Читать книгу A Better Life - Isobel Scharen - Страница 12

CHAPTER 6

ONLY CHARMAINE WAS IN THE dining room when Ada came in for breakfast. Ada had overslept after having woken at dawn, feeling a lurch of nausea. Returning from the bathroom, she had noticed that Michael was not in bed.

“Has Michael already left for school?” Ada asked Charmaine, who was was hungrily eating a bowl of creamy porridge. Ada grimaced slightly, feeling sickened by the smell of the food.

“I don’t know,” Charmaine replied abruptly, as if offended.

Ada suspected that Charmaine had interpreted her expression of distaste as a criticism. Evaline was constantly cautioning Charmaine not to spoil her figure – somewhat on the ample side – and Ada had heard Michael recently teasing her with a thoughtless chant, possibly from childhood days, ‘fatty fatty boom-ba-latti, ate up all the ghee chapatti’.

Apart from the time she’d been chosen as a bridesmaid and chattered with excitement during her dress fittings at the boarding house, Charmaine had remained as aloof from Ada as she’d ever been. Ada hoped that in time this would change when Charmaine saw her position in the family was not threatened by a sister-in-law whose looks Evaline continued to praise. Ada had noticed that Charmaine, although spoiled materially, did not enjoy the attention which Michael, clever and articulate, received from his father, or the admiration of his ambitious mother. Evaline was also growing more impatient with Charmaine for not attracting the right suitor – any suitor, to be precise – who would enable her to achieve some status in the Anglo-Indian community. Evaline did not seem to place much value on Charmaine having a good job.

Ada followed Charmaine’s gaze, and saw Amah shuffling along the path that led from the servants’ quarters, her face grim with displeasure. Ada hoped that it was not Abdul who had caused this. Ada had reminded Amah, since she’d arrived in Serangoon after Elizabeth’s death and Vera’s move to the flat of a work friend, that there was to be no more quarrelling. Patrick and Evaline would not like it, and she might not be welcome in the household.

Ada was about to go outside and call Amah when Charmaine stood up and said, “I’ve told her to iron my dress. And she hasn’t done it yet.”

“Perhaps if you asked her nicely, Charmaine. She doesn’t like being ordered about. She’s an old woman.”

“She’s a servant.”

“I believe that you get the best from people when you treat them well.”

“She’s very rude. She answers me back.”

Ada had heard this, and had scolded Amah, but knew the old woman was stubborn and had a lot of pride. “You want elephant ivory grow out of dog mouth?” she’d said to Ada. Pleased with her remark, Amah had pulled back her lips, and her gold tooth – for the rainy days of advanced age – gleamed triumphantly.

Charmaine pushed past Ada and stomped out onto the verandah. At least a quarrel with Abdul would be forestalled, Ada thought as she heard Charmaine making her demand, and went to search for Michael. If he had not already left for work, he’d be in the library. He liked to play the piano before school, and he did his marking in there.

He was at his desk.

“What are you doing, Michael?” She peered at the book in front of him, a page of oriental script. “Japanese!” She’d been told by his proud parents that he’d always been keen to learn native languages and was fluent in several. “Is that why you got up early? To study this? Why?”

“Because I think the best way to understand a people, other cultures, is to try and learn their language.”

She remembered what he’d said to Sanjiv and Jimmy about the advisability of understanding how the Japanese thought. She was about to ask if he had the time for studying since he was so busy at school, when she felt nauseous again, and covered her mouth.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“Just a bit squeamish. Probably something I ate. I was sick this morning.”

“Do you want to go back to bed?”

Ada shook her head.

“Speak to Mum. She has a cure for everything.”

“I’m sure she has,” Ada said sharply, thinking of Evaline pestering the servants, bustling continually, unless she had her friends over for an endless game of cards or mah-jong. But Ada was also annoyed with herself. As Michael had warned her, he was absent more with his teaching duties, and she was still underemployed and had not done anything to further her plans discussed on the beach a couple of weeks before. It was simply that she felt inexplicably tired. Perhaps she was still suffering from the shocking loss of Elizabeth? But after talking about the future, her opportunity to study again, she had felt quite buoyant.

Michael looked mildly puzzled, and she was sorry for snapping. Since the evening at the beach she’d felt closer to him than ever before. Their love-making was surely proof of that – although, she thought, her breasts had begun to feel uncomfortably sensitive.

“I really must see about Mr. Moses today.” This was the name Michael had given her of a retired school teacher who tutored privately. “If you’re sure we can afford it. I don’t want to think that Patrick...”

“Of course we can. Go ahead.” Michael began packing his satchel. “I’ll try to be home as early as I can this evening. You’ve been very understanding.” He kissed her cheek. “Take things easy today.”

After he left, she returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed. Ahead was a picture of a sampan on a fiery sea. The sails were lifeless, the boat becalmed. She stared morosely at it for a moment, then imagined herself diving from the deck into the smooth warm water as she used to do with Noel at the beach parties he arranged for his guests. They’d swim together out to the anchored boats. She had done that with Michael too, she recalled, and pictured them competing to reach the pagar first. He would win, but not by much. They had not swum together since their marriage, she realised.

“Ada, Ada.” Evaline was calling her, tapping at the door. The instant Ada replied, Evaline burst inside. “Michael tells me you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m all right.”

“You look out of sorts. I’ve said this. And you have no appetite to speak of. It’s not surprising. You’ve had a lot of sadness. It takes time to heal. But too much time with your thoughts only adds to misery.”

Surprised and mollified by Evaline’s understanding, Ada decided to speak up. Evaline was not a mind-reader.

“I’m used to being busy, Evaline.”

Evaline nodded emphatically. “Then it’s time to teach you how to run a home. See everything is done properly. Come with me.”

Ada realised that there was no use saying she did not need to be taught, and followed Evaline as she bustled down the hallway towards the kitchen. A florid Indian cook, slicing onions at the bench, barely glanced at them, as if needing to show the utmost diligence. Evaline stood, hands on hips.

“To it all, there is a key. Time. No matter what it is, take your time. Don’t let any of the servants do things hurry-scurry.” She pointed at the onions. “See how wafer thin the slices are. This helps them to brown quickly in the oil. Hot oil. Hot. Must be hot.” She beckoned Ada to the fridge and held open the door, so Ada could view the slabs of meat. “Make sure you buy the best ingredients.” She reached for a plate of red flesh and lifted it under Ada’s nose. Gagging, Ada took a step back and placed her hand over her mouth. Evaline surveyed Ada’s body.

“How long has this been going on?”

Before Ada could reply, Evaline, glancing guardedly at the cook, clasped Ada’s arm and ushered her out onto the verandah. “Your breasts hurt, do they?” Ada blushed. Evaline’s face lit up. “You could be pregnant, Ada. You must see our Dr. Wong straightaway.”

Ada looked out onto the lush garden, and tried to absorb what had been said. She had not thought to be ‘caught’, as Elizabeth would put it, quite so soon, and though she smiled at Evaline, who was clearly delighted, she felt nothing but confusion.

✬✬✬

“It’s good the nausea is only really bad in the mornings. A girl at work said she felt terrible all day,” Vera said. “So glad you could come out. I thought we should celebrate.”

Ada smiled agreement and tried to look as animated as she could. The air in the amusement park was heavy with the smells of coconut milk, grilled meat, ripe fruit, and sweat.

She felt quite overwhelmed with the noise of dance band music and shooting galleries. She did not recall the Great World being so frenetic. There was an underlying current of hysteria, which she believed must be to do with the behaviour of men away from home, parents, anyone who might disapprove of their desire to have a good time. Across from her in an open-sided bar with a billiard table in the centre, soldiers were lounging back in their rattan chairs, beers in their hands, raucously singing ‘run Hitler, run Hitler, run, run, run’ while the doll-like taxi girls lolled coyly around them in their tight cheongsams, looking sleek and available. It saddened Ada to see them earning their money in this way, many of them fleeing the war in Indo-China. But without education or training what else could they do?

“The doctor said at the end of December,” she had told Michael when she returned from the surgery. She saw a shadow cross his face, so fleeting she wondered if it had been her imagination.

He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her, then noticed her expression. “Aren’t you thrilled?”

“I’m not really used to the idea yet. And what about my studies?”

“Once you’re properly over the morning sickness there’s no reason why you can’t start, and then carry on until you get too tired. And after the baby is born you can continue when you feel up to it. Amah will be here for you to have time for studying. And Evaline.”

“I can’t wait.”

“For the baby?”

“To not vomit in the mornings.”

Bright lights exploded and a sabre-toothed tiger sprung across the navy sheet of the sky. The words, ‘Tiger Balm’ flicked out before trickling down onto the blanched leaves of a palm. She looked at Michael who was standing a short distance ahead in front of a wooden platform supported on trestles. Next to it was a makeshift tent, beside which stood three Chinese - a woman and two men. Their faces were thickly painted in white, and their brows, marked out heavily in black, slanted upwards like bird wings. All wore high, beaded hats that resembled the roofs of Chinese temples. Two bright blobs of pink highlighted their cheeks.

At the sound of a gong the three actors climbed onto the dais. Immediately, to the beat of drums interspersed with a clash of symbols, the men gripped the hilts of their swords, stood aggressively with their legs apart in their long, heavily embroidered gowns, and began to gesture at each other exaggeratedly, twitching long steel fingernails. The woman held her tasselled head on one side and watched them with a sorrowful fascination.

“Have you ever seen so much passion conveyed with so much restraint?” Michael said, turning to the sisters. “It’s all there. Hatred, love, jealousy, loyalty. It’s most definitely opera. Wonderful.”

“But not like the opera you listen to?”

“The language is different. The music. But the intention is the same.”

“What’s that?”

“To stir the blood.”

Ada wanted him to continue. His eyes were bright as they often were when he spoke about music or great literature. He was clearly moved - as he had been, she recalled, when reading the Japanese folk anthem to Jimmy and Sanjiv.

Vera was not listening. Excitedly, she pointed towards a hall where band music was playing loudly. “Do you fancy a little trot around? The exercise will do you good, Ada.”

Ada was about to refuse, knowing that Michael did not like dancing, when Michael took her arm and ushered her forward. “She’s right,” he said.

They found a table close to the floor, and as soon as Vera was asked to dance by one of the soldiers at a nearby table, Michael rose.

“How about a trot, then? I think trot is the right word for what I’m capable of.”

“You’re a good dancer,” Ada remarked as they began to circle the floor. Michael grimaced. “I think you set yourself such high standards in everything that you’re not happy unless you excel.”

“Are you saying that I’m a competitive killjoy?”

“No. I’m just saying that you can just enjoy yourself and not worry if you’re not as good as you think you should be. I saw you with Jimmy and Sanjiv. I know you can be very light-hearted and playful. I like that. I like seeing that side of you. Not the Michael always working hard. Or studying Japanese.”

“I take what you’re saying very seriously indeed,” he said, smiling.

She smiled too, recognising the jest. She was pleased to have spoken openly, and without offending him.

They passed a group of soldiers swigging from bottles. Conscious they were staring at her and Michael, she was reminded of the time in the Cameron Highlands’ hotel, the hostile looks of the guests.

When the music stopped Michael ushered her before him, and as they began towards their table a cheery voice asked, “Can I have the next dance?” A soldier, a moon-faced blond youngster, appeared at her side. He was no doubt boldly confident after an evening’s drinking, and believed that all women in the room were as easily accessible as the taxi girls. Michael stepped forward between her and the soldier.

“No cutting in. No cutting in,” the soldier drawled.

Michael held Ada’s hand and began to move on.

“You go for coloureds, do you?” the soldier said.

Ada turned to face him. “Are you referring to my husband?” The soldier took a step back. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘coloured.’ But I do know that I definitely prefer men who can hold their drink and don’t behave like ignorant louts.”

Michael gripped her arm and walked on. “Ignore him,” he said. “He’s a fool.”

Vera was at the table. “What was that about?”

“He was pestering me to dance.”

Michael leaned forward, blocking her view of Vera, and asked a waiter to bring them a jug of cold beer and another of fruit juice. When he sat back his smile was tight and Ada could sense he was trying to contain his anger. They would not go yet. They must pretend indifference. A mere soldier boy was not going to drive Michael Wood away.

Vera noticed a friend from work, who beckoned her over to a nearby table, and Ada was left sipping her juice beside a brooding Michael. She looked about the room. The boy had disappeared. Not all of the soldiers were drunk. Most of them looked to be enjoying themselves in a sensible fashion.

“Don’t be upset, Michael. As you said, he’s just an idiot. He’s had too much to drink.”

Michael said nothing, and she thought again of the time in the Cameron Highlands. It was sobering to think that she and Michael would continue to face prejudice. As adults, they would cope. But what about a child? Their child? How could they protect it from being hurt?