Читать книгу A Better Life - Isobel Scharen - Страница 10

CHAPTER 4

HE WAS AS PATIENT WITH her as Elizabeth had predicted. He lifted her nightdress and caressed her, told her how beautiful she was, taking his time, not at all clumsy - but she felt stiff and awkward. The pain was sharp and quick, and when his breathing, which she heard coming fast in her ear, ended in a small moan, she let out a tiny accompanying whimper. She regretted this instantly, because as he drew away from her she looked up to see his frown. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I was trying to be gentle. I hope you’re not too hurt.” She murmured that she was not - the emotional turmoil she was experiencing helped to dull the soreness. He held her gently and kissed her cheek, and then got up from the bed. She watched him pause for a moment and look at himself in the mirror set above a cabinet. He turned his head as if to view the sharp planes of his cheek and confirm something about his appearance. She wanted to tell him how handsome he was, but he seemed caught up in his own thoughts. She resisted the urge to say, “I’m sorry, Michael, it will be better next time, I’ll know what to expect.”

✬✬✬

A crowing rooster woke Ada at dawn. She lay watching a mottled lizard fastened like a filigree silver brooch on the patchy wall, and listened to the incessant shrill hiccups and whooping of jungle birds. Michael was lying with his back to her, snoring quietly. Contentedly? Had it been all right for him last night, she wondered. Had her nervousness shown?

She rose now, put on her new lemon silk kimono, and opened the door onto a small balcony. The garden was neatly kept – the Malay manager and his wife were tidying the borders before the heat of the day. The woman, seeing Ada, waved, and indicated she would bring up the breakfast tray.

Michael was awake when Ada returned from her shower, and was sitting on the side of the bed rubbing his head. “Had too much of Jimmy’s home-brew.”

“I had a sip. A bit bitter for me. But the pork was delicious.” She slipped off her kimono and self-consciously began to dress. He’d seen everything, but she still felt shy. “I enjoyed the evening. I liked Jimmy and Sanjiv. They’re very witty. I can understand why you were good friends at school. You’ve got a lot in common.”

“It’s good to see them again. We used to do a lot together. They were scout leaders at college too. I was Yellow Bear, and Jimmy was Running Bear. And Sanjiv was Tiger Cub, I think. We had a lot of laughs.” Michael had told her of the Rover scouts, his days in the jungle, the tribes in their tree houses playing their nose pipes.

“And you all chose to become teachers.”

“Yes. That’s true. It might’ve been because we all loved doing the scouting.” Ada looked enquiringly at him.

“It’s very rewarding being with young people who are really eager to learn,” he continued. “Teaching them how to fend for themselves and work together as a team, even something as simple as digging a latrine. Real survival skills which they wouldn’t have had a chance of getting otherwise.”

“I expect your pupils love you. I loved all my teachers.” She had especially loved beautiful Miss de Silva, who always told the girls to take their lessons seriously, so they could go far in a man’s world. When she gave her rousing lectures, her eyes would scan the class impartially but come to rest on Melanie Chow and Ada, as if silently encouraging them.

“I cried buckets when I had to leave them. I went around the school sobbing.”

Miss de Silva had cried, too. “You don’t need to go to school to keep on learning, Ada,” she had said. “Keep up with your reading.” Ada had been top of the class in English every year. She always wanted to be a teacher, as did Melanie, who now taught at a school in Outram Road. Ada wished that she could have taken her exams.

“It must’ve been a real blow,” Michael said. He knew that she’d been forced to leave school after her father’s death.

“My father would’ve turned in his grave if he’d known,” Ada said. “He had such ambitions for me. He always used to say I was a clever girl, and to go after what I wanted, like he did.” It was her, not Vera, whom he’d take on his trips to Boat Quay, as though grooming her for responsibility. No wonder she was ‘sense’ to Vera’s ‘sensibility’. She pictured him sniffing the air, relishing the aroma of sizzling garlic and chilli, the scent of lacquered chicken, the pungent tang of drying fish. It was only durian that made him hold his nose. He could even ignore the stench of the river. Not for him the enclosed world of a Kentish village.

“I wish you could’ve met my father,” Ada said. “You both would’ve got on well together.”

“I really wish I could’ve met him too.”

Michael had heard a lot about Noel – his coming out to Singapore with the Straits Trading Company and working as an overseer of cargo-handling on the docks. Noel had hoped to become a planter, but not having either the capital or the connections he decided to go into the hotel trade and put into practice what he’d learned in his days of service. He had no qualms about serving others, and turned his back on the English community who disapproved of his friendship with the locals, becoming what they called ‘native’, so native that he accepted Asian guests. Michael said that it took courage to have done that.

“He was very clever. Not educated like you,” Ada said, “but he knew a lot of different things. He liked to talk to the guests. He was a wonderful husband and father. I’ve often thought that Mummy got taken in by Frugneit because she only knew what was good. And believed all men were like that.”

“I suppose that if you’ve been lucky enough only to have known a good relationship, then you might not be on your guard,” Michael said, stepping away from her and looking out of the window.

“Mummy says that if you marry well the first time you should be content and not try again. So, don’t die, Michael. I don’t want to end up as a lonely widow.”

“I’ll try not to.” He did not turn to her, but she could see from his profile that he was serious. “And I’ll try my level best to measure up to your father.”

“Mummy said that you reminded her of him. She said right from the beginning that you were a decent man.”

Michael looked at her now, and his smile seemed bashful, as if he did not deserve such a compliment. “We’ll set off as soon as we can if that’s all right. We don’t want to get there too late.”

✬✬✬

They left the hotel immediately after breakfast to continue their journey to the Highlands. The road was flanked on both sides by dense green. Here and there trees rose above the canopy, their thin trunks bare until the light-seeking branches sprouted at their crests like opened parasols. Then they drove out onto a wide plain with rubber trees on one side of the road, and acres of palms on the other. Ada gazed in wonder at the butterscotch rivers and the bright green algae-covered lagoons; admired the grace of the women walking in the heat, straight-backed, carrying firewood on their heads; laughed at the naked children chasing the scampering chickens while the young men, spears at their sides, idled in the shade, and the elders squatted in front of smoky log fires.

When they began to climb upwards again through forest, a fine drizzle began to fall, and a mist hung over the hills. This was the English coolness that she had been promised. “It’s so different here. It’s wonderful,” she said.

“Our scout camp wasn’t far from here. I wanted you to see where we used to come.”

“The air’s so much fresher. It’s a relief. I feel that I’ve got more energy already. Daddy used to say that he’d forgotten how to walk briskly like he used to do in England. You had to. To keep warm. I’m not sure I’d like to live in such a cold country.” Her voice faltered. “Mummy says she’d never be able to survive there now.”

Michael glanced at her. “What’s the matter? You look sad.”

“I told Vera about Dr. Wong seeing to Mummy. I hope she took it all in.”

“I’m sure she did. She’ll manage, now that you’re not there and she can’t leave it up to you.” He patted her knee. “We’ll take lots of photos and your mother will see you smiling happily in every one, instead of looking as if you’re carrying the world on your shoulders.”

“Not like you then.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never known anyone who was more concerned about the welfare of others,” she said, thinking of his anger with the Chinese property developer.

“Well, you’ve been keeping the wrong company.”

She realised that he was being flippant, disowning the suggestion that he was especially caring, but after a moment’s silence, she said, “Not the wrong company, just a different one. The one that has to think of what’s for dinner, or if the clothes are washed.” Reminded of the duties of running the boarding house, she wondered how she’d ever managed.

“Perhaps one day it won’t be like that. Men will have to think about all those things and women will be the ones saving the world.”

“But we’re already doing that, aren’t we? Without your meals you’d be good for nothing, Michael.” She smiled, watching him laugh.

“You’ll have more time for yourself now,” he said, seeming to understand what lay behind her remarks, the regret for her abbreviated education.

“I want to do my share. I hope your mother asks me.”

“She will. But she does have everything under control.”

Ada made no reply to this.

“Don’t worry. We won’t have to live with my parents for long. I’m going to apply for married quarters. Though I’ll have to wait my turn. Unless I get promotion. But I’ll never be a headmaster, I’m afraid. Except if all the Brits do a bunk from here.”

“But if the British do a bunk then the Japanese will take over, and what you were saying yesterday, that anyone with white blood…” She stopped. She did not want to talk about the war now.

Michael squeezed her hand, and perhaps sensing her apprehension said, “Let’s not think about that. We’re on our honeymoon, darling.”

Yes, they were on their honeymoon. Besides, what was the point in worrying about something that would probably never happen? It was in the papers nearly every day that the Japanese had better things to do than invade Singapore. And if by some horrible turn of events it should happen, then there was even more reason to treasure every moment of happiness. Live in the present. Gather ye rosebuds. Goodness, she would never have another honeymoon.

The land had now become terraced for market gardens. Workers in wide straw hats bent over the rows, and on the roadside there were stalls heaped with glossy fruit and vegetables.

“Look, let’s buy some bananas,” Michael said, slowing the car.

As soon as it came to a halt, curvaceous smooth-skinned women in bajus and sarongs swayed gracefully towards them and smilingly offered spider bananas for a few cents. There was a knowing sensuality in their every move, it seemed to Ada. Reminded of her sexual inexperience, she only half-listened to Michael when he pointed at the grey scars on the slopes and talked about the slump years of tin mining, the difficult time for the workers.

They stopped to eat at a roadside house. Satiated by the meal of beef rendang, both were quiet as they travelled on over hillsides thickly quilted with tea bushes. Through a light mist, Ada could see the pickers with baskets on their backs, and in the distance the large white houses of the European bosses, which made her think of her parents, how they’d left England to make a better life together, and how her mother was now on her own, and still missing Noel.

The sound of a nose-flute echoed dolefully in the lush valley. Ada looked at Michael. She could not bear the thought of losing him.

✬✬✬

By late afternoon the clouds were swimming fast together and darkening as they collected. They looked threatening, doom-laden.

“It’s going to rain cats and dogs. There’s going to be a storm and a half,” she said.

Michael smiled. “Sometimes I think you sound more Eurasian than I do, Ada. But if you want to be really correct it’s bulls and bisons. We should be there before they stampede.” He pointed to a large white building, striped with black, at the top of a jungle-covered hill. “That’s the hotel. It’s mock Tudor.” He said this with satisfaction. Critical of the British he might be, but Ada considered that there was a great deal of respect as well. It was a strange mixture of love and hate.

As they drew nearer, Ada saw golfers striding with purpose across an expanse of smooth green, no doubt aiming to complete their game before the storm broke.

There was a clap of thunder, and a seam of gold pressed out on the purple sky. It was raining by the time they reached the entrance. Leaving the car to be parked and the luggage to be brought in, Ada ran quickly up the steps while Michael tipped the attendant.

She blotted her face with her handkerchief and gave her name to a smiling blond woman at the desk.

“Ah, yes, Mr and Mrs Wood. It’s your honeymoon, isn’t it? Well I hope you have a wonderful time! We’ll do everything to make your stay with us as perfect as we can!” Michael appeared and stood beside Ada. “You don’t mind if I see to this gentleman here while we’re waiting for your husband?”

“He is my husband.” Ada expected the woman to beam another welcome, toss around words of delight, but detected instead a tightening of the lips. Was that disapproval beneath the finished smile and effusive wish for their stay to be most pleasant? Ada looked at Michael to see if he’d noticed that the woman was put out to find Mr Wood was not blond and blue-eyed like his bride. To her relief he showed no sign of doing so.

But she felt annoyed, insulted, and again later that night when they entered the beamed dining room, and people looked up at them with an affronted curiosity.

She told herself that she should not be shocked, should have guessed, should have been prepared. Hadn’t her father, because of his friendship with the locals, been cold-shouldered? In Singapore, she and Michael did not go to the haunts of the British, which was the reason perhaps they’d not experienced such rudeness. So was it to be like this whenever they ventured as a couple to places the British thought belonged exclusively to themselves?

The waiter brought a watery mulligatawny soup. Michael immediately began to eat in a determined way, as if he were trying to ignore the staring, to demonstrate his indifference. Ada lifted her spoon, sipped, then abruptly stopped and glanced boldly around her until heads turned and eyes lowered. She put out her foot to touch Michael’s. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a fire inside a building. I’ve seen them in pictures, of course, but not like this.”

“I thought you might like a taste of Old England,” he said.

“It’s different, yes.”

She must have sounded half-hearted because he looked carefully at her, then leaned forward and said quietly, “Take no notice of bigots. They want you to share in their wretched insecurity.” He smiled, and spoke in a normal voice. “Perhaps I should’ve taken you to Penang. But you’ve been there. And I wanted to show you a part of the world I’ve had lots of adventures in. I’m a kid really. Men never grow up, as you probably know.”

Ada looked about the room again. No one was staring now, but the confident English voices sounded strident, hostile. She studied Michael as he checked the menu for his beloved desserts. He did have a boyish face, vulnerable too, and she felt a surge of protectiveness towards him. He raised his head, and his gaze rested on her for a moment, then he reached out for her hand and squeezed it as if in gratitude.

✬✬✬

The rain was beating down hard when they went upstairs to the bedroom, and occasional gusts of wind drove it dramatically against the shutters. Ada was reminded of the man who used to play for the silent movies at the Cathay, increasing the tempo and pounding the keys whenever something dangerous was about to happen. After a shower she put on another crepe-de-chine nightgown with her mother’s carefully drawn threadwork, then slipped into bed while Michael was in the bathroom. When he emerged, she turned to look at him and smiled. She would not allow him to see her nervousness.

He was as gentle with her as the night before, and only as he felt her relax did he see to his own pleasure. She heard his quickened breathing, responded to his growing excitement, and although when he made that moaning sound again she cried out too, this time it was from pleasure, and the relief of having felt it. But he seemed to become immediately aware of her, and she sensed his caution, a withdrawal of spirit.

“It didn’t hurt at all,” she whispered.

“You must tell me if I ever do. I want you to enjoy it, really enjoy it.”

“I did,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, a trace of doubt on his face. She smiled, and he stroked her neck, examining her features in the light of the bedside lamp as if trying to detect how honest she was being. “I love you with all my heart, Ada,” he said, kissing her again.