“You can definitely expect skirmishes of some sort,” chipped in Ah Sook. “But don’t worry, we too have men that will protect us. “
Shao Peng looked at him in horror. “You mean we too are protected by members of secret societies? Why did we involve such people?”
“Miss, how can we not? Every one of us is involved in one society or the other. Even you, although you might not know it. We are associated through our clans; the Hakka people are in one society, the Hokkiens in another and so on. Who else would come to your help?” He looked pityingly at Shao Peng. He wondered at her naivety. Hadn’t she heard of the Ghee Hins and Hai Sans?
Shao Peng fell silent. There was so much she did not know. Embarrassed, she thanked Ah Sook and sent him away.
“I think the best thing for us to do is to find a secure place for all of you.”
“You mean me as well?” asked Lai Ma. “I can’t go. My husband will be returning soon. He would be worried if he didn’t find me at home.”
“My husband will also be looking for me,” Jing-jing said.
“Yes, all of you will have to leave here, including Li Ling. I have a plan. Do not worry about your husband Lai Ma. I shall take care of it. I’ll get word to him. Why don’t you go up to your bedroom? We have prepared one for you for tonight. Ah Kew will take you up. I would like to speak to Jing-jing alone.”
Lai Ma stood up. Her eyes lingered on Jing-jing who sat with her shoulders hunched. Lai Ma turned to walk away. She placed one foot hesitatingly in front of the other. She stopped. She walked quickly back and placed a hand on Jing-jing’s shoulder. She squeezed it gently. She wanted to say some comforting words. She could not. Jing-jing caught her hand and thanked her. Slowly Lai Ma walked out of the room towards the stairway. Even before she reached it she heard Jing-jing’s cry, a howl that came from the very pit of her stomach. “No! No!” she cried.
***
The house was quiet. Increasingly, Shao Peng found solace in the quiet when everyone was in bed. The darkness and the night sounds of insects and birds suited her. She sat on the verandah, her legs stretched out in front, her head resting on the back of her favourite long rattan chair. She closed her eyes and allowed the silence to wash over her. She breathed deeply of the jasmine scented night air. It had been a traumatic day. Since her return from China, they had been inundated with one crisis after another. At times she could not breathe. Nothing seemed straightforward.
Only in the quiet of the night when she was alone, could she try to put some semblance of order to the different events. It would be wonderful, she thought, if they could have one problem at a time but life was not like that. When troubles come, they do not come singly. She gave a wry smile. They certainly had the effect of pushing her preoccupation with her own personal problems aside. Yes, her own personal conundrum must take second place because nothing could change its outcome. Jack was married and whatever he might or might not have done, whatever was said of him that was true or not true, the fact was she could not be part of his life. The sudden realisation of this freed her. There was utterly no need to pursue the ‘truth’. All that mattered were the memories of their love in the past, not what was unattainable in the future.
Tears rolled down her cheeks; she tasted their salty tang. She let them flow; she did nothing to wipe them away. And as they flowed her acceptance of what she considered the inevitable grew. Her eyes grew heavy. She drifted off to a deep slumber. She did not hear her brother coming to sit by her nor the blanket he placed over her. She did not know that he had returned home.
Chapter 16
AT THE CRACK of dawn, when the sky was still overcast with the darkness of the previous night and when light was just a gleam of pale silver between grey clouds, Ah Sook brought the pony cart to the back of the house. Siew Loong had gathered together his clansmen from the Hai San Society. They now stood ready, waiting for the women.
Shao Peng came out first with Li Ling in tow. She grasped the girl’s hand firmly in hers; she had earlier tried to reassure her charge. She spent time trying to explain to her. Li Ling hardly responded to her touch or returned her gaze. She showed her reluctance by keeping her face devoid of expression and her eyes cold and bitter. How could a young girl show so much by doing so little, wondered Shao Peng? Now she dragged her feet, and Shao Peng had to slow down. Holding her hand became a strain. Lai Ma and Jing-jing followed them out. Both looked tired and worried. They had slept little the previous night. Jing-jing was overcome with grief and shame. Lai Ma fretted about how her husband would react when he found out that she had abandoned their home. Both women had dark shadows under their eyes. One by one they clambered onto the cart. The ponies fretted over the long wait. They raised their hoofs and neighed; the cart rolled and shifted. Finally when they were all in the cart, Siew Loong came to wish them farewell. He spoke softly to each one of them. When he finally came to Li Ling, he took both her hands. “Take care,” he said, “I ... we shall miss you.” He held her hands in his for a moment and then released it, the tips of his fingers brushing hers as he did so. Shao Peng glanced sharply at her charge and saw a small flicker in her eyes. Then it was gone.
The cart rolled forward with the clansmen on horseback following them.
***
By the time the sun had risen fully and the morning dew on the long blades of wild grass by the wayside had been replaced by a coating of dust, they were in the driveway of the Sisters’ school. The women clambered down from the cart on to the dirt path and stared at the small green wooden building in front of them. A woman dressed in a black robe and with a white wimple emerged.
“Come in, come in.” Reverend Mother Andrea opened wide her arms in welcome. She took one long look at the women, saw their downcast faces and said immediately, “tea, hot tea is what you need after the morning’s journey.” She smiled and ushered them into the one-room building. The children in the classroom stared with round-eyed astonishment at the women. They dropped what they were doing and gaped until Sister Magdalene drew their attention back to the book they were reading.
The women were showed to the back of the classroom where a small charcoal stove and a kettle were kept. The Reverend Mother busied herself with tea. She measured each spoonful of the leaves with care. “We have very little privacy here, I am afraid,” she said pouring the hot water into a tin teapot patterned with pink flowers. She nodded in the direction of the front of the classroom. “As you can see, there is not much space. We use this as a classroom. In the late afternoon we go to a temporary sleeping accommodation provided by our wonderful patron. It is some distance away. It is not very convenient, although, mind you, we are very grateful for it.” She poured out the tea into little cups. She held the cups close to her nose to breath in the aroma of the tea before setting them down. Her face brightened. “All this will change soon. We have been given a new residence. A hotel has been converted for our use thanks to our patron, and the patronage of your father and his associates. It is in Brickfields. It will be sufficient to house all of us. We had expected to be there earlier but the monsoon arrived sooner than expected and everything went on hold. In the next week of so, we should be able to move in.”
Lai Ma, Jing-jing and Li Ling looked uncomprehendingly at the Reverend Mother. Slowly Shao Peng translated. “You will be safe in Brickfields, “ she added. “Kapitan Yap owns the land. He bought it to set up a factory for making bricks. With the frequent floods, there is a decree by the British Resident, Frank Swettenham, that future buildings should be made from bricks and roofs should be tiled. Kapitan Yap has given my brother the assurance that you would be safe on his land.”
“But what do we do? Have we to convert to Christianity? Do we have to be nuns?” asked Lai Ma, her face pale with dismay. This was not the first time she had asked that question. She stared suspiciously at Reverend Mother. She had this constant niggling fear that there was a plot to convert them to a new religion. “I can’t do that,” she said. “I am a married woman with four chi
ldren!”
“No you do not have to convert. You do not have to be nuns.” Shao Peng sighed for she had explained this many times to Lai Ma. “You have to help out with the school. You always said you wished to be employed. The number of pupils is expected to increase. The Sisters need help in the kitchen and carers for the children.”
“Aiyah, why didn’t you say so right from the start?” Lai Ma heaved a sigh of relief. “You made me so worried. Of course, I can help clean and care for the children. If you wish, I can even cook. Though I say it myself, my cooking is not bad at all.”
“And you?” Shao Peng asked Jing-jing. “Will you be able to help as well?” Poor Jing-jing, she thought. She had an overwhelming desire to hold her in her arms to comfort her. She did not; she feared that Jing-jing would not welcome it.
Jing-jing nodded glumly, hardly conscious of what was asked of her. She showed no interest in what was happening around her. She had not spoken since her outpour of remorse when told of her husband’s death. She blamed herself. Her mother-in-law had always claimed that she brought misfortune to the family. Her mother-in-law was right. She stared unseeingly out of the window. She winced. Her grief was like a physical pain. She was to blame. She was born in the year of the tiger, a foo, a bringer of woes. She did not care what she had to do.
“And you Li Ling, you will join the other children to study,” Shao Peng said.
Li Ling averted her face. She refused to meet Shao Peng’s eye. She made no response. Shao Peng looked to Reverend Mother for help.
Reverend Mother threw her a look that suggested she left Li Ling alone. She whispered in English. “She is merely sulking. The less you try to convince a sulking child the better.” She paused, her eyes raking Li Ling’s profile, noting the determination of the girl to show that she did not care. “I suppose she is more than a child, not quite a woman and not quite a child—a difficult age. Still, you don’t want to give her the impression that sulking will get her what she wants.”
Li Ling’s averted face turned a bright pink. She did not understand what was said. She knew instinctively, however, that she was being discussed unfavourably. She did not like it and her resentment grew.
Blissfully unaware, Reverend Mother ignored Li Ling and continued addressing herself to Shao Peng. “Your help would be invaluable. We need teachers. A large number of people from Ceylon and India have been brought in recently for the rail works. Unlike the Chinese miners, these new immigrants come with their families. Their children will need support.”
She looked brightly at the women. She could see that they were worried, although the young girl was seemingly nonchalant and unheeding of the conversation in the room.
“They have to sleep here tonight,” she said apologetically. “There is no room for them in the temporary accommodation set aside for the children. We will get some bedding into this classroom. It is not ideal but at least, they will be safe.”
“We are not very far from the British Resident’s house. Security guards will be at hand,” she explained to Shao Peng. “It is best you leave now before the women start to fret again. Come back in the next day or so. We can work on the curriculum then. For now, I am sure that between Sister Magdalene, Sister Teresa and myself, we can conjure up sufficient Chinese to communicate with your charges. This way we’ll get to know them and they us.”
She dropped her voice further and leaned closer to Shao Peng. “Mr Webster is back. I thought you should know. He is not...”
Shao Peng stopped Reverend Mother mid-sentence. “I don’t want to know,” she said. Her face was like chalk. She turned to the women. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I ... I have to go.”
Chapter 17
SHAO PENG HARDLY NOTICED anything during the journey home. Once ensconced in her own bedroom, she went straight to her desk. She opened the drawer and took out a sheet of paper. She sat, neck tensed, body rigid, pen poised in her hand, to write. She dipped the pen into the ink and began; she couldn’t. She didn’t know where and how to start.
Her thoughts were muddled. They came all in a rush, none of which were coherent. All of them were thoughts that had run through her mind a hundred times over. She wanted to say she missed him; she wanted to berate him. She wanted to ask, “Why, why didn’t you wait? Why didn’t you warn me when I told you I was going to China? How could you do this? Do you love her more than me? Do you love me?” They went through her head in no particular order, tearing her apart.
She pictured him with his wife. She could not bear that he was with another. She hated him. She loved him. She hated that she had quarrelled with her father over Jack. Drops of ink dripped on to the white paper. Soon it was covered with blotches of dark ink. Tears fell alongside it, turning the black to rivers of grey smudges. Her resolution to start afresh without him wavered. Yet two nights ago, she had felt so strong, so convinced that it was the right thing to do. She dropped the pen brush; not caring that the ink had splattered on to her blouse, not caring that the pen brush had rolled and fallen on to the floor. She cupped her palms over her eyes and wept.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she sat up and wiped her face with the ends of her blouse. She got up and went to the washbasin. She poured water into it and washed her face. “These will be the last time I cry for him,” she said to herself, “I will abide by what I promised myself. I swear.”
***
That night, when the meal was over, she went out to the verandah and waited for her brother to join her. It had become customary for the two siblings to meet and talk in the quiet of the evening. She had not spoken to him since his return from Malacca. She leaned over the wooden railing and felt the wood hard against her elbow. Turning her face upwards to the sky, she closed her eyes and moved her lips silently in prayer. She heard him even before she felt his presence next to her. She smiled. She had never felt closer to her brother than she did that moment. How things have changed, she mused. That she should be dependent on her younger brother and look to him for advice and he to her. When her father was alive, there was always rivalry between them for their father’s affection. Now they looked to each other for support and strength.
“So, are they all settled?” said Siew Loong. “The house seems so quiet after they left.”
Shao Peng gave an affirmative nod and turned to look out to the garden once more. She was glad of the darkening sky.
“Have you been crying?” While at the dining table, her swollen eyes had not escaped his notice. He had not asked because his mother and the servants were around. “Do you want to tell me?”
She shook her head. “It is best left unsaid. Speaking would cause me to cry and I don’t want to cry. I am just being selfish, wrapped up with self-pity. I don’t have new problems, just the same ones that I can’t seem to shrug off.” She smiled wryly. While the corner of her lips quirked her eyes were filled with pain.
“Is it about Jack?”
She could not bring herself to admit it. She looked down over the railing.
“I know he is back. His name came up when I was in Malacca for Ridley’s introduction of rubber to Chinese cassava plantations.”
She waited for him to say more. She had a hundred questions. She dreaded asking them. A long silence followed. So they stood side by side looking over the railings into the dark while the night sounds surrounded them like a thick velvet cocoon. After what seemed like eternity to Shao Peng, she heard him say, “He is not married. I thought I should at least clarify this after all that I said of him.”
Her heart leapt. She held on to the railings, every limb tense with excitement. She stared ahead. She was afraid that she would give herself away. She was not sure how her brother would react if she were to jump with joy.
“His father died and he was freed from the marriage. The girl apparently had no wish to marry him because she didn’t want to come to Malaya.” He turned to her. “Do you still wish to marry him?”
Her mouth went dry.
“What about the Malay girl, his
mistress? We should at least find out before making a decision. I am not going to allow my sister marry a philanderer.”
“You mean you would not object to our marriage if he is wrongly accused?” Shao Peng’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Her heart sang.
“You know I was always on father’s side and backed his view. However, now that I am myself subjected to a marriage that I am not keen on, I am slowly coming round to the idea that ... that perhaps, being as old as you are, I should let you make up your own mind.” He grinned; his eyes twinkled with mischief.
Shao Peng’s hand flew to her face.
Siew Loong’s face was serious when he continued. “I had a long talk with Uncle Grime and Aunt Janidah after father’s funeral. Since then, I have had time to reflect on it. If they can be so happy together, then perhaps a mixed marriage might not always be bad. You should know, however, that it wouldn’t be easy.”
She was lost for words. She could only smile. It was like a beam of sunshine that lit up the night. She refrained from throwing her arms around her brother; it was not done. She didn’t want to be told off for her ‘foreign ways’.
“Anyway I can’t stand that glum face of yours day after day,” said Siew Loong with feigned anger that did not quite conceal his delight that his sister was happy.
***
At the first break of dawn, when daylight was no more than a pale wash of grey, Shao Peng was up. Sleep eluded her. She dressed quickly and went in search of her stepmother. She walked barefoot out of her room towards the wide central stairway and turned into the corridor that led to the eastern part of the house. It was a part of the house that she rarely entered. Her father had declared it his sanctuary. After a day’s hard work, he wanted to be with her stepmother and the quiet that it afforded. Shao Peng had envied Siew Loong when they were children; he was younger and somehow managed always to charm his way into these quarters. She moved quickly toward the closed door; she knocked. There was no answer. She waited for just a second or two; then she pushed open the door and entered the room.
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