Bitter Sweet Harvest (11 page)

The taxi had stopped in front of a mansion, the size of which dwarfed even the other substantial surrounding buildings. Nervously, she checked the house number and then made her way to the mansion’s gate, a massive wrought iron structure, painted green with sharp spear-like tops gilded gold. She buzzed the bell and within minutes the gate opened like a well-oiled machine opening its jaws to claim her. “Please enter,” a voice echoed through the intercom. “Our mistress is expecting you.”

Nelly mopped impatiently at the perspiration on her forehead and walked briskly forward. Shimmers of heat steamed up from the black tarmac. It enveloped her feet making them swell. Her legs grew heavy and she felt faint. She had become unaccustomed to the heat, even in the short time she had been in England. But she persisted, increasing her pace in her haste to reach the mansion. “I cannot run away this time,” she told herself. The thought of seeing her children again made her forget her age, her weight and her lack of fitness. She hurried forward, puffing. She saw a servant in uniform coming down the steps of the mansion carrying a parasol.

“
Siew Nai,
mistress, wait! I have this shade for you. It is too hot to walk so fast.” She saw the sweat that was pouring down from Nelly’s face and thrust forward a waxed paper parasol painted with yellow chrysanthemums. Bamboo spokes, splayed out from the stem handle, supported the fragile fabric of the shade.

“Let me, let me,” the maid said, holding it high above Nelly. “I will hold it. I am Ah Kuk’s replacement. She died last year.”

Nelly stopped in her track. For a moment, she was speechless. Already the unexpected had happened. She thought she would see Ah Kuk, and was looking forward to the reunion. Ah Kuk had been Mary’s maid and had been so good to her. She had helped her look after her children.

“We should not stand under the sun. Mistress Mary is within. She is waiting,” coaxed the maid, anxious to go into the house and escape the relentless heat.

They walked up the flight of steps that stretched the entire length of the terrace in front of the mansion to reach the entrance. By this time, Nelly was puffing hard. She paused at the top of the steps; her hand went to her heart to still its wild beating. She took a few deep breaths and then slowly, with great trepidation, she entered the house. Standing in the middle of the expansive hallway was an old lady, her hair almost pure white, her face a cobweb of wrinkles radiating from her eyes and her cheeks. Flanking her on either side were a man and a woman. He was very tall and she diminutive and slight. Nelly checked herself. She looked in bewilderment from one to the other; she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of the nose and looked again.

“Mary, Chai-chai and Mei-mei?” she asked hesitantly.

Nelly clasped her hand to her mouth, the motion, involuntary and clumsy. In all her dreams, she had pictured her children as they were when she left. She knew that after well-over twenty-five years, they would be adults. Yet in her mind, she held only an image of them as children, taller, bigger, yes, but nothing resembling the two adults standing before her. She could not recognise them. She turned to Mary.

“Mary? Is it you?” she asked again.

“Come, let’s go and sit down. You are in shock.” Mary smiled and, at that moment, Nelly saw, behind the wrinkles and shrunken outer-shell, the person who had helped her escape from her plight and who had looked after her children, her confidante, the woman who had been her previous husband’s first wife. She took the hand extended to her and they went into the sitting room.

“This is your mother,” said Mary to the man and woman beside her.

“Please, I have not come to claim them. I have lost all rights to call myself their mother,” protested Nelly. “I just wanted to see them.” She was shocked that Mary had spoken in that way. It was totally unexpected. When she had left all those years ago, she promised Mary that she would never come between her and the children and Mary had welcomed that promise.

Mary waved her hand dismissing Nelly’s protest. “I have told them and I have explained everything. I made up my mind to do so after your friend, Jenny, called. I am getting old. I might not have much longer to live and I believe they have a right to know.”

Nelly kept her gaze on the floor, apprehensive of the scorn and even hate that her children might show her. Her eyes were tightly shut, but this could not prevent the tears from oozing in a continuous trickle from their corners. She felt an arm around her shoulders, then, someone clasped her hand. She looked up at her two grown-up children, so different from what she had imagined but all that she had hoped and prayed for. “Forgive me,” she asked.

“There is nothing to forgive,” they replied in unison. “Mother, uh Mary, has explained everything.”

“Please, you have to continue to call Mary, mother. Just call me
sum,
aunty.” She lowered herself to the seat. She looked at Mary, seeking with her eyes, her permission. Mary nodded in encouragement and Nelly said, “Tell me about yourselves. Start from the very beginning. I want to know and share everything.

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.”

A
n 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.