The Hills of Singapore (37 page)

On Wednesday, Butterworth issued a proclamation calling for calm, warning of the intervention of the military and ordering all junks in the harbour to anchor in position.

Finally the disorder was so widespread that the steamer
Hooghly
was despatched with sepoys and Malay special constables to land at intervals around the entire island. From information received, Colonel Cameron destroyed a Chinese jungle stockade of arms, plunder, rice, opium and arrack at Bedok. A further proclamation was sent around town warning the populace of dire consequences if the violence continued and reminding them that this was not their country to do as they wished.

By Thursday the town at least was quiet, and businesses opened. But the countryside continued under fire and sword for seven more days, leaving plantations in ruins, houses and orchards destroyed, roads dug up and villages burned. There was uneasiness in Malacca which, fortunately, came to nothing, and in Johor there was some trouble with the disruption of rice supplies from Singapore, and trade was suspended.

The lock-up and the gaol were crammed with over five hundred prisoners. Acts of unspeakable excess were reported and arrests made from the rural areas, where no rein was put on the hatred of, as the Grand Jury heard, “people who lived in a state of semi-barbarism with little or no idea of what law and order is and where one faction had, by a preponderance of numbers, great power over the other.” At the end of the sessions, six men were sentenced to death and executed, sixty-four were sentenced to hard labour and eight were transported.

When it was all over and the town had settled down to its repairs, Robert called to see Butterworth. Robert knew very well that the Governor was in a difficult position. He had acted so tardily it had caused the riots to get fully out of hand. The island had been pillaged and his authority diminished. Without the civilian population's forethought and courage, the town would have been burned to the ground. Questions had been asked in India. Robert's report had been unstinting in its exposition of the facts.

Robert stood before Butterworth's desk and waited. His report was open in front of the Governor.

Butterworth tapped the paper. “Have you sent this to anyone else, Superintendent?”

“No, sir. But if you think it useful I would be happy to send it directly to the government in India.”

Butterworth looked at him sharply. “That won't be necessary, Mr Macleod.”

“No, sir. For the present I will leave it to your discretion.”

There was a silence.

“Is there any other matter you wish to raise with me, Governor Butterworth?”

The Governor steepled his hands. Robert waited. Butterworth was thinking hard, but there seemed no way out of this particular conundrum. The Governor looked up, directly at Robert.

“No, Superintendent. Carry on.”

Robert smiled and bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

45

Jeanne had hardly changed. She was older to be sure, grey streaks in her curly black hair. She had remained as slim as a girl, though, and nothing could hide her beautiful eyes. She had been a great beauty, and Robert and Charlotte knew she had had many suitors. But she had refused them until they came no more. Young, her memories of her dead fiancé had refused to relinquish their hold on her heart, and when she'd felt those ties loosen, it had been too late.

By then Robert and his sister had come to Aberdeen, and Jeanne had loved them like her own children. Charlotte and Robert had made some mathematical calculations and decided she was around fifty-six years old. Robert could not quite believe it, for though her skin bore the signs of long walks in the Scottish winds, she was lithe and bonny.

As she stepped onto the quayside, she saw him and smiled. It was the smile of the mother she had been to those two orphaned waifs, sad and afraid. He felt his heart lurch with love for her.

Robert put his arms around her, and tears welled. So long, so many years had passed, and he had forgotten how much they owed to her, for without her they would surely have perished from misery.

“Aunt, Aunt, I am so glad you are here safe.”

Jeanne held Robert very tightly, the emotion of seeing him again quite overwhelming. He was so handsome, so much a man, but she remembered him still as a boy. They had been a gift to her, these two. When she had lost her father, her fiancé, then her beloved brother, she had also almost lost her faith. But then He who had closed a door had opened a window and given her the care and love of these children.

She drew herself under control, a habit of a lifetime. “Robbie, my boy. It is good to see you.”

Robert released her, and they smiled at each other. He wiped his eyes. It did not do for the police chief to stand around in open displays of emotion, and he took her hand.

As she settled into the carriage and began to look around, Robert spoke. “Aunt, something terrible has happened since you left Scotland.”

Jeanne looked at Robert and listened. By the time they arrived at Charlotte's house, Jeanne understood. The memory of her own tragedy, of learning of Edward's death had, with time, naturally faded, but it had never quite gone away. She had felt like dying too, for life had seemed at that time to hold little meaning. Neither Jeanne nor her mother were given to melodrama, so of course no such expressions took place, and Jeanne had borne it alone, weeping soundlessly at night, only to put on the face of the day every morning.

At the house, Jeanne went immediately to Charlotte's room. Charlotte was sleeping, and Jeanne stood looking down at this precious child. She was so lovely, still. Too thin, but that was the grief. And it was three o'clock in the afternoon. This would not do. She bent and kissed Charlotte's damp forehead. The room was hot. Actually, the whole town was hot and very uncomfortable. She had said nothing to Robert, but the heat was oppressive. She now felt rather foolish for sending knitted socks on every packet.

Jeanne went downstairs and told Robert to get the servants to make some tea. She was going to wake Charlotte. It was time to set the household onto a proper routine. Routine might not heal Charlotte, but in times of misery, routine was the net without which, Jeanne was certain, they would all be swept to sea.

“I will go to my room Robbie, and change, for it is most fearsomely humid. Is a bath possible?”

Robert smiled. His aunt was here, and she would know what to do.

Light flooding the room roused Charlotte from sleep. She blinked, putting her arm across her face.

“My lovely Kitt, wake up. Here is a nice cup of tea.”

Charlotte opened her eyes. She recognised the voice of her aunt. She was sitting on the side of the bed, and Charlotte looked up into her face. It was unbelievable.

She sat and threw herself into Jeanne's arms. “Oh, Aunt Jeanne, oh. You. Here.”

She burst into tears, and Jeanne held her and rocked her until they subsided. It was like the first morning Charlotte had woken, a little girl in a strange, cold place. Jeanne had waited by her bedside, knowing she would be afraid. She wanted the first face Charlotte saw to be hers, the face of a loving friend.

Within days Jeanne had completely taken charge of the house. Malik adored her precise, Scottish nature and attention to detail. She roused Charlotte early each morning and, with Alex and Adam in tow, had Ravi take them on a ride around the
padang
or occasionally out onto the roads of the island, which had returned to relative safety.

Charlotte had spoken of Charles only once. She had finally found the courage to read the letter Harriette had written and the last letter from Charles. He had known he was dying only at the very last, and it was brief, the merest words of love for her, but in his shaking hand. She cried until she was exhausted and turned to Jeanne for comfort.

“I can offer little comfort, my wee bairn,” Jeanne said. “It is a platitude, but time does help. We go from hour to hour, then day to day.”

“I feel I am lost,” Charlotte said. “Everything I do is terribly trivial and pointless.”

“You have your children, Kitt. Alex is terribly worried about you, and Adam is missing you. It is time to pretend.”

Charlotte looked at her aunt, a frown furrowing her brow.

“Pretend?”

“Aye, yes. Pretend. To get us through this, we must put on an act. At first the act is difficult and we fall in and out of it, but gradually, each day, it becomes natural until finally the act is not an act any more. It has become true. We go on with our lives, and the pain of memory intrudes only occasionally. You should know this better than I, for you have lost more than Charles. You have lost a husband with whom you have shared the desires of the flesh.”

Charlotte stared at Jeanne.

“Do not be so shocked, Kitt. Do you think I am a dried-up old prune who does not think of such things? When I lost my Edward I was like you. I thought that life was the most silly thing. What on earth was its purpose? I thought like that much too long, my bairn. Remember Charles and his goodness, be angry at his death so young, but do not allow this loss to drag you to a terrible place.”

Charlotte contemplated Jeanne. That she knew exactly how she felt there could be no possible denial. She felt a sudden great strength. Jeanne had lost all her youth to grief. This was her warning.

She rose and went to her aunt, sitting next to her, and Jeanne put her arms around her. “Today we shall go to church and remember Tigran and Charles and Edward and all those we love. Your mother and father, my dearest brother. Why, even your grandmother, eh?”

Charlotte smiled.

“Then, we shall rise and thank the Lord for his comfort, and stride out like good Christian soldiers into the fray once more. For there is nothing else to do.”

46

“Do you think it is wise?” Qian glanced at Zhen as Ah Rex disappeared up the stairs of the brothel.

“It is time. He is thirteen years old. Min will be careful. The girl is experienced. She knows what to do.”

Qian looked doubtful. “His mother does not know.”

Zhen frowned.

“No,” he said, annoyed. “This is man's business. I am his father. In this I know best.”

Qian shrugged slightly, but he was not entirely convinced. Ah Soon was almost the same age as Ah Rex, and Qian was not sure he was ready for such an encounter. But Ah Soon and Ah Rex were two different boys. Ah Rex was every inch Zhen's son: bold, adventurous and brave.

“Still, not to tell Xia Lou. It is unwise.” Zhen made a motion of dismissal with his hand.

“Ah Rex will not speak of it to her. I have told him for weeks now that he must learn about ‘rain and clouds'. He understands that this is between men.”

Zhen looked at his friend. “Ah Soon, too, you must decide. My daughter is promised to him, and I have hopes that he will not be so useless as his father.”

Qian smiled. “In good time. Once Ah Rex tells him, I am certain he will want to know too.”

Qian poured some tea for Zhen. They would wait for Ah Rex to come out, for they both knew he would be filled with excitement and need a guiding hand.

“What of the Cholon rice merchant's daughter? Baba Tan is keen for you to remarry, is he not?”

A fleeting look of sadness touched Zhen's face. “He's unwell, Qian. I care for him very much. It is a great sadness.”

Qian nodded. Zhen and his father-in-law were as close as any blood could make them. Zhen was the son Tan had wanted, and Zhen loved him as well as his own father, now dead for two years.

“But I have no intention of marrying a thirteen-year-old girl for the sake of a share in the rice trade. What on earth would I do with her?” Zhen laughed.

“Sire more children,” Qian said. “It is expected of a young, virile and rich merchant to make as many sons as possible.”

Zhen said nothing. Since the death of Noan, he had been besieged by matchmakers representing countless eligible families. He had remained steadfastly aloof. Fortunately, Zhen's son, Kai, was healthy. He had no desire for another wife.

“He died, you know, the man she was to marry,” Qian said, looking at Zhen.

“Yes, I know. Ah Rex was very worried for his mother for a long time. But she is better. Her aunt came.”

“Yes, so I have heard.”

Zhen contemplated his teacup. Xia Lou had shown great grief for this man. He had not thought of it whilst the island was in uproar and after, for a long time, he had been busy. But Ah Rex's concerns had been clear. His mother was in mourning. When he thought of this, he felt a coldness inside. For a long time he had not cared, wished her miserable and grieving, wished her punished for deserting him.

“Have you seen her?” he said to Qian.

“Once only. She was walking with her aunt in the market. She was thin, too thin.”

Zhen frowned but said nothing.

“She and her aunt help at the school for Chinese girls at North Bridge Road. The Miss Eva goes too, sometimes. Do you remember her at the church school we went to?”

Zhen looked at Qian. Remember? Of course he remembered. Everything of that time was as vivid as yesterday. It was there he had found Xia Lou, fallen in love with her. But he said nothing. There was nothing to say. Now that the danger of losing Ah Rex had faded, his anger had faded, but those early memories remained undimmed.

47

“I cannot approve of his actions.”

Jeanne was adamant. Robert's living arrangements were a cause of concern. His wife was living with his son in her mother's house whilst Robert consorted with a … Jeanne could not find the words. When Robert was with her, she said nothing but her disapproval was clear.

Charlotte had tried to explain about the long association of Shilah and Robert, point out the mistake Robert had made, but Jeanne would have nothing of it. Amber, of course, she welcomed into her heart as Robert's child, but she would not countenance meeting Shilah.

Charlotte was finally able to think of something other than her grief for Charles. When she began to pay attention to the household again, she discovered that Alex spent every day with Zhen. They had grown as close as the father and son they were. Both Charlotte's sons adored their great aunt, but Adam, in particular, loved to spend time with her. She talked to him of Scotland and his Scottish grandfather, and for the first time, Charlotte realised that she would have to send them back. Adam wanted to go. It would be of benefit to their education. And, she recognised, it would separate Alex from Zhen and the intensity of their relationship.