The Plantation

by Di Morrissey

  She had initially befriended one of the young women after she’d watched her packing up her bicycle at the edge of the section near a little roadside altar. Bette studied her carefully as the woman removed her long-sleeved cotton jacket, gloves and her hat and, finally, unwound the scarf from about her head, revealing her pretty face. The girl then gave another female worker a ride home on her bicycle and the two smiled and nodded at Bette, chattering and giggling as they headed back to their kampong on the wobbly old bicycle. The next day Bette asked the women if she could sketch them and they agreed.

  When she showed the sketches of the two women to Margaret and Roland, both had to admit that Bette’s work was enchanting and that she’d captured the life of the plantation workers very well. So one morning when Margaret asked her if she wanted to go into Slim River with her in the Baby Austin, Bette, who was getting ready to go and sketch, said, ‘Can you manage without me? I really want to finish these sketches of the two Indian girls.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why you want to draw them. It’s so muggy and bug-ridden down there,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll be back just after lunch. Philip is with Ah Min.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I’m back in time to have lunch with him,’ said Bette.

  Margaret waved happily to Bette as she sailed off in her beautiful Austin Tourer, enjoying her new found independence and feeling that life was just wonderful.

  *

  Several hours later, Margaret awoke in what was clearly a hospital bed with her anxious sister sitting beside her.

  ‘Oh, Margaret, thank heavens you’ve woken up. You have given us such a fright.’

  ‘What happened? Where am I?’

  ‘You’re in the hospital at Tanjong Malim and you’ve broken your leg rather badly, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Where’s Roland? Is Philip all right?’

  ‘Roland’s on his way back from KL. He won’t be long, and I left Philip with his amah. He’s fine.’

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘That’s a bit of a story. When you hadn’t returned by mid afternoon, I began to worry. Roland and Eugene were in Kuala Lumpur and while I thought you might have got delayed shopping or run into a friend, I decided to go over to Mr Elliott’s place and see Ho, who I thought was the most senior person left on the estate. When I told him that I was worried, he looked very concerned.

  ‘“Mem, maybe mem Elliott had accident.” I thought this was a bit dramatic, but it wouldn’t hurt to check, so I rang the police station at the district headquarters.’

  ‘So you spoke to Alan Williams, the police commander, did you?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t there, so things got a bit more complicated and it took a while to speak to someone who understood what I was saying. Eventually, with Ho’s help, I managed to explain to him that I was worried about you and he grasped what I was saying. He then asked me if I was coming there and I said, no I was just looking for you. Had he heard if you had broken down? But he kept on insisting that I had to come there. Finally he said, “Mem, you must come at once. Mem’s car, it run into bad buffalo and fall over. Mem, she go to hospital in Tanjong Malim.”’

  ‘So how did you get here? There’s only the Bedford truck left, and no one can drive that.’

  ‘Yes, I found that out when I asked Ho. He assured me that only Roland, Eugene and Hamid could drive it. But I can drive, so I collected some toiletries and a change of clothes for you, made sure Ah Kit understood what was going on. I spoke to Ah Min and gave Philip a hug and told him that I was going to see his mummy and that he was to be a good boy and I’d be back soon. I have to say that truck is very difficult to drive. I don’t think the gears work very well, but here I am. Tell me what happened to you, if you’re up to it.’

  The hospital halls echoed, rubber-soled shoes squeaked and there was the unmistakable smell of disinfectant. Margaret’s leg was in traction and there was a bandage around her head, but she managed to smile wanly at her sister.

  ‘I don’t really know. I was happily driving along, past a kampong, when a great water buffalo seemed to leap out at me and the next thing I know, I’m here. How’s my beautiful little car?’

  Just then one of the doctors walked into the room.

  ‘Is she all right? Doctor, this is my sister, how is she?’ asked Bette anxiously.

  ‘I’m Dr Singh, I’m afraid your sister has a very badly broken leg and a fractured ankle.’

  ‘Why has she a bandage on her head?’ asked Bette nervously, stroking Margaret’s hand.

  ‘She hit her head on the windscreen and she has some cuts, which have required some stitches, but they are not serious.’ He smiled at Margaret. ‘You are very lucky, Mrs Elliott. Your injuries could have been much worse.’

  Roland and Eugene arrived at the hospital later.

  ‘I shouldn’t have let you talk me into that car. I feel that this is all my fault.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Roland,’ said Margaret. ‘It was the stupid buffalo. I’ll be all right.’

  Roland called in another doctor from Kuala Lumpur for a second opinion. He was assured that Dr Singh had done all the right things but that Margaret would have to spend quite some time in the hospital in traction.

  As Margaret grew stronger there was a constant stream of visitors who brought food, champagne, flowers and chocolates along with magazines newly arrived from Australia.

  Philip visited frequently and was fascinated by the contraption suspending his mother’s leg. Margaret was glad she’d joined the KL Book Club, as she now had time to read while trapped in bed. The hospital was clean and well run and the staff were friendly and seemed to Margaret to be fairly capable. Her private room was basic, with just a large fan and shuttered windows that overlooked a garden, and she was very bored.

  After several weeks Margaret was well enough to go home, but she was still in plaster and she could only just manage to move on crutches. She had a long list of instructions from Dr Singh about rest and not overdoing things. While she was pleased to return to the plantation, she found everything difficult and told Bette that she felt clumsy, awkward and ugly.

  ‘Nonsense, Margie. You’re managing very well. And thank goodness you have your amah, the houseboy and so many people to help you! Imagine if this had happened when you and Philip were in Brisbane!’ said Bette.

  Margaret grabbed Bette’s hand. ‘It’s still hard. I need you around to help me, Bette. I hate this. I feel like an old lady. I’m bored, too. I can’t play tennis and it’s so hard to get around anywhere. I can’t even get to the club. You must stay on. You’re so good with Philip. Roland is away so much these days. All this war talk is driving me silly. Come on, entertain me, let’s play cards.’

  ‘Well, you know my ticket’s booked to go home next month,’ said Bette, but seeing Margaret’s anguished and pleading expression, she added, ‘I’ll speak to Roland. Father and Mother might be disappointed, but I’m sure they’d want me to stay and help out.’ She patted her sister’s hand.

  Margaret lay her head against the back of the rattan chair on the verandah, her leg on an ottoman, her eyes closed, looking pained. ‘Thank you, Bette. It’s not as if you have anything pressing back at home, anyway.’

  Roland was grateful to Bette when she told him she would stay on at Margaret’s request and would postpone her journey home.

  ‘Margaret needs a lot of attention while she is still incapacitated, Bette. I will send a telegram to your parents, to let them know your change of plan. We should follow it up with a letter to tell them not to worry about Margaret. Anyway, I think your father will be relieved that his daughters are sitting out these troubles in a peaceful place like Utopia.’

  Margaret was pleased and seemed to cheer up once she was sure Bette was staying. She gave her a bright smile. ‘And staying on will give you a chance to see more of Gilbert, won’t it?’

  5

  Brisbane, 2009

  IT WAS SUNNY AND clear, with just enough breeze to keep things cool for the crowd who swelle
d and then lingered at the fundraising fete run by the Campaign Against the Bypass Committee. Julie and her mother watched from the front verandah of their home, where tables and chairs were set for tea, scones and cakes. At the bottom of the front steps, under a shady awning, was a small bar where cold drinks were sold. Dotted all around the garden under colourful umbrellas were stalls selling everything from home-made jams and pickles to craft items, plants, a white elephant stall, books and odds and ends. Scattered throughout the garden were games such as hoopla, lucky dips, a chocolate wheel and a mini fun fair.

  Julie was amazed at the transformation of her mother’s garden. A whole team of neighbours and friends had come together for this day, which would be the start of many events to raise money for a serious cause – to stop the council wiping out an area of beautiful old homes. But despite the seriousness of the purpose, the atmosphere was light-hearted, as though everyone had come to a party.

  ‘The more money we can put in the kitty to fight the council, the better,’ said Caroline.

  ‘The more people that come and see what a special place this is, the better too, I suppose,’ said Julie. ‘Not just our house, but the whole area. Then they’ll understand why it’s so important to preserve it.’

  Caroline gave her daughter a big smile. ‘I’d better go, it’s my turn to man the chocolate wheel. Have you heard about that fortune teller? Her tent has quite a queue now!’

  ‘Fortune teller? That’s Mrs Godden from the pharmacy,’ said Julie.

  Caroline shrugged. ‘Maybe, but people are saying it’s uncanny what she knows.’

  ‘Perhaps I should see her and find out what’s going to happen with the council. Could save a lot of time and effort.’

  ‘And miss all this fun!’ laughed Caroline as the two women walked down into the garden.

  Julie watched David Cooper try his luck at the hoop-la. She couldn’t help but smile at the anthropologist who was wearing a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks. He was the only male in sight not in shorts. Julie walked across the lawn to join him.

  A neighbour stopped Julie. ‘This is a wonderful event. Such fun, and so good to see the community working together. We simply can’t let that dreadful bypass go through. You’ve done a wonderful job.’

  ‘Thank my mother. She’s pulled all this together,’ said Julie. In fact she’d been amazed at how Caroline had taken on all the work with her small committee. Julie had helped with the promotion of the fete, but had been too busy at work to do as much as she’d have liked. Caroline had run things marvellously.

  ‘This place is so beautiful. It makes you realise how much work and history are in the old gardens in this neighbourhood,’ added the woman.

  ‘Exactly. My great grandmother Winifred helped plant this. She was a keen gardener like her mother. But both my grandmother and Mum have worked hard to maintain it,’ answered Julie.

  David Cooper turned from the hoopla stall and smiled as Julie approached. ‘I’ve just donated some money to the cause. I didn’t win a thing.’

  ‘It’s going well, isn’t it? Mum and her mates have done a brilliant job.’

  ‘You certainly got the word out there,’ said David.

  ‘There’s still a long way to go,’ said Julie. ‘We need to raise a heap more money to make our voice heard and get support from other parts of the city, not just locally. People must realise that these beautiful old homes and gardens are worth preserving.’

  ‘True. You don’t want to come across just as “Not in my Backyarders.” I’ve been looking at the ramifications of this bypass and if it’s established it could set a precedent for other parts of Brisbane,’ said David.

  ‘That’s the message we have to get across,’ said Julie firmly.

  As they walked through the crowded garden, David was thoughtful. ‘It’s interesting that the council has gone very quiet on the matter. They say they are consulting.’

  ‘Consulting with whom? Not with any of us,’ said Julie.

  ‘Want to try one of those home-made fruit punch drinks? Looks very delicious,’ said David, stopping by a stall that was selling freshly squeezed juices made from mangoes and other tropical fruit piled in baskets. As they sipped their smoothies and watched groups of people chatting and enjoying themselves with their friends and families, Julie said, ‘If what you say is right, and the council has gone quiet, maybe putting the bypass on the back burner until things quieten down, perhaps I could leave town for a short break.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said David. ‘I’ll have to leave Brisbane, too. Work calls, but I don’t think anyone will consider us deserters. Where’re you going?’

  ‘Malaysia.’

  ‘What? Really!’ David looked elated. ‘My stamping ground. Have I piqued your interest?’

  ‘In a way, yes. Actually, I suppose I thought of this trip because of you,’ began Julie.

  ‘You won’t regret it!’ broke in David, now quite excited. ‘You must let me show you around . . .’

  ‘Hang about,’ laughed Julie. ‘I’ve been asked to stay with my cousins at Utopia plantation.’

  ‘Shane and Peter Elliott?’

  ‘That’s right. After you met them and asked them about Bette’s book, they wrote to us, inviting us to go and visit. My parents don’t want to go right now, but my mother has been telling me stories about my grand mother’s time in Malaya when she went there as a bride. Gran told Mum that they were the happiest years of her life.’

  ‘Then do you have any idea why your Aunt Bette would write a book on the Iban?’

  ‘No, none at all, because by then my grandmother wasn’t speaking to her.’

  ‘So it’s a mystery?’ asked David.

  ‘Yes, Gran wouldn’t tell Mum about anything after the war broke out in Malaya. The story just kind of stops. So now I’m curious about the family plantation and I’m also rather intrigued by Bette, though I doubt I’ll find out much more about her.’

  ‘Knowing what she wrote, she must have been quite adventurous. An interesting woman. It’s a shame you didn’t know her. What was your grandmother like?’

  ‘Ever since I can remember, my grandmother lived in this house. She was a strong, forthright kind of person, not sentimental or soft. I don’t know anything about her sister. Gran rarely mentioned her, except to be critical, and to murmur darkly that she’d gone off and married a Chinaman. But I really want to go and see the place where my mother was born.’

  ‘It’s odd that one half of your family stayed put in Brisbane while the other half stayed in Malaysia.’

  ‘It’s how things worked out, I suppose. But because this side of the family have lived here in Brisbane for so long, I have such a strong sense of family tradition and history for this place, which is why I couldn’t bear to see this house bulldozed.’

  ‘I don’t know how many of the old houses round here have had four generations of the one family living in them,’ said David. ‘But even if a new family has just moved in, they must appreciate the style, the beauty and history of these houses. They don’t build them like this any more. What are your plans for Malaysia? I’d like to help, if I can.’

  Emails flew back and forth between the cousins in Malaysia and Brisbane. Shane, the older brother, seemed to be the main contact and he wrote, if somewhat formally, to Julie giving her information about travel, some history of the plantation and what she might expect.

  We are very much in a work routine here but of course we would hope to be able to take you around the district and show you some of the places with which our grandparents were connected. However, there are no ‘bright lights’ near us, so perhaps you might like to arrange to see other parts of Malaysia while you’re here. My brother and I will be happy to meet you in KL and drive you back to Utopia. I have made arrangements for you to stay in the main guesthouse near to us. It will be a chance for us to exchange information about our families and we look forward to meeting you!

  ‘Are you sure you won’t come with me, Mum?
’ persisted Julie. ‘This is where you were born and where your mother spent her early married life.’

  ‘No, darling, not at the moment. I really want to stay on top of the bypass business. And I think you need a holiday, I can’t remember when you last had a proper break. Are you going to meet up with David and get him to show you around a bit? He seems very knowledgeable about the country.’

  ‘I don’t really know. Perhaps we’ll hook up at some stage,’ said Julie.

  ‘David’s work sounds interesting,’ said Caroline. ‘He was telling me that he’s involved in several different projects up there.’

  ‘You’ve seen a lot more of him than I have these past few weeks,’ said Julie.

  ‘Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for David’s research you wouldn’t have become interested in Utopia and meeting your cousins,’ Caroline reminded her.

  ‘That’s the thing, Mum. I don’t know all that much about our family connection to the plantation. I think it’s odd that Gran never spoke to me about it and she hardly talked to you about it at all. I just sense that there’s a story behind it,’ said Julie.

  ‘Well, I have to agree. It would be interesting to find out what your cousins know,’ said Caroline.

  Despite what she said to Caroline, Julie did agree with her mother that it would be wise to pick David Cooper’s brain, so she accepted an invitation from him to go to dinner for a briefing on her trip.

  ‘I understand that you want to see Utopia but, if you have the opportunity, you have to see some other places. Malaysia’s such an intriguing place. It’s made up of several states and every state is a little bit different – and proud of it. I’m sure your cousins will show you around,’ he said over a pre-dinner drink.

  ‘They sound very hospitable but I think they are very bound up in running Utopia, so I don’t want them to feel obliged to drop everything for me.’

  ‘I wish I could visit their plantation again. You know, you can’t help but see palm oil estates everywhere you go, but most of the big companies are very protective, in fact almost secretive, about what they’re doing. They’re not tourist stops, that’s for sure.’