The White Amah (11 page)

‘What happened here?’ he asked, too stunned by the chaos to pay attention to the sexy coquette posing provovcatively on the matrimonial bed. Rubiah had cleaned up the mess downstairs but she hadn’t touched the bedroom and it was just as Heather had left it.

‘Missus done it,’ replied Rubiah with a shrug.

‘Where is she?’ Roger asked, perplexed, eyeing the heap of suitcases and the smashed photo taken on their wedding day.

‘Missus not like you fuck with me.’

‘You didn’t tell her about us … You bitch, you stupid little bitch!’ he raged. ‘Have you any idea what you’ve done?’

‘Me not tell,’ answered Rubiah, trembling.

‘Who then?’ he said, towering over her.

‘Lady on b-b-boat,’ she replied, frightened by his fierce expression.

The roughneck sat down heavily on the bed next to her, moon face red and clammy, protuberant eyes like molten lava in the glare from the sun blazing through the window. ‘You mean Mel, Hank’s girlfriend?’ he asked in disbelief. Rubiah nodded. Son of a bitch! What the hell was Mel doing in Miri? What a homecoming this was turning out to be. ‘Did she leave a letter for me or … anything?’ Rubiah looked at him, puzzled. Ignorant savage, he thought contemptuously.

‘This?’ asked Rubiah, and held out the scrawled note Heather had left on Roger’s pillow.

Roger read the incoherent note and felt sick inside. ‘Did she take Millie with her?’ he asked, finally remembering the baby.

‘No. Her sleeping.’

‘Okay, tidy up this room.’

Rubiah’s eyes flashed.

‘It’s what we pay you for.’ He looked round the disordered room in disgust.

It wasn’t fair. Why should she have to clean up the missus’s mess? But she was too scared to talk back. She knew that if she wanted to take the missus’s place she had to keep Roger happy.

‘Sorry, sorry! No my fault,’ she apologised. ‘You want fuck me?’ she asked, moving closer and putting her hand on his crotch.

Ah well, she’s good for one thing at least. He unzipped his fly and pulled her head down roughly.

T
HE FRONT DOOR BELL RANG AND DROWSILY
R
UBIAH GOT TO HER FEET.
She had fallen asleep in front of the television like she did most afternoons since Roger had gone back to Canada. She hoped it was Dedan and some of his friends. Now that she had the place to herself, her cousin often came round. Mostly they played cards. She loved the excitement of gambling, but she lost too often. She needed to win some money soon.

It was almost two months since Roger had flown back home to sort things out with his wife, and although at the time Rubiah thought three thousand ringgit a fortune, there wasn’t much of it left. She’d given up buying disposable nappies for Mei Li and let her crawl around the house naked, like a Dayak baby. Roger had explained that it would be too complicated to get a travel visa for Mei Li because the adoption had not been finalised, and he had pleaded with Rubiah to care for her until he could work things out. Rubiah wished he’d taken Mei Li with him. Having a baby to look after restricted her freedom.

‘If it wasn’t for you I could be out dancing,’ she told Mei Li, but she smiled when the baby gurgled and reached up and tugged her hair. ‘Let’s hope this is Dedan and we can win lots of money off him.’

To her surprise, the missus’s friend was at the door, the mean old fat one.

Leonie didn’t wait for Rubiah to invite her in and walked
straight past with an officious look on her face. ‘I’ve come to advise you that you have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises, so you better make arrangements to stay elsewhere, my girl.’

‘What you mean? Roger let me stay here.’

‘You’ve seen the last of Roger. He and his wife are back together and they’re staying put in Canada. The movers will be here on Thursday to pack their stuff and they’ve asked me to oversee operations.’

Rubiah couldn’t believe the words coming out of Leonie’s mouth. It was the end of her dream. After all her scheming, she’d been dumped. It wasn’t as though she’d ever loved Roger. The truth was she hated him, every bit of him – his big red bloated face, his white fleshy body, the way he couldn’t pass by without pinching her on the bum – but he had one big redeeming virtue: he was rich. How could this be happening to her after she’d spent all her money on a spell to drive Heather out. Jelian had cheated her. She frowned at her bare wrist and fingers. She was as poor as when she’d left the longhouse.

‘What I do with Mei Li? You take?’

‘You’re not foisting your kid on me,’ replied Leonie.

‘Mei Li not mine,’ she protested. ‘Her belong to Missus and the boss.’

Leonie felt guilty. She’d enjoyed giving Rubiah her marching orders – after all, the woman had tried to break up her best friend’s marriage – but Millie was something else. This was what came of bucking the system. None of the paperwork was in place and there was no way the baby could leave Malaysia. Even if they could get through the protocol, Leonie doubted if her friend would go ahead with the adoption. Heather wanted to
forget she had ever been to Miri, and Millie would be a perpetual reminder of Roger’s infidelity.

‘You better take her back to Dr Kong’s clinic until matters can be arranged with the adoption agency,’ she said, washing her hands of any further responsibility. ‘The packers will be here on Thursday at nine o’clock. Make sure you’re both gone.’ She looked at the messy house with distaste. I’ll have to get Noor to come over and clean up before I give the keys back to the landlord.’

‘You know a missus needs an amah?’ Rubiah asked.

Leonie looked at her and laughed. ‘After what you’ve done you’ll get no work from any of the ex-pats. Roger wants you to have this.’ She held out a thick envelope. She’d steamed it open earlier and knew it contained two thousand ringgit. The wages of sin, she thought disapprovingly. She’d wanted to donate the money to a charity but Steve wouldn’t let her.

‘Give her a break. She’s little more than a kid. We all make mistakes,’ Steve had said, avoiding his wife’s eye. Latifah, his secretary, was a fetching little thing too, but after what had happened to Roger he resolved to keep his pecker in his pants.

After Leonie left, Rubiah phoned the drycleaners and asked to speak to Dedan. He told her he’d be round when he finished work but it wouldn’t be until after seven. He picked her up and drove her straight to the clinic. It was closed and there was a sign on the door. Neither Rubiah nor Dedan could read – nobody in their village could – but a passing Chinese woman told them that Dr Kong had relocated to a practice in Kuching, the state capital.

‘What am I going to do?’ Rubiah wailed. With the two
thousand ringgit from Roger she could rent a place, buy some pretty clothes and find a rich man to set her up in business, but not if she was stuck with a baby.

‘Leave her with me. I’ll sell her for you. It’s a pity she’s not older. She’d be worth more.’ Dedan knew that many poor parents sold their children to brothels when they were five or six. Having to look after her until she was old enough to turn a trick would bring down the price, but the child being light-skinned would be worth extra.

‘No,’ said Rubiah angrily.

‘You think you can keep a baby?’ he jeered. ‘You
gila!’

Rubiah didn’t think he was far wrong. It would be crazy to ruin her whole life over someone else’s child. Just then Mei Li woke, smiled and reached up to tug her mother’s hair.

You take us back to the village,
the baby seemed to say.
Longhouse best place for Mei Li.

I
T WAS A HOT DAY IN THE JUNGLE, BUT NOT UNBEARABLY SO.
The dappled sunlight sneaking its way through the forest canopy made a welcome change from the rain and leaden, grey skies of the past three days. Entri was lying on the boardwalk on a
rattan
mat. The gentle chatter of the women washed over him in a relaxing way. Or maybe it’s just the rice wine my granddaughter gave me, he thought drowsily.

Mei Li was sitting with the other Dayak maidens, weaving mats from small flat strips of cane that Entri’s wife Lada had prepared by splitting fat cane with a long narrow
parang.
Entri watched Mei Li proudly as her deft fingers wove the intricate pattern known only to his wife’s family, which was superior to the commonplace designs of other families in their tribe.

Who could have imagined that his selfish daughter Rubiah would have given birth to such a loving child. Neither he nor Lada had believed Rubiah’s farfetched tale that Mei Li was the daughter of a white witch. At the time they had both agreed that she was Rubiah’s child by an
orang puti.
There could be no other explanation for their self-centred daughter bringing Mei Li home to her parents and begging them to care for her.

Her white lover must have been a giant, he mused. At seventeen Mei Li towered over the other girls and, more unfortunately, the young men too. Although the sea Dayaks were tall in comparison to the Penans, the shy, diminutive people who lived
deep in the interior of Borneo, they were still a short race. By the time she was ten years of age Mei Li was taller than Gelungan, a giant by Dayak standards. And she still kept on growing. No man wants to look up to his wife, Entri thought sadly. It had been hard to find her a husband. None of the young men in the village had offered for the lovely, gentle girl, though she was old enough to be married and was known as a good and willing worker.

Entri knew he was lucky to get Langkup to take her along with the boat. He cursed the wild boar that had gored his leg and left him crippled despite the incantations of the village
bomoh,
the sacrifice of a plump pullet and careful nursing from his womenfolk. Lada had done everything possible to heal his leg. She had sent Mei Li into the forest to search for special healing leaves and herbs for the poultice she applied to the festering wound. Both women had attended him tirelessly through the raging fever that became increasingly intense. Delirious, he had begged them to cut off the blackened, putrid limb, but Lada had only yielded when he went into convulsions. Bravely, Mei Li had assisted her grandmother in the grisly task. In the months that followed, she had worked in the paddy fields to harvest the crop and free Lada to nurse him.

Entri now got round the village on a simple wooden leg he’d carved, but he’d never fish the South China Sea again. Despite the efforts of his kin they were struggling to get by. He didn’t even like to think about next season. The main harvest had taken place a month ago, and now, as he watched his prematurely aged wife wearily split the cane for the mats and baskets she hoped to sell from a roadside barrow, he doubted there would be sufficient profit from her dogged toil.

Langkup, a fisherman from one of the northern tribes, had
offered to buy Entri’s boat. He was coming tonight to settle the deal. Entri was very sad. Selling the boat, which he’d inherited from his father and his father before him, was a downward move, reducing him in rank and importance. But he had no alternative. His children were dispersed and had forsaken their roots.

According to his nephew Dedan, Rubiah was still in Miri and living in luxury as the concubine of a rich Chinese timber merchant. Dedan told Entri that his rich cousin thought she was too important to acknowledge him nowadays. She seemed to have forgotten how he’d helped her when she first arrived in Miri, a green girl from the jungle.

‘Uncle, she wouldn’t loan me the deposit to buy a taxi,’ Dedan had complained, ‘even though she’s loaded and I’d promised to pay her back with interest. So here I am, still working for peanuts in the drycleaners.’

Even so, unlike Rubiah, Dedan still came home to the longhouse for
Gawai
and gave his parents the traditional gift of money while Entri hung his head in shame. Entri’s brother had boasted that his son had presented him with one thousand ringgit this harvest. Unhappily, Entri wondered what he’d done to disserve such a disobedient, disrespectful daughter.

That night after supper Langkup arrived. All the families came out to greet their guest and gathered in front of the longhouse, their communal home. The longhouse was like a medieval castle providing sanctuary to the entire village, but instead of a protective moat and drawbridge, the longhouse stood on tall ironwood stilts. Entry was by a ladder that could be easily drawn up if another tribe attacked. Mei Li had learned her numbers by counting the doors. With sixty doors, their longhouse was
of average size. Grandma had told her that some houses had as many as two hundred doors.