“What are they for then? Scrubbing chamber pots?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. Bai Choo knew that it was cruel; Li Ling’s constant taunting always brought out the worst in her.
“Your wicked words will not hurt me. It takes one chamber pot scrubber to recognise another. Perhaps that is why Da Wei never visits you. The stench must be too much for him.”
Bai Choo’s eyes misted. Li Ling’s words hit a raw wound. Her marriage to Da Wei had yet to be consummated. Her mother- in-law had tried to pry the information from her. The white bolt of cloth that had been given to her to line the bed was yet unused. It was to be presented as evidence of their union to her mother-in-law. It stayed in Bai Choo’s wardrobe. Each time she opened the cupboard, it gleamed dazzling white, reminding her that she had not done her wifely duty, the duty to conceive a child, a male child. She was not a good daughter-in-law.
“It is lucky that Li Ling is pregnant At least, we know it is your barrenness that is at fault and that it is nothing to do with our son,” Da Wei’s mother had said.
“How can it not be due to her son?” Bai Choo had wanted to scream at her nai-nai. Instead she demurred, choking her anger with a smile.
Li Ling patted her abdomen and gave a sigh of satisfaction. No longer constrained by yards of cloth binding it, her pregnancy was obvious. She did not care that the servants gossiped. She relished the torment on Bai Choo’s face when she saw her growing belly. Why should Bai Choo’s situation trouble her? No one had given her any love, not even her own mother. Her mother had sent her away on the flimsy excuse of rescuing her from the warlord and a life of being a second wife. What was she now but a second wife? Shao Peng promised her great things, only to let her down. If they had allowed her to stay on with the Ong family she was convinced that Siew Loong would have married her. He had already shown every signs of being in love with her. If that had happened, then she would not be in this situation. She would not be married to Da Wei. So why should she have any pity on others? They had none for her.
Li Ling got up. “I am going in to rest. Don’t bother me. I’ll see you at dinner.” Tossing her head, she brushed past Bai Choo.
Bai Choo’s hand shot out. She grabbed Li Ling’s arm. Li Ling shook it away and strode out of the room.
Once ensconced in her own bedroom, Li Ling’s face fell. Da Wei had not visited her for over a week. She was not going to let anyone see her hurt and her bewilderment. Once more the gods had not been kind to her. What was the point of being good? Everything that she had been taught in the past led to nothing. She would not be a flash of water that would disappear. If she disappeared she would make sure the soil was stained forever, that nothing would grow out of it.
***
Aishah waited in the field that dipped gently away from the house. She stood partially hidden by a copse of trees and surrounded by tall lalang. Razor like, the grass came up to her waist, bending and whipping around her with the wind, their sharp blades cutting her arms. She was oblivious. She had been coming to the same spot for days, hoping to see Jack. She wondered if he was still ill.
Impatient to know what was going on, she crept up the gentle slope towards the hedge that circled the house. She bowed low to keep her head out of view. The evening had come early. She put out her hand brushing it along the foliage to guide her way. Odd that in the dark, what was familiar became strange. The leaves rustled as she brushed past. She came to the spot where she had buried the doll. She stopped. She stooped to peer closer. Someone had patched over it with grass. She knelt down and began pulling the turfs of green; her movements were frantic and urgent.
“Looking for something?”
Aishah turned. Standing over her was Rohani and the gardener, their silhouettes dark and menacing with the moonlight above. Behind them stood her guardian, Mahmud, the man she feared above all, the man who had taken her in when she lost her parents. Her hands flew to her face; she flinched as though she had been slapped.
“Get up!” Mahmud commanded.
“Were you looking for this?” Rohani asked. The gardener handed Rohani a brown bag. She thrust it into Aishah’s hand, “Look inside. Is this your doing?”
“No!”
Mahmud took a step towards her. His hand was bunched up into a fist. Aishah, still crouching, half scrambled to get away and fell back with a thud.
“Don’t hit her,” cried Rohani. She could understand why Aishah was cringing. Mahmud’s face was alarming; his bushy eyebrows were drawn together and his moustache was literally bristling.
“Gila! Mad!” he shouted. “I’ll teach you a lesson.” He turned to Rohani. “I am sorry for all the trouble. I was not joking when I said that she is mad. She might look perfectly normal but she is not. She has obsessive behaviours. Like the time when she loved a cat. She petted it and fussed round it so much that it died under her hands. That was not the only time. There were other incidents. I whip her and she is good for a while. Then there is another relapse. I don’t know what else to do. Whipping is the only thing she understands.”
“Whip her? You must not do such a thing. We just want her to stop stalking Mr Webster and to stop harassing my daughter, Mr Webster’s wife. That is enough. Remember, you must promise that you will not hit her.”
Mahmud glared defiantly at Rohani. His lips quivered with unspoken angry words. Weakling, he thought though he did not say. He shot out his hand and caught hold of Aishah’s arm; his fingers pressed into it like claws. She whimpered.
“Come with me.” Without a further word, he strode off dragging the girl with him. “You won’t be troubled by her again.” His words echoed in the wind.
***
In the house, not a hundred yards away, all was quiet. An oil lamp was burning bright. Beneath its warm glow, Jack sat reading. Shao Peng lay with her head on his lap and her book opened on her chest. She could not settle down to read. She stared vacantly ahead, looking, though not seeing, the flying insects milling around the light. They were like ants drawn to honey.
Jack sensed her quiet and placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She answered by taking his hand and placing it on her lips. She kissed it. Her lips felt parched dry. The sudden pains had exhausted her. They came and went without warning. One moment she was fine and the next she was in agony.
“I am worried for the baby,” she whispered. “And I am so tired.”
Jack placed his hand on her belly. There was hardly a swell to be seen. “We’ll get Dr Rodwell over tomorrow. Perhaps he could give you something to settle the pain.”
“I don’t want any opium. It would hurt the baby. Maybe the pain will vanish tomorrow.”
Shao Peng closed her eyes. “I saw my stepmother this afternoon. She came to the house to see how I was. It was very kind of her because I know that she is busy with the wedding arrangements. She had someone with her. Someone called Mahmud. Rohani said that he would be working for my brother. She has been popping in with him these last few days.”
“Mahmud? Does he have a scar here?” Jack drew his finger over his cheek.
“Yes. A rather nasty looking scar although it is partly camouflaged by his thick moustache and sideburns.”
“I know of him. He recruits Indian workers for many of the coffee plantations here. He came to the country some fifteen years ago and worked as a labourer in a sugar plantation. Many of our planters found him able and intelligent and appointed him as their intermediary for recruiting his fellow kinsmen into this country. He commands a sizeable Indian work force, all indentured to work in these plantations. He married a Malay girl. He has no children himself except for an adopted daughter.”
“It is strange that my stepmother came with him. Perhaps, they were on the way to meet Siew Loong and just dropped in to see me, though I don’t quite understand why he accompanied her every day this past week. Perhaps Siew Loong is thinking of using him to recruit workers for planting rubber.”
“Perhaps,
” said Jack closing his book.
Chapter 28
A WEEK PASSED. During that time, the pains that had racked Shao Peng’s body rendering her weak and listless gradually eased. She began to sleep better. One morning she woke up to find herself totally free of pain. She must have slept through the whole night for the sun was already up. The bright sunshine that filtered through the window shutters took her by surprise. She had become used to waking up during the night. She cast off the sheets and swung both legs on to the floor. She was ravenous. She stood up, tested her legs gingerly, and went out of the bedroom in search of Ah Kew. Jack, she surmised, must have gone to work.
“Aiyah! Why didn’t you call for me? Get back to bed!” Ah Kew was horrified by the sudden arrival of her mistress in the kitchen.
“I’m fine. I only want to get something to eat.”
“Sit, sit! Ah Kew pulled out a chair. “I’ll make tea and warm up some savoury buns. They are your favourite. I made them with sweet roast pork.” She piled a plate full of milky white buns and placed it in a rattan casket to steam. Then she lifted the lid off a wok filled with bubbling hot water. Carefully she sat two pairs of chopsticks crosswise in the boiling water and placed the rattan casket on it. Soon the kitchen was filled with the warm smell of yeast and roast pork.
“Takes no time to warm them up this way.”
“Ingenious,” said Shao Peng, marvelling at Ah Kew’s improvisation.
“You have not been eating properly for days. You must now eat more to make up for it. Thank goodness you do not suffer from morning sickness.”
Ah Kew placed a bowl and a small dish of soya sauce before Shao Peng. Then she heaped the bowl with rice porridge. “Eat! There are thin slices of fish, ginger and spring onions in it. Eat!” she repeated, handing yet another dish to tempt her palate. “Pickled turnips; helps whet your appetite.”
“Stop! I can’t eat that much.”
No amount of protest, however, could deter Ah Kew’s determination that her young mistress should eat. She fussed, rushing from stove to table and back again.
“I am so glad that you are feeling better. You got us very worried. Thank the Goddess of Mercy for your recovery. Thank Big Mistress for helping out.”
Ah Kew stopped and threw a guilty glance at Shao Peng to see if she heard.
“How did she help?” asked Shao Peng, picking up her chopstick.
“Nothing. Just nonsense that tripped out of my mouth.” Ah Kew’s eyes darted towards her young mistress and back again to the pot of porridge she was stirring.
Shao Peng caught her eye and asked, “What were you showing my stepmother and the gentleman that came with her the other week?”
“Nothing of importance. He was just interested in the layout of the house. Don’t you worry about anything. Just think of yourself and the baby you are carrying.” Ah Kew dropped the ladle and moved the pot of porridge over to the side of the stove. She took a basin from the cupboard, turned it over to check that it was clean, and emptied a packet of white flour in.
“I can’t just sit at home and do nothing. I am worried about Li Ling. She is expecting and might need our help. I think I should visit her.”
Ah Kew opened her mouth and closed it again. She immersed her hand in the basin of flour and began to knead. There was no point in trying to stop her young mistress once she had made up her mind. She failed to see why Shao Peng should be fond of a girl who rejected her advances of good will.
***
Rohani was worried. She did not trust Mahmud nor did she trust Aishah to stop her pursuit of Jack. Someone must warn Jack. Siew Loong would have to do it. Goose pimples appeared on her arms like a rash of pin pricks. She recalled the incantations and rites performed by the bomoh that she had unwillingly engaged.
She went down the stairs, holding on to the banister. A week to go before the wedding and everything was almost ready. It was the one bright spot in her life. She was looking forward to it. Suet Ping was such a sweet and quiet girl. She was sure Siew Loong would be won over once he got to know her. She stopped half way down the stairs and looked out over to the entrance hallway. Red banners hung on the wall, each inscribed in beautiful calligraphy with poems in praise of the main virtues expected of women: morality, obedience, modesty and diligence. Flanking them were odes to manhood, of benevolence, propriety, righteousness, wisdom and honesty. They stood like flags, billowing gently with the breeze, their shadows undulating on the marble floor. Together the teachings formed the framework of Confucius’s teachings on behaviour.
Heavy red drapes hung over doors; in fact, everywhere she turned she saw a sea of red. She had allowed Ah Sook to make all the wedding arrangements. He insisted that red was a lucky colour. He explained that hong was the colour of prosperity, important if Master Siew Loong’s business ventures were to continue to expand and flourish. She nodded and agreed. It was simpler for her that way. The intricacies of Chinese customs and traditions were beyond her. When she met Ngao, such matters did not stand in their way. They had fallen in love and that was that. Life was simple then. She shrugged. What does it matter? She had no living relatives or parents who would object and whatever was done, was done with the best intentions.
She continued her way down the steps, her mind busy. Suet Ping’s family would appreciate such arrangements, she thought, and that was important. She was surprised to learn that they held on to traditional Chinese customs even more than her late husband in his later life. Although Ngao had a carefree attitude when he was young, when he acquired wealth and became associated with other wealthy Chinese families, his observance of Chinese customs grew. She had not expected her future inlaws to be so similarly inclined for Suet Ping’s maternal side were Malays. One thing she was certain, they would be easy to talk to for her prospective in-laws spoke mainly Malay. She smiled, reassured that her decision to pursue this marriage for her son was right.
There was a frenzy of activity in the sitting room. A servant was mopping the floor with a wet rag, while another was on her knees buffing the tiles until they shone. Another was busy polishing the furniture with a clear thin wax. Many scurried round the room carrying chairs and setting them around tables brought in to accommodate dinner guests. Table cloths were brought out, aired and placed on the tables.
“Where is Master Siew Loong?” she asked a passing servant.
“In there,” he replied, “in his office.”
From where she was, Rohani could see the doorway that opened to a room to the east of the house. She walked towards it. She stopped. A man was coming out of the room. She recognised him. It was Mahmud. She slipped quickly into an adjacent room used to store linen and odd bits of furniture. She didn’t want to meet him. He frightened her. He went passed her in a flurry of movements, his green tunic and brown sarong flashing by like a blur. Rohani waited until he was completely gone. Then she moved towards Siew Loong’s office.
***
Ah Su poked her head through the doorway. “You have a visitor,” the maid said standing at the threshold of Li Ling’s room. “She is in the sitting room. Your mother-in-law is with her. Please come with me.”
Ah Su could hardly see. The curtains were drawn tightly closed. The room was dank and dark. It smelt of sweat, urine and of unwashed bodies, a feral musty odour. She pinched her nose in disgust. A movement in the corner caught her eye and she moved a step towards it.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” Li Ling was huddled under a blanket. “I don’t want to see any one,” she said, clutching the seams of the blanket tightly to her bosom.
“It is Mistress Shao Peng from the Ong family. Wah! She came in a pony cart laden with gifts of fruits and baby garments for you.”
“Send her away. I don’t want them.”
Ah Su took a step closer. “Come! Nai nai won’t be pleased if you don’t show your face. You know how your mother-in- law hates to be kept waiting. I’ll help you clean up and we’ll go out together.” She edged further forward, her movements furtiv
e, one foot gingerly in front of the other.
Li Ling grabbed a shoe and hurled it. It hit Ah Su, bouncing off her shoulder to crash down onto the floor. “Get out! Get out! Who needs your help? Come any closer and I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
Without a word, Ah Su turned and ran out. There was little that she could do. If they wanted to fetch Master Da Wei’s wilful second mistress they would have to do it themselves. She was like a wild animal. Ah Su did not know what brought it on. Until a couple of days ago, the girl had been so brazen and boastful. She was under everyone’s feet, volunteering her opinions on every subject and above all taunting poor mistress Bai Choo.
Li Ling bolted the door. She knew it would be a pointless exercise. The lock was not secure broken two days ago when Da Wei came to the room. He was furious with her for locking him out. Fed up with his long absence and disgruntled by whispers that he was seeing someone else, someone even younger than her and prettier to boot, she had locked her door when she heard his approaching footsteps. She wanted to teach him a lesson. She would reject him as he had rejected and neglected her.
It drove him mad. He lashed out at her. He hit her harder than he had ever done before. He tore at her clothes. “Kneel! Turn over! Grasping her hair, he pushed her head down until it banged on the floor. He mounted her. She felt the sharp stab of pains as he pushed into her over and over, grunting with each thrust, oblivious to her pregnancy, oblivious that her belly was slapping hard on the floor. He rode her like a horse. Finished, he kicked her, his foot connecting with her cheek. It drew blood.
“Try locking the door again and you will get it even worse.”
He left. She sat huddled on the floor, steeling herself not to whimper, not to call for help. She would not leave the room. She did not want the other women in the house, especially Bai Choo, to see her. She would not let them have the pleasure of seeing her so humiliated. She grew hungry. The chamber pot filled till it almost overflowed. She remembered someone opening the door gently and pushing a bowl filled with rice and bits of vegetables and meat through the doorway. “Please eat for the baby,” the voice said. She recognised it as Bai Choo’s. Li Ling was appalled that she knew. She tried to starve herself. She would not touch the bowl. Hours passed. Night became day. Hunger gnawed. She could not help herself. She crawled on her knees to the bowl and began stuffing the rice into her mouth. Immediately, someone pushed a bowl of tea in through the gap in the door. Li Ling cried then. She was so ashamed.
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