Bitter Sweet Harvest (2 page)

“An Mei, speak to me!” Hussein pleaded again, breaking her reverie. “I will tell my parents now if you want.”

“No, not now,” she replied almost in a whisper. “Not now. It’s too late.”

She moved further away from him as if to escape his all pervading presence. She did not wish to be persuaded. “I too have spoken to Aunty Jenny,” she confessed. “The matter is not so simple. She’s in London now on one of her trips. She is coming to Oxford tomorrow.”

Sunlight streamed through the tall stately windows of the Randolph Hotel, turning the gilded frame of the massive mirror above the fireplace into a burnished ring of gold. They sat around a low Regency-style table in Jenny’s hotel suite, the silence broken only by the tinkle of cups and saucers and the sound of starched linen brushing by as a maid moved busily around them. Finally, the last cup of tea was dispensed.

“Do you require anything else Madam?” the maid enquired solicitously, her voice hushed as if intimidated by the quiet of the room. She could sense her presence was unwelcome. The lady had consulted her wristwatch twice during the short time it had taken her to lay out the tea service.

“Fine, fine, thank you,” Jenny replied with a quick smile and a nod. She was impatient to speak to her two charges.

“What have I done,” she had chided herself over and over again on the journey from London to Oxford. “To bring these two children together and expect that nothing would come of it other than a platonic friendship. What was I thinking?”

Now, sitting with them, she was filled with remorse. Expectations and hope were painted on their faces. They looked to her to bring good news from their parents in Malaysia. She had none to give.

“Things are very bad back home.” Her voice was solemn. “The streets are virtually empty, businesses have come to a standstill. The curfew, short though it may be, has made people jittery. Confined to their homes even for a short time, they have imagined the worse. We are plagued with endless rumours. On my way to the airport to catch the plane, I had to drive through the KL city centre. I could hardly believe my eyes at the damage. Such mindless destruction! Malays against Chinese, Chinese against Malays! Then the Indians! Unbelievable that people can live in peace and harmony one day, and then the next descend into such hatred and mistrust. I just cannot believe it,” she repeated. “
Bagaimana
? How did it happen? We don’t have the racial conflict that you have in England. The calling of names, the bullying in the streets, the aggression ... yet ...” Her voice trailed off.

“What does it mean for us?” asked Hussein. He did not wish to hear any more about the violence. He had followed every detail and discussed every scenario with friends and fellow students. He had no doubt that these were matters that would involve him on his return home. At that moment, however, he was keen only to know where he stood with An Mei and his parents.

“This is not a good time to tell your parents.” Jenny shook her head vehemently to emphasise her words. “Not even, perhaps, a good time to walk together in the streets in Malaysia.”

“Father has decided that I should return to Malaysia and I had hoped that An Mei would come back with me.”

“No! That would not be a good idea. Her family is moving here to England. She should stay and wait for their arrival. She cannot abandon her family, just as you cannot abandon yours. We have duties to perform.” She looked away, not wishing to catch the eye of An Mei, not wanting her to guess that these were the words An Mei’s mother, Mei Yin, had said to her.

An Mei, unknowing, listened silently, perplexed by Jenny’s reaction. She had expected her to provide more hope for their plight.

“What about you? Can you walk in the streets with uncle?” challenged Hussein. He, too, had not expected such an answer from Jenny. He was disappointed and felt cheated.

“I don’t
walk
out with him,” Jenny retorted in exasperation. “In fact, if you want to know, I hardly go anywhere public or important with your uncle, even now after years of marriage. We move within a circle of friends that accept me. I dress Malay-style and I speak Malay. I have become a Muslim and I toe the line.” She felt a surge of anger, anger that she had been placed in a position where she felt forced to reveal her feelings and long curbed resentment of her own situation; an anger that made her turn suddenly to lash out at An Mei. “Do you know that you have to become a Muslim, An Mei, if you want to marry Hussein? That is, if his parents even agree. Do you know what becoming a Muslim entails? Do you know that you have to be circumcised?”

An Mei blinked and she shook her head. It was not something she had given much thought to during the months she had been with Hussein. She had managed to persuade herself that it was an ordeal she could avoid somehow.

“From what I gather, Hussein’s parents are not in favour of him marrying anyone other than someone from an important Malay family who would help his political career, and certainly not a Chinese girl. Don’t keep comparing your situation with mine, Hussein. It is a different era and your uncle had only himself to answer to. He had no living parents. Even then, his decision to marry me cost him and it took years for his friends to accept me. You, Hussein, can you say that you answer only to yourself? You, the only son and heir?!”

In response, Hussein took An Mei in his arms. He placed his lips close to her ears. She felt his warm breath, compelling and insistent. “Don’t listen to her,” he whispered. “She is only trying to frighten you. Circumcision in Malaysia is symbolic, just a tiny prick to release blood. See, does she look as though she has suffered any mutilation? In any case, we can get around it. Trust me.”

Jenny sat in the room long after An Mei and Hussein had left. The fire crackled casting a warm glow. She sank deeper into her armchair. She was aghast that she had revealed all the resentment she subconsciously harboured. It had escaped out of her like pent-up foam from a freshly opened can of beer. Her outward persona was always one of a confident, carefree and satisfied woman. She was ashamed of her bluntness and lack of tact, but she had promised Mei Yin she would put an end to An Mei’s hope that things would somehow work out between Hussein and her. Jenny picked up the phone. She dialled. “Operator,” she said, “Kuala Lumpur please. Telephone number...”

The minutes passed. She looked at the clock impatiently. A click sounded at the other end. A faint voice asked hesitantly. “Yes! Who is it?”

“Mei Yin? Is that you? I have spoken to An Mei. I have told her to stay in Oxford and await your arrival. And I think I have said enough to convince her.”

A
n Mei paced the floor. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her trousers, she stared guiltily at the flight indicator board. “Any minute now,” she mumbled to herself, “they should be at the arrival hall.” She looked around to check that she was stationed in a spot where they would be able to see her easily, close by the neon-lit sign for the meeting point. She had been biting her fingernails and they were raw and tingling. How was she going to greet her parents with these hands, she thought to herself. It was an old habit, a habit that grew out of those very troubled times when her parents were separated. She sighed. At least, she thought, they were all back together again as one big happy family. Could she dare risk doing anything that might cause the family to split apart again? An earlier short conversation on the phone with her brother, Wei Han, had given her little cause for comfort. “You must not think only about yourself in these very troubled times, not when father has lost so much of his business,” he had said. Accusing her of being selfish, he had slammed down the phone but not before saying that he would be coming to Oxford as soon as he could get permission from his professor. Now pacing back and forth with growing anxiety, An Mei acknowledged that she had been selfish. How could she have been so thoughtless to even consider loading them with another worry?

At that moment, a flight announcement boomed out. Groups of people began to filter through the barrier. She felt a sudden crush of bodies around her as people struggled to get the best view of the exiting passengers. Some broke free to rush forward, arms flung out in embrace; others were more reticent in their reception. Where were they, she wondered anxiously She suddenly felt a rush of longing and love. She could not contain her excitement. She had not seen her parents for nearly a year, not since last summer.

“An Mei!”

She turned towards the source of the voice. “Aunt Nelly,” she broke into a run. “Oh Aunt Nelly, how are you?” she asked in Cantonese. She embraced the little rotund lady dressed in a quilted jacket with a Mandarin collar so vigorously that she knocked her spectacles askew. She remembered the jacket. A ‘Mao Tse Tung’ jacket, her aunt had claimed when she bought it back from Hong Kong some years ago. “Very fashionable!” But she had not remembered her aunt as being so short.

“Fine, fine. I came through first,” she responded in Cantonese, her spoken English being rather poor. Your mother and father will be here shortly. They had to wait for the luggage. I left them to it. I’m no use with bags, too old and too weak to even try,” she said chuckling. Wrapping An Mei’s arms around her waist, she continued, “And, I want a word with you first. Your mum asked me.” She held on to An Mei. “Don’t talk to your father about Hussein. Jenny told us. Just don’t. We’ll work something out. We, your mum and I, would like to meet him and then we’ll talk.”

Even as she said these words, Nelly was not sure what course of action might be possible. What could she say? Ming Kong had been distraught when he found his stores vandalised and torched. She felt that nothing would ever persuade him to let his daughter marry a Malay man. “Things will never be the same after May the Thirteenth,” he had said. “I’ll not trust them again. I thought they were my friends. I worked with them!”

“But Aunt Nelly,” An Mei began to protest.

“Promise me. Not a word until we have sorted things out,” admonished Nelly. They saw Mei Yin and Ming Kong coming towards them, pushing a trolley piled high with suitcases.

“Here they are. Remember what I had just said. Shhh,” she added for caution.

An Mei broke free from Nelly and ran to her parents, all thoughts of Hussein momentarily wiped from her mind.

Mei Yin stepped eagerly into the hallway. A steep, narrow, carpeted stairway led up to the two floors above. She inhaled deeply the potpourri of scents, vanilla and rose vying with the unmistakable whiff of new paint. “So delightfully cool,” she said. “The air feels fresh. Everything feels fresh, even the smell of paint.” She followed the weak ray of sunlight that had seeped through to the hallway from the door on the right, and entered the living room. “I like it,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide, taking in the bare wooden floor and the white-washed walls of the long narrow room.

Relief showed on An Mei’s face. “I know it is small, but Mum, you did say to find something that was... that is inexpensive. This is a Victorian terrace cottage. They are rather long and narrow. But it is well located. We can walk into Oxford within minutes. The house backs on to a playing field and beyond that, is the river. There is a wonderful river-side walk that takes you through a park.”

Mei Yin turned to look at An Mei, her eyes lingering with affection on her daughter. “Yes, dear girl I like it and very much so. Don’t apologise. There is no need. It is certainly wonderful to be able to move into a house so quickly and certainly better than the small hotel we stayed at when we first arrived.”

“I thought that you might not like the house. It was a mess before when it was let out to students, but the owner has renovated it completely. Just here,” An Mei pointed to the middle of the room, “there was a wall. He had it taken down to make the room more spacious.”

They did not notice that Ming Kong had followed them into the room. He looked around him, taking stock of the length and width of the room. “It will certainly do for the moment.” He strode over to the bay windows that looked over the road and peeped out. The narrow road was lined on both sides with parked cars.

“It’s not bad. Not bad at all. Good job An Mei,” he said approvingly, ruffling her hair. “I know it was a tall order to ask you to find us accommodation in the time we gave you. Anyway, you have chosen well. Location is important when buying properties. And this is good: within walking distance to the town centre. Tightening our belts and economising again will not be a bad thing in our new situation. We have to start afresh once again.”

An Mei slipped her arm around her father’s waist and smiled, two dimples dipped and her lips parted.

“Good girl,” said Nelly crowding into the room. She was proud of her charge and reached out her hand to stroke An Mei’s face.

“Hey, I am twenty-four years old and have been here in the UK for over two years! Right now, I feel like a child again with everyone addressing me like I’m ten years old!” She felt a surge of affection for her parents and her aunt Nelly.

She moved to the front window and looked out. Not many people were around. A group of young mothers with pushchairs and prams had gathered to chat, taking up the whole of the narrow pavement. She reflected on the hushed conversation she’d had in the hotel with her mother and aunt just after their arrival. A shadow fell across her face and tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. Quickly she dabbed them away. She felt her mother’s hands on her shoulder and she leaned back towards her, luxuriating in the comforting warmth of her mother’s arms. “I’m alright,” she said. “Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Mei Yin ducked and bent low to avoid hitting her head on the low doorway that led into the converted roof space. Once in the room she straightened up. The room stretched from the front of the house to the back. The ceiling sloped down at one end. Windows flanked both ends of the room, filling it with light. “We can probably make this into a bedroom with a study area at the far end. The three larger rooms in the middle floor below will be the bedrooms. The fourth is just a box room, so it could probably be made into a storeroom or a small office. What do you think?” She looked at her husband, noting the puffiness round his tired eyes. She wished she could inject some enthusiasm into him.