With her eyes still keenly fixed on the men, May sat down on the step and rested her elbows on both knees and her chin on her upturned palm. She wondered what they were talking about. From the corner of her eye, she could see Craig and Libby engaged in a game of their own invention under the dappled shade of the big flowering angsana. Her eyes wandered over to her baby Lin. She was still napping on the mat after the tiring journey. Soon she would wake and demand May’s attention. For the moment, May had time to herself. It was such a peaceful scene, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, flowering bushes, the sound of a stream gurgling, and the aroma of spices drifting through the air. Her thoughts wandered back to the day when they received the news of Mark’s death. She could not think of it without feeling guilty. His death had spared May and Hugh from the ugliness of a divorce suit. Mark’s death, however, had shaken Ruth to the core. She had sunk deep into depression and despair.
Overhead, white clouds chased each other against a backdrop of pure blue sky. May’s eyes glazed over as she stared into space. She thought of the tumultuous events of the past two years.
Two years ago, 1958
The two attendants in white locked their arms around Ruth. They half-carried her back to the bed. She struggled to break free, kicking her legs until her hospital gown rode high up on her bare thighs. She wailed, her voice soaring to bounce off the white washed walls like a siren. The two men thrust her down on the narrow cot and pulled up the side rail. Then with a flurry of practised moves, they took out a syringe, tested it and then injected the pale liquid into her arm. Within seconds, she fell silent. The energy leached out of her. Her arms went limp and her head flopped unresisting on to the pillow. With a sigh, the two men locked the rail in place.
May crept closer to the bed. Ruth’s eyes were closed. She looked like a rag doll or a half-starved child. Pinholes dotted the crooks of both arms, that were as pale as pale as could be. Tears rolled down May’s cheeks; two drops like translucent pearls spilled on to Ruth’s white gown when she bent over the cot. She remembered the arms before, firm, strong, golden. Tremulously she placed a hand on Ruth’s cold damp forehead. With the utmost tenderness, she stroked it, pushing the damp hair off her face. “Ruth, if you can hear me, don’t do this to yourself. We love you. Let the past be. Come back to us. Libby needs you. You are not alone. We are here for you.”
“Madam, she can’t hear you. It is best you leave her be. Go to the canteen. Have a coffee. We’ll call you.” The nurse, slim and bespectacled, ushered May out of the room.
“What happened this time?” May asked.
“She tried to harm herself in the bathroom. We caught her with a blade.”
May felt a rock pressing into her, twisting her insides until she felt physical pain.
“Oh yes! I almost forgot,” the nurse added. “A gentleman, Omar, is here to see the patient. We have put him in the waiting room. He wanted to speak to you when we told him you were here. Come with me.” Leading the way into the corridor before May could reply, she pointed to the waiting room. Then she pushed open its blue door.
May didn’t want to speak to Omar. All she wanted to do was to curl into a ball and cry her heart out. Ruth had tried to harm herself again! Poor Ruth, poor Libby. But Omar had already seen her. He was striding towards them. The nurse saw him and walked briskly away, her rubber-soled shoes making soft squelching sounds on the polished floor. May stood rooted to the floor. The room swam and the people sitting in the hard-backed chairs behind Omar swayed and blurred and then crystallised to normal. By then Omar was in front of her.
“Can I see her? They wouldn’t allow me because I am not a relative. They referred me to you.”
Distraught and unable to speak, May shook her head.
“What happened?”
May turned on her heels and walked away. She went faster and faster, moving away from the white washed walls and the intense smell of disinfectant. Omar hurried after her. She burst out of the building into the bright sunshine. Gently Omar led her to a wooden bench. “Tell me,” he said.
“She tried to kill herself when she learnt of her husband’s death. We didn’t know she blamed herself. She was so calm when we broke the news to her. Later that night, she took an overdose of sleeping pills. We brought her to this hospital. She tried to harm herself again today.”
May paused to catch her breath. A trolley pushed past. It held a body, inert, and covered. Suddenly the image of the sick, the stench of disinfectant and the cold bleak hospital corridors and rooms seemed too much to bear. “We have to take her out of here.” she said. “Ruth does not need chemicals pumped into her in this sterile environment. She needs love and care, a reason to live again. She needs her daughter, people who love her. She needs to come home with me.”
Omar’s voice dropped to a soft murmur. “Let me help.”
***
It was almost a month into her convalescence at May’ house. Ruth sat in a reclining chair with a hat on her head, a hat that May insisted she wore to protect herself from the sun. Ruth spoke little and smiled even less. She was lost in her own thoughts, still blaming herself for Mark’s death. Her body was physically in May’s house, her thoughts, however, were elsewhere, in an unreachable place. May watched her like a hawk, terrified that she might still harm herself.
Somewhere from within the house, the clock chimed. May checked her watch. Soon she would have to do the school run. Both Craig and Libby had to be collected from school. Omar generally came during those hours to take over from May. He was gentle with Ruth and May was comforted by his presence. It was getting increasingly difficult to do all the things she normally crammed into a day. Her body was getting bigger as the months went by. Instantly the baby kicked, as though it knew that it must make its presence known before its mother’s attention was too diverted from it. The kicks came one after another. May felt her stomach contort as a foot or a fist push from within. A week, the doctor had said. “Just one more week to go. Take lots of rest, especially with this heat.”
May felt a shot of pain in her lower back and grimaced. She clenched her teeth and bit her lip. Her face was white. She rose from her seat, clasping her under belly. Omar was immediately by her side.
“I am not sure if the contractions have started. It can’t be. The doctor said I had another week. Call Hugh. He is at his office.”
“Let me help you into the house.” Omar held May and supported her into the house. “Shall I call the maids?”
“Shhh! Yes! Let’s not trouble Ruth,” May said as another shot of pain went through her body.
Omar glanced over his shoulder. Ruth seemed unconscious of what was happening. The hat that May had so gently placed on her head was on the ground, fluttering with every gust of wind. Any moment it would be blown away and Ruth would still have not noticed. She sat very still with her shoulders rounded. Lifeless, uninterested, all joy sucked out of her. She was no longer skeletal, just painfully thin.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Ruth. I’ll take her away so that you have some time for yourself and the baby. You need to rest.”
“Where? Where will you take her?” Alarmed May clutched Omar’s arm. “She is not ready. She is still hurting.”
“I know she is still hurting. But she is slowly opening up. I catch some words she says to me when we are alone, and when I prompt her she adds to them. I am beginning to know her.”
A sudden surge of jealousy rose in May’s breast. “She talks to you?”
“Not much, but she does. A few words here and there.”
May was happy yet jealous that it was Omar and not her that Ruth had broken her silence to. Another sharp jab of pain broke through. May broke out in perspiration.
“Send for Fu Yi,” she said as her waters broke. “Call Hugh.”
Chapter 33
“LUNCH IS READY,” shouted Ruth.
May looked up slightly dazed from her deep thoughts of events in the past two years. She got up and made her way from the top of
the stairs where she was sitting to the veranda where the table was laid out for lunch. The men and children were already there. She sat down. Ruth took the chair next to May, putting distance between her and Omar and avoiding Omar’s overtures that she should sit next to him. For one split second, Omar opened his mouth as though he was going to say something. He checked himself but he looked hurt. No one noticed except May. The children’s laughter and everyone’s enjoyment of the lunch Ruth had prepared masked the under current of tension at the table.
***
“That was wonderful,” Hugh said pointing to the empty plate before him. “I am going to take May and the kids to the beach. A bit of exercise would help to keep this trim,” Hugh pointed to his midriff. “Omar, Ruth, are you coming? We can help clear up after.”
“You go ahead. I’ll help Ruth clear up,” Omar replied quickly. “Don’t go,” he said turning to Ruth. He had followed her into the narrow galley kitchen. “Can we talk? Not here, somewhere no one can intrude.” He placed the dishes he had helped clear from the dining table on to the worktop by the sink. Ruth felt his closeness. In the confined space of the tiny kitchen, and with her heart beating fast, she felt overwhelmed by his proximity, the heat of his body, his scent, the memory she had of him. She took a deep breath.
“It is best that you leave. There is nothing more to be said.” Desperately, she looked out of the window at the fast-departing group that had helped fortify her through the lunch.
Omar caught hold of her waist and drew her to him. “Please, we have to talk.”
She pushed him away. “We can’t be together. Can’t you see? Can you really not see that I want you out of my life?” she hissed; her voice grew louder with each word. She threw down the dishcloth and fled. She ran out of the kitchen, down the steps and into the garden. She paused for a moment to seek out May. She saw her and raced down the path, past the flowering bushes and on to the track that led to the beach.
May heard Ruth. She had been uneasy leaving Ruth with Omar. Hugh had insisted that they should be left together to sort out matters and May had conceded unwillingly. The flurry of footsteps, the urgency of Ruth’s cry, alerted her that not all was well. She hurried back slipping on the pebbles in her attempt to reach Ruth quickly, Ruth whom she had grown to love and felt protective over despite being the younger and the smaller. The two women met.
“What happened?”
Ruth shook her head. “I told him to leave. I shouted at him.”
They heard Omar’s car, the roar of its engine as it started to life and then the sharp swish of tyres. They could imagine the cloud of dust and the scattering of pebbles that followed his departure.
May stood on tiptoe and hugged her friend. She pushed a handkerchief into Ruth’s hand. “Wipe your eyes. We’ll join the others. We’ll talk later this evening. I’ll make some excuse and ask Hugh to look after the children. We’ll find a way to go to Fatimah’s without arousing questions. You’ve told her we are coming haven’t you. She will be expecting us?”
“Does Hugh know?”
“No. I haven’t said anything. I leave it to you to decide when and whether you wish to tell. It is not my place,” said May. She kissed Ruth on the cheek. “Come!”
***
The moon was full, filling the night sky with its buttery mellow light. It was a sultry night, relieved only by the gentle sea breeze blowing in from across the Straits of Malacca. The two women held a torch each. Hand in hand they trod the roughly hacked path towards Fatimah’s house. Bushes whispered and swayed in the breeze. Their shadows lengthened and waned on the path.
“I want him with me all the time but I can’t. I feel I have abandoned him. Am I a bad woman to leave him with another family?” Ruth asked.
“No!” May squeezed Ruth’s hand. She thought of what she herself had done in the past. She didn’t know what she would do if she were to be in Ruth’s position. In life, circumstances dictated one’s actions. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between right and wrong.
Fatimah’s hut was lit up. The door was thrown wide open and the sound of children’s laughter floated across to them. Then a deeper cackling chuckle joined in the merriment.
“That is Fu Yi. I know her laugh a mile away. She is very happy here. I am glad I suggested she came to help. This is so much better than the maid’s kongsi where she had to share a stuffy dormitory with many others.”
“Yes! I too am so glad she came. She is invaluable. Her presence has allowed Fatimah time for her own children and to earn a little extra money for housekeeping. Fatimah makes Malay cakes for sale in the open market every Sunday. You had some of them this lunch. Without Fu Yi, I wouldn’t have been able to spend today with Libby.” Ruth quickened her footsteps, almost dragging May along with her.
“Selamat petang. Dia tidoh,” called Fatimah from afar when she saw the two women. She mimed the action by placing both hands together and resting her cheeks and closing her eyes.
Fu Yi scolded in Cantonese. “I wait whole day for you. Come, he asleep.” She held up the little bundle in her arms. “See how peaceful.”
Ruth took the baby in her arms and held him close, pressing her nose to the little face, inhaling his scent. Her heart did several flip-flops. A yearning rose from the pit of her stomach, a yearning to press him to her and never let go. The baby opened his blurry eyes. He smiled showing his toothless gums and his dimples. May reached over and stroked his dark head and the down on his cheeks. “He looks like him,” she whispered.
The baby whimpered, pushing his little fist out of the sarong that swaddled him and immediately put his thumb into his mouth. His lips closed over the thumb and he sucked. Instinctively Ruth felt her breast ooze. She held the baby close. “He is weaned but my body still responds to him.”
“It will do. Fu Yi says he has taken to the powdered milk well. At least you don’t have to worry about his feeding. Have you decided on what you should do?”
Ruth glanced quickly at Fu Yi and Fatimah. She indicated that they should walk on. “It is more private over there,” she pointed. They went to a tree trunk hacked out into a horizontal bench. They sat down close together, as though keeping close gave them strength. May saw how Ruth clung to the baby. She placed an arm around Ruth and hugged her close.
“I will adopt him,” Ruth replied. “Then Libby, the baby and I can be a family together again. I will have to talk first with Libby. She has to agree to the adoption. If I did it without consulting her, she would be hurt. She would find the proposal strange. I will tell her that the baby belongs to Fatimah’s niece. That she wants to give him up for adoption because of her family circumstances. I have spoken to Fatimah and she has agreed to my story.”
May looked hard at Ruth. “Are you sure?” she asked. “One lie leads to another; it becomes difficult to untangle them.”
Ruth turned to face May. “I can’t give him up. I just can’t. Leaving him here with Fu Yi and Fatimah hurts me even though I see him every day. I hate not being able to tell the world he is mine or to tell Libby she has a brother. I worry that if Libby knows the truth, she might inadvertently disclose it to a friend. After all she is still a child.” She buried her face in the baby and held him close. “Then, he would know. And I would lose the baby.”
She looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “I am mortified that you have to lie for me and to keep things from Hugh.”
Fatimah and Fu Yi looked on at the two women huddled close together. They knew and shared their secret. They looked at each other. Fu Yi got up and walked over to the two young women. “Better go home. You not want Master Hugh come look for you. Here let me have the little one. Go now! Master will be worried you venturing in the dark. He sure come searching.”
Reluctantly, Ruth handed the baby back but not before she had kissed him and inhaled his scent as though she wanted to bottle it inside her. May took her hand and squeezed it. “Come,” she said, “Fu Yi is right. Hugh will be worried and it will be difficult to spin too ma
ny stories. There is also Libby. She will look for you; you have to spend some time with her as well.”
“You are right. Poor Libby! I have neglected her. I am grateful that she is settled and has a good friend in Craig.”
“Yes, they are good friends,” replied May. Ruth did not see the flicker of worry in May’s face, a worry that May kept close to her heart. Of course they would be good together, she thought, for weren’t they half-siblings? May had considered telling Ruth that Craig was Mark’s child. She held back. Telling would be betraying Hugh who claimed Craig for his own. Moreover, it might rekindle Ruth’s old animosity. At this stage, as long as Craig and Libby were just good friends, she told herself, there was no need to dig up the past. It would be necessary only if their friendship developed into something more when they grew older. Yet she worried. What if they were to fall in love in the future, she asked herself. A sigh escaped May. Hugh had warned her not to chase after worries and problems that might never occur.
“Are you okay?” asked Ruth.
“Yes. I was just wondering whether Lin would be asleep. She likes me to read to her and tonight, it will be Hugh doing it.”
“I am sure she’ll be fine. Hugh is wonderful with children.”
They retraced their steps, up the path towards the bungalow. The lights were still on and voices rang from within.
Just yards away from the bungalow, Ruth stopped. “I shall name him Michael Solomon. Michael is my father’s middle name,” she explained to May, “and Solomon, the Christian equivalent to Suleiman. I wish him the wisdom that I never had. It will be his connection to a father, whom he will never know.” Ruth paused. She took May’s hands in her own. “Yet how can I regret what happened in the past year despite everything if I have Michael?”
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