by Ann Massey
‘The pundits predict the TV spectacular will have the biggest audience ever,’ gloated Benny, settling his large bulk into the seat. This was the biggest coup of his career and he could hardly believe he’d pulled it off. After seventeen years of stubbornly refusing to even appear on the same show as Tuff, Sir Josh Chadwick had capitulated, agreeing to co-present, and on top of that, amazingly, he’d waived his fee. And his enthusiasm for the undertaking had increased since they’d flown over the deforested interior of the state.
‘I’ve never been what you’d call a tree hugger,’ he’d said to Benny after they’d visited a makeshift government camp with inadequate facilities, where proud, self-sufficient Dayaks were living humbly and unproductively, forced off their ancestral land by rapacious loggers. ‘But now that I’ve seen the devastation firsthand, as it were, I’m convinced that something has to be done before we lose the bloody lot to them greedy buggers. I’m working on a protest song and I’m going to donate the profits to set up a fighting fund to help save the Dayaks. Me and the wife were thinking it might be something our Mei Li and David might like to manage. Weren’t we, Sandy luv? What with him being a lawyer and all.’
Benny wasn’t fooled. He knew Sir Joshua Chadwick was an astute and canny businessman; the broad Lancashire accent was just his way of relating to his legions of working class fans. It was obvious to Benny that the only reason Josh was willing to underwrite the funding for an environmental protest group was to please his daughter. And if I Mei Li were his daughter he’d be doing the same. David’s a lucky sod. Tuff’s courageous daughter was tops in his book and Benny was glad she was marrying someone top drawer like David, even though young Galahad had almost queered his pitch. Convincing David to allow Mei Li’s story to be the focus for the anti-logging documentary had been a hard sell.
Sick and tired of being in the spotlight, David had arced up at the idea of having a television crew filming their every move. ‘Mei Li’s been through a terrible experience,’ he’d said. ‘Surely she deserves some privacy.’
‘But we’ve got to strike while the story’s red hot,’ Benny had countered. ‘And if, as you say, you’re genuinely committed to fighting the logging companies, you’ll never get a better chance to publicise your cause. Think of the size of your audience and imagine the size of the donations it’ll bring in. This will make the Tuff Love special look like small bikkies.’
He had turned to Mei Li. ‘And to give your mum her due, Mei Li, no other program has ever generated more money for a charity,’ he said, delivering his killer argument with a disarming grin.
‘Do you really think Mei Li wants to see her grandparents for the first time since their daughter was murdered with a whole lot of media types spying on her?’
‘S’okay, we do it,’ Mei Li said, cutting in. ‘More important people know cutting trees destroys lives than me and you being watched by millions.’
Bravo, Mei Li, thought Benny. He remembered how, in her halting English, she had persuaded David that the interests of her people were the most important thing. That grandmother of hers must be something special. He was looking forward to meeting the woman who’d moulded Mei Li’s attitudes and values.
‘What’s that you’re reading?’ Benny enquired as Sandy politely closed her book.
‘It’s a biography about the White Rajahs of Sarawak,’ said Sandy. ‘I bought it at the airport in Miri. Did you know that a British family, the Brookes, ruled Sarawak for over a hundred years?’
‘How fascinating,’ said Benny, feigning interest. After all, she was Lady Sandy Chadwick and the influence she had over her husband was legendary. It couldn’t hurt to encourage her. Who knows, she might persuade Josh to change agencies. He flashed his practised smile at the rock star’s trusting wife. ‘Maybe we could mention something about them in the program.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Sandy with a shy, winsome smile. ‘Did you know that Tuff’s real name is Crystal Brooke?’
‘Yeah,’ said Benny, trying to keep a straight face. In his estimation, changing that ridiculous name was one of the few sensible decisions Tuff had ever made.
‘Well, you’ll probably think this is far-fetched but wouldn’t it be marvellous if Mei Li turned out to be related to the Brookes? Apparently there are scores of their love children popping up all over the world. Imagine what a great story that would make.’
‘It certainly would be a an interesting angle,’ said Benny, intrigued by the possibilities. But that was too big a stretch even for him to get the public to buy.
Scarcely a minute had passed before he turned eagerly towards her. ‘Would you mind letting me have a look at that book?’ he asked, his lively, intelligent eyes gleaming with half-formed schemes.
Forgotten scandals from the past didn’t trouble the long-lost descendant of the White Rajahs. The sound of gongs and drums floated across the paddy fields, the feast was spread out on mats in front of the longhouse doors and the children in decorated canoes strewed blossom on the water. The bride and her groom had come home.
