Bitter Sweet Harvest (12 page)

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 father 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.

Hussein ran after her. “So you don’t love me enough. My father is right.”

Tears of self-pity gleamed in his eyes. An Mei halted mid-stride. She brought her hand to his face, wiping his wet face with her palm and whispered, “It is
you
who do not love me sufficiently.”

“Please don’t say no. Think about it,” he pleaded.

The anger in her was fast subsiding and pity grew in its place. He was not as strong as she had thought. She would have to be strong for the two of them. She realised that deep down she still felt Hussein was part of her.

“In England, people do not necessarily marry to be together. Can we not adopt this attitude, so that we can be together at least? I love you,” he pleaded.

“This is not England,” she replied, but with each word her will weakened and when he put his arms around her and clasped her to him she felt her resolve losing ground.

“Let me think about it.” Pushing him away, she walked back into the restaurant.

“No! No! Don’t do it. I have some hope of persuading your father to accept the situation if you were to marry, but I have no hope at all if you just live together.” Nelly was furious with Hussein and frustrated by An Mei’s seeming inability to defend herself against him. She wanted to shake some sense into her. She wanted to take Hussein by the collar and slap him. Her voice, normally low and quiet, rose. She brought her fist down on the table like a cleaver.

Jenny, startled by Nelly’s unaccustomed violence, stood up, toppling her seat behind her. “I am going to speak to Hussein. But please keep your voice down,” she said before hurrying away to look for him.

Unheeding, Nelly continued, “What an insult! How could Hussein ask you to hang around, be here for him, while he offers you nothing in return? Think, An Mei, your father will not agree to this and he will disown you. You will break his heart. And what about your mother and me? We will be placed in an impossible situation. I cannot continue with this lie and keep you here for Hussein under such conditions. Will you risk losing your family for someone who does not even want to share his name with you?”

People turned in their direction, attracted by the loud voice. Waitresses flocked around the table, keen to hear what was being said. An Mei bowed her head with embarrassment. “Please, can we leave?”

Once back in the house, An Mei ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. She bolted her door. Abandoning all attempts to hold on to her dress, she let go of the strap. The shift fell immediately to her ankles and she stepped out of it. Pulling the bedclothes off her bed, she draped them around her and went out onto the balcony. The night air was warm, but she shivered as it came into contact with her bare skin. She sank down on the floor, the tiles cold against her buttocks. Cross-legged, she sat covered by the clothes she had gathered around her and inhaled deeply on the night air. A rich, almost over-powering perfume of Jasmine filled her lungs.

She sat there for a long time, upright, her face turned upward to the night sky, eyes closed, oblivious to the pounding on the door and Nelly’s anguished voice asking her to come out and talk with her. The pounding ceased. There was a scuttle of footsteps as she went away. Then, she returned and she spoke again, but much softer this time, “I am sorry. I spoke too harshly. I’ve left a glass of water for you outside the door. I will be in my bedroom, when you are ready to talk.
Yeong-yeong to yow tuk seong leong
. All things can be discussed and solved.”

An Mei heard her footsteps receding, and then all was quiet except for the sounds of the night. The humming of insects filled her ears, interspersed by the
chik-chak
calls of the geckoes. She dropped her head to the palm of her hand and wept, the hot tears seared through her skin.

“God, please help me. What shall I do?”

She sat still, her face wet with tears that just would not stop flowing. The darkness grew, lights faded as households went to sleep. Still she sat there. Hours passed. Dawn broke. The first glimmer of sunlight peeped through the strata of clouds on the horizon, breaking into thin wavelengths of colour: orange, mahogany red against a background of clear bright blue. In the distance, a cock crowed, dogs barked. Then imperceptibly, almost without notice, the cool dampness of the night air gave way to the growing heat of the sun. An Mei got up. Her legs could hardly bear her weight after the long hours of being twisted in a wedge under her body. She made her way to her bed, crawled into it and fell asleep.

A
n Mei opened the door of the study quietly and peeped into the room. Nelly was sprawled on an armchair; her head lolled to one side of the backrest. Her eyes were closed and her arms hung loosely on either side of the chair. The maid had warned An Mei that Nelly had been up the whole night waiting for her to come to speak to her. When morning came and there was still no sign of An Mei, Nelly had tried to break open An Mei’s bedroom door. Failing that, she then tried positioning a ladder on the flowerbed below to climb up to the balcony to check on An Mei. Finally succumbing to the restraints of the cook, she had run from one room to the other like a mad woman, until, exhausted, she had fallen asleep on the armchair.

An Mei tiptoed to her aunt and knelt down beside her. She placed an arm around her aunt and laid her head on her knees. Nelly woke up and immediately clasped An Mei to her, bending her head to kiss An Mei’s.