by Di Morrissey
By the time Tony drove Bette back to Penang and to the E&O Hotel at the end of the short holiday, there was an unspoken bond between them. The passion between them was restrained. Bette didn’t like to think too far ahead to the time when she’d be leaving Malaya. Now was the time to enjoy herself, not to wonder what her future held.
Tony courted Bette assiduously. He arrived at her door at the hotel with gifts, sweets and flowers. He took her to lavish restaurants and clubs. When she said that she had no suitable clothes for such occasions, he insisted on buying her a beautiful gown to wear dancing. He drove her around the city in his Allard K2 sports car. She’d never ridden in a convertible before and she loved the red twoseater. Tony assured her that she could drive it any time she wished. Bette could never remember a more glorious time. He showed her the backstreets, the temples and the markets, and, wherever they went, Tony introduced her to his friends.
After a week he announced, ‘You’ve met my friends, now I’d like you to meet my family. My mother-in-law has invited you to tea, with the children.’
Even after the Gideons’ stately beach house at Batu Ferringhi, Bette was unprepared for the grandeur of the Tsang’s large rose-hued mansion, set back from a wide boulevard amid formal gardens. Tony possessively took her arm as they approached the entrance and entered the elaborately carved front doors with coloured glass lanterns that hung on either side. Bette was aware of shadowy figures in the cool dark rooms and the sweet smell of incense. She heard children’s laughter as Tony guided her into a large open-air courtyard surrounded by stone walls, where water splayed from a fountain as though it was dancing in the sunlight.
Two children came running towards them, abandoning their amah in her black trousers and starched white jacket. Everyone was smiling. The younger child, a girl of about ten, flung herself into her father’s arms, the other, a young boy about Philip’s age, smiled at Bette as Tony introduced her to them.
‘This young man is Toby and the little miss is Connie.’
‘I’m so pleased to meet you both,’ said Bette. ‘Thank you for having me to your house.’
‘James and Eunice are both at boarding school in England. Toby will be heading there shortly, as well,’ said Tony.
Both children greeted Bette warmly. Their manners were impeccable and any curiosity they had about their father’s friend was carefully hidden, but Bette thought that they seemed to be kindly disposed towards her. Then she became aware of another woman walking slowly into the courtyard. She was dressed in a batik sarong topped by a richly patterned silk batik tunic fastened with carved buttons and a jewelled clip. Her hair was pulled smoothly, tightly, into a bun, which was pinned with a jade ornament.
‘Bette, I would like you to meet Madam Chang, my mother-in-law,’ said Tony.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ said Bette, taking the fingertips of the hand the older woman held out.
‘You are welcome to the house of Tsang.’ She turned and spoke swiftly in the baba patois of Malaya and Hokkien to the servants standing behind her. Then she said to Bette, ‘Tea is ready upstairs.’ Her English was clear and very precise. ‘You are the first Australian lady we have had to tea.’
‘I am honoured. What a beautiful house,’ exclaimed Bette as the two women followed Tony and the children up the carved staircase.
‘Tony’s parents, his great uncle and grandfather have all added to the original home. There is a lot of history in this house,’ said Madam Chang.
‘Did you come to live here when Mai Ling married Tony?’ asked Bette.
‘Yes. I was a widow and I came to help Mai Ling with the children, and of course I stayed when Mai Ling was killed.’
They entered a pretty room with tall windows where a long table was set in a formal English style for afternoon tea. Chinese rugs, porcelain vases and dark carved furniture contrasted with the silver tea service and the gold-edged china. Jellies, cakes and delicate triangle sandwiches were spread along the table. Two amahs and a young nyonya house girl were there to serve them. When everyone was settled, Madam Chang lifted the large silver teapot and poured the golden tea into a fine bone china cup, which she handed to Bette.
Bette unfolded her linen napkin and caught Tony’s eye as he gave her a warm smile. Soon she was relaxed and laughing as the children giggled and told stories about each other. Connie explained to Bette that she had just received her first bicycle, a dark green Raleigh. She couldn’t ride it yet but after tea would Bette please come and watch her practise?
The time passed quickly. When tea was over, they went outside into the garden and Connie showed Bette her bicycle. When Bette showed them that she could ride it, they all clapped in appreciation of her talents. While Bette had an idea of what the rest of the large house might be like and the treasures it contained, it was clear to her that, above all, it was a boisterous, happy family home.
‘You were a big success. The children enjoyed you,’ said Tony as he drove her back to the hotel.
‘They are delightful, and a credit to you.’
‘I must share your compliment with Madam Chang. She is very conscious of her position,’ said Tony. Then he added, with a grin, ‘But she is old now, and she would never have ridden that bicycle!’
‘I hope it wasn’t too unladylike!’ joked Bette.
‘No. And they want you to come again. Perhaps we could arrange an outing?’
‘That would be lovely,’ said Bette and she meant it. Despite the formality and opulence of the Tsang mansion, it was filled with laughter and a sense of cooperation. The atmosphere was very different from the mood at Utopia.
By now Bette was utterly in love with Tony Tsang, and it seemed that he was fascinated with her. But while their passionate embraces held a promise of mutual longing, Tony made no moves to take things further.
Seeing Bette looking rather wistful and thoughtful one morning, Tony asked if everything was all right.
‘I have a letter from my parents. They are concerned about my frittering away my time here. It seems Margaret has told them about my relationship with you.’
‘And they disapprove. Do they say that our friendship would be inappropriate in your society?’ asked Tony.
‘No, not at all. They make no mention of anything like that. My father, however, is concerned about the communist insurgency and the news of attacks on Europeans. There seems to be a lot about it in the Australian newspapers,’ said Bette. ‘He wants me to come home before things get out of hand, as he puts it.’
‘That’s understandable,’ said Tony calmly. ‘Fathers worry about their daughters. Has he suggested that Margaret returns also?’
‘I have no idea. I imagine that he is leaving the decision about what is best for her to her husband.’
‘Then it’s very clear what you should do, my sweet Bette.’ As she gave him a curious look, he said, ‘You must marry me so I will look after you.’ He took her hand. ‘I’ve been wanting to say this for some time. Would you marry me?’
Bette stared at the gentle, loving and humorous man she adored. She’d just loved being with him and tried to live for every moment they were together, not daring to think past each day. She had never dreamed that Tony would offer to be by her side for all the days of her life. But now that the words were there, hanging between them, she knew this was very right. And very wonderful. She flung her arms about him.
‘Oh, yes, Tony. Yes, yes.’
13
Penang, 1950
THE WEDDING WAS INTIMATE, fifty guests at a reception at the E&O Hotel following a ceremony in St George’s church and then an offering at a Buddhist temple.
Tony had explained that traditionally, Straits Chinese weddings were hugely elaborate twelve-day celebrations.
‘I don’t expect to follow the baba custom,’ said Bette. ‘And your family may consider me to be an outsider.’
‘Don’t think that,’ said Tony. ‘My family and friends are so happy for me. They adore you. But times have changed since the w
ar and large ceremonies are not as common as they once were.’
Bette wore a beautiful white silk dress, with a veil held by a tiara of jasmine buds. Her shoes were made by the family cobbler, small-heeled silk shoes in the Malay slipper style, heavily embroidered with beads. She carried a breathtaking bouquet of Singapore orchids.
Madam Chang told Tony that some of the old customs should continue to be observed, and so she decorated the bridal chamber in the traditional manner. The carved, canopied bed in the master bedroom was hung with embroidered curtains and lengths of silk, which were held open by gold filigree clasps. The bed cushions and bolsters were covered in specially embroidered silk and satin covers, and decorated with silver and gold threads. Special pots and jars holding fragrant potpourri, incense and lucky talismans were hung in the room.
‘I’m pleased she passed on some of the other old customs, especially the rooster and hens under the bed,’ said Tony when he saw Madam Chang’s efforts.
Bette wondered how many other customs Madam Chang might insist on observing and she raised the matter with Tony. ‘I’m concerned about my relationship with Madam Chang. She has lived here a long time and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable about my being here.’
‘Madam Chang is very fond of you, but I think she’s worried that your mother might want to move in and run the household,’ said Tony reassuringly.
‘There’s no chance of that! Anyway, Madam Chang organises everything so well I wouldn’t want to interfere. But what will I actually do?’ asked Bette.
Tony kissed her. ‘Make me happy and be a friend and adviser to the children. Does that suit you?’
‘It certainly does,’ said Bette. ‘But I don’t want Madam Chang to feel like a servant, waiting on me.’
‘There’s no question of that,’ said Tony. ‘She takes her position of matriarch very seriously. And you can always ask her about some of the old baba customs and ways, even if we decide not to observe them.’
*
Bette decided to follow one of her own traditions at her wedding by carrying something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. For the something blue she tucked an aerogram letter from her mother, which had arrived several days beforehand, into her handbag. While it made Bette sad, it was a bittersweet reminder of her family. In it Winifred had written:
While I can’t say that I approve of your choice of husband, you are my daughter and I pray for your happiness and wellbeing. Margaret has told me that she is very shocked by your flouting of society’s conventions and the way we’ve raised you, but she says that things are done differently in Malaya. She tells me that this man is very rich so I hope you will always be comfortable. I worry about any children you might have from this union. They would have a hard time being accepted here in Australia. But you have always been an independent girl, Bette, so I shouldn’t be surprised by your decision. Your father also prays for your happiness. I don’t understand why you want to live there with people whose lives and customs are so different from our own, but I will hold my tongue. We are very happy to have Margaret and Caroline here on a visit.
Your loving mother, Winifred
For their wedding, Tony gave Bette a beautiful gold filigree necklace of delicate flower stars and he wore a single matching star on the lapel of his suit. He had already given Bette several pieces of elaborate jewellery, but Bette liked the simpler pieces better. So her wedding ring was a plain engraved gold band. Her engagement ring was a cluster of diamonds set in a shape that, Tony told her, was called bujur kana, meaning oval-shaped olive. Bette loved it, not just because the diamonds were so pretty and she liked the shape of the ring, but because Tony had given it to her.
The wedding was joyful and Tony’s children genuinely enjoyed the occasion, welcoming it as a way of recognising that Bette was now part of their lives. Before the event Bette had spoken privately to each of them, explaining that she would never be able to take their mother’s place, but she hoped that they would see her as a friend and someone who could make their father happy.
On their wedding night, in the silky shadows of the great Chinese bed, Tony and Bette made love. It was gentle and tender, and wild and passionate. They found themselves joined in an embrace in which they cried out and clung together, releasing and sharing pleasure, grief and joy. Afterwards, as they lay together in each other’s arms, Bette knew that they would be happy forever.
She didn’t need to fret that she might not be able to fill her days because Bette found every day to be wonderful, filled with interesting people, places, activities, all reinforced by the knowledge that marrying Tony was the most fulfilling thing she had ever done.
She was fascinated by everything that went on in the new society she had joined. She began to notice the jewel-lery worn by the women, and she began to learn more about its significance. Jewellery was a woman’s inheritance, worn on special occasions to show wealth and standing. Even the amahs had gold earrings and jade bangles and special pieces given to them by employers for their long-term security. Bette had no desire to display her wealth, thinking that this Chinese custom was somewhat vulgar.
But her attitude to jewellery was in sharp contrast to her thoughts about the treasures that surrounded her in Rose Mansion. As she explored the house, she was entranced by the antiques and collections of objet d’arts. She decided to catalogue them and she even thought of writing and illustrating a small book about Rose Mansion, its history and its contents.
The years slid by. Periodically she fretted about the lack of contact from her parents and the complete silence from Margaret, but Bette was making a life of her own. She had been completely accepted by Tony’s children, who loved her, and apart from the pointed lack of enthusiasm for her marriage from her own family, the only sadness in her life was the knowledge she could not have children. She had been to all the best specialists but they all told her the same thing. The years of malnutrition, illness and deprivation in the POW camp had taken its toll on her body. Still, she was very happy to involve herself in the lives of the four Tsang children. She continued painting and began to study Chinese ceramics. She was very happy when Tony, who’d seen Roland in KL, told her that Philip was loving his boarding school.
While she and Madam Chang could not be considered close, they respected each other. Bette always put one day a week aside to play mah jong with Madam Chang and her friends. They played in a special games room, where the shutters were closed to the noise from the street. Tables were set up for one or more groups of four, and laughter, shouts, and the constant clacking and banging of the mah jong tiles echoed in the room. Madam Chang was a ferocious player, set in her rituals designed to bring her good luck, and she was a heady gambler. Bette found the game challenging, but she enjoyed it as much for the energy, enthusiasm and sometimes ribald humour of the women, who all spoke English so that she could join in, as she did for the gambling. Madam Chang always organised a lunch of numerous dainty dishes, which could be eaten quickly so as not to interrupt the games. Before the women departed, exclaiming over their wins and losses, afternoon tea and cakes were served.
Bette and Tony travelled a lot. Tony shared details of his business with her, and Bette accompanied him on trips to Europe as well as to the neighbouring countries in South East Asia. They had a busy social life with an eclectic circle of friends. While things were different from the prewar days, Bette still enjoyed the expatriate camaraderie as well as the company of the locals with their different ethnic backgrounds. British, Malay, Indian, Chinese, and their many combinations, made for a richly diverse circle of friends. Occasionally she met an Australian, but discussed neither Australia nor her family with them. As far as everyone was concerned, Bette was Mrs Tony Tsang, one half of an exotic, wealthy, charming, Penang family.
Strangely, in spite of the neglect from her family, Bette never felt that she was completely cut off from them. She thought it was just a state of hiatus. She had suggested to her parents a couple of times that sh
e could visit them, but they always seemed unenthusiastic about the idea. And then time had a way of slipping by without her noticing and now she rarely stopped to dwell on what changes might have taken place back in Brisbane preferring instead, if she did think of them, to recall happy childhood memories. So it came as a shock to receive a letter from home, written by Margaret, telling her that their father had died.
I did try to telephone your house but the language problem was difficult. I understood you were away, so we presumed you would not have been able to get back in time for the funeral. Mother is weepy but coping, and Caroline and I are here to help her. It was a short illness, and unexpected, though he wasn’t a young man. But the main thing is he didn’t suffer. He left everything to Mother, naturally, so I presume that is all right by you. Mother will continue to live in the house, and sends her best wishes. She hopes you remember your father as the good man he was.
Margaret
Bette felt tears trickle down her cheeks. Sadness for her father, then guilt that she had never been back to see him, and then anger and hurt at learning about his death and funeral in such a casual manner.
She showed the letter to Tony. ‘Can you believe Margaret?’
‘I am sorry, darling. I know that you wanted to go home for a visit.’
‘This is my home!’ said Bette vehemently. ‘I wonder who Margaret spoke to?’
‘Does it matter who it was? At least she and Caroline are there in Brisbane, so your mother is being looked after. But you’re right. She should have tried harder to contact you when it happened,’ said Tony.
Bette nodded. ‘I wonder if she told Philip. Not that he ever knew his grandfather.’ She pushed thoughts of Margaret aside and sat down to reflect on her father. Tony asked one of the servants to bring them some tea and then he sat beside her, ready to listen.