A Different Sky (69 page)

‘I was not expecting so many people. This is a typical Marshall idea, always wanting drama and attention.' Raj frowned disapprovingly. Then Mei Lan's car drew up and Howard hurried forward to help her out. She looked anxiously at the platform rearing above her. They found chairs together at one side of the stage beside Raj.

‘Lots of troublemakers here today; communists and gangsters and the unions are out in full force,' Raj observed, fiddling with the strap of his new gold watch, which had been a wedding present from Yoshiko. After Krishna's assassination he had not waited the customary length of time required following a family death, before marrying Yoshiko. He had scaled down the wedding to a simple civil ceremony and a small reception afterwards at a hotel, but Leila had not been pleased and for a while refused to speak to Yoshiko. Raj, with his bride, had moved into the newly built Cluny Road house but Leila stayed on at Waterloo Street, drowning both her grief at Krishna's death, and her grief at her brother's marriage, in a further expansion of Manikam's.

Another deep crack of thunder rumbled through the sky. The crowd, dense and restless, was beginning to feed off its own energy. Already it was nearly four o'clock and so far the rain had held off. Mei Lan wished she had not insisted on coming; women were few and far between. All she saw was a sea of restless men. The constant chant of slogans blew on the wind across the field. Howard had tried to discourage her, but since Ah Siew's death she found herself seeking ways to demonstrate commitment to him.

‘Too much tension now rising. More delays are no good,' Raj commented, looking again at his watch.

‘Mr Marshall is late because the police have tightened security. He did not get clearance to set off for the rally, but just now he is arriving at the edge of the field,' Howard was told when he enquired about the delay.

David Marshall had chosen an open-roofed car to arrive in, and as police cleared a way for it through the crush of people he stood up triumphantly to acknowledge the constant shouts of
Merdeka,
jubilant at the turnout.

‘Where are the British MPs? Everything is running so late,' Raj grumbled again, watching Marshall's slow progress. He had bought machinery for his new factory extension from a British businessman who was one of the MPs' delegation, and was pleased at the unexpected opportunity to personally consolidate the connection.

The stage was full of local dignitaries. Behind a cordon of police the crowd below swarmed about the structure, threatening at moments to break through. Perched above the multitude, the flimsy platform trembled with every vibration and Mei Lan had the feeling she was floating on a raft in the midst of a wild sea. The field was lost beneath the throng for as far as she could see. A few drops of rain spat down upon them and the black hoods of umbrellas appeared, and then shut again as the rain did not materialise. Carried aloft on a bank of red balloons a streamer with the one word,
Merdeka,
floated against the thunderous sky, tethered to earth by a slender thread. White banners stuck up everywhere, draped like bunting over the crowd, all proclaiming
Merdeka
.
Death to colonialism. End colonialism NOW
.

The lawyer, Lee Kuan Yew, and the union leader, Lim Chin Siong, stood in the back of a loudspeaker truck with the banner of the People's Action Party, shouting PAP rhetoric to the crowd through a megaphone. Some distance away another huge banner picturing Picasso's Peace Dove, now an emblem of the communist party, was hoisted above the crowd. Near the stage a large group of Chinese Middle School children were assembling to sing their communist songs and dance the
yenko
. As they started off, tripping and turning to the wheeze of accordions and harmonicas, people rushed to watch. The dancers' red scarves waved against a sky that frowned ever more
blackly upon them. The lively music, mixed with the PAP's loud haranguing, was buffeted about the field. In the midst of this cacophony sound technicians conferred anxiously on the stage, tapping the silent, faulty microphones for a reaction and twiddling the knobs on equipment, trying to coax the machines into life. At last an echo of sound was heard, and the engineers fell back in relief.

Finally the Chief Minister's car arrived and he alighted, clasping his hands yet again in victory, his face ablaze with triumph. Police escorted him as he climbed briskly up the steps and on to the stage, striding towards the microphone to greet the waiting crowd. Head thrown back, his famous eyebrows, so thick they seemed almost to precede him, arched up as his voice boomed out.

‘Merdeka.
' The word left his lips in a trumpet of sound, projected to the far corners of the field. He raised his arm to punch the air.
Merdeka,
the crowd replied, the roar bursting from them like the release of a pent-up river.

The Chief Minister began his speech: his lips moved but no sound carried to the waiting crowd. The microphone refused to function again, and technicians darted forward. Below the stage the crowd, effervescing with excitement, saw the hitch as an open door. No longer willing to be contained, they charged suddenly forward, overwhelming the police and surging on to the flimsy platform. They flooded up the steps to surround the Chief Minister, raising jubilant fists, shouting
Merdeka
in his face.

The Chief Minister's smile died as the stage trembled and swayed beneath the deluge. He tottered unsteadily and reached out for support. With a shudder and a loud creak of breaking wood, the dais collapsed, its supports buckling beneath the impossible weight, tipping everyone forward. Those watching from afar saw the stage disappear, like a great ship sinking from view beneath the ocean. The Chief Minister too vanished from sight, as the stage folded upon itself. VIPs, pressmen and volunteer ushers slid helplessly across the platform and came to rest one upon another in an undignified muddle. Howard was thrown to the ground with Mei Lan, Raj tumbling beside them.

‘I'm all right,' Mei Lan told Howard as he scrambled up and turned to pull her to her feet. No one seemed to be hurt, although the stage was dangerously lopsided. The Chief Minister was also getting to his feet, reaching again for a microphone to calm the
crowd. The machine still refused to work, and all that could be seen by spectators was Marshall once more soundlessly mouthing his words. Instead, in the distance, from the People's Action Party loudspeaker, came the voice of the lawyer Lee, calling for order. His voice rang out authoritatively and the crowd drew back, obedient. Then, once more, shouts of
Merdeka
were heard.

Eventually, it was decided to move everyone from the collapsed rostrum to the main airport terminal. Escorted by police, Marshall led the way, walking the short distance to the new location with all the occupants of the stage trailing behind him. Thousands followed in their wake, the excited crowd shifting its focus from the wrecked stage to the airport building. The Chief Minister and his party entered and proceeded upstairs to the first floor, and then out on to a large balcony where Marshall stood high above the crowd, his arms raised in triumph again. Holding Mei Lan by the hand, Howard accompanied the rest of the evacuees from the beleaguered stage. He wished there was a way to send Mei Lan home, but they were swept along by events and the massive crowd.

The terminal building had the streamlined appearance of a ship, with long balconies running around each floor. Above the main entrance, a semicircular gallery protruded from the building like the prow of a boat. Howard and Mei Lan followed Raj to the rail, and together they looked down on the multitude of white shirts, white banners and dark heads stretching endlessly out below them. Mei Lan stepped back in fear. It seemed she stood again upon the deck of that gaudy junk and the sea below her, although now of a vastly different kind, appeared just as voracious as the one that had taken Ah Siew. It seethed restlessly, and in her mind she saw again the churning marble in the wake of the ship and Ah Siew tossed about within it. The roar of the crowd rose up, restive and impatient. Beside her Howard stared at the mob.

‘Where did such a sudden swell of political consciousness come from? How did they tuck so much passion away for so long?' he wondered, pulling Mei Lan back to a less exposed vantage point.

At last the British parliamentary delegation arrived, and was escorted up through the terminal building to where Marshall waited for them on the open balcony. At this elevation the frightening density of the assemblage below was clear. The British visitors peered down, assessing
the crowd with visible apprehension. Earlier Marshall had assured the politicians there was no need to fear but now, like everyone else, he too was filled with uncertainty.

Over a now impeccable sound system, the Chief Minister introduced the British parliamentarians to the waiting crowd. One by one, they stepped forward to the edge of the balcony to be acknowledged by the cheering mob. After exactly fifteen minutes, anxious that there be no incidents, the Chief Minister suggested discreetly to the visitors that they now leave, and this they did with alacrity. Escorted back to their cars, they departed as they had come and Marshall saw them go with visible relief.

The Chief Minister then stepped up to the microphone to give at last the great speech he had prepared for the rally, about a car with two steering wheels. Mr Boss was as ever driving the colony with a master switch, Marshall said, while the junior driver, the local people of Singapore, sat obediently at his side.

‘What kind of a crazy future can this crazy contraption lead to? We want control of our own government,' Marshall shouted into a microphone as he leaned against the balcony railing, his words now undulating over the field in just the manner he had anticipated. The crowd responded with further cries of
Merdeka
, drunk now upon the word. A streak of lightning lit the sky and in a moment thunder crashed, sharp as the crack of a gun.

Howard and Mei Lan stood to one side of the congested balcony. They had only a partial view of Marshall, whose voice rose powerfully with operatic control, accompanied by sweeping gestures and blazing eyes. This prima donna performance no longer impressed Howard in quite the way it had previously done. In office, Marshall appeared to him to have become histrionic and displayed political naivety, even if his courtroom tactics and rabid eye for opportunity sometimes carried the day. Howard could not put his finger on what was wrong, but he was disillusioned. For all Marshall's love of the limelight he was not adept at treading the corridors of power. Disdaining compromise, wearing his heart on his sleeve, he was impetuous, impatient and quick tempered. Thunder cracked loudly again, drowning Marshall's words for a moment before the rain began to drizzle.

‘People are already saying that the collapse of stage and failure of
the microphones is the dirty work of communists in the People's Action Party, intent on disrupting the rally.' Raj leaned forward behind Howard to murmur into his ear.

‘It is going to rain heavily – they should end the meeting,' Howard said, looking down on the overheated crowd. Here and there he could see that scuffles had already broken out with police.

There was only one entrance on to the balcony and they moved forward, ready to follow Marshall from the building. Before the Chief Minister could leave, a group of People's Action Party members spilt through it, amongst them Lee and Lim Chin Siong. Lee pushed his way straight to Marshall and demanded to address the crowd. Marshall frowned, his shaggy eyebrows drawing together in a thick and disapproving line.

‘The meeting is over. Everyone is now going home. You have already said your piece earlier over the loudspeakers on your truck,' Marshall told Lee curtly. Even as he spoke police were clearing a way. They ushered the Chief Minister through the door, down the stairs and out of the building, where he was driven away in his car. At Marshall's exit a further large group of People's Action Party members crowded out on to the balcony, preventing Mei Lan, Howard and Raj from following Marshall. From the field below loud roars were continuously heard. In spite of the rain now coming down, the crowd appeared in no mood to go home.

Lee Kuan Yew had now taken the microphone and was angrily chastising the crowd, anxious to refute the rumours circulating about the broken stage. ‘There are devils here today who have tried to spoil this rally. They are the ones who put the microphone out of order and collapsed the stage,' Lee shouted, furious at the accusations that were being flung at his party. Cheers and shouts erupted from the crowd as he spoke.

After a few minutes Lim Chin Siong, waiting impatiently beside the lawyer, began to argue with Lee who at last, reluctantly, gave him the microphone. The pulse of the crowd seemed to quicken as Lim stepped forward. Wild cheers were heard as the union leader's voice flowed out across the field. Lim was a small man, but his personality grew large with oratory and his rhetoric soon had the crowd dangerously effervescent. As he finished speaking, he held up his hand in a gesture of forbearance and his tone dropped to that of a stern schoolteacher.

‘It is time to go home. When you leave this place, keep calm. Don't beat up the police,' Lim ordered, stepping back from the balcony rail. The crowd, now aroused, were unwilling to disband as advised; banners were tossed into the air and
Merdeka
was yelled with increasing abandon. The wildness was growing, infectious.

‘I have to stop this meeting turning into a bloody riot,' Lee said, suddenly sounding anxious.

‘They always like singing patriotic songs; if they sing they'll calm down,' someone suggested.

Soon, a honey-throated volunteer was found who began to sing, ‘We love Malaya', and then ‘Unity is Strength' over a loudspeaker. The shouting lessened and with a low growl the crowd joined in, the sound gathering in momentum for some moments before a loud retort of thunder brought the rain pouring down. Abruptly, the singing stopped and on the open balcony everyone rushed for the stairs. Howard took hold of Mei Lan's hand and pulled her along beside him. On the field, umbrellas went up in the crowd, and those without them sheltered beneath bedraggled banners or stoically stood their ground drenched, but still loudly demanding more speeches from their leaders.