*****
Nelly spent the night in Mary’s house. The following day, she returned to Kuala Lumpur. In the short time she spent with her children and Mary, she learnt about all that happened after she left Singapore well over twenty-five years earlier. Several years after her departure, Woo Pik Soo, her husband and tormentor, had died of a massive heart attack. Mary and the children were in Johor when the Japanese first started bombing Singapore and were able to escape the worst of the damage. After the war, the Woo’s business flourished and both children excelled in school and eventually went on to study first at the University of Singapore and then later on in Australia.
It was clear to Nelly that both Chai-chai and Mei-mei were close to Mary and viewed her as their mother. They spoke without rancour because they understood how their birthmother, Nelly, needed to escape from the continuous beatings and abuse of their father. But she sensed in their tale that they did not miss her because in Mary they found the mother they had always believed they had. Nelly recalled her hurt when she first learnt that her children did not remember her. She could still recall that one occasion when she tried to make contact. They had looked at her without a flicker of recognition when she had gone to the school playground to see them. Over time the hurt had eased, replaced by an understanding and acceptance that the shift in affection and affiliation was inevitable. In fact she welcomed the outcome for their sake.
They had exchanged news late into the night until exhausted they went to bed. Nelly felt a renewed bond with her children. However, with a sharp twinge of guilt, she realised that this bond was not as strong as the one she shared with An Mei. It was at that point that she could see herself in Mary’s place. I am to An Mei what Mary is to my own children. Yes, I will maintain contact with Chai-chai and Mei-mei, but I will still keep some distance to give Mary space. She deserves it, she thought. The guilt that had plagued her for intruding into their lives after her abandonment of them seemed to dissipate after this decision. She sensed a real physical relief. They did not hate her. A serene smile crept over her face. Both children had pointedly asked her to stop calling them by their childhood nickname when in company.
“It would not do,” said Mary “for you to call them by their childhood names. Professionally Chai-chai is Dr. Jeremy Woo and Mei-mei is Dr. Jane Woo. Jane is a medical doctor; Jeremy has a PhD in economics. They both adopted English names when they were studying abroad. They experienced such problems when they used their full Chinese names that eventually they gave in to the demands of their friends to have ‘proper’ names!”
“Jeremy, Jane,” she whispered to herself, “hai ho tang, good sounding names.”
*****
“Where have you been?” An Mei asked the minute Nelly stepped from the train on to the platform in Kuala Lumpur. “Let me carry your holdall,” she said taking the little grey bag from her aunt. “Why all that secrecy? Maan sook said that you turned up in the office and went out immediately leaving only a message for me. And what a message! ‘I am going to Singapore and will be back shortly.’ This is not like you. Why did you go? What is wrong? What happened?”
“What about a hug first?” replied Nelly, her face beaming with joy.
An Mei dropped the bag on the floor and hugged Nelly tight. “I missed you. I was so worried that father would call while you were away.”
“Well,” said Nelly, “it did worry me a bit, but I had to go. Let’s get into the car and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chapter 14
An Mei wove her way between the chairs, desk and boxes of samples in the tiny office, arranging and re-arranging them. She could not settle down. She had tried calling Hussein but could not reach him and he had not called back. She could not bear the silence and felt herself wavering between the decisions open to her. What if he changed his mind under the pressure of his parents? Was he not there because he did not want to take her calls? Doubts crept into her mind. Then there was the phone call from her father asking how Nelly and she were getting on in the shops. He had not asked specifically about Hussein. He was, as Nelly had pointed out, pretending that nothing had happened. But the unspoken question was there. She felt it in every nuance, every question he asked. Nelly’s sudden revelation on her return from Singapore added yet another dimension to her confusion — her aunt had a separate family of her own! How could that be? She could not bear sharing Nelly, even if it was with her own children.
Nevertheless her curiosity drove her to devour the photographs Nelly had bought back with a voracity that surprised even her. The young man, Jeremy, was tall and slim. His face had little of Nelly. She observed the strong chin, the determined mouth and the pair of steady eyes under thick eyebrows that spoke of strength and commitment. Involuntarily, she compared him to Hussein with his handsome brown face and charismatic charm. In Jane, she saw what Nelly might have been when she was young, with calm almond eyes, beautiful in their serenity and pale, pale skin. “She has such beautiful hair,” she had complimented her aunt and was taken aback by the happiness and pride in Nelly’s face. She felt a pang of jealousy and then remorse over her own selfishness.
Nelly watched her from the corner of the office. She had a stack of files in front of her and was going over the books and accounts. “Sit down or you will wear down the floor. I need you to help me out and learn this. You will take this over eventually.”
“Are you going to tell father?” asked An Mei.
“You mean about my seeing Jeremy and Jane. Yes, but not right now. When I first met your father, I told him of my previous life. So, he knows about them.”
“What should I do?” asked An Mei switching to her own immediate concerns. “Hussein is not returning my calls.”
“Perhaps he does not know you called. When is he supposed to come to see you? Is he back on the East coast with his parents?”
“I believe so. I was so sure of what to do but now, after days of not hearing from him, I am confused once again. My resolve weakens each time I speak to father on the phone. I feel so guilty. I feel like I am cheating, lying to him.”
“What you need is interesting work. With work, you will be able to focus your mind on something that has a beginning and an end. It leaves you less time to brood.”
“Tell me Aunty Nelly. Am I right to come back to Kuala Lumpur to be with Hussein? Am I right to hurt my father with my selfishness, to involve you in this deception?”
“We’ve been through all these questions. There is never a clear right or wrong. But it is certainly wrong if Hussein is not prepared to commit himself. Then all the sacrifices you have made would be meaningless. You will have hurt your family for nothing. If that is the case, you should think of going back to Oxford before your father learns of our deception.”
An Mei did not like being reminded that she might consider returning to Oxford. Her face changed from fretful to glum. She was so torn. When she was with Hussein, things seemed so much clearer, but away from him, one thought chased after another until she became completely muddled.
“Perhaps you need a more challenging job to keep your mind occupied,” continued Nelly. “When I mentioned to Jeremy your interest in looking for work, he said that his bank’s office in Kuala Lumpur is looking to recruit a banking executive. If selected, you will be trained. From what I understand from him, new recruits have to undergo rigorous training programmes. Then in the evenings, you could help me out with this,” she said, pointing to the files of correspondence and accounts, “it would not be such a deception on my part because you will still be helping me out. I can say so with conviction to your father. You will also be too busy to fret like you are now.” Nelly smiled to take the edge off her words. “Fretting is not going to get you anywhere. Perhaps, this will cheer you up. Jenny is back in Kuala Lumpur. She flew back yesterday. She was curious to know what happened at my meeting with my children and she has cut short her stay in Oxford. We are meeting her for dinner.”
*****
An Mei dressed with
extra care that evening. She looked at the image in the mirror and for the first time in days, she smiled. The new hairstyle suited her. Nelly had sent her to the hairdresser, having failed to get her to settle down in the office. Her hair swung freely, a sheen of black descending to her bare shoulders. Nelly had given her a pair of gold and ruby stud earrings to wear with her simple white cotton shift, caught at the shoulders with two thin shoe string straps, and white high-heeled sandals. Her eyes shone with excitement. She had caught the sun and her skin glowed with health. Jenny had called again to say that she had managed to get hold of Hussein and had persuaded his parents to let him accompany her to a function. They were not in the East coast. They were in Kuala Lumpur because Hussein was being considered for a post in UMNO, the main Malay political party. An Mei could feel her heartbeat quickening. All thoughts and doubts as to why he had not called when he was in Kuala Lumpur temporarily left her mind.
*****
Jenny gently nudged Hussein towards the sofa. She sat herself down. “We have time to talk before we meet up with An Mei and Nelly,” she said looking up. “Do sit down,” patting the seat adjacent to her. “It is such a strain to have you towering over me.” She had collected Hussein from his family home and driven him to her house rather than the restaurant where they were to meet An Mei. “Now tell me everything.”
He looked sheepish; he recalled the way he had answered her when she warned him of his parent’s likely opposition. He had been rude, even insulting. He walked away from her and sat down on an armchair.
“You were right,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “my parents are dead set against our marriage. Father has conceded that I can continue seeing An Mei, but only if we are discreet and quiet about our relationship. At least for the moment, marriage will be out of the question unless I ignore my parents. This, however, would mean that I would have to sever my relationship with them and to tell you the truth, I am reluctant to do that.”
Afraid, more likely, she thought to herself as she saw the nervous tick at the corner of his mouth. She was surprised at the change in him. The confident young man she knew in Oxford had all but disappeared.
Hussein pressed both his hands into his temple, ruffling his hair, feeling its unaccustomed shortness. He had cut his hair as his father had ordered. He could not bear to have Jenny staring and appraising him. He felt himself slipping away. The stranglehold of his familial ties had wiped out all the independence he had felt in England. The bravado he had shown to Jenny when he challenged her advice was long gone and in its place he could only offer excuses.
“I am so confused. They have packed each day with so much activity in the name of advancing my career that I have hardly any time to myself. I have not even been able to call An Mei,” he confessed. “My parents are with me every single moment of the day. Can you help? Talk to them?”
“I would if I could, but I doubt they would pay much attention to me.” Jenny paused, her brow etched with concern. “An Mei will be devastated. Have you told her the truth, that you cannot marry her? You have to. Otherwise, she will be deluded into staying and waiting for you.”
“I tried to but she is convinced that, if I can find my own way and she hers, we will be able to marry once we are financially independent and that our parents would eventually reconcile themselves to the fact that we are in deeply in love.”
“And you? Do you feel the same way?”
“I don’t really know.”
*****
An Mei and Nelly were already seated at the table when Jenny and Hussein arrived. They made their way to the far corner of the dimly lit restaurant, threading carefully between the scatter of seats and tables around the central floor space that had been kept clear for the evening’s entertainment. Despite the return to normality, few of the tables were occupied. People were still wary of going out. A Malay folk dance group was promised as the night’s attraction and already the drums and cymbals were laid out. A tinkling of chords sounded and suddenly, with a roll of drums, the dancers took to the floor. Lights flashed and as they flexed their bare feet and stamped to the music, jumping deftly between clapping bamboos, their anklet bells tinkled. Hussein seemed transfixed by the stylised gestures of the dancers, their brightly painted faces and elaborate hairstyles and costumes.
“Come, they are waiting for us,” said Jenny impatiently, sensing his reluctance to move. She was determined that Hussein should tell An Mei the truth. Hussein’s changed manner alarmed her. He was nothing more than a shell of the once dynamic young man at Oxford.
Hussein was even more nervous than he had been moments ago in Jenny’s house. When they reached the table, all he could do was say hello to An Mei and Nelly. He looked at An Mei and then guiltily turned away to address Nelly. An Mei’s face tugged at his heartstrings; he just could not bring himself to look her in the eye. He could not focus his thoughts; he fretted over Jenny’s insistence that he should tell An Mei the truth. He smiled weakly. His eyes caught An Mei’s briefly, and then, almost abruptly, he looked away again.
The smile on An Mei’s face vanished. She was puzzled by his behaviour. The excitement and anticipation that had led her to make such an effort with her appearance were extinguished as rapidly as they had arisen. Her shoulders sagged. Nelly, who was sitting next to her, could sense her changing emotions. She grasped An Mei’s elbow, squeezing it gently to instil strength and give her support. She felt An Mei straighten herself imperceptibly.
“Let’s order and get that out of the way,” Jenny said, gesturing to the waitress to take the orders. “Then, we’ll talk. Hussein wants to say something to you.”
Hussein started. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” answered Jenny, her voice firm and uncompromising.
Irritated by Jenny’s insistence, his resentment at being manipulated by everyone surged. He felt betrayed by Jenny, when he thought she should help him out. “All right, I will, but not here. And not in front of everyone,” he said, all traces of the uncertainty and guilt that had clouded his face earlier, gone. “Come An Mei, let us get out of here.”
So saying he took her hand and, half dragging her to her feet, ushered her out of the restaurant without a backward glance at the two older ladies. Once they were outside in the courtyard, he turned to An Mei. His eyes that had been waxing and waning in guilt and confusion suddenly came into focus. And An Mei saw the decisive Hussein of old. Yet, something had changed. She could not place it and withdrew her hand from his tight grasp.
“I love you,” he said in a rush. “I want you to share a life with me. Isn’t it enough to be with me and to share in every aspect of my life? Is marriage so important that you would rather relinquish our being together for its sake? You will be my wife in every sense of the word, except officially. Wouldn’t that be enough?”
The words poured out of him, the same words that his father had said to him day in and day out for the past week. He had insisted that Hussein could have An Mei as his soul mate so long as it was not official. “If she loves you,” he had said, “that should suffice for her. If she loves you,” he had repeated, “she would do this for you and she would understand. Test her.” Gradually, Hussein’s original views weakened. He felt that the only way he could have An Mei was to do as his father bade him. Jenny’s insistence that he told An Mei the truth to set her free angered him. He wanted An Mei and the more he spoke the words of his father to her, the more convinced he became that this was the best way out of his dilemma. He had no doubt about his love for An Mei, but equally he was in no doubt that he would find it hard to make a life of his own without the support of his parents. And if they were to be actively against him, all chances of his making good in politics would be gone. To be part of the ruling political party was now within his grasp and already he could see himself rising in its ranks. To deal in politics in Oxford, surrounded by peers and teachers who hail independence of thought and freedom of speech, was entirely different from the real world of politics. It was, as his fat
her and mother kept reminding him, not a question of how qualified you are, but how many strings could be manipulated to help you.
An Mei tried to pull away from him. He reached out to restrain her, accidentally catching her shift dress at the waist. There was a sound of tearing as the shoulder strap gave way under the strain of his tug and her pull.
“No!” she cried out, drawing the bodice of her shift closer to her. The sharp sound and her cry brought two waitresses running out to the courtyard. Already puzzled by the earlier commotion when Hussein unceremoniously marched An Mei out to the courtyard, they had been hovering by the door to follow what was happening.
“Can we help?” they asked looking at An Mei’s distraught face, worried that the restaurant would become caught up in a dispute between the couple. They knew from recent events that what seemed like a quarrel between lovers could turn into an ugly fight when people of two different ethnic origins were involved.
Hussein turned to them in fury. “Go! This does not concern you. We are just having a discussion.”
“No! Don’t go,” An Mei called to the two girls. Turning to Hussein, she said, “I have nothing more to say to you. You have changed. You were the one who persuaded me to come back to KL with you. I defied my parents for you and broke their hearts. I thought we had agreed that we should make our own way and marry and that we should then win over our parents into accepting our marriage. You have reneged on all we agreed. Go! If anyone is to go, it should be you.” She turned, brushing his hand away from her and, holding her dress strap, began heading back into the restaurant.
Bitter Sweet Harvest Page 9