by Clare Flynn
‘There’ll be no war. Don’t alarm Mrs Barrington.’ Douglas’s tone was hard, impatient.
‘I’m sorry.’ Hyde-Underwood looked abashed. He was clearly nervous in Doug’s presence – or perhaps it was the fact that their unannounced visit had taken him by surprise.
‘It’s all right,’ said Evie. ‘I’ve just come out from England and it’s all anybody talks about back there.’
Hyde-Underwood went on to show her the holding tanks, explaining how they measured and recorded the density. He showed her the sheets of latex passing through rollers, squeezing out the water, before being hung up to dry for days in the adjacent smoke house. ‘We grade each sheet into categories. The boss here expects it all to be Grade One.’ He winked at Evie. ‘Most of the rubber is sold in London by auction before it’s even processed. There’d be a terrific stink if the consignment they’ve paid for turns out to be below par.’ He paused, looking again at Douglas, and Evie sensed he was constantly expecting to be corrected, but Douglas remained impassive.
‘During the Depression when the market slumped, many estates, including this one, had to lay off a lot of crew. There was quite an exodus of European planters from the Straits.’ He looked again at Douglas. ‘I was one of the lucky ones. But it was tough for all of us.’
‘Enough of that.’ Douglas spoke at last. ‘The Depression’s over.’
The blood rushed into Hyde-Underwood’s cheeks again. He turned away and spoke rapidly in another language to one of the workers.
‘Is that Malay he’s speaking?’ Evie asked Douglas.
‘Tamil. He speaks both. And some Chinese.’
‘Goodness. That’s impressive. Do you?’
‘Of course. It’s one of the requirements of the job. All European planters need to pick up Tamil within eighteen months. And if they want to progress they learn Malay too.’
They walked on, Hyde-Underwood with them again.
‘Were all these trees planted by your grandfather?’ Evie asked Douglas, sweeping her hands towards the hillside which was covered with terraces of rubber trees as far as she could see.
Instead of answering, he jerked his head to Hyde-Underwood, who responded. ‘The trees only last thirty years. Then we have to replant. It’s a big part of the job – raising seedlings, cultivating, planting saplings.’ He explained how the old trees were poisoned and cleared away to make room for new ones.
The last stop on the tour was to see workers chopping away undergrowth beneath a row of trees, clearing the ground and revealing the drainage ditch that ran down the space between the rows. The men were hacking through the vegetation with large curved-bladed knives which Hyde-Underwood told her were called perangs.
Hyde-Underwood suggested they head back to the bungalow for tiffin, when a cry went up from one of the men. ‘Ular!’ The whole group began shouting ‘Ular’.
Hyde-Underwood moved forward but Douglas grabbed Evie’s arm and held her back as most of the men scattered. ‘It’s a snake,’ he said.
Evie watched in horror as the largest snake she had ever seen emerged from the thicket and raced over the ground towards Hyde-Underwood. But one of the workers was ready for it, slashing at it with his perang in a frenzied attack.
Douglas shouted something in Tamil or Malay and the man stepped away leaving the snake in pieces on the ground.
‘Probably dead with the first blow, but they like to hack them apart. Their idea of sport I suppose.’
Evie felt sick. She looked at her husband. ‘Was it dangerous?’
‘Not usually to humans. It’s a python. Must be ten feet long.’
Her stomach churned, adrenaline coursing through her, but tinged with disgust at the savage nature of the worker’s attack. ‘A python? Don’t they crush you to death?’
‘They grab their victims in their coils then swallow them whole.’
Evie shuddered. ‘What sort of victim?’
‘Maybe a deer or a rat,’ said Hyde-Underwood. ‘They have no venom. It looks like this one had just had his tiffin.’ He picked up a stick and poked at the side of the dead snake, rolling it over to reveal a large protuberance in the middle. ‘A small deer I expect.’
Evie turned away. ‘How horrible. Would the creature have been alive when it was swallowed?’ She imagined the animal one minute prowling through the undergrowth and the next being swallowed into the dark interior of a python’s belly.
‘Doubt it would have known it was happening. They’re fast, pythons. They attack by ambush and before the prey knows it, they’ve been wrapped in the coils and death’s pretty instant. Heart failure, a zoologist chap once told me.’ He shouted something to the men and they kicked the carcass away and turned back to the task of clearing.
‘Why did they kill it then?’
‘Provides a few minute’s entertainment. Breaks up the day.’ He shrugged. ‘Better get back to the Mem. She’ll not be happy if I return you late for tiffin.’
10
Back at the bungalow, the four ate lunch quickly. The Hyde-Underwoods gave no further hint of surprise at Douglas’s sudden nuptials. Mrs Hyde-Underwood directed polite enquiries to Evie, who kept her responses minimal, wary of giving too much of herself away. In turn, Evie established that the Hyde-Underwoods were both from Yorkshire and Reggie had been in Malaya for eight years, with his wife joining him after three.
When the silent Malay servant had cleared the plates away, Douglas and Reggie left for the estate office to talk business and Mrs Hyde-Underwood led Evie outside.
‘I’m preventing you having your nap.’ Evie apologised.
‘I rarely sleep in the afternoons these days.’ The woman patted her stomach. ‘This little creature makes sure of that. Always very boisterous in the afternoon. I usually sit in the shade on the veranda and try to read or sew. And it’s nice to have company. We’re very isolated up here and these days we don’t often get into town.’
They walked to the rear of the bungalow, into a kitchen garden with vegetables growing in orderly rows.
‘The kebun is glad my pregnancy is forcing me to take things easier. He’s been less than happy to have the mem muscling in on his territory.’
Evie realised she was referring to the gardener and made a mental note to add the word kebun to her small but growing Malay vocabulary.
‘I’ve always loved gardening and there’s so little to occupy one up here, but all the bending over is a bit of a problem!’ She flashed a smile at Evie. ‘Do you enjoy gardening, Mrs Barrington?’
‘I’m ashamed to say I’ve never actually tried it. I grew up in London in one of those big town houses in a square with only a communal garden and more recently…’ Her voice trailed away. She didn’t want to reveal her former employment was as a lady’s companion. ‘I lived in a house with a gardener who resented anyone helping. And I wouldn’t have known where to start anyway.’
‘Exactly. Just as I said. They’re all the same these gardeners.’ Susan Hyde-Underwood wiped a hand across her brow, pushing her light brown hair away from her eyes. ‘And I must admit gardening in the tropical heat isn’t exactly fun.’ She placed her hands on her stomach. ‘In fact expecting a baby in this heat is also a bit of a trial.’
‘But it’s so much cooler up here than in George Town.’
Mrs Hyde-Underwood shuddered. ‘I don’t know how you stand it down there. We English roses wilt in all the humidity. Bad enough up here. The mozzies are terrible. Not to mention the stink bugs and flying ants. After a dry spell the floors are covered in their corpses. And you can end up with stink bugs floating about in your drinks. Revolting.’ Her mouth twitched at the corners and Evie could tell she would have liked to be back in England.
Turning to look at Evie, she said, ‘But I think you should know I’ve told Reggie that if your husband should ever ask him to work over at Batu Lembah, I’m on the next ship home.’
‘Batu Lembah?’
‘The other Barrington estate. Near Butterworth. I presumed you would be liv
ing there.’
‘No. At the moment I’m staying in the house in George Town. My husband joins us most weekends.’ She swallowed, hoping the exaggeration wasn’t evident.
‘Right. Of course. I’d forgotten. The late Mrs Barrington didn’t like Batu Lembah and preferred to be in town. I suppose all her friends were in George Town.’ Susan Hyde-Underwood looked wistful. ‘It can be very lonely being an estate manager’s wife. All very well for the men. They have their work and the company that offers. But for us girls, most of the time you’re the only white woman for miles, stuck on your own, day in, day out. If I didn’t have my garden I’d probably have gone mad. But if Mr Barrington ever insisted we were to leave Bellavista and move over to the mainland, well, I’m sorry to say this to you, but we will definitely be heading straight back to England.’
‘What makes you think he’d ask you to do that?’
‘Nothing really. But this house was his family’s home. And I suppose now I know about you… I have to admit, Mrs Barrington…I’m wondering whether he’s brought you up here to look around with a view to you both moving here.’
‘He hasn’t said anything like that to me. Quite the contrary. I’ve been nagging him to show me around the estate – I was surprised this morning when he finally agreed. I suppose he thought it would be easier than bringing me over to Butterworth.’ As she sought to reassure the woman, Evie admitted to herself that actually living up here might be preferable to George Town. At least it was cooler and far from the club and Veronica Leighton.
‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to be straight with you. It’s probably me being particularly anxious because of the baby being imminent.’ She told Evie when it was due, adding, ‘I’ve waited so long for a child. I’d begun to despair of it ever happening. I’d started to think it was the wretched climate here. And just as I’d given up hope, bingo! I realised it had happened at last. As you can imagine, we’re both over the moon. Reggie’s convinced it’s a boy and a Malayan lady in one of the kampungs took one look at me and said I was having a boy. I’m increasingly sure of it myself, but I’ll be happy either way.’
‘And your husband?’
‘Him too. He doesn’t really mind.’
They had left the vegetable garden and reached a small lawn, surrounded by a profusion of flowering shrubs.
‘I tried growing roses, but they didn’t take well. Better to work with the plants that are indigenous. You must come and look at my orchids. My pride and joy.’
Beyond the lawn, they entered a maze of gravelled pathways weaving between the bending trunks and spiky fronds of palm trees and the big glossy leaves of bananas. The air was peaty, rich with the smell of soil and rotting vegetation. Above their heads, the area was draped with netting, presumably to keep the birds at bay. A collection of terracotta pots, containing smaller plants, hung from the branches of trees. In between the different shades of green were bright splashes of orchids, all shapes and colours – delicate peach, buttery yellows, vibrant cyclamen-like pinks and the softest mauves. In the background, Evie could hear the gentle tinkle of falling water and saw a small pond encircled with rocks.
‘Your husband’s grandfather apparently had a passion for orchids too. But things were rather neglected by Mr Barrington’s uncle. I’ve a long way to go, but I’m working hard at restoring the area to its former glory and I’m building quite a collection.’
‘They’re exquisite,’ said Evie. ‘I can see why orchids have become a passion for you.’
Mrs Hyde-Underwood nodded. ‘I just hope there’ll be time for them once the baby’s arrived.’
‘I’m sure the…the kedan is it?’
‘Kebun.’
‘I’m sure the kebun will be only too happy to take over.’
The woman sniffed. ‘I doubt it. Vegetables and mowing lawns are more his thing. But we’ll see.’
Evie had the sense that behind her smiles, Mrs Hyde-Underwood was not as happy as she’d first appeared. Clearly devoted to her husband, there was nonetheless a sadness about her. Might living in Malaya mean Evie herself would eventually feel the same?
As if sensing Evie’s thoughts, Mrs Hyde-Underwood assumed a cheery voice. ‘Let’s go and have a cold drink on the veranda. It’s shady round the other side.’ Without waiting for Evie to reply, she headed back towards the bungalow.
Sipping homemade lemonade, Evie suggested they move to first name terms, then asked her hostess if she had known Felicity.
‘Not well. But we did meet once. Over at Batu Lembah. It was when I first came out here. Mr Barrington had just bought the estate there, and hired my husband from Dunlop’s to take over at Bellavista as manager.’
‘What was she like?’ The question spilled out – but Susan Hyde-Underwood seemed to take it in her stride.
‘Not very friendly, actually. She didn’t have a lot to say and I was probably nervous myself and wanting to make a good impression meeting Reggie’s boss’s wife. That can’t have helped.’
‘I only met Felicity myself on one occasion – when I was fifteen. I do remember she was beautiful.’
Susan nodded. ‘Frail and delicate. A bit like one of my orchids. Fine for a flower but I’m not so sure it’s such a great quality in a woman.’
Evie wanted to ask how Douglas had behaved towards Felicity, but that would be going too far.
But Susan evidently had no such compunctions herself. ‘I couldn’t understand how they’d come to be married, actually. She struck me as whiny and miserable. And a bit haughty too. As the wife of the tuan, one’s expected to be a hostess and to put on a good show. She didn’t strike me as being interested in any of that. She barely exchanged two words with me. It was frightfully strained. I couldn’t wait to get away.’ She beamed at Evie. ‘Not like you at all.’
They sipped their lemonades. Evie liked the sour tang of it, the sharpness cutting through the initial sweetness. ‘Did you make this yourself?’
‘Heavens no.’ Susan grimaced. ‘I’m completely useless in the kitchen. We’re lucky with Sulung. He’s a terrific cook. How’s your “cookie”?’
Evie rolled her eyes. ‘He’s very good. But the housekeeper, who I think is his wife, is a bit scary. She’s a Chinese lady – Aunty Mimi. I’ve no idea whose aunty she is.’
‘All the Chinese ladies seem to be called aunty.’
‘But I’ve no complaints regarding her work.’
Susan arched her back and slipped her hands behind her. ‘Don’t mind me. It’s getting harder to get comfortable, lugging all this bulk about.’ She paused a moment. ‘I must say, Evie, I think you’re awfully brave.’
‘What do you mean?’ For a moment Evie thought she was talking about coping with Aunty Mimi.
‘Coming out here to such a different life. And taking on someone else’s child into the bargain.’
‘Oh that.’ Evie felt deflated. Was this yet another person who was secretly thinking she must have been desperate to have agreed to marry Douglas? ‘Jasmine is a lovely girl. I’m already very fond of her.’
‘But you can’t have known Mr Barrington well. He hasn’t left the Straits in years.’
Evie looked at the woman, expecting to see the contempt she had seen in the eyes of Veronica and the ladies gathered in the powder room at the Penang Club, but instead she saw only kind concern and interest.
‘We had met a long time ago and more recently we… we corresponded.’ She knew it was something of an exaggeration to describe two curt letters as corresponding, but she didn’t want to admit the truth.
‘How romantic!’ Susan clasped her hands together. ‘Mr Barrington is frightfully handsome, if you don’t mind my saying. I do hope everything works out well for you both. He must have been dreadfully lonely. Of course he’d never admit that. Men never do.’ She flapped a hand at a flying insect. ‘I’m so fortunate with Reggie. We’ve been sweethearts since childhood. I knew we’d eventually marry. I suppose I also knew we’d end up out here – or somewhere in the colonies. All his sch
ool and university friends are planters or in the colonial service.’
The conversation was cut short when Hyde-Underwood and Douglas stepped onto the veranda.
‘Time we were going,’ said Douglas. Evie noticed he had a restless look about him, as if something was preying on his mind.
After saying their goodbyes, Evie sat in the front seat of the old Ford beside her husband. He let out the clutch and guided the car down the steep hill.
‘Thank you for taking me up here. I enjoyed meeting the Hyde-Underwoods, and seeing how the estate worked was so interesting.’ She was pleased she’d remembered to call it an estate and not a plantation.
Douglas said nothing. His face looked tense. She wanted to ask him what was the matter but something made her hesitate. They drove in silence for several minutes, passing ranks of rubber trees on either side of the road and stretching up the hillside beyond. There was a palpable tension in the car. Doug suddenly jerked the steering wheel, and the car left the road and bounced along in between the trees on a rough track. She glanced at him, puzzled, but he remained silent, his jaw set hard and his expression inscrutable. Where were they going? Evie wanted to ask but her mouth wouldn’t form the words.
After a few minutes, when the main road behind was no longer visible, they pulled into a small clearing. A single-storey wooden hut stood there, a collection of metal buckets and implements stacked neatly outside, under the overhanging roof.
Douglas halted the truck and jerked on the handbrake. Evie looked to him for an explanation but he was already out of the car and moving round to her side. Pulling the door open he reached in and grabbed her hand, drawing her out of the vehicle.
They went towards the hut, Douglas moving so quickly Evie had to scurry to keep up with him as he still had hold of her hand. He pushed the door open and they went inside. There was an unglazed window in the rear of the small room, but it was close to the rows of rubber trees which blocked most of the daylight so the room was dim and gloomy. Evie had no time to look around what seemed to be an empty space, before he was upon her, pushing her roughly against the wooden wall, pressing his body against hers, as one hand pinned her there and he fumbled at the front of his shorts with the other. She felt his mouth on hers. It was the first time he had kissed her, and she wasn’t prepared for it, or for the hunger with which he did it. She found herself responding to him, excited, feeling her legs weaken under her as her mouth returned his kiss. He was gasping, pulling at her dress - pushing his hands up underneath the skirt.
