The Plantation (16 page)

‘Many more interesting places to go than those,’ said Gilbert.

‘Bette wants to go up-country. See the wildlife,’ said Roland.

‘That sounds good. Do you still have that old lodge and pagar your father built upriver? That’d be the place to go,’ said Gilbert. ‘Bette would enjoy that.’

‘I suppose we could go,’ said Margaret. ‘But I’d still like to take her around a bit more. I so wish we had another car.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve asked Roland for one for ages, so that I can be independent, but you know how everything that is earned is ploughed back into the plantation.’

Before Roland could say anything, Gilbert slapped his knee. ‘By Jove, Henderson’s going to Australia. His wife has a bee in her bonnet about the Japs making some sort of a move here, so he’s selling off everything. First to go is his wife’s car, a Baby Austin Tourer. Nifty little thing. Perfectly good nick, I believe, and he’ll take whatever he can get for it.’

Margaret’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, Roland! Couldn’t we buy it? Think how much easier it would be for Bette and I to get around!’

‘We could have all kinds of little adventures, Margaret!’ added Bette.

Gilbert laughed. ‘Your little adventures could get you into a spot of bother. Can’t have two ladies taking off on their own into the wilds.’

‘Not the wilds,’ protested Margaret, but her eyes were shining as she looked at Roland.

‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.

‘Well, if Bette is so keen to see up-country, why don’t we take her up to the pagar? Bit of a picnic, a swim. Stay a couple of nights. Be a nice break for me before I have to head back,’ said Gilbert.

‘Oh, Gilbert, what a wonderful idea,’ said Bette. ‘How about it, Margaret?’

They set off early the following morning, after Roland had done the six am muster of the plantation workers. Roland was looking forward to seeing how the palm oil on the newest part of the plantation was progressing but for the others the expedition was an exciting break, and they were all cheery as they set off.

They travelled in the big Oldsmobile with Roland driving, Gilbert beside him and Bette and Margaret in the back with Philip between them. They sang songs and Gil-bert taught the sisters a Malay song.

‘How come you know so much?’ Bette asked him. ‘You haven’t been out here very long, have you?’

‘I like to spend time with the local families. It helps to keep the workers on side and makes running the plantation smoother. Most of the coolies like to stay put and send back money to their families in India or China, so I like to make it easy for them to do so.’

‘Maybe if they had better facilities and it felt more like they were putting down roots they’d be happier,’ said Bette.

Gilbert glanced at her. ‘I say, that’s quite perceptive.’

‘Do you like working here?’ asked Bette.

‘When Roland suggested I apply to manage a plantation I thought it would be fun, but the work can be quite punishing. You’re on call every day from dawn until dark. Unless it rains. Don’t you love waking to the sound of torrential rain, Roland?’ Gilbert grinned.

‘It’s a lovely sound,’ agreed Bette.

‘No, he means he can sleep in,’ said Margaret. ‘Too wet to tap the trees.’

‘So what does an assistant manager do? Are you out in the field all day?’ asked Bette. Gilbert was younger than Roland. While his family lived in England and had no holdings in Malaya, and he knew nothing about rubber, he had decided to take the job that Roland had suggested because it sounded so interesting and challenging.

‘Dawn to dusk,’ he said. ‘Checking on the slashing, clearing, planting and tapping that the coolies do on the plantation. And that’s before we get to sell the stuff. And there always seems to be some hullabaloo happening between the different tappers, coolies and their families. Accidents, fights, sickness. Still, it’s never dull. And I rather like exploring my divisions. Quite pretty country. We have a lot of streams running down from the jungle. Rugged though. I’m lucky, too. The manager’s a good chap, lets me get away a bit.’

Margaret glanced at Bette and nudged her, indicating Gilbert with a questioning look. Bette smiled and shook her head. But they both stifled a giggle.

Roland drove the car steadily towards the hills, and then turned off and headed along a cleared grassy track towards the river. At the water’s edge beside a small kam-pong was a boat landing. From one of the huts came a Malay, who took them over to a long open wooden boat with an exposed engine in its centre.

‘How far are we going in that boat?’ asked Bette as they walked over to it.

‘Not very far. It’s the best way to get to the pagar,’ said Roland. ‘Usually when we come up here we drive along the road through the plantation, but it’s much longer and not very interesting.’

‘I have to say that this looks fun. Just as well we brought sunhats.’

‘We have umbrellas, too, if you want them,’ said Roland.

‘Come on, Philip, let’s go and see the boat,’ said Margaret.

‘I don’t suppose there is a problem with crocodiles,’ said Bette, remembering her earlier encounter.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Roland. He spoke to the boatman, and another bare-chested man, wearing a checked cotton baju, sauntered over to them. Roland had them both unload the car and pile their belongings into the boat. Then he explained, ‘We’re leaving the car here. It’ll be safe with the villagers.’

The man in the baju nodded. ‘Yes, tuan.’

They all enjoyed chugging through the thick brown water, the wind in their faces, hats protecting them from the sun. Passing a village at the water’s edge they waved to the children, who waved back. As they got near to where the jungle grew close to the river’s edge, the water became clearer. The boatman angled the boat towards the bank and rounding a bend they came to a cleared area under shady trees. There was an attap hut with a verandah and a thatched lean-to over a large table. Next to the landing bamboo poles jutted above the surface of the water and made a fence that staked out the swimming area.

‘This is just beautiful,’ said Bette to Margaret.

The boatman, helped by Roland and Gilbert, hauled out the picnic baskets and cotton bags containing their clothes and put them in the shade of the table, while Roland opened up the little hut.

‘Basic change room, a water jar to rinse off, and thunder box.’

‘I’m going in for a swim! Coming Philip?’ Bette pulled off her sundress, which she’d worn over her swimming costume.

‘I’ll be there in a minute, too. I’m going to change in the hut,’ said Margaret.

Holding Philip’s hand, Bette walked to the water’s edge and peered into the cool clear water. ‘Looks safe enough. It certainly looks refreshing.’

Gilbert came up behind them, and swung Philip onto his shoulders. ‘Come on, young man, let’s jump in!’

‘Be careful,’ called Margaret as she followed them to the river.

Gilbert waded in and with Philip clinging to his back, arms tight around his neck, he swam out into the river, followed closely by Bette.

‘This is glorious! Come on in, Marg!’ shouted Bette.

Roland soon joined them, and they all splashed and played and Philip, now feeling brave, tried to swim, but needed a lot of help. Everyone applauded his efforts.

On the bank the boatman had started a small fire and began cooking savoury meat on skewers, turning the sizzling meat and dribbling peanut and coconut sauce over them.

While Margaret and Roland dried Philip, Bette and Gilbert spread towels and sarongs on the grass and dried off in the sun.

‘They seem to be getting on well,’ Margaret said quietly to Roland. ‘Do you think they like each other? I mean, are they attracted to each other?’

‘Early days, dear girl.’

‘Wouldn’t it be nice if Bette met someone and stayed out here. It would be lovely to have some of my family around,’ said Margaret.

‘Well, there’s been no shortage of interested chaps,’ said Roland. ‘But Gilbert still has a couple more years of his contract to run before the company will let him get married.’

‘I think that’s such a dreadful restriction,’ said Margaret. ‘I can’t believe that companies dictate when their employees can get married.’

‘Not really. It’s sensible. Men have to prove that they have what it takes to work on a plantation before a company goes to the expense of paying a wife’s fare out here. The single men can be flexible and live in pretty basic accommodation. That changes when they get married, so companies have to make sure the chaps are the right sort. It’s paying one’s dues, as Father says.’

Margaret watched Gilbert and Bette lying side by side and talking. ‘Perhaps I’d better make Bette aware of his situation before she falls too heavily for him,’ murmured Margaret.

‘I don’t think she’s very serious about anyone … she just loves being here, though I have to admit she’s the perfect kind of a girl to fit in out here. Like you.’ He gave her a quick kiss and picked up Philip. ‘Come on, soldier, let’s go eat. I’m starving.’

They sat on the grass in the shade eating the satay sticks with their fingers.

The next two days were ones they all remembered for the rest of their lives. Roland was right. The lodge that Eugene had built years before was only basic, but the setting was perfect.

Local villagers cooked them curries, rice and fish. They had pineapples, bananas and papaya for breakfast. With simple food and simple surroundings, the lazy days passed gently. Swimming, afternoons spent sleeping in a hammock, playing board games and talking into the night by kerosene lamplight, sharing a bottle of whisky, and sometimes just sitting in companionable silence. Philip slept curled between his mother and father under the cloud of mosquito net. Bette tried to stay awake as long as she could, listening to the night sounds of the forest.

Both women enjoyed Gilbert’s company. They found him amusing and easy going. Because he was Roland’s friend, he seemed to treat Bette as though she was the younger sister of his best friend’s wife, and as a result Bette relaxed and didn’t worry about what sort of impression she was making or how she looked. Margaret also eschewed make-up and didn’t fuss about what she wore. The two sisters dressed in sarongs over shorts and swimsuits and found they were reminiscing and laughing more than they ever had. Everyone felt comfortable in each other’s company.

On their third morning, Roland announced that he’d better to do some work. ‘Sorry, but I did come up here to see how the new palm oil plantation is going. Who wants to come along?’

Everyone was lazing along the verandah so there wasn’t an immediate flurry of interest.

‘Gilbert and I were just about to hike down to where one of the villagers told us there’s a little waterfall,’ said Bette.

‘Who’s managing the place for you?’ asked Gilbert.

‘Smedley-Smith. Frightfully good chap. I’m very pleased with him. It’s his first contract, but he’s made some remarkable advances for us,’ said Roland.

‘He mightn’t take too kindly to my arriving with you unannounced. Really none of my business,’ said Gilbert.

‘All right, Gil. You stay with Bette and find the waterfall. I’ll take Margaret and Philip with me.’ He turned to Margaret. ‘You haven’t been up to the place for awhile. I think you’ll be impressed with what he’s done.’

Margaret smiled to her husband as they took the boat back to the small kampong where they had left the Oldsmobile
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‘Nice manoeuvre, dear. Leaving them alone in a romantic spot. I wonder how Bette feels about that.’

‘Gilbert is a gentleman, she’ll be safe as houses.’

‘Hmm. We’ll see. Well it’s up to Bette.’

‘Gil’s a good chap, but do you really think that your parents would like Bette to end up in Malaya, too?’

As Margaret got into the car, she remembered her mother had joked that she hoped Bette wouldn’t fall for some planter fellow too, so she let the subject drop and concentrated on trying to stay comfortable on the bone jarring road. Philip bounced, enjoying the ride.

Roland drove past the deep dark rows of the oil palms arching towards each other, making long dark tunnels. Mounds of large red prickly nuts were heaped at regular intervals along the ground. Roland stopped, got out and picked up several of the nuts to check them and got back into the car. Then he turned off the dirt track and drove slowly up and down through some of the avenues of trees.

‘Hmm. It’s well cleared and maintained. Smedley-Smith is doing a good job. We’ll drive by the bungalow. He’s probably there having lunch and might welcome some company. Gets lonely up here by oneself.’

‘It’s rather basic housing,’ commented Margaret as she saw the small bungalow. A not very successful attempt had been made to establish a garden.

As they walked towards the house, a lanky young man wearing a khaki shirt over a sarong came out to meet them.

‘Ha, Mr Elliott, you’ve arrived. What a pleasant surprise. Excuse my dress, I was having a rest before the afternoon inspection. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I change. Tea? Or a soft drink?’

‘Ask your boy to get us some ginger beer, and we’ll sit on the verandah,’ said Roland.

Margaret knew how fortunate they were to be living at Utopia
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and not in a tiny house like this, equipped only with simple rattan furniture, and no trimmings, in absolutely the middle of nowhere. She heard glasses rattling, and while Roland was showing Philip a small gecko that was clinging to one of the chick blinds, Margaret went inside.