“Yes, yes of course I’ll mention this to Guthries,” Mark replied impatiently, startled by Hugh’s change of subject. He didn’t want to talk business, not yet. He would not be distracted; at last there was someone else he knew from Tanjong Malim.
“You said that your wife worked for me. What did she do? May I speak to her?”
“My good friend,” said Hugh, “ I am sorry. We are expecting our second child and she is indisposed at the moment. Maybe when she feels more herself. I’ll raise it with her.” He felt his heart thumping even as he smiled. There was nowhere to hide May. But Craig! Mark must never know about him.
***
Sunlight streamed down on one side of the narrow street in Chinatown. It lit up the covered five-foot pathway fronting the long line of three-storey terraced shophouses. Baskets and sacks of dried fish and shrimps stacked cheek by jowl in front of the shops. May spotted a sack of dried shiitake mushrooms. She selected some and placed them in a rolled up newspaper bag. Soon her shopping basket was full of little bags of dried provisions. Threading through the sacks and baskets of goods on display she made her way across the road to the Central Market, a cavernous building that housed the biggest array of fresh food stalls in any single outlet in the capital city. The heady scent of fresh fish, vegetables, fruits, meat and flowers hit her the moment she stepped into the market’s interior. She bought quickly and efficiently, selecting from the vast display of vegetables, a bunch of watercress, spinach and a green marrow. She headed for the fish stall and bought a grouper. Wrapped in newspaper, the fish stared back at her with glassy reproachful eyes. By the time she had completed her purchases, her arms were aching from the weight of the basket. She headed back to the opposite side of the street and went into a coffee shop.
It was crowded with shoppers enjoying cups of coffee and tea and a late morning snack. Steam rose from a stall plying fresh spring rolls stuffed with fine strips of Chinese turnips, crab meat and prawns. Another stall was churning out flat rice noodles fried with a glistening black sauce, bean sprouts, prawns and cockles. “See ham char kway teow,” yelled a lad no older than ten years. He ran barefooted between the packed tables ladling out plates of noodles. The air was filled with the smell of garlic and soya sauce.
May placed her basket by a chair and sat down. She was beginning to feel light headed. She had not been sleeping well. Although Hugh had asked her to leave the food shopping to the maids, she had decided she would do it herself. It gave her an excuse to see Fu Yi. Fu Yi was retired and lived in one of the dormitories above a shop just a couple of doors away. Fu Yi would not allow May to come to her. She was embarrassed by her straitened circumstances. May had only been to see her once in her lodgings when she was ill. All she had was a narrow metal bed with a thin mattress. It was a bed amongst a dozen or so set in a long room. There was hardly two feet between the beds. The dingy room was home to women with circumstances similar to those of Fu Yi. Space was at a premium. Long and narrow, terraced shophouses could only have windows at the front. Hence rooms in such shophouses were veiled in darkness. All these Fu Yi accepted as part of her fate. However, it had disturbed May. May’s distress in turn upset Fu Yi. From then on she forbade May to come to her. She insisted that they meet on the neutral ground of a coffee shop.
May placed her hand on her stomach. She felt queasy from the smell of cooking. She gulped down the hot sweet coffee.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Fu Yi said appearing suddenly from behind. It took May by surprise, even though she had been waiting for her. Fu Yi hovered by May’s chair. She noticed the young woman’s pinched cheeks. “Master Hugh would be most cross if you were to fall ill,” she said, placing one hand on the back of May’s chair. Her eyes travelled to May’s hand clasping protectively over her tummy. Fu Yi’s eyes glimmered and looked questioningly at May. May nodded.
Fu Yi sat down. She had shrunk in the ten months since her retirement. Flesh seemed to have fallen off her, leaving a skull-like face with prominent cheekbones and weathered skin. “It is time. It is good,” she said sagely. “I have been praying to the Goddess of Mercy for that to happen. Your husband is a good man; he deserves a child.”
May half rose to embrace the older woman. She could not thank Fu Yi enough for looking after her all those years ago. She would have died if it had not been for Hugh and Fu Yi. Memories of the cell came crashing into her thoughts. Despite the years that had passed she recalled it as though it was yesterday the chipped enamel bowl that served as her latrine and the hard cement floor, her bed. The questioning had been relentless. Hunger and thirst had made her ready to admit to anything. She remembered eating ravenously the boiled lump of cold gruel that was pushed through the bars of her cell. If it had not been for Hugh rescuing her, she would have admitted to any guilt forced upon her.
May sat down and took Fu Yi’s hand in hers. “Why don’t you come to us? You can stay with us.”
“And what will happen when you go to England? No. I am okay where I am.” Fu Yi’s eyes wandered towards the five-foot way fronting the coffee shop. A beggar sat cross-legged on the cement floor. A bowl lay by his side. “There are many worse off than me. I am all right.”
“Remember, the invitation is always there. You are always welcome.”
“Don’t worry about me. There is no need for you to come to see me. Look after yourself, especially now with a little one coming. You had better go. Your driver is waiting.” With that, Fu Yi stood up to leave. She didn’t think it appropriate that May should spend time with her.
“Wait! We have hardly exchanged a word. At least let me give you these.” May fished out the little bags of dried provisions and placed them into a larger bag. “They are for you. I have asked the grocer to deliver a sack of rice to you. He will replenish your rice store when you tell him. Remember too that we have an account with the Chinese herbal shop. If you need medicine, go there. I have told them to bill us.”
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have. If there is nothing else, go home. This is not a place for you.”
May hesitated. She couldn’t leave without asking Fu Yi. She needed her reassurance. Yet she felt guilty at asking. If she didn’t, she would not be able to sleep. The worry was driving her mad. She could see Fu Yi looking at her questioningly.
“Remember Mark’s wife?” May asked. “You were with her for a short while. Did she know that I was pregnant then? Did you tell her?” Embarrassed by her own words, two twin spots of red appeared on her cheeks.
Fu Yi’s eyes were reproachful as she looked at May. She shook her head. “I didn’t tell her. I don’t think she knew. I told you that before. Don’t make me repeat.” She reached out and grasped May’s wrist. Her hand spotted and gnarled against May’s smooth and delicate skin. “Remember, Master Hugh is a good husband. He treats your son like his own. Forget Master Mark. He has a wife. Ruth is a good woman. Your first duty is to your husband, especially now with a child on the way. Now go home. Go home to Master Hugh and look after him as he has looked after you.”
May’s face burned an even brighter red. She reached for her basket.
Fu Yi watched silently May’s departing back. Master Mark must be back, she surmised. She prayed that May would not lose her common sense. She knew how much May had loved the first master.
Chapter 20
RUTH WANDERED LISTLESSLY round the house. It was so quiet, she could hear her own breathing. After the rush of activity moving house and settling Libby into a school, the enforced leisure was an anti-climax. She longed for work that would keep her mind occupied. It was impossible to garden; her skin blistered under the hot sun. In any case the gardener would be shocked to see her engage in any manual work. Walking, an activity that could have occupied her, was impossible in the heat and humidity. She was tired of the coffee mornings. She had nothing in common with the other women. It was incredible that they could fill their time with idle chatter. The social rules were as endless as they were mindless. She was told that fraternization with l
ocals was to be avoided. A good hostess, it seemed, served canned peaches and not native fruits. Ruth heaved a sigh of exasperation.
She walked into the dining room. It was large enough to seat twelve or more. Eating in the room on her own made her aware of her solitude. Mark was hardly around. A whirlwind of travel to rubber plantations spread over the entire peninsula kept him busy. When he was away she missed him and fretted. When he returned, she waited with bated breath for him to announce that he remembered, for her world to crash around her. She jumped at every quizzical look he cast at her. She was overwhelmed with guilt. She had held him back all these years, refusing him a chance of recovering his memory. If there were grounds to do so because of his past infidelity, she had forfeited all rights and justification by her own sordid affair with Steve.
Steve! She dug deep into her pocket and clutched at the letter within its depths. She did not know how Steve had found her address. She worried that a letter would arrive one day and it would be Mark who took delivery of it. Steve had threatened that he would write to Mark if she did not reply. If Mark learnt of her entanglement with Steve, would he suspect that Libby was not his? Just thinking of it made her break out in sweat. She brushed away the beads of perspiration with the back of her hand.
By mid-day, Ruth was desperate for anything that could occupy her mind and dispel her worries. She decided she would drive to the British Council to borrow books to fill in her time. If she had known of the scarcity of reading matter, she would have brought with her caseloads of books. There were few bookshops around in Kuala Lumpur and even fewer libraries. The British Council would be her surest bet.
***
At the other end of the town, May was equally unsettled. Fu Yi’s insistence that she had to be true and loyal to Hugh made her doubt herself. Was it possible that she still had lingering feelings for Mark? Did it show in her face? What could have prompted Fu Yi’s words? Annoyed, she pulled and tugged at her ring. “Of course not,” she said aloud startling the driver. It was likely that she would not even recognise Mark. Yet Fu Yi’s words made her feel guilty even though she had not done anything. Niggling self-doubt wormed into her being. What if she were to discover when she met Mark that she still had feelings for him? The thought unnerved her. She settled back into the seat. The car accelerated smoothly out of Chinatown, leaving the hustle and bustle behind. She wound down the window. The air had cleared. A warm breeze blew in, bringing with it the scent of lush vegetation. Ahead a building rose by the wayside.
May signalled the driver to turn into the driveway. “Leave me here. Take the shopping back. Tell the amah to put it away. Then come back for me.” She got out of the car and made her way to the building. She did not wish to go home immediately. She needed time for herself and the British Council’s library would afford the quiet she sought. Few people were about at this hour. She would choose a corner in the library to sit and reflect. A couple of women waved when she entered the building. She waved back, rearranging her face to show a brightness of spirit she did not feel. Her mouth tilted up at the corner in a parody of a smile. Once in the library, she wandered down the aisle examining the books. The air was hot and musty. She sneezed and looked up. From across the shelf, over the books lined up in a row, a pair of cornflower-blue eyes stared at her. May stared back. A fleeting recognition registered in the pool of blue.
Unnerved, May stepped quickly round the corner. There was no one there. The woman was gone, leaving behind a faint whiff of the perfume she wore. I see things that are not there, May thought.
She placed a hand on her tummy. Craig, Hugh and the baby came immediately to mind. They would go through whatever life threw at them. They had each other.
***
Ruth dropped the pile of books she had borrowed at the librarian’s desk. They landed on the desk with a thud. The librarian glared and mumbled her displeasure. Ruth didn’t stop to apologise. She walked quickly away, stumbling out of the building as though someone was pursuing her. She did not look back. Her head was reeling. Was it her? Was it May? She had not seen her before, just her photograph. That had been seven years ago. Surely she would have changed. The face she saw across the shelf had the same finely chiselled cheekbones and large almond eyes. There were no lines, no wrinkles to suggest the passage of time, just the same heart-breaking loveliness that had torn at Ruth’s innards and had made her so jealous that she was willing to sacrifice her husband’s memory rather than lose him to this woman called May.
She got into the car and drove quickly back home. The car swerved through the wrought iron gates and screeched to a stop, spitting gravel from the driveway on to the lawn. Mark’s car was parked by the verge. She had not expected him to come back so early. He was supposed to be in Seremban, some forty miles or so to the south. She tilted the rear mirror and looked at herself. The face that stared back at her was drained of colour. She swung open the door and took a couple of deep breaths to quell the feeling of nausea. It wouldn’t leave her. The sourness stuck at the back of her throat and filled her mouth. She saw the gardener looking at her, a scythe held mid-way in the air, his face a picture of concern mingled with curiosity. He wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. Sweat fell like rain drops. She put up a hand and nodded to indicate everything was well. He smiled, white teeth flashing against skin blackened by the sun. She turned away in embarrassment. She must get a hold of herself. Slowly, with measured steps she made her way to the house.
Ruth’s heart fluttered wildly. I must tell Mark, she thought. But what should she say? That she had seen May, when she was not supposed to know anything about his affair and, when in all probability, he still did not recall May. She couldn’t think clearly. The longer things remained hidden, the more difficult it was to untangle them.
“Mark,” she called out loud.
“Father is on his way to Kuala Kubu Bahru, somewhere to the north of us,” shouted Libby running into the room. “Teacher showed me on the map. He sent the car back for us to use. He says he is more comfortable with the jeep they supplied him with for work around the estates. The driver could take me to school in his car and that would leave you free in yours for other things. Isn’t that great?”
Ruth heaved. She gathered Libby into her arms. She was relieved to be given a reprieve. She would not have been able to deal with Mark’s searching questions and looks. She imagined his suspicion. She could no longer distinguish between reality and the imagined. All she wanted was to curl up and sleep, an oblivion that proved tantalisingly impossible.
***
The jeep jolted and rolled. Potholes littered the road. Heavy rain had washed away the soil on the embankment leaving large tracts of the hillside bare with the roots of trees scarcely holding on to the fragile land. Overhead monkeys chattered and swung from branch to branch. The Emergency was almost over. Incidents of attacks were rare, he was told, and they would be safe. Yet Mark was uneasy. During a visit to a plantation, the driver had refused to stop the jeep even when Mark pressed him. “No, Tuan,” Din exclaimed, forehead furrowed and eyes glistening with fear, “no stop. Danger. Toilet later when we reach office.” He had then pressed on the accelerator sending the jeep hurtling along, just as he was doing now. Mark grimaced. The wheel hit a buttress root jutting from the embankment. The car swerved and his shoulder caught the side of the car.
“Will you tell me why we are travelling at such speed?’
““Rumour, sir. Bandits have refused to accept the amnesty offered by the Government. They’re not willing to surrender. Hear they would take up arms once more. Their leader Chin Peng is still at large. We must go quickly. Look! Sun going.”
Even as Din spoke the sun was fast dropping below the horizon. They skittered past row after row of rubber trees. They turned into a dirt driveway. The jeep came to a stop. A bungalow had been allocated for Mark’s visit. It stood before him, a solitary wooden building with no particular features except windows framed by metal-grilles and behind them metal mosquito nettings. M
ark got out of the jeep. The door slammed shut behind him breaking the stillness of the evening. The skylight vanished completely throwing the drive into a blanket of darkness. Someone switched on the lights in the bungalow. The golden rays filtered on to the path. Mark heaved a sigh of relief. He was spooked by what the driver had said. He searched deep into his memory. Bits flashed before him, disjointed but sufficient to cause his heart to pump erratically. This outpost was different from the ones he had visited so far. Those were modern, developed estates with a big labour force. This was a small, isolated plantation, one that Guthries was planning to rid itself of. He was gripped by sudden fear. He turned to motion to the driver to come with him into the house. The man was nowhere in sight. Only the eerie outline of the jeep testified to his existence. Mark hurried to the bungalow. The door had been left open. Someone must know he was coming. He looked round. Not a person in sight. He went straight to the phone by the hallway. He picked it up and dialled. The line was dead. He went into the kitchen expecting to see at least the housemaid. There was no one.
***
The bar in the Selangor Club was packed. Every stool alongside it was occupied, every table taken. Hugh sipped his drink, his elbow resting lightly on the polished counter, one leg crooked as he leaned on it. The room buzzed with life. A group of women arrived to join their partners. He looked away. He was due to meet up with May. Not here. Memories of how May had been treated in the Club still riled. He gulped the last drop of his drink, a virgin Mary without the alcohol but with a stiff stir of Tabasco. They would eat in Chinatown tonight, a quick meal before they headed home to put Craig to bed. He straightened up and dusted his trousers. To his dismay, he saw Reid. The Commissioner was walking to him purposefully.
Where the Sunrise is Red Page 13
