May set the saucer and teacup down carefully on the table. She sat down. “Will there be implications...”
“Yes! Things are already a bit unstable as they are with Indonesia and the Philippines still protesting at the formation of Malaysia. So this breakaway will certainly add to uncertainties as the balance of the population becomes re-arranged. I think a lot of Chinese in Malaya might move to Singapore.”
Hugh dragged his chair closer to May and took her hand in his. “I am glad we are here until things sort themselves out. Craig is very happily settled in his boarding school. He seems to have taken to boarding life despite our anxiety. And Ruth. She is doing well, as is Libby. I know you miss your home country. We will go back to visit if nothing else. I promise.”
“It is just that I am lonely at times when you are not here.”
“I know,” said Hugh sitting down, “things are different from when we were in Malaysia. We had a big house and you had domestic help there.”
“I don’t care about a big house or having help. They are not important to me.” May slid on to Hugh’s lap and laid her head on his shoulder. How could she tell him of the loneliness she sometimes felt in this busy vibrant city?
***
James stood in front of Ruth’s door. He took in the tangle of weeds by the gatepost. At the far end, an overgrown buddleia with its spikes of violet turned brown, leaned heavily on one part of the wooden fence causing it to sag. Apples littered the ground and dandelion seed heads blew hither and thither in the wind. He could hear Ruth’s typewriter early in the morning. She was typing at great speed, drowning the sound of chirping birds. She had been working late into the night. He knew. From his bedroom window, he had seen the solitary light in the little front room she called her office. He tightened his hold on his fork and trowel and pressed the doorbell.
Ruth opened the door. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail. Some had escaped to fall in soft trails around her face. “Oh!” she said, “I thought it was the milkman come to collect his money. I am sorry. Come in.”
James could see that she was anxious. He wanted to brush away the frown lines on her forehead.
“Is it about the rent? I shall have it by the end of the week.”
“No! That never crossed my mind. Sue sent me over.” James turned a bright red at his lie. “She said I should give you a hand with the garden. So here I am with my fork and trowel.” His eyes crinkled at the corner as he broke into a grin. “She also said that you are welcome to come over and pick whatever vegetables you wish from our garden. There is an abundance of French beans, carrots, parsnips and beet, all begging to be harvested. We can’t eat them all.”
At least that part of it was true. James felt the tip of his ears grow hot, a telltale sign of his embarrassment. Sue had told him that she could always tell from the colour of his ears. He wondered if Ruth had noticed.
Relief shone on Ruth’s face. She could not express her gratitude for his kindness. She thought of the many times she had been late in payment. Impulsively, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “I ... I can’t ... thank you enough,” she finally stuttered, suddenly shy from her bold act.
James’s ears deepened to crimson. Two bright spots appeared on his cheeks. “My pleasure. Shall I get on with it?” He lifted his fork, mentally noting that he would probably have to return home for more tools. He had noticed that the gate needed mending as well.
“Yes, yes of course, that is if it is not too much trouble. I am sorry I am not keeping the garden as well as I should. I will, I promise, make a better job of the garden when I have finished my assignment. Mrs Bennett is paying extra to have her manuscript typed by the end of the week. I have to concentrate on that.”
“Don’t worry about it. It is no trouble at all.”
Ruth watched James retreat into the garden. She saw his solidity, his broad shoulders, and remembered his dependability. She recalled his soft brown eyes, shy and caring always when he looked at her. Perhaps he was like this with everyone. All the villagers spoke well of him. The words of the postmistress stuck in her head. ‘The poor dear has never married. His fiancée left him many years ago. He never recovered from it. He had no eyes for anyone except for her. A pity that. Any girl would give a tooth and an eye to catch him.’
Ruth closed the door behind him and went back to her table She sat down but did not type. Her hands remained poised above the typewriter. She looked out of the window. She could see James. Once again, she could feel the hammering beat of her heart. “What is wrong with me?” she wondered. “How many times have I to be bitten before I realise that I am better off alone.” She resumed her work, typing furiously. James could hear her from the garden.
Chapter 43
THE BUS TRUNDLED to a stop. May stepped off it with Lin by her side. Ahead of her a narrow cobbled pedestrian street led straight to the centre of the village. The street was lined on both sides by quaint little shops that might have come off a chocolate box. At the end of the street was a square with a pretty, disused well, a reminder of times when people had to draw water for their daily needs. Radiating like a carriage wheel from the square were three lanes, each with tiny picture postcard cottages bordering it. To the east, she could see the church steeple. To the west was the hedge-bound lane leading to Ruth’s cottage.
The first time Ruth told her of the village, May thought she was pulling her leg. “Puddleway?” she had repeated. “That is the name of the village?”
“It is beautiful,” Ruth affirmed with eyes shining with emotion.
Standing on the pavement with her eyes glued to the village ahead of her, May understood why Ruth had fallen in love with it. The contrast between this village and those in Malaysia could not be greater. She thought of Ruth’s attap house on stilts in Port Dickson with its dark brown wooden walls and the palm leaf thatching on its roof.
“No one from my past would find me here! It would be my sanctuary,” Ruth said and May had agreed.
“Come, let’s go find Aunty Ruth. She is expecting us,” May said to her daughter.
They walked up the High Street. People stared at them discreetly, dropping their eyes when she stared back at them. Unabashed, May smiled holding Lin’s little hand firmly in hers. A woman with a ponytail came out of a store carrying a basket filled with groceries. A loaf of bread hung precariously out from its corner. She stopped to stuff it in and lifted her head. She caught sight of May.
“May?” she squealed, her eyes wide with surprise. “Remember me? I’m Sue, Ruth’s neighbour.”
“Of course I do.” The smile that Sue gave her was so heartwarming that May responded immediately.
“I assume you are here to see Ruth.” Sue fell into step with May, her sandals crunching on the cobbled path. She reached into her basket and took out a bun. It was popping with black currants and had a dusting of sugar on the top. “May I give this to Lin? I have a soft spot for children,” she confessed.
May remembered the last time she visited; Sue had taken charge of both Michael and Lin, leaving Ruth and May to talk. She smiled. “You are very good with them,” she said. They walked companionably towards the square and then turned into the lane that led to the Manor House and Footman’s Cottage. Hollyhocks and delphiniums lined the lane. “You have a beautiful house.” May stood for a moment to admire the stone house. The sunshine had warmed its walls to a pale gold.
“It is not mine. It is James’s. It is his and all these,” Sue threw an arm out in a wide arc, “are his as well. I am taking a sabbatical, shall we say, from my work up north. I teach. I am doing a bit of research and helping out generally in the house. James is quite absent-minded when housework is concerned although you would not have guessed it if you had met him in his previous and even present other capacity. He is meticulous when it comes to his proper work.”
“What does he do?”
“Besides being a landlord you mean?” Sue smiled. “He was a barrister and had a firm in London. He gave all that up
when my mum died to take over the family’s business. He runs this from home now.”
“I didn’t mean to be nosy. James has been very kind to Ruth.”
“Mummy, I’ve finished,” interrupted Lin thrusting up her sugar coated hand. May stooped and cleaned the streaks of sugar around Lin’s lips and hand.
“Can I run ahead?”
“Yes!” May watched Lin run up the lane towards the cottage, her little legs pumping fast. “Careful!” she shouted.
“I cannot help but notice from your last visit that you are very close to Ruth,” said Sue in a matter-of-fact voice. “How did you both meet?”
Sue could see a flash of apprehension or was it embarrassment cross over May’s eyes. Then it was gone. In its place was a bland look, as if she had drawn a veil firmly in place.
“I am sorry. This time, I am the nosy one. It is just that ... well ... Perhaps when we know each other better, you’ll tell me.”
They walked on until they reached Ruth’s cottage. Lin was already at the gate.
“I shall say good bye here,” said Sue. “Pop around for drinks.”
“Thank you. Hugh, my husband will be here later this evening with our son Craig. We’d like that very much.”
***
“So do you like Sue and James? “They have been very good to me, especially James.” Ruth threw a sidelong glance at her friend before she pulled the plug out of the bath. It was eight o’clock in the evening and they had just bathed Lin and Michael and put them to bed. The two women watched the bubbles disappear down the drain.
“I think James has a soft spot for you, Ruth.”
“No. He is just being nice, that’s all. I am glad that Hugh likes him, at least enough to go to the pub with him this evening. It was tactful. It leaves us time to catch up. Ruth straightened up and reached out for a towel. She began drying the bath, buffing it to a shine before putting the array of bath toys back on the shelf.
“Let’s go down and have a cup of cocoa. I believe the children are asleep.” Ruth paused a second to listen for sounds from the bedrooms flanking the bathroom. When none were heard, she beamed. “Come!”
They linked arms and walked down the stairs. Ruth pointed out the spots on the steps that made the loudest creaking noises. They giggled, muffling their laughter with their hands over their mouths like a pair of children as the stairs creaked and groaned. “It is an old house,” Ruth explained.
“I miss you so much. London was pretty lonely for me after you left.” May lowered her voice to a whisper. They entered the kitchen. She pulled a stool from under the kitchen table. Ruth took one next to her. They sat companionably in the tiny kitchen with its flagstone tiles, an Aga in the corner and a sink by the window overlooking the garden.
“I couldn’t stay in London. It doesn’t hold good memories for me. I was afraid of bumping into Steve. Every time I went to the park or turned a corner, I feared he would be there. I jumped each time I heard footsteps behind me. I disliked the racial discriminating notices I see in some parts of London. No coloureds or Irish! Imagine! There was a serious racial riot in 1958 in Notting Hill you know. It was all over the papers. The image is still firmly ingrained in my mind and when that awful woman began abusing me when she mistook Michael for a West Indian, I just lost it.”
“I understand.” May leaned over and placed her head on Ruth’s shoulder for a second. “Hugh is sure that things will improve.” She recalled the words of the woman in the London Park. “Some people find it difficult to tell one Chinese from another. They say we look the same.”
Ruth looked at May, her eyes round with mirth. They giggled. “Will you go back to Malaysia?” Ruth asked.
“England is my home now. My home is where Hugh is. With Fu Yi gone, I have no one in Malaysia anyway. I miss her so much.”
“Me too! I couldn’t believe the suddenness of it all. Her death took everyone by surprise.”
“Yes, it was sudden, a heart attack that came out of the blue. None of us knew that she had a heart condition. But I am glad she did not die alone in that horrible dormitory above a shop. She was happy with Fatimah and by the time we left she had also found new friends. Remember the man who ran a laundry near you? His children wrote to tell me that Fu Yi spent most days with them when Fatimah was out and about selling her cakes. They were with her when she died.”
May brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“Fu Yi was happy that you came back with us. She would want to see you settled and remarried. She told me before we left.”
“No chance. I am just happy as things are. My work and the children take up all my time. I don’t reflect too much on things. Anyway, who would want me? I carry too much baggage with me.”
***
In the dim light of the pub, beer tumblers and wine glasses sparkled. The Fox and Hounds was doing a brisk trade, for the locals had taken to having a pint or two in the pub on a Friday night. Hugh and James took their drinks and found themselves a seat in a corner from where they could watch people drink their brew.
“Have you lived here long?” asked Hugh. He took a gulp of his beer and sighed with pleasure. “Nothing like a strong warm beer.” He appraised his companion openly. James seemed a good chap, friendly without being overly so. Hugh liked what he heard about him. Hugh was protective of Ruth, a trait he had adopted from his wife. Ruth had made such progress. He couldn’t stand the idea of her being hurt again.
“I was born here. The family home has always been here.”
A man’s voice cut in. “James is just modest. His family practically owned most of the land and houses in this village and beyond. He is descended from a long line of lords and ladies.” He guffawed and raised his tumbler of beer, the colour of golden liquid honey, and toasted James. “To your lordship.”
Hugh turned to look at the man but he was already busy chatting to someone else, nodding his grey head vigorously at what the other person was saying.
“Don’t listen to him,” James said. “He is just pulling my leg as they are wont to do whenever I come to the pub. He has known me since I was this high.” He gestured with a hand to his waist. “This pub used to be the local for workmen from the farm that was part of our estate. It used not to welcome what they considered the lords and ladies. Mind! My parents and theirs before them had never been lords and ladies. It is just that the folks around considered them the gentry. That was then. Now we are all the same.” James was red with embarrassment having to explain.
“What happened to the farm?”
“We lease it out.”
“You are not married?”
James shook his head. “I had a fiancée once. She left me. It is a long time ago. I have been too wrapped up in my career since but,” he smiled, “I am in the process of winding down. I am almost fifty. Before my mum died she asked me to settle down and to stop my hectic pursuit of work as she called it. I must admit I was that way inclined. She gave my father’s early death as a caution. My mum was a very strong-minded woman. She had to be. My dad died very young. She was left to carry on the management of the estate and family business on her own. I didn’t help much. I was in London practising law.”
It was the longest speech James had made for some while. He ruffled his hair and looked ruefully at Hugh. “Perhaps it is too late for me.”
“It is never too late if one meets the right person.”
***
May pulled up the sheets until she was fully covered. She edged closer to Hugh who had his back to her. She was cold despite it being summer. She was always cold. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “What was he like?” she asked, her mouth close to his ears.
Hugh could feel her warm breath on the nape of his neck. “Nice,” he replied without turning around.
“Nice! That is not a description! Tell me,” she demanded. “I am curious about him, just as his sister Sue is curious about Ruth. She asked me questions about Ruth’s past. I think her brother is enamoured of our Ruth
. Is he?”
“He didn’t say. He thinks it might be too late for him to look for a wife.”
Hugh turned and took his wife into his arms. “Let’s not talk about James,” he murmured.
“Shhh!” May giggled. “It is an old house. Everything creaks.”
Chapter 44
“ARE YOU SURE it is her?” Steve held the phone tightly against his ear. He listened intently. A frown gathered on his face. Outside, a red double-decker bus stopped alongside the kerb in front his house. Three women got on it. One was very old and almost bent double. She had to be helped on to the bus. The other was a mother with a teenage daughter dressed in a short bright yellow mini skirt that revealed a long expanse of pale thin legs. The daughter clambered on to the bus. The mother following behind tugged at the girl’s skirt. She said something sharp to the girl. It was lost in the roar of the bus engine.
“Wait a moment. Can you repeat the name of the school again?” He pulled open a drawer and took out a pen and notepaper. He wrote, biting his lower lip hard as he did so. “Thank you. I owe you,” he said. He returned the phone to its cradle taking care to be as quiet as he could be.
“Who was that?”
“A crank call. Nothing of importance.” Furtively, he folded the piece of paper and pocketed it.
“Come in and finish your tea.”
Steve could hear his wife’s wheelchair manoeuvring around the room. “I am coming.” He hurried back into the small sitting room. He stood at its entrance, one foot in, the other still out. He could hardly bear to be in the room. It was crammed with little mementos that Margaret had collected when she was young and mobile, all of them holding special memories for her. She would not relinquish any of them, so they covered the mantelpiece, the nest of tables in the corner, even the surround of the gas fire. He eyed the gaudy ceramic shepherdess with what was akin to hatred.
“Is everything all right, love? You look out of sorts.” Margaret looked anxiously at her husband. He had been very tetchy of late.
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