Ruth placed the phone down. What a fool she was to think that Hugh would pick up the phone. More likely it would be May or a maid. It could not be a maid; the English was too good. She sat still, not knowing what to do.
The phone rang. Mark! Could it be Mark calling? Ruth snatched up the phone. “Mark?” she said.
This time it was the other side that remained silent.
Chapter 26
MAY PUT THE phone down. She was sure that it was Ruth. After the mysterious call she had immediately contacted the telephone operator and obtained the number of the caller. From there it was easy to trace the call to Mark’s house. But Mark was in London. He couldn’t have called. Unable to stop herself, she dialled the number. Even without ever having had direct contact with Ruth, she knew instinctively that it was her. It was an English voice, totally different from English spoken with a Malayan intonation.
May wondered why Ruth had called.
The sky was overcast outside. Great rolls of dark clouds formed and dispersed. A storm was brewing. The air was thick. Her chest felt tight, as though the weight of the atmosphere was pressing on her. It was quiet in the house, its silence adding to the oppression. With Mark away in London, she had not stood watch outside Craig’s school. Instead she went to see Fu Yi after she had dropped Craig off. May learnt that Mark had been to see Fu Yi. He had no idea that Craig was his son. However, all was not well with his marriage. Ruth, she learnt, was unhappy. At the market stall, over cups of hot steaming coffee, maids exchanged gossip about their employers. The gossip filtered through to Fu Yi who knew the coffee lady, and she in turn, repeated it to May. They talked about the tears Ruth shed when she was alone; her unaccompanied trip to Port Dickson and the sharp words exchanged between Ruth and Mark before he left for London. He did not return home after that quarrel; he left for London without a word to his wife or child.
May was stricken with guilt. Whether it was intentional or not, she had taken Mark away from Ruth in the past. She wanted to atone for it. She wanted to reassure Ruth that she had nothing to fear from May. Ruth needed a friend and May wanted to be that friend. Fu Yi’s account touched her. May pushed aside the niggling doubt in her mind that she might still love Mark. She would not put that to the test; she would avoid seeing him. She reminded herself that she loved her husband.
Yet, the thought of pushing herself forward and engineering a meeting with Ruth worried her. What if Ruth spurned her efforts? At least I would have tried, she countered. She fretted just thinking about it. What could she say to Ruth? How could she even start a conversation? Her thoughts switched one way and then the other. She could not reach a conclusion. All she knew was that she wanted to make amends. She wanted Ruth to be happy. She felt guilty. She had found happiness and was blessed with a husband who loved her, while Ruth and Mark were estranged. Hugh was going to do his part with Mark. She must do hers with Ruth.
Unable to shake off her thoughts, she decided that she would drop in at Fu Yi’s again, this time unannounced. There were still a couple of hours before she had to collect Craig from school. Talking to her would clear her mind. Fu Yi was like a parent to her and would not mince her words.
***
May climbed the narrow dark stairway to the second floor. It was hot and close in the building. She stepped into the dormitory, Fu Yi’s home. Light filtered through the front window. She could see washing hung out on lines thrust out through the window. Fu Yi was sitting on her bed with her back towards May. The confined airless dormitory, narrow beds packed close together and the old women on them struck her again. May felt her throat catch. She longed to take Fu Yi away from such surroundings.
“Aiyah! You are very popular, Fu Yi. So many people come to see you. You are lucky. Twice in one day!” said an old lady who was sitting facing the doorway. She had on a pair of black trousers hitched up to reveal a pair of legs that were so thin, that matchsticks might not be an inappropriate description. Fu Yi turned round immediately. She saw May.
“You here again! Is something wrong? You should not have come,” she admonished. “This is no place for you. Remember who you are. Let us get out, away from prying eyes.” Fu Yi glared at the woman who had spoken. Eight pairs of eyes watched them as they slowly made their way out of the dormitory.
May helped Fu Yi climb down the stairway. Sacks of dried fish stood cheek by jowl on the landing. At the bottom of the stairwell, an earthen vat of kiam chye stood with its lid open. The smell of salted fish and pickles rose to meet them as they descended the stairs.
“It is smelly here, May. You should not come. What would Master Hugh say?”
“He would not mind. He is Malayan at heart. You know that. He has eaten enough fermented fish paste and dried shrimps not to worry about such matters.”
They made their way into the bright sunshine outside. “Why have you come again? Why didn’t you warn me that you were coming?”
“You don’t have a telephone. In any case, if I had asked beforehand, you might not have let me see you.”
May steered Fu Yi to the coffee shop next door. They took a table further in. A young boy came and took their order. “So!” exclaimed Fu Yi after the boy left, “I hope you are not hankering after Master Mark. Is that what is troubling you that you need to see me twice in one day? Your first loyalty is to your husband and to your children.”
“I am not hankering after Mark. I told you! Lots of times. Don’t you trust me? I am worried about his wife, Ruth. Ever since you told me about her, I have felt guilty. For a period, that guilt was buried by my fear that Mark would find out about Craig. Now that I know that he does not know, my feelings of guilt have resurfaced in a different form. Particularly after I learnt from you this morning about how unhappy she is. Is there nothing I can do for her?”
May was bright red. She was indignant. She was not yearning for Mark. She wished Fu Yi would stop putting such thoughts in her head. No one but Hugh and Craig mattered to her.
“You should leave things be.”
“I want to make it up to her.”
“You must be mad. She won’t want to talk to you.” Fu Yi stirred condensed milk into her coffee and watched the brew change colour to a muddy brown. She slurped the hot coffee before returning the cup carefully to the saucer. “Listen. You can’t do anything. Salving your conscience might just make things worse for her.”
“I am not trying to salve my own conscience.” May was stung by Fu Yi’s sharp remark. “I want her and Mark to be happy, just as I have found happiness with Hugh.”
“The only way you could help her is to make sure that you let go of Master Mark. He still has very strong feelings for you. When he comes to see you, send him back to his wife.”
Fu Yi took May’s hands in hers. They were cold and small in Fu Yi’s gnarled ones. “I know you mean well. I am just telling things as they are. I don’t wish you to be hurt, nor your husband to be hurt, nor Master Mark and Ma’am Ruth. Don’t meddle.”
***
May left Chinatown and went straight to Craig’s school. She weaved the car through the congested narrow High Street before turning off into the leafy green suburbs towards the west. She wound down the windows. Warm air rushed in. She allowed it to dry her wet cheeks. Craig would be alarmed to see her that way. She had become very emotional; the doctor had explained that it was perfectly normal and had to do with her hormones. She placed her hand over her little bump. It had grown. A little tight hard round, not quite obvious except to the discerning eye. She found comfort in its presence. Unlike Ruth, at least she and Hugh had something joyful and wonderful to look forward to. She must do something for Ruth.
She parked at a side lane. It was congested with cars and children coming out from the schools. Boys marched out from the building to the left and girls from the building to the right. The two international schools stood side by side catering for the two genders. Craig was with a group of boys. They were talking to some girls from the adjacent school, distinguished by their blue a
nd white uniforms. She looked on; she didn’t wish to interrupt. Craig was chatting animatedly to one of them when a woman arrived to take her away. The girl waved and the woman, slender and very blond, turned. May gasped. Ruth! She had not seen her since that fateful night when she had hidden in the fence and spied Ruth on the terrace. May saw her take the girl’s hand. They walked to a green MG Magnette parked some distance away.
May walked rapidly up to Craig. “Who is that little girl?” she asked.
“You mean Libby? She is new here. That was her mother.”
“You know her well?”
Craig looked embarrassed and wrinkled his nose. “No! Our schools are holding a joint concert for parent’s day. That is why we were talking to the girls. We have to practise with them.”
“But she is a friend, isn’t she? Do you like her?”
Craig rolled his eyes; he blushed. “She is just a girl. She wants to join in our games. She is too young, much younger than me. I suppose she is quite fun, for a girl. She doesn’t fuss even when she falls and grazes her knee.”
May concealed a smile. Craig looked so smug and superior. He was only seven going on eight.
“She says she is used to fending for herself. Her father was very ill at one time. She says her parents are not friends any more. They quarrel a lot.”
May took Craig’s hand; he pulled away. “Mummy! Stop! I know how to cross the road. I am a big boy. I am not two, you know.”
“Shall we invite Libby for tea. Do you think she’ll come?”
Craig shrugged. He turned and waved to the other boys. May was shocked by what she had heard. From a babe’s mouth! If only she could do something to help Ruth. Poor Libby!
***
“Shall we go somewhere nice for tea?” Ruth asked Libby as she manoeuvred the car on to the main road. “There is a new American snack bar quite close by. We could have an ice cream if you like. They have one of those soft ice creams.” She threw a sideway glance at her daughter. Libby was very quiet, quite changed from the happy smiling child she saw at the school gate. “What is wrong?”
“Is Daddy going to divorce you?”
“Of course not. What put that into your head?”
“Nina said that would surely happen. Daddy left without saying goodbye and I heard you quarrelling with him.”
“Well Nina should keep her views to herself. I shall have a word with her mum.”
“Daddy doesn’t love us any more. He doesn’t talk to me; you don’t talk to me either.”
“I am sorry darling. Adults are sometimes silly. We are kids at heart really. We quarrel just like children do but we make up later. So don’t worry. We are not getting a divorce.”
“If Daddy leaves us, if he doesn’t come back, what shall we do? Will I still go to school? Nina says that I would probably have to stop school because it costs a lot of money for me to attend school.”
Ruth turned quickly to look at Libby. She saw the bewilderment on her daughter’s face. She reached out and took Libby’s hand in hers and squeezed it before guiding the car to a side lane. The car came to a halt. “My poor sweetheart. Nothing of that sort will happen. I won’t let it happen.” She pulled Libby into her arms and kissed the top of her head. How could she have allowed Libby to be reduced to such fears? “Don’t you worry,” she said, “and don’t listen to Nina. What made her say such horrid things? I love your daddy very much and he loves me. We are not going to get a divorce.”
“I told her about your quarrel with daddy. Her mum asked me about you when I stayed over. You went off on your own to Port Dickson. Do you remember? Then Daddy disappeared only to go off again without even saying hello to me.” Libby’s voice caught. “Why doesn’t he love me anymore. Why? Am I naughty? Have I been a bad girl?”
Ruth held her tight. “Of course he loves you.” She placed a finger under Libby’s chin. “Believe me. Everything is fine. He is busy at work. When he returns, we will have a holiday together. What do you think?”
***
That night, after Libby went to bed, Ruth went out into the garden. She wrapped a cotton shawl around her. The air was heavy with the scent of gardenias and jasmine. She went over Libby’s words in her mind. “My poor, poor darling,” Ruth whispered aloud, “to be so encumbered by worries. In trying to protect her I have inadvertently cut her off by not speaking to her. No wonder she feels unloved and unwanted. What a heavy burden for a child to carry. I have been such a stupid mother. I have been very selfish, wrapped up in my own unhappiness.”
She walked up the narrow path that led to the edge of the garden where a grove of palm trees grew. She wondered what Mark was doing. Was he still angry? She must do all she could to fulfil her promise to Libby. She retraced her steps back to the house. She would send him a telegram. He had not left a telephone number but a telegram to Guthries in London would surely reach him. She would say sorry; she would tell him that she missed him, that she loved him.
Chapter 27
Buckinghamshire
MILE UPON MILE of low undulating green woodland stretched out as far as the eye could see. Beyond the woodlands were farms and fields divided like miniature postage stamps in vibrant greens and yellows. The view and colours were breathtaking.
“So is everything ready for their arrival?” Lord Hill cocked his eye and looked quizzically at Hugh, sizing him up. He liked what he saw. He perceived drive, energy and great empathy behind Hugh’s unassuming manner.
“Yes! The delegation from Malaya is expected later today. Most of them will be arriving around teatime. A traditional cream tea has been arranged followed by a walk around the immediate vicinity of the estate. Dinner will be a formal event. There are twelve of them in total. We will keep it a very English affair. The ministers will expect a certain level of pomp. Many of them have studied in this country, though I imagine not many would have had access to country estates such as this while they were here as students.”
“Good, good. From what I hear, they are uncommonly fond of show and display. What about representatives from our firms?”
“Only representatives from the our bigger companies including Guthries, Sime Darby and Boustead will attend this evening’s banquet. They will stay on for tomorrow’s shoot. Some of the ministers are coming with their wives. We have made separate arrangements for the ladies’ entertainment.”
They walked on back to the manor house. The formal garden with its maze of box hedges and rose beds provided a beautiful backdrop to the magnificent Georgian manor. To the west of the house was a lake with a fountain at its centre. To the east stood a topiary of yew trees. Hugh slowed down his stride to match Lord Hill’s. “Thank you for lending us your estate and allowing me such a free rein with your staff. Without your help, I would not have been able to make all the arrangements in time.”
“Don’t thank me. Reid is a good friend. Tell me, how are you getting on with the business side of things?”
“I have had a preliminary discussion with the three firms I mentioned earlier. Everything is in hand. No formal business meetings will be held this weekend. We want to keep the delegates relaxed and happy. We have, however, coordinated our own positions. We will talk business. Only it will be done in a way that is painless. We don’t want to be too obvious and pushy. We’ll try to lead them in our direction. HSBC and Chartered Bank will be sending their people along tomorrow to join the party. They too have been briefed.”
“Good! My late wife always maintained that to get the best out of your business associates, one has to keep them happy. And you, I understand from Reid, have been in Malaya through the pre and post independence era and know how to deal with them. You know their sensitivities.”
“Yes, things are rather delicate. Many of the delegates are still smarting from the way they have been treated in the past. We have to make sure that we do not rub them up the wrong way. On the other hand, we must not show any weakness.”
“Yes, indeed. I see we are in good hands. Let’s return to the house.�
��
A silver Mercedes swept into the grounds. A man emerged from the car. “Excuse me,” Hugh said to Lord Hill. “I see someone I need to talk to urgently.”
He walked quickly in the direction of the new arrival. “Mark,” he called even before he reached the car. He was nervous. He did not know how Mark would react. It was their first meeting since Mark had recovered his memory. He covered his nervousness with a broad smile.
Mark turned around. “Hugh,” he replied, his voice flat.
“Welcome! I hope you had a good journey.”
Mark ignored Hugh’s proffered handshake. For a fraction of a second, Hugh’s hand remained suspended in the air. Then he dropped it to his side before putting it in his pocket. As the planters’ representative in Malaya, Mark would need to talk to him sooner or later. Sooner, however, might be better to clear the air before the others arrived. “Shall we take a turn in the garden?” Hugh asked. “The butler will see to your luggage.”
Mark looked straight at Hugh. His eyes were ice cold. “If we must. Just keep the conversation to the business in hand. I have nothing else to say to you. Nor do I wish to hear what you want to say to me outside that which concerns business. Our friendship is over. I know everything.” He turned away.
***
Hugh waited for Mark’s luggage to be sorted. His smile remained fixed on his face until the footmen left. He had gone through various scenarios of this meeting. He had not expected such a curt opening. It gave him so little opportunity to make any overtures or to explain. Mark’s jaw was clenched and his hands balled up in a fist as he waited for his luggage to be unloaded. His anger was bottled up, ready to explode at any minute. Any moment now, thought Hugh, he would turn on me. He imagined having to duck a fist thrown in his face or giving one back in turn. It would be a scandal that would find its place on the front page of every tabloid newspaper. He needed to release the stopper on Mark’s bottled-up anger and let it fizz away before the other guests arrived. Perhaps it might only do so partially. Even that would be better than a full explosion later in front of the others.
Where the Sunrise is Red Page 17