by Di Morrissey
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think that would be for the best. I hope Philip will understand the situation better and the reasons why I’ve decided to leave when he gets older.’
‘I’m sure that he will,’ said Roland firmly.
‘I’d like to speak to him and explain about this change of plan. I don’t want him to know about the problems between his mother and me.’
‘You’re a very loyal and kind person, Bette. I’ll give you our friends’ addresses in Penang and send them a note asking them to look after you.’
Before she left, Bette took Philip aside and spoke to him quietly.
‘Philip, I’m leaving early in the morning. I’m going to travel a bit and see some of your parents’ friends. Some of them I know from my first visit. I think that my being here has brought back memories of a painful time for your mother.’ Bette looked at Philip and smiled. ‘I know it was tough and horrible and awful at times for us in that POW camp, but I also remember laughter, friends and a lot of love and caring, and we had each other. Your mother was quite alone.’
Philip nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak but managed to say, ‘I still have Lumpy. My elephant.’
Bette took his hand, the tall boy on the brink of adolescence suddenly looking like the insecure little chap she’d loved through those terrible war years.
‘I’ll be going to England, soon, to boarding school.’
Bette nodded. ‘Yes. But, Philip, your mother needs you now. Before you leave, let her know that you love her. She will miss you so much while you’re away. I know that we’ll always have a special tie between us, but we have to get on with our own lives now.’
‘She’ll have Caroline,’ said Philip pragmatically.
‘Yes. And your father.’ She dropped his hand. ‘Be generous, big-hearted and work hard. As I know you will. And think of me sometimes.’
‘I’ll never forget you, Bet-Bet.’ He looked stricken, tears filling his eyes.
‘I know I’ll always be proud of you, Philip. Give Lumpy a cuddle from me.’ Bette smiled and turned away, relinquishing the boy she loved so deeply.
As the driver turned the car into the laneway outside the garden of the big house, Bette glanced up at the solid colonial home Eugene had built so many years ago, and knew that behind a curtain a young boy was watching her leave.
Although Roland had suggested that the driver take her all the way to Penang, Bette insisted on taking the train, even though it was very slow. She loved the jungle-clad hills, the stretches of plantations, the villages and rivers as they wound through the countryside.
Bette was happy to be in a city. The threat of insurgents and attacks on remote estates seemed far away. She indulged herself, wandering through the places she’d missed on her previous visit. She found that in spite of the circumstances, she enjoyed travelling and visiting Roland’s friends, many of whom remembered her from her previous visit. They were all delighted to entertain the pretty, charming woman in their happy-go-lucky social circle.
But behind the laughter, the drinking, the dancing and the sports, there was always a shadow. All had been affected in one way or another by the war and now they had to live with the uncertainty of the Emergency and the push for independence. Sometimes it seemed to Bette that there was a tinge of desperation to their gaiety. But Bette thanked them for their hospitality and the opportunity they provided for her to have a bit of adventure and the chance to sketch and absorb something of the rich culture of this interesting country. And she told them that she was, of course, in regular contact with Roland and Margaret who continued to make so many wonderful introductions for her. This wasn’t quite the truth, for Bette sent the occasional note to Roland only. Margaret had made it very clear that what Bette did and where she went were of no interest to her at all.
Being on her own, Bette felt a great sense of freedom and fun. She booked herself into the E&O Hotel where there was no Margaret frowning at her, no parents to worry about and no demands on her in any way. It was a heady time. There were many single men and a dearth of attractive, unattached women, so Bette was whirled from dances to dinners. There were social sporting events, picnics, house parties and tour trips. She accepted an invitation from some friends of Roland’s, Lori and Andrew Pike, to stay in their summer house on Penang Hill. Other friends of Roland’s, Nancy and Beau Gideon, asked her to join them for a weekend party at their beach house at Batu Ferringhi.
She travelled to the Pikes’ summer house on the pretty funicular railway, with its two carriages that stopped at tiny stations on the way up Penang Hill. Bette felt the temperature cooling and the humidity dissolve as the train gained altitude. At the little viaduct station she was met by Andrew with his driver but no car.
‘Can you carry your small bag? Lim will take the rest. The house is a bit of a hike from the station,’ Andrew told her. ‘The other guests are already there.’
In single file, they followed a jungle path that ended at some rough steps leading to a large bungalow on the edge of a cliff. It had commanding views.
‘Bette, we’ve given you the sunrise room, so you’ll see the morning light first,’ said Lorraine as she came over to greet her guest. ‘The housegirls will unpack your things. After that walk from the station you’ll need refreshments, I expect. Come along, we’ll all meet on the lawn for tea. I think you already know some of our other friends, Harold Mitchum and Tony Tsang. They are old friends of Roland and Margaret.’
‘Yes, I did meet Tony Tsang and his wife, years ago.’
‘Did Roland and Margaret tell you that Mai Ling was killed in the war?’
‘No, they didn’t. How very sad. She was tall and very beautiful. I do remember her,’ said Bette. ‘He must miss her.’
‘I’m sure he does. She was caught in the street during a bombing raid. Anyway, Tony has a big family, four children, and what seems to be lots of other relatives. We thought he needed a bit of time away from business and his family, so we asked him up,’ said Lorraine. ‘See you downstairs on the lawn when you’re ready.’
Before joining the others for tea, Bette decided to walk around the grounds. She discovered a flourishing kitchen garden and some well-tended fruit trees, and was entranced by the view of the valley below. Terraced slopes were cut into the hillside, the gardens on them beautifully laid out.
‘There are a lot of secret paths down there. They make lovely walks,’ said a friendly voice behind her. ‘I’m Tony Tsang. I believe we met at the races before the war. You were with the Elliotts.’
Bette turned and was immediately struck by how exotically handsome he was. She recalled Roland telling her about his old university friend. She returned his smile. ‘That’s right, we did.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your wife.’
‘Yes. But that was a long time ago now. The war was hard on many of us. But then you’d know about that,’ he said. ‘I heard you were interned in a POW camp. Roland was full of praise for the way you looked after their son.’
‘It wasn’t easy. Even though it was years ago, it’s not something that fades from one’s memory.’
Tony looked away and said slowly, ‘I know what you mean. I find it difficult to be in the street where . . . the bomb fell. It was as if Mai Ling was an exquisite porcelain vase that just . . . shattered into fragments.’
Bette nodded. ‘My friend Gilbert Mason died, too, so horribly, trying to save Philip and me. I always thought I’d marry Gilbert, if he asked me. There just seemed to be an understanding between us without our saying anything.’ In a rush she blurted the words she’d never said before, ‘I wish I’d told him I loved him.’
‘I remember Gilbert. I’m sure he would have known how you felt. You just do, you just know . . .’
Bette nodded, tears in her eyes. ‘He touched my hand before he was shot and I felt everything in that moment, and that it was not to be.’
Tony took her hand and held it as they stood gazing across the valley.
‘I can’t believ
e I said that. I’ve never told anyone that before. I hardly let myself think about it,’ said Bette finally.
‘I think we have a lot in common,’ said Tony.
After a few moments, Bette withdrew her hand and turned back to the garden. She took a breath, trying to steady herself and regain a sense of normalcy. ‘I try to think about the good times, the times I shared with Gil.’
‘Yes, those years before the war were a lot of fun. I doubt such carefree times will return soon. I remember you that day at the races, very well,’ he added.
‘I know this decade will be different. There’s certainly a lot of talk of change,’ said Bette as they began to stroll through the gardens.
‘So it seems. What plans do you have for the 1950s?’ he asked with a quizzical smile.
Bette shrugged. ‘I don’t really have any plans. I’ve been studying art and working in Sydney, and then Margaret and Roland asked me to come and stay. I was glad to come back to Malaya. Roland is devoted to Utopia and has a big job to re-establish the plantation after the Japanese occupation.’
‘Yes, I can imagine. I know a lot of planters are turning to new crops. I think Roland experimented with palm oil before the war, didn’t he? And there is the problem with the communists and the push to independence,’ Tony said.
‘The communists? Do you really think the British would be forced out?’ asked Bette.
‘The insurgents are a tiny minority. I’m sure when and if independence comes, it will be through co-operation and agreement with Britain. We need each other. But in the meantime, areas of the country are quite unstable,’ said Tony and he glanced at her. ‘It is fortunate that my business can spare me for a bit so that I could accept this invitation. I’m glad I did.’
‘I remember Roland and Eugene telling me something about your business, but apart from saying that you are an excellent businessman, I’m afraid I don’t recall anything else.’
Tony smiled. ‘After my father died I diversified, but at the end of the war it was difficult to export to our traditional markets – Siam, Burma and Sumatra. But being Chinese I was able to overcome these problems through the kongsi.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Bette. ‘What are kongsi?’
‘When the original Chinese immigrants came to Penang they formed associations, or clans, and built clan houses. These were like clubs, in a way, where newcomers could stay, be introduced to important people, given employment and helped to settle into their new city, so they became places to honour the achievements of the family clan. Some of the kongsi are very elaborate. Would you like to visit one?’ he asked.
‘I’d love to, it sounds fascinating. Is there a Tsang kongsi?’
He smiled. ‘Yes. My family has been here for many generations. My father’s ancestors fled persecution from the Manchus and came here not long after Penang was settled.’
‘You have a very colourful family story, Tony. Mine seems very bland in comparison.’
‘I think that all families are interesting. They are made up of individuals and although the family might present a united front to the world, scratch the surface and you’ll find the dominant and gentle, the weak and strong, and people with different talents, tastes and desires,’ he said.
‘Yes, that’s for sure,’ said Bette, laughing. ‘That sounds just like my family.’
They reached the front lawn where people were gathering for the lavish tea and cakes set out on rattan tables covered with embroidered cloths.
Tony held out a chair for Bette and she sat down as Lorraine announced plans for croquet and tennis for those who were interested.
‘Will you be playing?’ Tony asked her.
Bette shook her head. ‘No, I’d like to explore a little. This is such a pretty and unusual setting, and cool enough to go hiking.’
‘Don’t get lost, Bette. Stay on the paths,’ advised Andrew.
‘I’d be happy to go with you,’ said Tony. ‘I know the area, my family have a bungalow up here, although I don’t seem to have much time to use it.’
‘Thank you, but I don’t want to take you away from a game,’ said Bette.
‘Nonsense, a good walk will do me good. And Andrew is right, you can get lost quite easily in the hill country,’ said Tony. ‘Besides I think I’ll enjoy your company more than I would those frenetic tennis players.’
‘You always were quick to corner the prettiest girl at the party,’ Andrew said cheerfully.
In sensible shoes, Bette set off with Tony. In no time at all they were deep in the thick forest.
‘Is this jungle? These trees remind me of what I imagine an old English forest to be like,’ said Bette.
Tony stopped and gazed up at the trees. ‘You’re right. Not all of these trees are native. Some would have been planted here when the first Europeans came – to remind them of home, I expect. You’ll find more original jungle as we go in further.’
‘Are these the secret paths where you brought your girlfriends?’ teased Bette.
Tony laughed. ‘No, I was too shy. When I was young we used to come and stay here in the hot months and the caretaker’s son, a Malay boy, showed me all his favourite places.’
The path soon narrowed, so Tony took the lead. They didn’t talk. Occasionally Tony held back an overhanging branch, or pointed out obstacles like roots and rocks that might trip Bette up, especially as she was constantly craning her neck upwards, looking for monkeys, butterflies, birds, and unfamiliar plants and flowers.
‘Look at those strange plants,’ she said.
‘Pitcher plants.’ Tony took one of the long, hollow, tubular flowers from the vine. ‘See how they hold water. Monkeys have been seen drinking water from them, so they’re sometimes called monkey cups. See, this one is half full.’ He tipped it up and sipped the water. ‘Mmm, sweet. Try some. Actually this flower looks a bit like a saxophone. Do you like dancing?’
Bette nodded, suddenly aware of their closeness as he held the strange plant to her lips to drink the raindrops. She hadn’t been so affected by the physicality of an attractive man for a long time.
‘Good. I’d like to take you dancing. I think I need to put a little fun and laughter back into my life. I haven’t felt inclined to . . . until now. Would you help me out?’ His dark eyes were warm, a hint of a mischievous smile in their depths.
‘I’d like that. Thank you,’ said Bette.
They stopped by a small pool where water from the peak trickled down the hillside.
‘This trickle is a torrent when the rains come,’ said Tony. He held out his hand and helped her across. ‘We can circle around and come out above the bungalow.’
They continued to meander along the hidden pathways. Once back on the wider, smoother path Tony took her hand again, and Bette was very aware of the smoothness of his skin and the touch of his fingertips.
While it appeared to their hosts, and other guests, that Tony and Bette had an easy friendship, both of them realised that there was a powerful attraction between them. Neither acknowledged this chemistry, but in moments of physical closeness, the brush of an arm, sitting together, both felt as if electricity had crackled between them.
Bette and Tony seemed to like the same things. They were the ones who were up very early sitting on the terrace in the crisp morning air to watch the day begin, sipping hot, sweet coffee. When the group gathered on the terrace after dinner for nightcaps to watch the lights of George Town twinkling below them, Tony and Bette sat side by side, talking softly, looking more at each other than the view.
Tony cheerfully flirted with her, sometimes teasing her to make her laugh. Although he was at least ten years older than she was, Bette found him an interesting combination of youthful exuberance and energy, yet with the wisdom and thoughtfulness of a mature man.
At breakfast one morning, Andrew asked Bette, ‘So what are you two planning for these last days? Anything you’d like us to arrange?’
Bette liked the way he assumed that she and Tony would spend their remaining
time together. ‘Andrew, you’ve been so hospitable, I can’t thank you enough. It’s been great.’
‘You’re charming company,’ said Andrew. ‘I do hope we see more of you while you’re here in Penang, Bette.’
‘Me too,’ said Tony. ‘Tell me where you’d really like to go, what you’d like to see while you’re here. I was planning to go back to Penang tomorrow but apparently we’re all expected at Batu Ferringhi, so I’ve changed my plans.’ He smiled at Bette.
‘We’ve all been invited,’ said Andrew.
‘The Gideons’ beach house? I’m looking forward to a swim in the sea,’ said Bette.
‘You might not find it ideal for swimming. But there are some nice spots. Personally I prefer swimming off the islands,’ said Tony. He gave Bette a smile. ‘I now feel I have a special project.’
‘A project?’ she asked.
‘Yes. You. I’m going to show you some of my favourite places. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,’ said Tony firmly.
Bette was surprised that the Gideons referred to their home as a beach house. It looked more like an English stately home with its gothic windows, a coat of arms above the entrance and stone lions standing on either side of the terrace that overlooked the coastline.
The Gideons’ house party was really enjoyable, made more so for Bette because of Tony’s company. They took long walks along the beach, sat by the pool, or just talked at length. Once Tony asked Bette when was she returning to Australia.
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t made a lot of plans and I left everything open ended.’
‘Bette, when we go back to Penang I’d like you to visit my family home sometime, and meet my children. Would you come?’
Bette looked into his eyes and nodded. Tony leaned towards her as Bette’s eyes closed, waiting for the touch of his lips on hers. A fuse had been ignited and Bette had no idea whether it would surge brightly and explode or simply fizzle out, but there was no stopping the consequences, nor did she want to do so.
