Читать книгу A Better Life - Isobel Scharen - Страница 11

CHAPTER 5

MAY, 1941

ADA WAS AWARE OF A long tailed mynah observing her from the feathery branches of a large angsana tree, its head cocked to one side as if bemused by the madness of an English woman out in the full sun. The asphalt was baking; heat came up through the soles of her sandals, and the fire, which Amah had made in the centre of the tennis court, roasted her face. It was like being in Hell, but she welcomed the suffering as a form of penance and waited patiently for Amah to throw another wad of paper money onto the blaze. Ada had often mocked the old woman for her superstitions, but now she envied her. How consoling it would be to believe that Elizabeth would have an afterlife in which she would want for nothing.

In the morning of the funeral Amah had beaten her chest and wailed before a beautiful paper house and motor car for Elizabeth to enjoy in the next world.

“In next life your mother have everything she want,” Amah had said. It had been comforting to think of that during the funeral service as the congregation knelt and prayed, formal and quiet. At the graveyard, when Michael put his arm around her, Ada had cried silently, but the grief seemed to go more deeply inside her. Sometimes she felt that there were ashes in the pit of her stomach. It was guilt, of course. She knew that Elizabeth had become very over-tired sewing for the wedding. And then there was the move from Geylang to Corbett Road.

Ada cursed herself again for having left the hospital bed where Elizabeth lay, hung around with tubes and wires. She was unconscious, but at the last moment might have opened her eyes and seen that she’d been abandoned. It was dreadful to think that she died alone. Ada remembered the last time she was with her mother. It was only a month ago, here in Serangoon, before the journey upcountry. She said goodbye to Elizabeth then, but it was not a proper goodbye, not enough gratitude. She’d been thinking about herself; how she would fare on the honeymoon.

Ada looked towards the forest beyond the tennis court. Michael had said that he used to go into the deep woods with his sling and satchel and pretend he was Tarzan, take a pot shot at the monkeys and birds. Once he found a dead snake and chased a screaming Evaline around the garden. It was hard to imagine Evaline being frightened of anything.

Ada looked down at Amah. She was sweating profusely. “Come, Amah. It’s time we went inside. You’ve done enough.”

Amah remained squatting and squinted at the notes in her hand like a card shark assessing the deal, then glanced up at Ada. “Go.” Amah gestured with her head towards the house. “You rest now. Must rest.”

“I am going to lie down for a while.” She did feel tired, but what she wanted most of all was the solitude; time to mourn.

✬✬✬

In the quietness of her bedroom beneath the beating fan she sat upright by the shuttered window, placed her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and conjured an image of Elizabeth hovering above, her face serene because she was at peace. There was no sign of any hurt for her daughter’s impatience with naïve remarks. She did not blame Ada at all for the sewing she had to do. Instead, she fondly recalled those times they’d sat together and worked. Ada pictured Elizabeth seated with a tape measure around her neck, her legs folded under her, the arch of one slender bare foot resting on the sole of the other, the toes flat and straight, the instep high. She could sit like that for hours and sew, little finger crooked, lips pursed in concentration. “Invisible stitches, Ada, or you’ll have to unpick.”

Ada opened her eyes. This was not what she wanted to remember, a mother wearing herself out with sewing. Quickly she sought another memory. It was the rainy season, so humid. All the teachers were on edge and waiting to pounce. In maths class, the compass kept slipping in her hand, and she could not concentrate. A shrill voice rang out and she stumbled to her feet. She’d never been scolded like that before. She was feeling very downcast when Amah came to fetch Vera and her.

As soon as she had reached home, Elizabeth, seeing her drawn face, hugged her and stroked her back. She’d cried noisily, pressing her face into a soft neck scented with Pears soap, while Vera kept asking what the matter was, and complained that the floor felt sticky. That kitchen with Elizabeth had been the safest place, and Ada yearned for it now. It hurt so much to think she would never talk to her mother again.

✬✬✬

Ada had showered and dressed and was seated at her dressing table combing her hair, readying herself for the evening meal, when Michael returned home later than usual from afternoon games. He kissed her neck, then threw some marbles confiscated from his pupils onto the bed.

“What a day. Everyone excited about something. Not sure what. The juniors were impossible,” he said. Ada watched him in the mirror. There was a brightness in his eyes, as if he’d been affected by the mysterious restlessness. “And how are you, darling?”

His tone was as compassionate as ever, but Ada sensed that he was distracted.

“Perhaps it’s someone’s party today?” she suggested. Michael shrugged.

“You look tired,” she remarked, inviting him to talk about himself. He’d been so patient and understanding about Elizabeth.

“No, not tired. I just feel filthy. It’s sweltering. I need to have a shower. And then you can tell me about your day.”

He was aware that Ada had not settled in the household yet. She’d told Michael that she felt like one of the ornaments on Evaline’s sideboard. Although she might have wished for release from the duties of the boarding house, she found herself lost with Evaline in such superb control of the home, family and servants. She realised that work gave her a sense of having some worth. She tried to busy herself with sewing, but found that sewing made her miss Elizabeth all the more. As for reading, her one-time love, she’d become stuck on a book, After Leaving Mr Mackenzie by Jean Rhys, which someone had given Melanie. Apart from her mind being clouded by sorrow, Ada had little sympathy for the heroine who behaved like a rebel, yet was prepared to be a kept woman, and was pathetically dependent on men.

✬✬✬

Michael was intoning something in the shower, as he often did – lines from a poem or a play. When he emerged from the bathroom she asked, “What was that you were reciting?”

He ran his fingers through his damp hair and picked up a comb from the dressing table. “It’s a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done” he said, combing his hair. “It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” He stopped, comb poised, and looked thoughtful as if taking in the significance of the lines.

“What’s it from?”

“The Tale of Two Cities. Charles Dickens. It’s about a man who goes to the scaffold to save his friend.”

“Were you reading the book at school today?”

“No.” He looked excited, and she waited for him to say more, but he was clearly thinking of something else, something he was not intending to share with her. She did not believe it was the pupils’ unrest that was preoccupying him, and recalled the Woods’ lunch party a month ago when he’d claimed to have a lot on his mind. He was not angry this time, but this was the Michael who was strange to her.

✬✬✬

Two Tamil servants brought in dishes of lamb cutlets and vegetables. The family ate English food in the evenings, Indian or Chinese midday. Ada wondered if this was a way of trying to keep a balance between the Anglo and the Asian parts of themselves. She preferred the spicy curries, the fragrant dhal, the succulent brinjal, but had not regained her appetite lost after Elizabeth’s death, and indeed in the past couple of days had felt quite nauseous at meal times.

“Still no appetite, Ada? You’re looking pale. Isn’t she Michael? Look at your wife,” Evaline said.

“I’m looking, and she seems as beautiful as ever.”

“I’ve thought of buying tickets for The Mikado next Saturday,” said Patrick. “Have you seen it, Ada?”

She shook her head.

“Saw it the first time when I was a young man, fancy free in London.” He liked to reminisce about his business trips to England on behalf of his ailing father, and seemed to do this whenever Ada was around lately, as if offering her a link with Elizabeth. He was a kind and insightful man. He seemed to understand that she felt like a stranger in the household.

“I don’t want to go,” Charmaine said.

“No one is forcing you,” Patrick replied.

“I’m going to a dance at the Club. I’m going with some of the girls I met on my shorthand typing course.”

Ada was reminded of Charmaine’s latest boast – her swift promotion in the office since passing her exams. It was difficult not to feel envious.

“You must make sure that you give Priti time to get your dress ready. Last time…”

Michael spoke over his mother. “Sanjiv’s got a headship.”

“He’s younger than you.” Evaline sounded offended.

“He’s at an Indian school, Evaline. Michael’s is a different establishment entirely,” Patrick said, a note of warning in his tone.

Evaline ignored him. “You should’ve gone to England, to Cambridge, like your father wanted you to, and come back top dog.”

“And where would that have got me?” Michael said. He had told Ada his reasons for not going. A cousin had been very lonely there, experiencing not only isolation but sometimes downright rudeness. Michael had not wanted his predictable anger at similar treatment to taint the pleasure of his studies. Patrick had given way, allowing him to attend Raffles College until he would hopefully mature and see the use of going onto Cambridge. He’d lacked any inclination to do this, however, and instead had trained to be a teacher.

“You could’ve worked for your father, but no, you had to help others out,” Evaline went on, then turned to Ada and spoke forcibly, pushing her coarse grey hair behind her ears. “What Michael says is true, you know. The British have always kept the top jobs for themselves. They’ve treated us better than Asians, but never thought us good enough to be treated like equals. It makes me wild to think that they used to encourage their men to marry Indian women.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of disgust. “And then, oh lordy, the Indians did not want to know these women. Or their children. Are you surprised that we stick together? If not for our ancestors learning to speak English and building themselves up, we would be eating dirt today. It is a sin.”

With Charmaine having mentioned the Club – the Recreation Club – Ada pictured the manicured sward that divided it from the all-white Cricket Club at the opposite end of the Padang. She saw it as a symbol of the distance between the two races. The British might have permitted the Eurasians to be in eyeshot and in a prime position, thus granting them superiority over the Asians, yet still did not allow them equality. Indeed, it was a sin.

She was about to say that not all British people felt superior to Asians, her own father for instance, when Patrick spoke.

“Education is everything.”

“But what if there are no jobs?” Michael asked. “We train the boys to be clerks. Thousands qualify, and because the country has no need for so many, the pay is a pittance.”

“Our day will come,” Patrick said quietly. Michael’s face was flushed. Was he on the verge of becoming angry? Ada anxiously fingered the silver condiment set – a scrawny coolie pulling a rickshaw – and glanced up at a portrait of a Victorian gentleman, proud of having built himself up.

“If not for the Asians then at least for us,” Patrick continued, straightening his back. “At every critical point in the development of the British Raj, Anglo-Indians have fought and helped win battles. The Khyber Rifles, the Shekhawati Brigade, so many gave their lives.”

“And where has that got us? Look at our son.” Evaline stretched out her arm and flapped her hand at Michael. “He’s the best teacher in his school.”

“You don’t know that,” Michael said.

“You’ve told me how the headmaster relies on you. The children love you. They worship you. You must speak up. You must demand to go higher up.”

“Mum, you just don’t know how it works.”

“I think you’re frightened of tipping the boat.” Evaline looked boldly at Ada. “You must get behind Michael. Push him to speak up. What is the point of working hard every day, all the time, and getting nothing for it? He must demand what they owe him.”

Ada glanced at Michael. She could see his annoyance, and she disliked Evaline’s glare. “I’m sure Michael knows how to go about these things.”

Evaline tossed her head. “You can’t let people walk over you, my boy.”

“Evaline, Ada’s right,” Patrick began.

“What does she know? She’s British. She hasn’t had to suffer like we have.”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t been treated unfairly, Evaline. All I’m saying is I think we should leave it up to Michael to do what he thinks is best,” Ada said, both surprised and emboldened by her firmness. Evaline opened her mouth; Ada spoke more loudly. “Michael has enough to think about without me nagging him.”

Michael’s gaze met hers. “I think you do look pale, Ada. How about we take a drive to the beach?”

✬✬✬

The sparks of the twin poles of a trolley bus against the dark sky seemed to Ada like a celebration of her release. She took in deep thankful breaths of the hibiscus-scented air as the car left the city and sped along the lush verges of the road, then past the moonlit pineapple plantations.

“Better?” Michael asked, glancing at her. “Mum can be a bit overbearing. She likes to make her point.”

Ada made no comment.

“Still very sad, aren’t you?”

“It’ll take time, I suppose. Time heals. Mummy used to say that.” Ada sighed. “But she never got over losing Daddy. He adored her.” Ada remembered how he used to watch Elizabeth comb her hair on the verandah with the silver-backed brush given to her by a kind mistress for a wedding present. He’d stand there and smile, full of pride. Perhaps Elizabeth was deceived by Frugneit because she was blinded by her need to be loved like that again?

Aware of Michael’s anxious glance, she said, “I hope your mother didn’t think I was being rude.”

“She probably did. But it does her good to be challenged from time to time. Dad doesn’t much because he wants an easy life.”

“Still, I’m only the daughter-in-law.”

“You’re my wife. That’s what’s more important. When you spoke up for me I could’ve leapt across the table and kissed you.” He smiled.

“I wish you had,” she replied, feeling warmed by his remark, although she knew that Michael was quite able to stand up to his mother, and often did. “But then again you might have injured yourself, so we wouldn’t be coming out here.”

The moon was higher when they reached the sea, and shone down on the flat darkness like a spotlight picking out the fishermen hauling in their nets on the cigar-shaped boats beyond the pagar. There was no evidence of the barbed wire fences that had been erected on other beaches – as some sort of pathetic hindrance to invaders, Michael had said. Ada slipped off her sandals and dug her toes in the sugary sand. She could smell wood smoke. It was here, she could well recall, that Michael had proposed to her. A romantic spot, with the palms silhouetted against the sky and the sea ruffling gently.

“Do you remember what you asked me here, Michael?” It had been one afternoon when they drove to Katong for some sea air. Japanese women were paddling in the water, holding parasols to protect their alabaster complexions. A group of boys appeared with a paper kite. It caught the wind, and Ada, looking up and hearing Michael, believed that she’d never seen anything more graceful and free as it soared above the beach. But had she heard him correctly?

He took her hesitation as a rejection perhaps, because he’d stared at a spot over her shoulder. She’d heard the slight defensiveness in his tone. “You know my background,” he had said. “Would you like to think about it?”

She realised what he was hinting at. Once he’d pointed to a portrait of his grandmother and said that people thought she was Spanish, and that he resembled her. He’d seemed relieved when Ada agreed.

Her heart had increased its beat, but she tried to sound as light-hearted as she could. “And you know my background. Wouldn’t you like to think about it more?”

“Why would I want to do that? Why would any man want to?”

“Well, no one’s come forward before.” Her tone was playful, but in fact, not counting the eager partners at the tea dances from whom she’d accepted invitations for group picnics, and who had visited the house until she made clear her lack of interest, Michael was her first serious boyfriend. “I don’t need to think about it, Michael. Yes. I would like to marry you.”

“Of course I remember,” Michael said now, putting an arm around her waist. “It was one of the most nerve-racking moments of my life.”

“One of the most. I see. Not the most,” she said, pretending to be offended. He laughed, and she caught his hand. “Take off your shoes, Michael. We can paddle.”

The warm sea slapped gently on the shore, retreated and slapped again, a laconic melody that soothed her, made her feel she could say what was on her mind. Michael removed his shoes and they walked in the water. A few yards on, Ada said, “I feel I’d get over Mummy more easily if I could get out more. I’ve too much time to think about her, and I can’t settle to anything. My mind keeps wandering off when I read.”

“No one is preventing you from going out, anywhere you choose.” He put his arm around her waist again.

“It’s not about gadding. I need something to do. I’m used to feeling useful.” She hesitated. “I thought of going back to the Municipal. There might be work for me. I remember Violet de Sousa getting married and coming back to fill in for people when they got ill. She said it worked well.”

To her surprise Michael answered, “I think that would be a very good idea. I was wondering if you would do something like that.”

“Perhaps I could do a shorthand typing course as well.”

“Yes, yes. Or think about finding a tutor so you can carry on where you left off.”

“Do my exams, you mean?” She looked up at him, wondering if he were serious, and felt a rush of delight.

“Why not? I really think you should.”

She detected an urgency in his tone, which made her suddenly feel anxious. “It’s been years since I did any studying. I might not manage…”

“You’ll soon get used to it. You were a very good student.” He paused, then said slowly, as if he did not want to alarm her in any way, “I’ve been asked to do a little bit of extra tuition for the older boys. I’ll be busier than I have been. Home late sometimes. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“So better if I was occupied?”

He said nothing.

“I envy you going off each day. You’ve got a real sense of purpose.”

“Well, I’ve got to save up for us, so we can live on our own.”

“But it’s not just that. You also do work for which you’re not paid, Michael.” She was thinking of the scouting, and free extra music tuition he gave the boys who could not afford the fees. “You don’t just say how terrible it is that there’s so many poor people, for instance: you give generously of your time to help them.” She sighed. “I would love to be as useful as you are in the world.”

“Lots of people do much more than me.”

“Do you think one day they’ll let married women teach?”

“I think that day is on the horizon. More women want to use their education, and to stop them because they’re married is absurd. It’s wasting a lot of potential. Not to mention money, when you think how much education and training costs.”

“It’ll cost a lot for me to have private tuition. Do you think we can afford it?”

“Of course.”

“I wish I had your concentration. I watch you when you’re with your books. You don’t let anything distract you.”

“Look.” He led her out of the water. They reached the far end of the beach, and he picked up a palm frond and drew a circle on the sand, then divided this in half with a curved line. “You’ve seen this, haven’t you? You know about Yin and Yang, don’t you?”

“Opposites. Good and bad. Strong and weak. That sort of thing?”

“It’s a bit more complex.” He pointed to the two halves in turn. “One side is Yang, male. The other side is Yin, female. And the two are always striving towards harmony, because the ideal is to have a balance. You don’t want a hot desert, and you don’t want bitter cold, for instance. Now imagine this half. It’s black. The other half is white.” He drew two smaller circles in the larger part of each half. “In the black one, there’s a small white circle. In the white one a small black circle.”

“Which means what?”

“Each side has the seed of the other. See, as this side grows, the seed of the other appears. It’s a cyclical process. A constant striving to gain something the other half has.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“Everyone has the potential to find what they believe they lack. You haven’t had the chance to recognise your full worth, all your strengths.”

“Or the chance to recognise all my weaknesses.”

“I think you do enough of that, Ada.”

“You don’t have as many weaknesses as I do.”

“That’s not true, I’m afraid,” he said quietly, his tone serious.

She sensed that he was preparing to say more. He took her hand, and they turned to face the sea. A soft breeze carried the smell of salt. The water was a glossy velvet. It was a beautiful evening, and Ada decided that she wanted it to remain that way.

“Well, it’s good to hear that we might be equals as far as weaknesses go, Michael. But let’s not list them now. Let’s enjoy being here. It’s such a lovely evening. Everyone has weaknesses. But remember, we can change. You just have to work on what you lack.”

Michael put his arm around her and kissed her brow. They stood in silence. The fishermen began to crease the surface as they paddled their boat steadily towards the shore. Michael drew her closer. She felt calmer and more content than she had for a long time.