guard looked at them enquiringly. ‘You wish to speak to a guest?’ he asked, lifting up the phone in the security box.

  ‘We’d like to make a reservation,’ said Christopher.

  The security guard pushed a number and handed him the phone.

  Christopher spoke smoothly, explaining that they were interested in making reservations for a group to stay and they also wanted to organise a small reception. ‘Yes, a wedding,’ he said, winking at Julie. He handed the phone back to the Indian who raised the boom gate and waved them through.

  They walked along the driveway admiring the gardens. Two pretty rose and blue antique rickshaws with elaborate designs painted on their sides and canvas awnings stood to one side of two rampant stone lions that were guarding the front steps.

  Christopher took Julie’s hand and led her up the steps. One of the huge carved doors stood open, its entrance flanked by two shiny brass pots, each holding laden cumquat trees.

  They both paused, blinking in the cool darkness after the bright sunlight. In front of them was a large foyer, filled with stands of bamboo in blue and white ceramic pots. A large, ornate gold-framed mirror on one of the walls reflected the heavy, dark, carved furniture, while delicate wooden screens divided the rest of the room. The floor was covered in large old black and white tiles and edged in a gold geometric pattern. Above them, a ceiling fan turned gently.

  A youthful Chinese man came to meet them, impeccably dressed in dark pants and a neat white shirt. Christopher introduced Julie and himself.

  ‘I’m Ti Yung. You’re the wedding couple?’ the young man asked in a faint American accent.

  ‘That’s right. We’re interested in a small, elegant reception as well as booking some rooms for the wedding guests and bridal party,’ said Christopher shaking Ti’s hand.

  ‘Is it possible to look at the rooms, to see if they are suitable?’ asked Julie, glancing around. ‘This doesn’t appear to be the usual kind of hotel.’

  ‘You are right. It’s not your usual hotel, not even your usual boutique hotel. But I’m sorry, all our rooms are fully booked at present. I can show you the function room. Could you give me some details first, please? This way.’ He gestured towards two wing-back chairs, both covered in brocade, which faced a large table in the corner. It clearly served as a desk. Ti waited for them to be seated before taking his place opposite them.

  He slid a silver pen and a printed sheet towards Christopher. ‘If you’d like to fill in the details. What date did you have in mind?’

  Christopher completed several lines of the form and handed it to Julie, who took it absentmindedly. She was distracted by a series of framed formal photographs of elderly Chinese men and women, which hung from the picture rail on thin gold chains.

  ‘Who are those people?’ she asked.

  Ti didn’t look up from his diary. ‘They are members of the original Tsang family. For several generations this used to be their private residence, but the upkeep became too expensive. The place was left empty for some years until our parent company made an offer for it and then renovated it and set it up as a hotel.’

  ‘When was that?’ asked Christopher.

  ‘We opened two years ago but the restoration took a few years. Many people, including the government itself, realised that the heritage buildings here in Penang, as in Malacca and other Malaysian places, can be valuable tourism assets.’

  ‘That’s so interesting,’ said Julie. ‘Is there a family history of this place?’

  Ti took the form from Julie. ‘We run tours of the house two mornings a week, but only the public areas so the guests are not disturbed. You might like to come along one morning. There’s one tour tomorrow at ten am. It will give you a better idea of how things were in the old days. Now, you haven’t put the date for your wedding on the form.’

  Christopher looked at Julie.

  ‘Seventh of September,’ she said firmly.

  ‘A propitious date, I have no doubt. Very well. If you would like to follow me, we’ll go to the function room. There’s a side entrance through to the garden so you won’t have to come through the front of the hotel.’ Ti waved a hand into the shadows behind the screens. ‘There’s a tea-room through there, as well as a small bar. We’ve tried to keep some of the rooms as they were originally, but updated their function. Downstairs, for example, part of the old indoor kitchen has been turned into a suite, and it still includes the old brick stove.’

  ‘It all sounds different, even unique,’ said Julie, looking at Christopher as they walked past a dark-blue iron spiral staircase. The interior of the house was cool but Julie found its dimness unsettling. She couldn’t imagine a happy, sun-loving Australian woman feeling comfortable in this. But then they walked around a corner and entered an open-air courtyard. Here, the sun poured down. A fountain splashed in the centre of it and raised cement tubs held ornamental flowers and plants. Stone benches sat against the old stone walls.

  ‘How lovely!’ exclaimed Julie. At the rear of the courtyard was an archway and beyond it stretched a corridor of doorways. Some of the private suites, Julie assumed. Ti then turned to the right and went through another archway. They saw a sweeping polished wood staircase leading to the next floor.

  ‘The honeymoon suite is up those stairs. The function area is this way. Please follow me.’

  Obediently they followed Ti.

  Everywhere they looked Julie wanted to stop and spend time examining the artifacts, the antiques and especially the photographs. She thought that although the furniture was dark wood, oriental and large, it was interesting and suited the huge rooms. Richly coloured antique rugs wi
th elaborate patterns were scattered on the decorated marble and polished wooden floors. Light through the tall windows filled the rooms.

  Ti pushed opened two tall carved wooden doors. ‘Here is the function room.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Christopher.

  ‘It’s called the Rose Room,’ said Ti.

  ‘I see why,’ said Julie. ‘It’s lovely.’

  The room was gracious, with floor-length windows swathed in ruched cream silk. The windows looked out onto a private courtyard garden. Ten round tables, each set for ten places, were covered in heavy cream damask tablecloths with pink linen napkins folded into the shape of swans atop each setting. Bouquets of roses and small white and pink peonies were arranged in the centre of each table, surrounded by candles and crystal goblets. The gold chairs were covered in deep rose brocade, and the cream carpet was patterned with delicate woven pink-hued roses trailing pale green leaves.

  To one side there was a small dance floor and beside it a podium. The large marble fireplace had a massive gilt-framed mirror above it, reflecting the private garden. Paintings and antique embroidered Chinese silk tapestries were hung around the room.

  ‘This room has been set for a function to be held this evening, but we can adjust to your special requirements. The garden area is very nice for photographs.’

  Ti led them through the French doors to a small covered terrace and a walled garden. A brightly coloured bougainvillea arbour and a lion’s head fountain were set against the cobblestone wall. Colourful crotons in tall urns framed the backdrop.

  ‘As well as weddings, a lot of private corporations like to hold lunches and dinners here,’ said Ti. ‘Do you think this room will suit your needs?’

  Christopher held Julie’s hand. ‘It’s very tasteful. We both like it very much. It’s a pity we can’t see any accommodation.’ He glanced fondly at Julie who was trying not to giggle. ‘My fiancée has a special reason for wanting to stay here, don’t you, darling?’

  Julie stared at him, then quickly took up the cue. ‘Oh, indeed. You see, I’m related to this house, to the Tsangs, that is . . . my aunt . . .’

  Ti gave her a surprised look. ‘Really? What was your aunt’s name?’

  ‘Bette Oldham, she was Australian and she married Tony Tsang.’

  ‘So she would have been a second or third wife?’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Julie stumbled to a halt, aware of the great gaps in her knowledge of the marriage.

  ‘Julie has just found out about her aunt’s connection with this house,’ said Christopher, putting his arm around her. ‘She’s come from Australia to try to find out more . . .’

  ‘And you just decided to get married while you’re here?’ asked Ti.

  ‘I’m working at Butterworth at present,’ said Christopher. ‘Malaysia is a great place for a honeymoon.’

  Ti nodded. ‘I understand. Come inside, there’s someone you might like to meet.’

  Julie glanced at Christopher, who shrugged as they followed Ti inside. They crossed a landing and were ushered into a small sitting room.

  ‘Just a moment, please.’ Ti left them.

  ‘Look at that,’ exclaimed Christopher going to a large glass-fronted display cabinet that was filled with a collection of beautiful glass pieces. ‘Art Deco. Art Nouveau. It’s all Lalique. There’s squillions of dollars worth of object d’art in there.’

  Julie joined him, gazing at the carefully lit figurines, vases, bowls and perfume bottles. ‘They’re exquisite. How did you know what they are? Do you collect glass?’

  ‘I wish. No, it’s a period that interests me. I first saw pieces like this in a museum in France.’

  Julie was slightly surprised, indeed, quite impressed by Christopher’s interests. She turned back to the collection.

  ‘There are some lovely pieces of Lalique, aren’t there?’ said a soft voice behind them. They turned to see a Eurasian woman, perhaps about Shane’s age, smiling at them. She came forward and Julie noticed her beautifully tailored pants and her exquisite draped silk top. Her dark hair was pinned up in a smooth ponytail.

  ‘I am Carla Wong. Congratulations on your engagement. Ti tells me you have a relative connected to Rose Mansion.’ She shook both their hands.

  Christopher gave her a broad smile as he took her hand. ‘It’s Julie who has the relative. Bit of a long story, isn’t that right, Julie?’

  ‘Please sit down.’ Carla gestured to the sofa and took one of the carved chairs next to it. ‘I’m the manager here, so I would love to hear it.’

  ‘Sorry to take your time without an appointment,’ began Julie. ‘I would love to know if there is anything written about Rose Mansion.’

  ‘A lot. Architect plans, the names of original fabrics and wallpapers . . .’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that so much, actually, I meant about the family. The people who lived here.’

  ‘Oh yes, there’s a lovely book on the history of the house and the collections here.’

  ‘You mean, other than the Lalique?’ asked Christopher.

  Carla smiled. ‘Yes, there’s a lot of memorabilia scattered about the mansion, although I have to say that it is well protected.’

  ‘What we have seen is lovely, but what I’m really interested in is my great aunt. I was told that she married Tony Tsang and lived here after the war. She was an Australian,’ she added.

  Carla studied Julie for a moment, then smiled. ‘I know she’s Australian. Actually, you remind me a little of her. Your smile and your hair colouring. May I ask why you want to know about her?’

  ‘I never knew a thing about my Aunt Bette’s life story till very recently,’ said Julie. ‘I’m afraid she was one of those family secrets that’s never been explained. My grandmother, her sister, refused to speak about her, so that my mother and I have known nothing about her until recently.’

  ‘Is your grandmother still alive?’ asked Carla.

  Julie shook her head. ‘No. But now I’ve found out that Great Aunt Bette lived in Malaya, was a prisoner during the war, married Tony Tsang and wrote a book about the Iban. And that’s all I know. She sounds like a remarkable person and I want to find out as much as I can about her.’

  Carla was quiet for a moment. ‘May I ask why now? Why has no one in your family tried to find answers before this?’

  Christopher spoke gently. ‘It’s not so unusual that members of a family lose touch. Julie took two weeks holiday and jumped on a plane to meet her cousins who live on a plantation near Slim River. Now she is trying to find out more about her mother’s aunt, who apparently also lived in Malaysia for years.’

  Carla nodded. ‘Some families are tied together more closely by choice or circumstance. Others drift apart. I understand that you must be wanting to explore your family more, especially as you’re about to be married.’

  Julie gave Christopher a concerned look and he spoke up quickly. ‘We’re not engaged. Julie is a friend. She wanted to come here and see this house, hoping to find out something about her great aunt, so I concocted this story to get us admitted. I hope you can understand our little deception. It was my idea,’ he added quickly.

  Carla’s mouth twitched, and she smiled. ‘I see.’

  ‘I’m sorry if we’ve wasted your time,’ began Julie, but Carla held up her hand.

  ‘I agreed to see you not because you said that you wanted to have a wedding reception here but because of your aunt. We have a lot of information here. Rose Mansion is still very much a family home. I live in the private apartments here.’

  ‘So there is some information about her here?’ asked Julie. ‘Did she did live here after she married Tony Tsang? Are there any photographs of her I could see?’

  Carla nodded. ‘Yes, there are. I know about your aunt and Tony Tsang.’ She leaned forward and took Julie’s hand. ‘Tony Tsang was my grandfather. So I guess that makes us cousins through marriage.’

  Christopher burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Julie’s face. ‘Geez, Julie,
you’ve got more cousins than you can poke a stick at!’

  ‘I can’t believe it. Your grandfather was Tony Tsang? This place, the life . . . It must have been so different for Great Aunt Bette,’ said Julie. This mansion seemed a long way from the house in Brisbane where Bette had grown up.

  ‘You will have a lot of questions,’ said Carla. ‘This is quite something. I often wondered if anyone from Australia would be curious about us. I’d love to sit down and go through all the family things with you, Julie, but I do have an appointment that I must keep.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to just barge in like this,’ began Julie. ‘Unfortunately I’m booked to go back to Australia tomorrow. Perhaps we could correspond.’ She didn’t want to miss this chance to learn more.

  Carla leaned forward. ‘Julie, I don’t think you understand. All these questions you have about Por Por, you should ask her yourself,’ she said gently.

  ‘Who’s Por Por?’ asked Julie, confused.

  ‘That is our name for Bette. It means grandmother and that’s how we like to think about her, although she is really our step grandmother.’

  Christopher leaned forward. ‘Carla, are you saying that Bette, Julie’s great aunt, is still alive?’

  Carla nodded. ‘Yes. Of course, she’s no longer young but she is still very bright, alert and still drawing. We will soon celebrate her ninetieth birthday.’

  ‘Oh my God. Where is she?’ Julie looked around, as though expecting to see Bette walk into the room. Christopher held Julie’s hand as she was shaking with excitement. ‘Is she here in Penang?’

  Carla shook her head. ‘Oh, no. As she got older she got homesick for Australia, so she went back.’

  ‘She’s in Australia?’ asked Julie incredulously.