“We won’t host any more parties after this one, at least not such a large one. The idea was to bring the various political factions together to talk more openly before full independence takes place. It will happen. Two months to go; 31 August is just round the corner.”
“I am glad. What will happen to us?”
“Do you want to go to England?” Hugh held May’s shoulders, marvelling at the smoothness of her skin.
“I want what you want. The British High Commission would be reduced in size wouldn’t it? Isn’t it possible that you might be sent back?”
“Yes,” Hugh replied. “The opportunities for remaining in Malaya are limited. Expatriate presence in this country will be reduced substantially. This will happen even in the private sector. No one has told me directly. Malayans are very polite and rarely say things you don’t want to hear straight to your face. It is clear from the political grapevine that Malayans will fill the posts vacated by expatriates, even in the private sector. Private firms, even Sime Darby, Guthries, the Chartered Bank have been told to reduce their expatriate staff. In one instance from a hundred to three! In this, the Tunku, the Prime Minister-to-be, has the support of the others in his party.” Hugh’s face became serious. “When these posts are vacated, knives will be drawn as to how they will be distributed amongst the different ethnic groups. The back-stabbing will begin.”
May could feel the blood rushing to her head. She hardly registered Hugh’s rendition of the political climate. The idea that they might have to leave Malaya came first and foremost in her mind. She had meant it when she said that she wanted what Hugh wanted. Yet she had never left Malaya; she had never been to England. Now that it is imminent, the thought filled her with trepidation.
“So it is likely that we would leave.” It came out more a statement than a question.
“You will be fine in England.” Hugh saw the doubt in her face.
“And Craig?” she asked.
“Craig will be fine too. He will benefit from schooling there.”
“And Mark? Will we come across him in England? What happens if we were to meet and he sees Craig?” May’s lips trembled.
“Craig is my son. Mark had no idea that you were carrying his baby when he left Malaya. Nothing since then has altered my belief that this is still true. Look, May, England is a big country. Our paths are unlikely to cross. Don’t worry until there is something to worry about.”
Hugh drew her into his arms. May’s tininess never failed to astonish him. He could span her waist with the palms of his hand. It made him feel protective. When she had been found in a ditch in the jungle, almost dead and then subjected to harsh interrogation, he had sworn that he would make sure Mark took responsibility. Ruth had dissuaded him. Filled with guilt, he had looked after May; it had been his way of redressing his guilt. With time he had fallen in love with her. He might not be Craig’s biological father but he was father to him in every other way. He loved Craig. He placed his chin on top of May’s head. Moonlight lit up the garden and the scent of gardenias filled his lungs. He kissed May, tilting up her chin to do so. Her cheeks were damp with tears. “Everything will be fine,” he assured her.
Chapter 15
HUGH AND MAY stood in the grounds of the Selangor Club squashed amongst the hundreds who had turned up for the ceremony. Across the field the Prime Minister designate, Tunku Zikri Rahman, arrived. He stepped out of the car. A cheer went through the jam-packed street. The lights went off and darkness fell like a silken screen. Absolute silence followed; people stood to attention. Hugh took May’s hand in his. A lump rose in his throat. The clock struck midnight and the lights returned to flood every corner of the street. The Union Jack came down and the Malayan Flag went up. Shouts of “Merdeka” pierced the night sky! Independence! Freedom! The crowd went wild with jubilation. May threw a furtive glance at her husband. She saw the emotion in his face, the slight trembling in the corner of his lips. She squeezed his hand. “This is it,” he said looking at her upturned face. “This marks the tide of change which will sweep us with relentless energy in the months and years to come.”
They made their way back into the club, a mock Tudor building with white washed walls set in a wooden framework. The celebrations would continue till the early hours of the morning, when a formal ceremony would be held in the Merdeka Stadium. Britain would formally hand back power to the new Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman. Here in this club with its European members, the celebration would be muted, more commiseration than joy. Hugh looked at the glum faces of his colleagues. He understood their feelings. For many the future was uncertain. Years of negotiation for independence had dragged on with seemingly no end. People had got used to it. Then suddenly the end came upon them as if they had no forewarning. Typical, he thought bitterly. We always seem to underestimate the tide of feelings against us. He would like to stay on if possible. He had a lot of unfinished business in Malaya. He wanted to do more. He was sure he could serve Britain’s interest if he stayed on. He remembered saying that Malaya was like an intoxicating drug. It was certainly so for him. Moreover, he knew May would like to stay on despite her assurance that she would live in England if he so wished. He knew his wife’s love for her country of birth.
“Stay and mingle,” he said to May. “I have to speak to the British High Commissioner. I’ll come for you.”
Left on her own, May was uneasy. She saw a group of acquaintances standing by the bar. They beckoned her over when they saw her. She hesitated a moment and then walked over to join them.
“Gosh, you look lovely this evening May,” Andy said ignoring the sharp nudge in the ribs he received from his wife. Deborah was not pleased. She glared at May. May looked away. Deborah curled her lips in derision. A faint line of perspiration appeared on her upper lip. “May is always well turned out. She has to be. Haven’t you?” she sneered forcing May to engage with her.
“What do you mean?” May asked. She was uncomfortable under the cold gaze of the woman in front of her. Deborah had clearly had one too many to drink. Her face was flushed and her half-exposed bosom heaved with the effort of speaking. It was not the first time that May had insults thrown at her. There was a clear demarcation between ‘them’ and ‘us’ amongst the wives of the Commission’s staff. The ‘us’ were the pure undiluted English or at least Europeans; the ‘them’ would be non-whites married to Englishmen. May almost sighed in resignation with these thoughts. It was to be expected. A few years back, she might not even have been allowed into the club. Just five years ago the Malay Sultan himself was barred from attending a St George’s Society dinner at the Lake Club in his own state. In Singapore, Committee members in the Tanglin Club were known to complain when European members brought in Asian guests.
Deborah sniffed and waved her whisky and soda at May. “Stengah,” she drawled, which meant half-half, a term used to describe her drink in hand but also meant half-caste. “Don’t you have to make an extra effort to keep your men ensnared?”
Andy took his wife’s arm and tried to usher her away. “Enough! You have had enough!” He bowed apologetically to May.
Deborah shook his hand away and lurched to the side, spilling the drink on herself. Her cleavage glimmered with the drops that landed. “I am only saying what is true. Didn’t you work for Mark of Harrisons and Crosfield before? You were a servant then, weren’t you? Why do you steal our men? Why can’t you go with your own?”
Blood rushed to May’s head. Her face turned red. She couldn’t speak.
“By the way,” Deborah waved gaily, her plump hand raised high, spilling more of the liquor on the floor. “Mark is with his wife. I met them when I went to England on home leave. He made no mention of you at all. You are forgotten!”
May turned. She fled to the restroom. She went into one of the cubicles and locked herself in. She doubled over and retched into the bowl. She couldn’t bring herself to go back to the lounge. A door slammed shut. Several women came in; they spoke loudly compelling her t
o listen. Spirals of cigarette smoke rose like whirls of clouds and flooded into her cubicle. She stifled her need to cough.
“Deborah has definitely overstepped herself. Her husband is furious with her.”
“Well, it needs to be said. I don’t know this Chinese woman. I dare say she deserves it. Fancy taking two of our men. If it was just one, perhaps one could overlook it. But two? What is there to stop her from pinching ours? Anyway, I don’t like the idea of having them in our club. It would never have happened a year ago.”
Hugh found May seated by herself when he returned. He knew that something had gone amiss. He glanced over his shoulder. He could hear sniggering. He got up ready to confront the men and women who had been whispering and glancing their way.
May stopped him. “Don’t! Please! I would like to go home,” she said.
***
Somewhere a clock chimed two o’clock in the morning. May couldn’t settle down. Overhead the fan whirred laboriously creating shadow-plays on the wall. The women’s words rang in her ears. She was not unfamiliar with prejudice. Nevertheless it still hurt. And it was particularly vicious tonight. Wouldn’t it be worse if she went to England with Hugh? Wouldn’t the prejudice be more widespread when English people outweighed the number of people like herself ? Would Craig suffer because he had a Chinese mother? Perhaps she, May, should not return to England with them. If Hugh was adamant that Craig should receive an English education they could perhaps send him to a boarding school. No one need know that Craig’s mother was Chinese. He looked English and unless he stood next to her, no one would know. Yet how could she bear to lose her son that way?
She turned on to her side and drew her knees up to her chest. Next to her Hugh slept on. His soft breathing filled the room. May crept closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his back. She needed him. She needed his assurance that he loved her and that everything would be all right. Hugh snored and turned around to fold her in his arms. “Hugh,” she whispered. He was in a deep asleep. Whatever she wanted to say would have to wait till morning. She stayed in his arms, breathing in his breath, feeling the warmth of his body until light streamed through the window.
***
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Hugh pushed away the plate of fried eggs that the amah had placed before him. The sight of the yolks gleaming in oil made him nauseous. Instead he gulped down a cup of black coffee. May had not spoken a word all morning. He did not wish to make her uncomfortable by pressing for an answer. He flicked open the newspaper. He did not read it. Covertly he studied his wife under his lashes. She was beautiful even with reddened eyes. He had been upset to find her almost in tears at the Club, sitting on her own in a corner surrounded by a noisy loud-mouthed crowd. He should not have left her on her own. He should have anticipated that she would be subjected to snide remarks. Didn’t they know that racial slights such as those that they had shown to May and others had been powerful goads to the nationalist struggle? Obviously not! Even after the lowering of the Union Jack! Thickheads. Not every one behaved like that but it took just a few to spoil it for everyone.
“I think I know what happened. They bullied you?” he said without taking his eyes off the newspaper headline: Merdeka. A new nation was born on the stroke of Friday midnight...
“They said some horrible things. I am frightened. I am scared to go to England. I... I know that I said I will but now...” She stopped unable to go on.
Hugh reached over and took her hand. It lay limp in his palm. He brought it to his lips. “We don’t have to go immediately, at least for a while. The Commissioner has asked me to stay on. I’ll stay if you wish to remain here. It will give us some reprieve to plan and think. I am to be the British planters’ representative to take care of their interests in Malaya. Things are changing very quickly. There is talk that state-owned enterprises would be formed to buy us out. We will have to fight hard to maintain our interests. This post is a good opportunity for us. With the ‘Malayanisation’ of vital posts, others interested in staying on will work as subordinates to those whom they have previously supervised. Not in my case. As a representative, I will be pretty much my own man. I am lucky in that I speak Malay and Chinese fluently.”
“And Craig?” May asked. Will he stay with us here?”
“I think it might be best if he goes to a boarding school in England. He will benefit from better schooling. It is best to prepare him young. In the end England will be his home, as I hope it will be yours.”
May’s lips trembled. She had thought about the very thing last night. Now that it was a reality, it hurt. Her heart felt as though a stone had been tied round it and she was drowning.
“He’ll come back for his holidays and we will visit him.” Hugh drew May to him. “Or would you rather we all leave for England?” he whispered in her ear.
May thought of the encumbrance she would be for her husband and son in England, of the prejudice they might face on account of her. She knew too that Hugh’s career was better served in Malaya, where he was an important man. In England he would be one of the many returnees for whom a placement needed to be found. Most important, Craig would have a good education in England. “No,” she replied, “let Craig go.” She tried to rearrange her face and smiled. But her lips quivered.
Hugh held her close. He could hear her heart beat against his. He could not bear her suffering.
“We could of course leave the matter a few years. Craig is still very young. I suppose it might make more sense to send him when he is slightly older. We would know our situation better by then.”
May looked up. Relief and gratitude shone in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Hugh affirmed. “The more I think about it the more inclined I am to postpone the matter. So much uncertainty lies ahead for British expatriates in Malaya. Even British banks are having a hard time. Their attempts to expand operations into the smaller towns and outlying states have already been blocked. So who knows what the future has in store for us? So let’s know where we will be before we make any major decisions.”
Chapter 16
London
RUTH WAS EARLY. They had arranged to meet in Green Park. She spotted an empty bench and went straight to it. She sat down and placed her handbag by her side to discourage anyone from taking the seat beside her. She closed her eyes and raised her face. Dappled sunlight made its way through the overhead branches to touch her cheeks. Images of leaves flitted about on her skirt. Despite the warmth, she was chilled to the bone. Perhaps this would be the last time they should meet. She had told herself many times that she should end all contact with Steve. Yet they had continued meeting in secret. As time went on, she had found it more and more difficult to extricate herself. It would have been possible at the beginning of their affair. Now, she sighed, it had become impossible. Or was it?
She felt his hand on her shoulder, familiar and possessive.
“Sorry I am late. The students were particularly difficult. I am afraid I don’t have as much time as I said earlier. One of the teachers was taken ill. I have been given charge of the after-school activities this afternoon.” Steve bent to kiss her.
Ruth dodged. “Don’t! Someone might see.”
“I am past caring about other people. Maybe we should chuck the past away and start anew; as a couple, properly.” He sat down beside her, her bag squashed between them.
“We have been through this many times. Would you leave your wife?”
“Would you leave Mark?” he retorted.
They avoided eye contact and looked ahead instead, watching yet not seeing the milling crowd. There were women pushing prams, women walking with children hand in hand and men clutching brief cases hastening to their next appointments. A group of teenage girls strolled by; one broke off from the rest and did a cartwheel; her skirt fell over her bodice revealing panties and stockings. Someone whistled. The girls giggled and hurried away. At a distance, a car sounded its horn and a red London bus
ploughed through the busy street. An old lady dropped a scrap of paper into the litter bin; the wind caught it and it flew, rising and falling, rising and falling until it disappeared.
Ruth’s thoughts were bitter. I would never be able to walk in this park or any park with Steve and our child. He must never know about Libby. Ruth folded her lips and glanced sideways at Steve. He was drumming his fingers and whistling a tune beneath his breath. How could he be so oblivious of my feelings, she wondered.
“My class is going on a school trip this mid-term. If you can arrange to have your class join us, we could carve out some time for ourselves. What do you say?” Steve did not like it when Ruth became pensive. He felt excluded. Life was too short to spend time on regretting. One should grab at life with both hands.
“I’ll see,” she replied. How different it had become. They had first met a year after her return to England with Mark. The affair had started like a whirlwind romance, exciting because it was forbidden; a secret. She was a new staff member in the school. Steve took her under his wing. Their coupling had been intense, a reprieve from the oppression she had begun to feel at home. Their stolen moments, secret rendezvous, candlelit dinners and short trips to the seaside gave her new life. She had craved for love; she had waited and waited for Mark; she had waited for him to remember her. But Mark remembered nothing of what she had been to him and showed little of what she meant to him at present. Despite her efforts he was distant. His initial attempts to start anew fell by the wayside. He was easily frustrated. His annoyance manifested itself in long spells of silence. He was morose one day and truculent on another. He retreated within himself. He drank. Yet she could not leave him, as Steve could not leave his wife. She needed Mark to be a father to Libby. Moreover, deep down, she still loved him.
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