The Plantation Part 7

'Snakes? Oh, I see. Thank you.' She turned back towards the house.

The gardener crouched back down to the small border of flowers.

Margaret sat on the verandah and fanned herself. All the staff had asked if they could help her and they had been very respectful. Margaret was enchanted. Clearly while Charlotte Elliott was away, Margaret was the 'boss mem'. No one at home in Brisbane would ever imagine living with so many servants.

She jumped up as she heard Roland's Bedford truck returning.

He took off his hat and wiped his face with his handkerchief. 'Right, Mrs Elliott, shall we go and inspect our house? I've asked Hamid to take our things over there. Then later this afternoon when it starts to cool, we'll go for a bit of a tour about the rest of the place.' He kissed her. 'I know this might seem strange and difficult but our bungalow will be your own domain to make of what you will.' He put his arm about her shoulders as they walked indoors.

'This place is rather, well, old looking. Outdated,' said Margaret. 'I suppose older people don't like change.'

'Well, that's part of it. But Margaret, we've just come through the Depression when rubber prices were at rock bottom. It was a struggle for us just to keep the plantation viable. So there's been no money for what Father would consider frivolous things. My mother certainly understood that whenever there was spare cash, it was put straight back into the business. Things are picking up now and because my parents were frugal and hung on through the bad times, they were able to come out way ahead. Actually we have been able to expand our operation because we bought up a lot of estates around here from other families and companies that couldn't make a go of things in the last few years.'

'So you actually expanded Utopia during the Depression?' asked Margaret, impressed with the Elliotts' business ac.u.men.

Roland nodded. 'Yes, I'll show you later. For now let's drive over to our house. Can I carry you over the threshold?'

Margaret was glad that their bungalow was some distance from the main house. On the way there, they pa.s.sed worksheds housing equipment, lean-tos sheltering seedlings and a collection of rough shacks of woven palm leaves, which was where some of the rubber tappers lived. All around, stretched the pale-green lines of the rubber trees.

'There's a local village of sorts not far away where a lot of the Indian tappers live. I'll explain the workings of the plantation to you another time,' said Roland.

When Margaret saw her new home, so unadorned, so basic, so ... words failed her. By local standards it was new, only two years old, but there had been no attention given to a garden, not even pot plants. She dreaded to think what it would be like inside. The one redeeming feature, which gave the house some ident.i.ty, was a ma.s.sive nipa palm growing close to the front step, its fronds spreading into a thick green fan. The house itself was a wooden construction set up high with a wide verandah all around. It reminded Margaret slightly of a small Queenslander.

'It needs a garden,' she managed to say.

'There's a kitchen patch out the back. Greens and things. Ask the gardener and he'll do whatever you want out the front here.'

And with that, Roland swept Margaret up in his arms, marched up the front steps and deposited her on the verandah.

'This looks like a pleasant area to sit,' said Margaret noting the old-style planters' chairs, wicker table, a rack overflowing with newspapers and a drinks trolley. As the bungalow was on a rise, the view from the verandah across the sea of ribbed rows of rubber trees to the hills was quite spectacular.

She tried to hide her disappointment as she went from room to room realising how very simple it all was. Indeed the kitchen out the back was so primitive that the stove appeared to be a converted kerosene tin. She was relieved she wouldn't have to work with it.

'Where's the toilet and bathroom?' asked Margaret.

'Thunder box, I'm afraid. It gets emptied every day.' Roland opened a small door and Margaret felt the sultry outside air hit her as she gaped in shock.

The bathroom was an unlined wooden cubicle with a section of the floor made up of slats a few inches apart, just wide enough for snakes to come in, Margaret thought grimly. A huge ceramic jar stood beside a tin bathtub. There was a dipper made from half a coconut sh.e.l.l hanging beside it.

'No hot water, I'm afraid,' said Roland cheerfully. 'You ladle the cold water from the Shanghai jar over yourself. It's always cold, so you'll find it refres.h.i.+ng. The amah will get you some hot water if you want a warm bath.'

The bungalow had three bedrooms, and like the main bungalow, there was a sleep-out with several bamboo stretcher beds, their feet in saucers of kerosene.

'Keeps the ants and bugs off,' explained Roland. 'Sometimes people stop over when travelling round the district. Dr Hamilton, the DO and his wife, if she's with him, stay at the big house of course.'

Their bedroom was furnished simply, but there was a big mosquito net over a solid carved Chinese bed. A standing mirror, a dressing table with a small vase of fresh flowers, an armoire and an ornate chest at the foot of the bed made up the rest of the furniture. The windows had shutters without curtains, the floorboards were bare but painted cream and there was a small, attractive Indian rug.

The lounge room and dining room were combined, making one big s.p.a.ce with lots of chairs and a long table. It was not the cosiness that Margaret was used to and compared with the ornaments, knick-knacks, decorative items and personal touches jammed into Winifred's house, this looked very s.p.a.cious and uncluttered.

'It's a nice big s.p.a.ce, and cool,' said Margaret.

'Oh, I'm sure you'll give this place the homey touch,' said Roland. Then he added seriously, 'But some things will have to wait. I'm sure we can manage quite well for the time being, don't you? If you need anything for entertaining just borrow it from the big house. Come and meet Ah Kit, our houseboy. He'll run everything, but keep an eye on the other servants and make sure they don't rob us too much.' He lowered his voice. 'And don't be too cosy with them. Pleasant but firm. You understand how it is.'

'Er, yes. I suppose so,' said Margaret.

Ah Kit was Chinese, younger than Eugene's houseboy, possibly the same age as Roland, with bright, inquisitive dark eyes and a quick smile. He wore what was obviously the local uniform of white tunic and black pants. He bowed and said, 'I am very happy to work for you, mem.'

'Thank you,' said Margaret.

'You want tea? Ah Kit learn what mem like, no like.'

'In a little while, Ah Kit. I'll show the mem around,' said Roland. As they walked away, he said to Margaret, 'You'll have to instruct him on the way you like things done, he's very quick to learn.'

'Does he cook as well?' asked Margaret.

'No, Cookie does that. Cookie's Malay and a Muslim so he won't touch any pork. Sometimes he has disagreements with the others about cooking utensils, which have been used to cook pork with, and so on. You'll get the hang of it all. Come on, let's go for a drive and I'll show you some of the better divisions.'

Margaret recalled the big distances and the wide open s.p.a.ces of Queensland but, even so, the size of the sections of the plantation surprised her. Roland drove her past mile after mile of avenues of rubber trees where occasionally he would stop and inspect some of the trees or chat to the working tappers.

'Don't get out of the car, you're not wrapped up,' advised Roland. 'The mosquitoes among these trees are vicious.'

Margaret had noticed that the workers wore long sleeves and pants, or saris topped with cotton s.h.i.+rts. They all wore hats with scarves wrapped around their faces as they worked. Many wore cotton gloves and now she knew why.

'The tapping is done in the early hours of the morning while it's still cool,' explained Roland as they drove. 'The tappers cut into the bark in a spiral on one side and the latex bleeds down into the cup. Once the sun is up the latex congeals and stops flowing so after midday the cups are collected, which is what is happening now. Later, the opposite side of the tree is cut, while the other side heals.'

'And what happens to the latex?' asked Margaret.

'It's poured into moulds, smoked and dried and then rolled into rubber sheets for export. A lot of our rubber was on that steams.h.i.+p that runs between Port Swettenham and Singapore,' said Roland.

It was a strange and eerie world that Roland inhabited, thought Margaret as she watched him shrug into his cotton jacket and don a solar topee, which had a kind of veil attached. He wrapped it around his face to protect himself from the mosquitoes. If the mosquitoes are really this bad, thought Margaret, perhaps I'd better take quinine each day as Eugene has suggested so that I don't get malaria. And she'd better speak to Roland about getting some kind of screen for their bedroom windows as a mosquito had been trapped in the netting the previous night.

Two or three days later she again went out with Roland. She watched him walk the length of one row of rubber trees, disappearing into the shadowy green light. He seemed to enjoy the conformity, the neat exactness of the rows of trees and Margaret wondered if he'd played with tin soldiers as a boy, lining them up in serried ranks.

'Sorry, dear, hope you're not bored coming out here again. But if I don't check, the workers get sloppy with their cuts and either they don't cut deep enough to get the latex, or they go too deeply and kill the tree. I'll take you down to the river now. You'll like that,' said Roland, flinging his hat on to the seat of the Bedford truck.

'Have you ever got lost?' asked Margaret. 'Everything looks the same.'

He stared at her in surprise then laughed. 'Gosh, no. I know every tree. I've been around this estate ever since I could walk!'

Margaret was pleasantly surprised when they came to the river. They drove past the smoke house where the latex was made, a workshop and a small factory, which was really just a shed shaded by an attap with open sides where the latex was rolled out and stacked ready to be sent downriver. They came to a solid wharf that looked as though it had been built many years before. The riverbank had been cleared except for a few shady trees, and nearby was a small locked storehouse.

'That's where we keep all the goods that come up here by boat. It's always locked, although Ho has a key if we need to replenish household supplies. Possibly we could also let Ah Kit have one too, so that you can get anything you need. Once a month the workers can buy their bulk rice and sugar and other basics from here, too.'

'The river is pretty,' said Margaret looking at the broad brown sweep of water, bordered by thick jungle that came to the water's edge on the other side. 'Can we take a trip down it sometime? Do you have a boat?'

'There are several longboats, small praus and a motor launch upriver, near the village. We'll organise a picnic and a river trip. Get the social club together for an outing. Be good for everyone to meet you.'

'What sort of club is it?' asked Margaret.

'Basically, our neighbours and friends have a clubhouse, about half an hour's or so drive from here. We get together regularly for tennis and cards, tiffin, stengahs, that sort of thing. A break from the routine.'

'It's sounds fun,' said Margaret enthusiastically.

'It is, rather. Sometimes we also go to each other's plantations or have swimming parties. There's also a lodge in the hills we can use.'

'What's the lodge like?'

Roland smiled. 'Father built it years ago with some of his friends. Carved it out of the jungle. They built a very simple bungalow but it can sleep ten people or so if they want to stay over when they go out hunting. Wait till you see it.'

'Hunting animals, you mean? Like tigers? Deer? Pigs?'

He nodded. 'Yes, Father's a pretty good shot. Good fis.h.i.+ng in the headwaters, too.'

'It all sounds exciting,' said Margaret, pleased at the idea of socialising.

'Before we head back, I'd like to show you another rather special place. It's a bit a drive, I'm afraid.'

Margaret nodded. 'Lead on,' she said.

As Roland drove into the hills surrounding Utopia, Margaret looked down into the jungle-clad ravine. He pointed out landmarks and talked of how his father, Eugene, had come as a young man to establish a plantation in such rugged country.

'Tiger country. All kinds of wild animals used to come around at night. That's one reason why the houses are built on stilts. There weren't the roads, rough as they are, that are here now. I'll show you the lodge one day. It's basic, but quite an adventure. And it can be rather fun if we go with good friends.'

His voice was filled with enthusiasm and he sounded almost excited. Usually Roland was reserved but now she was seeing a different side to him. 'You sound like you enjoy that sort of thing. I don't think it's something ladies would care to do,' said Margaret rather primly. 'Hunting and roughing it, I mean.'

'My Lord, Margaret, my mother used to enjoy it. No airs and graces, a chance to look after ourselves as we only have basic staff and a couple of natives to help with the hunting. Some of the women are very good shots. You can see photographs of them in Father's study.'

Margaret didn't answer, but looked again at the wilderness around them, finding it difficult to comprehend that this was her new home.

Soon the jungle gave way again to the neat rows of rubber trees, and Roland drove to a rise and stopped the truck. From this spot the 360 degree view took in the great scope of Utopia. But what interested Margaret more was that up here, on the top of the hill so far from any civilisation, stood a small white church.

'What's the church here for? It's miles from anywhere. Who would come here for services?'

'My father built this for my mother, a sentimental gesture. It's for our family and friends to use on occasion. My mother always hoped I'd get married here.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake, I'm glad we didn't! No one would come way out here!' said Margaret. 'And who would conduct the ceremony?'

'The clergy come around regularly and conduct services here. Our neighbours come, as well.'

'It's a nice idea, I suppose, but I'm very glad we were married in KL,' said Margaret firmly.

'Come and have a look around,' said Roland. 'My father wants to be buried here. Mother is in England caring for her own parents but she'll eventually come back here to enjoy her final years with Father at Utopia.'

'Ugh. How morbid. Perhaps we should go and visit her in Kent. I'd love to meet her,' said Margaret.

'Let's settle into life out here first,' said Roland. 'And you have just been to Europe. Most people wait till a child or two arrives before making the pilgrimage back home.' His tone was final.

Margaret didn't reply as Roland went to open the little church door and show her inside. But a trip back to England to meet his mother sounded rather like a good idea. She was sure that she would be able to persuade him, eventually.

Within two weeks Margaret had settled into the plantation routine and had taken to running the household as a small fiefdom, as though she'd done it all her life. Roland slipped from bed while it was still dark to take the muster, leaving her to sleep until Ah Kit tapped on the door and brought her a tray with a pot of tea and a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter. While Margaret sipped her tea, hot water was brought in and poured into the water pitcher so that she could bathe in warm water. She found that in the hot and humid climate, she changed clothes several times a day, but whatever she dropped was picked up and returned fresh and ironed the next morning.

When Roland returned later in the morning their hot breakfast of toast, eggs, smoked fish or kedgeree and fruit was ready. He then bathed and changed and returned to work, reappearing after midday. Sometimes they lunched with Roland's father at the big house where they were seated in the dining room and served a three-course meal. Margaret paid attention to the menu so she could ask her cook to prepare similar dishes chicken a la king, steak and kidney pudding, mulligatawny soup. Sometimes there was a visitor pa.s.sing through and one day she was thrilled to see Dr Hamilton, who had called on Eugene before heading up-country.

'Have you heard from your lovely mother?' asked Dr Hamilton. 'We had a splendid time in KL while you were at Fraser's. I'm sorry I didn't get to see her before she left. Had a bit of an emergency at the hospital, if I remember correctly.'

'Mother is settling back in at home and sends her best wishes to you,' said Margaret.

'And how are you settling in, my dear?' asked the kindly doctor.

'Everything is wonderful. I feel very spoiled. I'm learning the household and other duties,' she answered.

'A tip, don't tread on the houseboy's toes, they like everything to remain status quo,' said the doctor. 'But you mustn't let the others think they can raid the larder either, if you know what I mean. There is always a bit of leniency, a closed eye here and there, which they consider their right and due, but if they think they can hoodwink you, they will.'

'Oh, Roland has taught me that and I'm not about to be taken advantage of, or thought of as a softie,' said Margaret firmly, and the doctor patted her shoulder.

'Excellent. You'll fit in marvellously. I'm looking forward to our tennis tournament. All meant to be fun, but those devils take it frightfully seriously. I'm the umpire.'

'That's at the Stevenson's place, isn't it,' said Margaret.

'Right. Jolly nice setup they have. Excellent court. Two weeks after your little boating extravaganza, I hear. Sorry I can't make that, have to get around the district, you know.'

Dearest Mother, Dad and Bette,Where has the time gone? Surprisingly the weeks have flown by and I thought I might find time hanging heavily on my hands. Far from it! Since I last wrote I feel I have settled into our bungalow and my trunks have arrived and been unpacked so I feel a lot more comfortable with some of my things around me. Roland and his father have been busy getting a s.h.i.+pment of rubber ready to send down to Singapore but we still find time to enjoy the best part of the day together a G & T for me and Roland's stengah on the verandah at sunset. Cookie makes delicious 'nibbles kechil' (that means small eats) and we share our news. Roland and his father have been busy getting a s.h.i.+pment of rubber ready to send down to Singapore but we still find time to enjoy the best part of the day together a G & T for me and Roland's stengah on the verandah at sunset. Cookie makes delicious 'nibbles kechil' (that means small eats) and we share our news. There was much excitement last Friday when a snake was found curled up around the Shanghai pitcher in the laundry. It was a huge thing, brightly coloured, and I believe quite dangerous. But the gardener dispatched it with a parang those lethal large knives they carry to clear the jungle. I do feel I am getting a little more used to the idea of wildlife being about, though in the rubber trees one sees mainly birds, but you hear the monkeys shrieking at night. Sometimes we go over to the big house for drinks and dinner with Roland's father and he does enjoy telling me stories of his hunting trips and has the trophies to prove it! The jungle is all around us so who knows what creatures could be lurking. While the plantation has been cut from mostly secondary jungle, I always have the feeling that if the plantation was not maintained and the jungle kept back, we'd be swallowed up in no time and who would know we were ever here? But of course I wouldn't say that to Roland. The Elliotts have worked so hard to establish Utopia. There was much excitement last Friday when a snake was found curled up around the Shanghai pitcher in the laundry. It was a huge thing, brightly coloured, and I believe quite dangerous. But the gardener dispatched it with a parang those lethal large knives they carry to clear the jungle. I do feel I am getting a little more used to the idea of wildlife being about, though in the rubber trees one sees mainly birds, but you hear the monkeys shrieking at night. Sometimes we go over to the big house for drinks and dinner with Roland's father and he does enjoy telling me stories of his hunting trips and has the trophies to prove it! The jungle is all around us so who knows what creatures could be lurking. While the plantation has been cut from mostly secondary jungle, I always have the feeling that if the plantation was not maintained and the jungle kept back, we'd be swallowed up in no time and who would know we were ever here? But of course I wouldn't say that to Roland. The Elliotts have worked so hard to establish Utopia.Hamid, my father-in-law's driver, has taken us into Slim River several times which is quite some distance away, an hour or more, but it's been very interesting to see this little town, which is very colourful and filled with stalls and local food places. Roland loves to eat the local snacks like murtabak, which is like an apple turnover but filled with spiced meat and egg with pickles and cuc.u.mber to accompany it. I ate a very tasty ikan baka a grilled local fish. As you can see I'm learning quite a few Malay words. The servants speak far too fast and sing-song for me at present, but I'm getting the hang of it!Roland knows of a wonderful waterfall and hot springs in the area, but he says that it's very difficult to get to them. I have even started a garden plan. When we visit other plantations such fun I come back with an armful of cuttings. Some of the gardens around the old established bungalows are very charming and things grow very quickly here. Our English friends are always amazed at how fast plants pop up. I have even started a garden plan. When we visit other plantations such fun I come back with an armful of cuttings. Some of the gardens around the old established bungalows are very charming and things grow very quickly here. Our English friends are always amazed at how fast plants pop up.Dr Hamilton stopped in for lunch last week and sent his best wishes. And I played tennis with the DO's wife, whom you met at my wedding and she asked to be remembered to you and hoped you and Father would take a trip here to see us in the not too distant future!Give Bette my congratulations on her exam results and her art cla.s.ses sound most intriguing.The houseboy has just brought me afternoon tea and truly exquisite scones. Cookie is a very deft baker! And no, I don't feel too spoiled as I'm doing my bit and Roland is very pleased that the house runs so smoothly. But I have to admit, I am getting very used to the luxury of help and having no nasty domestic ch.o.r.es at all to do! Don't forget the coloured b.u.t.tons to match that piece of material I sent you, please, Mother. There's an excellent tailor in Slim River and I'm having a light silk suit made for the races coming up. It will be a really big do in KL. Roland will combine it with business but we are looking forward to a few days in the city with friends.Signing off for now, Your affectionate daughter, Margaret Margaret wrote home weekly, in great detail, about her activities. But the next week her letter home had only one piece of exciting news she was expecting a baby.

4.

Port Swettenham, 1940 THE PORT WAS BUSY. Exports of rubber, copra, pine apples and wood from the large trading houses were swung in giant nets onto the decks of the cargo s.h.i.+ps. Incoming goods were offloaded. The pa.s.sengers on board the steamer from Singapore stood at the railing, watching the activity on the dock, seeking familiar faces as they waited for the gangplank to be raised and permission given to go ash.o.r.e.

Roland stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd on the dock, dressed in his high-collared, white suit. He waved to Margaret, who was holding their son Philip's hand as the two year old jumped up and down at the excitement of it all. Holding the boy's other hand was Margaret's sister, Bette.

Although there was a family resemblance, Bette differed from her sister in that she was shorter and curvier with long, thick hair which the breeze blew about her shoulders. Bette wore a sundress and looked younger than her twenty years. Margaret was wearing a smart suit and a small jaunty hat. Margaret usually tended to dress rather formally, especially since discovering the local tailor with his swathes of Indian silks and Egyptian fine cottons. She ordered fas.h.i.+on magazines that arrived regularly and designs from them were quickly copied by her tailor. Margaret acknowledged that she sometimes overdressed, but she felt that there was a standard to maintain in being Mrs Roland Elliott of Utopia plantation, especially as their busy social life seemed to demand an up-to-date wardrobe. It was an indulgence she said was justified and she rarely asked for anything for the house any more after an initial flurry of curtain and cus.h.i.+on making. Even the baby's room had been kept somewhat basic. Margaret, however, did not extend the same restraint to her garden, which she loved. She had designed it herself and made sure that it was attended each day by the gardener. It had started to look quite beautiful.

The gangplank was in place and Roland smiled as he watched his son drop his mother's hand and dart between adults, dragging Bette with him as he forged his way to the bottom.

Roland caught him and swung him high in the air. 'h.e.l.lo, young man. My, how you've grown! Did you miss your papa?'

In reply the little boy flung his arms around Roland's neck, squeezing him tight.

Roland held out his hand to Bette. 'Lovely to meet you, Bette. How was the trip?'

'Wonderful. I'm so excited to be here. I think Philip has missed you.' She turned to look for Margaret. 'I must help Margie. Goodness knows where our bags have gone.'