The Plantation

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Mum’s been in your ear again, has she? I don’t think she wants me to go back to Sydney. Mmm, something smells good.’ She followed her father down the hallway to the kitchen.

  Winifred looked up from the flour-covered tabletop where she was rolling out pastry. ‘Glad you got back safely, dear. Dinner won’t be long. It’s lovely cooking for more than just your father and me. I’m so glad that you’ve come back for a holiday. It would be even better if you could get a nice job here, at home.’

  ‘Mother, we’ve been through this. Brisbane is such a backwater. I know that Sydney is not the centre of the universe, either, but there are more opportunities there than there are here.’

  ‘Let her be, Win,’ said her father. ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Steak and kidney pie,’ said Winifred flattening the circle of pastry with a firm bang of the rolling pin.

  Bette wandered out of the kitchen. She knew her parents worried about her future. It had taken some time for her health to return after the years of deprivation in the prison camp, but she had been determined to catch up on life. She enjoyed Sydney, mixing with the bohemian artists, while she worked in several jobs. But Bette felt that she had lived for so long minute by minute, day by day, that she still couldn’t bring herself to make long-term plans. Maybe Winifred was right and that she was indulging herself by doing only what interested her and gave her pleasure. Art seemed to fulfil her. She was content losing herself in the images she could paint, which replaced the ugly scenes that haunted her sleep.

  ‘There’s a letter for you from Margaret. I put it on your bed,’ said Winifred. ‘I do hope she’s sent some photos of Philip and our dear little Caroline.’

  Margaret and Philip had returned to Malaya three and a half years ago. Eventually Margaret had given birth to a daughter, whom they’d named Caroline, while Roland tried to rebuild Utopia after the devastation of the war. But clearly life was difficult. In her letters home, Margaret described things as being tiresome, nowhere near as glamorous as the pre-war years had been.

  Bette skimmed through the opening niceties of the letter, before finding the real reason her sister had written:

  And while I understand you’re absorbed in whatever you do in Sydney, it would be very nice, and very helpful, if you could come up and visit us. Roland agrees with me and, indeed, is very keen to have you here again. Unfortunately, you must realise that things won’t be as they were. Sadly many of the wonderful men like Gilbert are no longer around. As you know, the estate was a disaster at the end of the war and it’s a big job for Roland to get things turned around, especially without his father, although some of the old staff are still here to help. I’d like the opportunity to get out and about a bit, and if you were here I’m sure Roland would be more amenable to the children and me taking a few little trips. I’d also like Caroline to meet someone from my family and it would be nice to have you here to brighten our dreary social calendar! I know Mother and Father are getting on a bit and, anyway, they’re not travellers, so I don’t expect them to visit me. You don’t have a proper job to speak of, so it’s easy for you to leave. It would please us both if you could come. I’ve enclosed some current photographs of Caroline for you.

  Love, your sister, Margaret

  There was little mention of Philip in the letter. Bette had kept in touch with her nephew and sent him illustrations of things she thought would interest him, as well as a good supply of Australian storybooks. His thank you notes for these gifts were short and revealed little about himself. Bette wondered how he was getting on. Children were resilient, she told herself, so she hoped that he had put all the horrors of the war behind him and was now a happy, normal boy.

  Several days later another letter arrived from Malaya. Bette realised at once that it wasn’t from her sister and hoped that nothing had happened to cause the invitation to be withdrawn. To her surprise, the note was from Roland.

  . . . I’m pleased to hear you are doing well, Bette. I know Margaret has written inviting you to visit and I just wanted to add that it is also my sincere hope that you will come. I’m a little concerned that Margaret is rather restless and dispirited by our current situation. Young Caroline is a delight and Philip, well you wouldn’t know him from the child who arrived back here after the war, he has grown so. I will always be in your debt for caring for him. I know you saved his life and I’m sure that your actions were at a cost to yourself. I think it would do us all good to have your company here for as long as you wish, and to that end, I insist on providing you an airline ticket. You’ll find the country is going through troubled times at present, and life at Utopia is not as it was. Those carefree days have gone and what is yet to come remains unsure. However, putting these troubles aside, there is no doubt that we would very much enjoy your company. It would be a very welcome distraction for your sister, and I need not tell you how much your presence would mean to Philip. I look forward to welcoming you back to Utopia.

  Warmly, Roland

  Bette was slightly surprised, even a little concerned, at this gentle pressure from Roland and she wondered about Margaret. She had vaguely heard about the political problems in Malaya, and Margaret and Roland’s letters had confirmed it. Still, there was no question in Bette’s mind. This was a wonderful opportunity to return to Malaya and she was going to take it.

  But her parents questioned her decision.

  ‘You must have so many unhappy memories of that country, and there’s a bit of trouble brewing there, according to the newspaper,’ said her father.

  ‘Of course, it would be lovely to visit with little Caroline,’ said her mother. ‘And I suspect Margaret might be a bit lonely, not having the social whirl she was used to before the war.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s still some social scene,’ said Bette, fondly recalling her previous visit with the Elliotts. ‘But I suspect Roland is less inclined to party and hunt since he’s working so hard to build the plantation up again. And it does seem that he doesn’t like Margaret going out and about by herself. But I’m a free agent these days. I’ll have to go back to Sydney and resign from my job. I can always get another one when I get back.’

  ‘A free spirit, indeed,’ said her father. ‘I just hope that Malaya doesn’t disappoint you again.’

  Because she was flying, Bette found herself packing very carefully. She put in her art materials, added her favourite book, and photographs of her parents and their garden to show Margaret, and she gave a lot of thought to presents for Philip and Caroline.

  She was amazed that it took so short a time to fly from Sydney to Singapore and then on to KL, especially compared with her sea voyage ten years ago. Aeroplane travel was the future, the man seated next to Bette told her. Long sea voyages were now just for the young or the elderly with plenty of time on their hands, he added.

  Bette was momentarily taken aback by the impact of her emotions when Margaret met her at the airport in Kuala Lumpur.

  ‘Margaret, I can’t believe that it’s more than three years. You look wonderful. Motherhood obviously suits you.’

  ‘You look very well yourself,’ said Margaret. ‘I guess having no responsibilities suits you.’

  Bette was disappointed that Caroline and Philip weren’t there as well, but she was touched when she realised that Margaret wanted to share a few days in KL, just the two of them.

  Bette was also delighted to see Hamid again.

  ‘Is everything well with you, Hamid, and your family?’ asked Bette shaking his hand warmly.

  The driver nodded, his eyes moist, clearly pleased to see Bette. Then he was once again his smiling, deferential self. For Bette, seeing him again in such normal circumstances, the wild nightmare drive to Singapore all those years ago seemed like a strange dream that had happened to someone else.

  ‘It is very good to see you again, mem. You will see many changes. Tuan kechil is grown up now. He is learning many things at Utopia.’

  Margaret sniffed at this comment. ‘Following his f
ather around, trying to boss the workers and messing in the rubber factory with the latex. And he keeps pestering Roland to take him flying. We have a plane now, an Auster. Roland flies around as much as he can because he says some of the roads aren’t safe.’

  ‘I suppose that now he’s twelve, you’ll be sending him to boarding school?’ asked Bette.

  ‘Roland put Philip’s name down at his old school in England before he was born. I’d much rather he went to school in Australia, it’s much closer. Going to school in England means he’ll never really know or visit our parents in Brisbane. But Roland insists that that’s the way it’s to be and his mother backs him. I wish she’d keep out of it.’

  Bette nodded. She realised at once that Margaret was not looking forward to losing her son and she thought this was quite understandable. ‘I’m so looking forward to meeting little Caroline. I can’t wait to see her.’

  ‘She’s running around and becoming very independent. You may recall how the servants indulge and spoil the children. Caroline will be princess of the estate while I’m away,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Yes, she’d probably have a better time there than getting bored shopping and dining out with us,’ said Bette, who wasn’t especially looking forward to doing these activities either.

  Nevertheless, as she and Margaret spent the next few days travelling about the city, Bette found that being back in bustling Malaya was exhilarating. All signs of wartime austerity were gone. She would have liked to explore more of KL, but Margaret flatly refused to venture into Chinatown or the seedy areas, preferring to wander through the new department stores.

  Margaret was pleased with her purchases and enjoyed her break away in the city. She was a lot more relaxed as Hamid drove the two of them to the Selangor Club for tea. ‘We’ll have to do this again, or we could take another trip. I was thinking of going to the Cameron Highlands or Fraser’s Hill. I could take the children, Caroline’s old enough to enjoy that,’ said Margaret.

  Hamid glanced at them in the rear-vision mirror of Roland’s new Oldsmobile. ‘Tuan says that it’s not so safe to travel in the countryside, mem,’ he advised. ‘The communists are making trouble for everyone.’

  ‘Those wretched Chinese communists. It’s all a lot of fire in the belly and shouting, as far as I’m concerned,’ said Margaret. ‘They want the British out of Malaya, but these people aren’t ready to rule themselves.’

  ‘Be independent, like India? I don’t know about that, Margaret. Surely the most important issue is for all the different races to live together in peaceful harmony and then decide what sort of an independent Malaya they want,’ said Bette.

  ‘Really, Bette, you’ve been so far removed from all of this. Speak to Roland before venturing an opinion, though frankly I think some of the planters are being rather alarmist. We’ve had no trouble on Utopia.’ She nudged Bette and nodded her head towards Hamid. ‘It’s rumours and innuendo flying around that start the trouble.’

  In spite of Margaret’s comments about the communists, when they left KL, their car was escorted by two special constables armed with submachine guns. Margaret admitted to Bette that Roland would not allow her to travel to KL and back without such an escort.

  As they approached Utopia, Bette began to recognise the once familiar countryside. As soon as the car slid under the portico, two people appeared at the front door. Bette gasped as she realised that one of them was Philip. She saw he was now a young man, not yet as tall as his father, who looked, Bette thought, rather careworn. Hamid opened Bette’s door and she leapt out of the car and raced to the steps as Roland came down to embrace her.

  ‘Welcome, welcome. Wonderful to see you again, Bette. Hello, darling,’ he said, turning to Margaret as she stepped from the car.

  Bette stood at the bottom of the four steps staring up at Philip. They looked at each other curiously. Then slowly a smile broke out on Philip’s face and in one leap he was down the steps, standing before her.

  Bette couldn’t speak. The physical memory of the thin body she’d held in her arms night after night in the camp was imprinted on her mind and on her body, but this strong, firm frame was almost unrecognisable. As was his voice, which had lost its high, childish tone.

  ‘Bet-Bet.’

  She laughed and hugged him. ‘I haven’t been called that in a long time. You look wonderful. I can’t believe how tall you are.’

  ‘Goodness, Bette, remember how we hated people saying that to us when we were young?’ Margaret leaned towards Philip, offering her cheek to be kissed. ‘Where’s Caroline?’

  ‘Asleep,’ said Philip taking Bette’s arm. ‘Can I show Bette to her room?’

  ‘Good idea, take Bette’s small bag. Ho and Hamid can bring in the rest,’ said Roland.

  ‘Ho is still here! That’s wonderful, he must be very old,’ said Bette. ‘And Ah Kit? That was the name of your houseboy when you were in the other house, wasn’t it?’

  ‘He no longer works for me,’ said Roland.

  Philip took Bette’s small carry bag. She wanted to say that she was travelling with more luggage than the last time the two of them had travelled together, but she wasn’t sure how a flippant remark about the past would be received.

  ‘I’ll go and check on Caroline,’ said Margaret.

  ‘I can’t wait to see her,’ said Bette, following Philip up the stairs.

  ‘She’s a bundle of energy. A bit of a tomboy. Mother put you in this room. It has a nice view.’ He put her bag down.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you looking . . . so well,’ said Bette.

  ‘You look different too. I think you’re very pretty,’ said Philip shyly. He paused awkwardly. ‘Thank you for the letters, the books and pictures.’

  ‘I’m glad you liked them.’

  ‘Yes. I wrote to you,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you. I enjoyed receiving your notes. I’m hoping to do some more drawings while I’m here,’ said Bette. As they left the bedroom, Bette asked, ‘Are you looking forward to boarding school?’

  ‘Yes, lots. All my friends have been going for years. I can’t wait to play cricket and rugby with them. I’m starting next term.’

  Bette didn’t pursue the subject. She had thought that perhaps Philip would not want to go to school so far away from home but clearly he was eager to. ‘So what do you do with yourself here, when you’re not studying?’

  ‘I’m learning the plantation business. I like to watch the tappers working, but it’s most fun to mess around where the latex is drying. Those sheets remind me of spooky ghosts.’ He grinned. ‘And we’ve got a fast boat down at the river so I drive that.’

  ‘You’ll have to take me out in it,’ said Bette.

  Margaret appeared in the hallway. ‘He’s not supposed to take that boat out alone.’

  ‘Is the pagar still there? Maybe we could go on a picnic,’ suggested Bette.

  ‘Father says it might not be safe there,’ said Philip.

  ‘Really?’ asked Bette. ‘Why not?’

  ‘The communists,’ said Margaret.

  ‘They’re guerillas in the jungle,’ said Philip.

  ‘We seem to be quite safe at Utopia. But just the same Roland says we mustn’t go anywhere unsupervised. And that definitely means you, young man. Now please go and tell Ho to bring the tea outside onto the verandah, and ask Ah Min to bring Caroline out when she wakes up.’

  ‘Tea sounds lovely,’ said Bette. ‘It’s wonderful some of the staff are still here – Ho, Ah Min, Philip’s old amah, Hamid. What happened to Ah Kit?’

  ‘According to Roland, he fought with the communists during the war. Hard to believe that he would do something like that, after living here at Utopia and everything we did for him,’ snapped Margaret. ‘Talk about ingratitude!’

  With that the subject was dismissed, and at that moment their attention was diverted to a small blonde rocket propelling herself across the verandah to stand next to her mother. The little girl chewed her finger and looked at Bette.

/>   ‘Caroline, this is your Aunt Bette. Now what do you do? Take that finger out of your mouth. Come on, curtsy.’ Caroline bent one of her knees, giving a brief bob.‘Where’s your skirt, hold out your skirt,’ directed Margaret.

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, you did very well,’ said Bette. ‘What a clever little girl you are.’

  ‘Yes, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but she can be an imp. She has to be watched all the time,’ said Margaret smoothing the little girl’s blonde curls. ‘Ah Min has a full-time job chasing after her. Philip simply won’t spend time entertaining her.’

  ‘I don’t imagine Philip has much in common with her. Ten years is a pretty big age gap, but they will get closer when they’re older,’ said Bette.

  ‘Boys change once they go away to school,’ said Margaret.

  ‘They have to grow up, Margaret. And Philip seems to love the plantation. I’m sure he’ll come back and work with Roland,’ said Bette.

  ‘I don’t know how long rubber is going to be profitable. Times are changing. Some plantations are trying other crops. Roland was experimenting with palm oil before the war. But the workers don’t seem as dedicated as they were in Eugene’s day. There are always strikes somewhere. I’ve heard that some of their wage demands are quite outrageous. They’ll send the plantations broke if they get them. It’s all very destabilising.’

  ‘Yes, war has a way of changing things,’ said Bette quietly.

  ‘I might have been out of the fighting, but it wasn’t easy in Australia, either,’ said Margaret testily.

  Suddenly Caroline wanted attention and Ho brought in the cake and tea, and the war was not mentioned again.

  A few days later a group of Roland’s old friends, mainly planters, were relaxing on the verandah, stengahs in hand, and the discussion of the current political situation resur-faced. Bette was shocked to see that each guest arrived with a Malay special constable, and stacked his gun in a corner, before shaking hands with Roland. She sat in the shade by the steps watching Caroline play and listened with interest to their conversation.