Despite the hasty birthing coming nearly three weeks early, Eleanor herself had coped surprisingly well and as far as Hermione could tell suffered no medical ill-effects. She wondered how she would react mentally once she awoke and learned the full facts about her loss.
After giving birth, Ellie immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. Hermione hoped that on her waking, she would be composed and not too miserable. As yet, she hadn't looked at, let alone nursed, her baby.
"Hermione, bring the baby here."
Surprised to find Ellie awake, Hermione crossed over to the bed.
"I want to see the baby undressed. I need to know that this one is perfect in every way."
"I can assure you of that, Ellie."
She laid the babe across its mother's legs and began to unfasten the tiny tapes which held the robe together. "See, all fingers and toes are present and correct. No hare-lip, cleft palate or unsightly birthmark. Perfect in every way. Winston will be pleased."
"But Hermione, what about the oth--"
"Eleanor, Eleanor, please don't worry, it's all been taken care of. And Winston will be delighted, I promise you."
"But--"
Hermione laid a quivering finger over her lover's lips. Tears gathered in her eyes. "Hush, we'll talk about Winston later. Right now, baby needs feeding."
PART 2
Chapter 9
Alex
Diana was pleased to find Miss Chalcot in her study. She appeared to be writing a letter with a handsome-looking fountain pen held in her right hand.
"Come in, take a seat," she said, gesturing Diana over to a chair. "What can I do for you? Have you got very far with the diaries?"
"Thank you. I won't take up much of your time. I just have a few questions, if I may?" She sat down, remembering not to cross her legs. She didn't want varicose veins which she knew she could be prone to, being pregnant.
"Of course." Miss Chalcot leaned back in her chair. Her pallor today was apparent, and Diana thought there was an unhealthy, yellowish tinge to her skin too.
"Eleanor has just had her baby. I'm interested in Hermione. Is she still alive?"
Miss Chalcot frowned and pursed her lips. "Why do you want to know?"
"Well, I wondered if she was alive, would she be able to give me more information? At the moment, the story is interesting in itself, but not a lot has happened so far…" Di's words trailed off, realising Miss Chalcot wasn't really listening.
There was an uncomfortable pause while she seemed to be thinking things through. "She is alive, but she's very elderly, and I don't think she'd be able to give you any more information than you already have."
"I see." Diana considered the conversation was at an end and stood up to leave the room. "Well, I'll let you get on with your work."
Miss Chalcot gave a sigh. "I really have no heart for it. Today's not one of my good days. I'm glad you stopped by though. I have a few papers of my father's that I remembered finding tucked inside a blotter in his desk drawer. I didn't pay much attention to them, as they're mostly old estate bills, but you might find them interesting. Here, you can take them and read them if you like. There's nothing much there, except you might get a feel for the history in the notes." Leaning down, she picked up a cardboard file from the floor. It was bulkier than Di imagined, and as she took the file from Miss Chalcot, she felt a sudden surge of excitement. They may not be interesting to Miss Chalcot, but Di was sure she would get a lot of background information.
Thanking her, she left the room and went to find Steve. He was enjoying a game of tennis with another guest. He was on a winning streak, so she knew she had time to sit down and read the papers and the next diary while taking an interest in his game at the same time. She was glad she was a woman and could multitask!
~~~~~
…I suppose I should have been more grateful to Father for giving me the pony. Watching my older sisters cantering through the gaps between the rubber trees, I always felt a pang of jealousy. And riding two-up was not the same as having your own mount.
Father had said, "Not until you can saddle your own pony and control it by yourself, will you be given one of your own, Alex."
Until then, I watched and learned, having lessons from the groom on a fat, placid old mare belonging to Mother. It was better than nothing I suppose, but it wasn't until I was thirteen that I had my first pony. I was small and puny for my age according to Father. Slight, Mother and Aunt Hermione called it, hoping to make me feel better.
But I knew. He despised me. It didn't matter that my sisters had each had their own from the time they were both ten, I had mine now.
Feeling a velvet nose searching through my pocket, I chuckled and produced a sweet apple for Cobweb. Secretly, I was delighted with my birthday present. The thirteen-two-hand pony was a pleasing chestnut, possessing a fine head and well-shaped withers. His nature was gentle and yet mischievous, and I knew we were going to get along just fine.
I wish I could have said the same about my father. I was delighted with Cobweb, but grateful? Probably not as much as a dutiful child should have been. The truth was Father and I rarely saw eye to eye. Since our arrival from England, Father had shown no obvious pleasure with either Mother's return or my addition to the family. Which was strange, but since I was the youngest, I was hardly ever party to any adult conversations except those when Father never spared my blushes, deriding and criticising my size, strength and ambitions. I hadn't yet learnt why, and this strangeness was even more so considering Father's desire for a large family and an heir. In a nutshell, I was a bitter disappointment and consequently kept as much away from him as I could. I much preferred Mother's and Aunt Hermione's company anyway.
Aunt Hermione had been with us since my birth, and I adored her as much as Mother did. As friends they were inseparable, much to Father's disgust. For some reason, he detested Aunt Hermione, but to my joy, Mother stood up to him for once and refused to let him send her away. I remember the argument (I was on Mother's balcony at the time) with her saying that she needed Hermione more than anyone else. She was her greatest friend and confidante.
Father was furious. "Damn woman. I don't see why I should give her a bed under my roof," he had blustered. "It's unnatural. People will talk."
Mother had calmly replied saying, "There is nothing unnatural in having such a good friend and as for people talking, don't you preach to me. I see enough of your little brown-skinned bastards running around."
I didn't understand half of what they were saying, but I could imagine Mother standing pale and blonde before him or sitting serene at her writing desk, penning embossed invitations cards to friends and neighbours, her fingers long and thin with red-enamelled nails.
"Hermione has been a true friend to me, Winston. She was with me before Alex's birth, and quite honestly, I don't know what I would have done without her help."
"I know all that, dammit. What I cannot understand after all this time is why you spent so bloody long there in the first place. You know damned well your place was back here."
"Winston, we've been over this time and time again. Not now, please, I have a headache coming."
"Oh, for God's sake! Not another of your bloody headaches!" He had stormed from the room with the door shaking in the plastered wall behind him.
I learned a lot from eavesdropping in those days. I didn’t understand all of it, but what I did, was often exciting and probably forbidden. Father would never understand the relationship Mother and Aunt Hermione enjoyed. I wasn't too sure if I did myself at times, but I didn't really care and privately I was pleased. Father was an overbearing bully, and I knew if it hadn't been for the presence of Aunt Hermione, Mother's life would have been even more miserable.
As things stood, Mother, Aunt Hermione and I made up a remarkable if secretive triangle and nobody in the Chalcot household could gain entry into it, not even my sisters. Felicity and Emma, however much I liked them, were barred entrance to our secrets.
Giving Cobw
eb a final pat, I left him munching on his apple. I had given him a careful grooming that even Father could not find fault with. I was happy the pony was mine and together we would make a fine team. I was looking forward to joining my sisters on their early morning rides. Despite our difference in ages and riding ability, I knew I was fast becoming an accomplished rider and would keep up with them. In fact, I was planning on being better than them as soon as possible. I knew I didn't have many natural attributes, but I could make the best of what I did have.
Felicity, at nearly twenty years old, was a steady rider. She was much happier though playing tennis or swinging her golf clubs down at the Royal Selangor Golf Club and afterwards joining her little band of admirers at the club bar for a 'tiffin' lunch and glass of chilled white wine. Felicity had at least two serious beaux after her. With our mother's beautiful, blonde hair and fair looks, she would have many more before deciding on her future husband.
Seventeen-year-old Emma was more complicated than her gorgeous but slightly vacuous sister. An easy, bubbly personality belied a girl whose thoughts ran deep behind her merry peat-brown eyes. Of medium build, sturdy and strong, she was confident and capable at almost everything. Of the two, Emma was my favourite sister. I loved her normal, happy-go-lucky outlook. She could be a trifle moody at times; but I knew, if need be, I would do anything for her.
Turning away from the stables, I walked across the broad-leaved grass lawn towards the house. Tall Jelutong rubber trees were set back from the lawn area planted in serried ranks at regular intervals creating a vast network. I noticed a party of 'rubber-tappers' moving from tree to tree, collecting the rubber sap which ran from the V-shaped groove cut in the trunk. The thick liquid had bled from the cut and dripped into half coconut cups tied around the trunks. The cups were emptied of their strong-smelling, viscous sap into buckets, ready to be taken to the drying-house for separating later into sheets of latex for commercial use. Ours was a huge estate of many hectares, and with 350 rubber trees per hectare, we had a great number of trees to tap and a small army of Malay, Chinese and Indian workers to carry out the work.
This small working party of about a dozen men was working under the scrutiny of their overseer, a Chinese-Malay named Paul Tan. I don't know if that was the name he was given when he was born or if it was a sop to his British employer. Whatever it was, he said he was known as Paul on his arrival and it had stuck ever since.
Paul Tan was a handsome man of twenty-something, and he had worked for Father for about a year. Father said he was a first-class and experienced rubber man and considered we were lucky to have him. He had gained his experience on other rubber plantations further up country, and already his efforts with us had increased rubber yields from the many thousands of estate trees.
I slowed as I passed the natives, my eyes lingering on the good-looking Paul Tan, deep in conversation with one of the more senior tappers. Paul was leaning against one of the trees and raised a hand to demonstrate a point he was making. The older man acknowledged his superiority with a nod and ambled away towards the others. Looking pleased, Paul Tan straightened up, a smile playing around his sensuous mouth and looked straight at me.
As his eyes met mine, I felt a change in the air. Despite his smile, I sensed subtle undercurrents running through his mind.
"Paul!" I nodded, acknowledging his slight bow of mocking respect towards a member of the Chalcot family. As he stood up straight, I caught the amused look he flashed at me.
"Young Alex," he replied.
I bit my lower lip in embarrassment and hurried past. I felt sure he was laughing at me in some way; perhaps my size and age was causing him great amusement. I knew my face flushed by the tell-tale heat rising to my ears, as these thoughts coursed through my mind. I could not help my young age of thirteen and well he knew it.
Hurrying away, I swore I heard a gentle snort of laughter. Oh, but this man was dangerous. Hateful man!
I knew my sisters discussed him at length. Only yesterday, I had listened to their chatter whilst pretending to read 'Treasure Island'. I was lounging in a hammock slung between two trees in the garden. Almost hidden in the depths of the hammock cloth, I'm sure they had forgotten I was there. I had almost perfected my capacity for being invisible when I wanted.
"Paul Tan," Emma giggled. "I swear he deliberately passed the house twice today in order to catch my attention while I was helping Mother cut roses."
"Emma! For heaven's sake, don't be so ridiculous. Your imagination knows no bounds. He was probably looking for Father." Felicity sounded exasperated with her younger sister. "Besides," she continued with a stern tone to her voice, "Paul Tan is one of the workers. It doesn't do to fraternise and he's not--" She cast a quick look around. "He's not one of us."
"One of us?" Emma mimicked. "Do you mean family?" Em looked surprised and gave a short laugh. "Oh, you mean he's not like us, not white. He's a brown man, working for the great Tuan. Honestly, Fizzy, you are so old-fashioned and snobby at times. I think he's wonderful."
"You would because you're so stupid. One look from a man and you imagine you're in love. Em, please be sensible for once. This is not one of the young men from the Selangor club. This is one of Father's employees and a Chinese-Malay. It simply won't do to become romantically involved."
Emma gave a snort. "Huh! You're just jealous because he fancies me and hasn't made a pass at you."
Intrigued, I lowered my book to steal a look at my sisters. Felicity's face was a picture of her anger.
"Shut up!" she hissed. "You have no idea what you're talking about as usual."
"Oh really? Can you honestly say you haven't noticed him?"
"I said shut up." Felicity stood up and leaned over the table between them. She gave a flick of her head indicating that I might be listening.
"Alex!" Em said, glancing across at me. "What are you doing there? Are you spying on us again?"
"It's all right," I said, rolling out of the hammock. "I won't say a word to anyone. It's not my business which of my sisters Paul Tan is sweet on, nor if you both fancy him. Anyway, it's all a waste of time as according to Siti, he already has a sweetheart back home in his kampong."
"Alex, however do you hear all this gossip? Siti is nothing but a tittle-tattle and you shouldn't listen to a housemaid."
"It's true. She said he was going to be a father soon." My words hit home. Felicity looked uncertain, but relieved at my words.
Emma paled, her face a look of shock. "I don't believe you," she whispered.
I shrugged. "Siti said so yesterday." I was about to expand, but Emma didn't wait. Whirling round, she faced her sister. "Did you know this?"
Felicity shrugged. "Why should I? Emma, you're only seventeen. Paul is a grown man. What difference does it make anyway if he's married and about to become a father or not? You're the daughter of his employer. He's an employee. I think we should say no more about this. I'm going in."
With a flurry of petticoats and dirndl shirt, she took off towards the house. Emma gazed after her with a miserable look on her face.
"Em, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," I said, never realising before just how she felt about Paul.
"You! You'll never understand. How could you?" She shouted and pushing her chair over, she ran for the bamboo thicket at the edge of the lawn.
Confused, I stood alone. In my foolishness and all innocence, I had upset both of my sisters. Mortified, I wondered if either would speak to me again…
Chapter 10
Steve closed the diary and looked over to Diana. "Are you nearly ready for dinner? I'm starving."
Diana turned away from the mirror. She had added a light covering of eye shadow and mascara to her eyes. Her hair shone from its recent shampooing and she looked good enough to eat. So far, she had kept her figure in check and her pregnancy hardly showed. She looked sleek and chic, he thought.
"Yep. What do you think?" she said, giving a twirl.
"Very nice. Is it new?"
; "Steve. It's one of the dresses I had made out here. Honestly, you're like all men, completely useless when it comes to clothes."
"Oh, I don't know. I've ordered a dozen new shirts for myself. It will save me days shopping when we go back to the UK on our way home." He gave her a grin, knowing he was doing a good job of winding her up.
She laughed and wagged her finger at him. "You need new shorts and trousers too. You're not getting off that easily. Have you finished the diary? Where have you got to?"
"Um, I've met Alex and Felicity and Emma. They were a mixed assortment of siblings, don't you think? I presume both Felicity and Emma fancied the handsome, exotic Paul. I'm not sure what to think about Alex."
"How so?" Diana raised her eyebrows.
"Well for one thing, I get the feeling he's not a very nice person. He obviously knew both his sisters liked Paul, but Alex deliberately tried to stir things up by telling them he was already with a girl and about to become a father. The diary says he was 'mortified that both sisters mightn't speak to him again', but I'm not sure."
"Yes, and he hates his father."
"He comes across as a real mummy's boy, don't you agree?"
"I do. I suppose if he was with his mother and Hermione for years before they went to KL, he would have got very close to them. Also, if the two women were lovers as the first diary says, then he might be very mixed up about how things should be. Oh, I see. At least I think I understand what you're getting at. That would explain a lot. If you look at this part here--"
"No Diana, not now. Please let's go into dinner. I really fancy some Peking Duck tonight."
"Do you? Is that a euphemism for…?"
"Darling! You're pregnant!
"Yes, pregnant, not ill." She gave a deep laugh. "Come here"…
~~~~~
…Father had decided it was time I knew about the day to day running of the plantation. Every morning, after an early breakfast, I visited him in his study to receive the day's instructions.
2 Children of the Plantation Page 6
