Bitter Sweet Harvest (39 page)

Mr. Tay took his time. He flicked through some pages of the notes before him, absent-mindedly. His eyes were unseeing; he just needed something to occupy his hands. He was deep in thought over what they had told him. Finally, looking up, he asked, “What do you want out of all this?”

They look at each other and answered almost in unison. “We want to protect Tim, our son. We don’t want to lose him.”

“Sorry, but I have to ask this. Is Hussein the biological father?”

An Mei hesitated. Once again, she found herself wondering how much respect would be given to client confidentiality. She had been told before that a breach of confidentiality is highly unlikely but she still had a problem trusting the lawyer. If she told Tay the truth, would he be bound to reveal it? Would it reduce his inclination to defend them? She was in a dilemma. She clutched Mark’s hand.

“How easy is it to prove parenthood?” interrupted Mark.

“I had a recent case. My client had an affair with a wealthy businessman. She became pregnant with his child. She took him to court. The man denied the child was his. The lady had the blood of the child matched to the man to prove that he was the father. But the case was not conclusive.”

“Why?”

“Well, the man contested it. You see, if the blood does not match, you can prove conclusively that he is not the father. However, if the blood matches, as in that particular case, you can only prove he could have been the father.”

“So it is not possible to prove conclusively if the blood matches,” repeated Mark. His heart leapt at this piece of news.

“This is what makes it such a fascinating case. Scientists have made vast inroads into the matter of paternity testing. You not only need to match the blood type, you also need to match the tissue. Scientists have discovered a protein — human leukocyte antigen or HLA — prevalent in human cells, especially white blood cells, though not in red blood cells. If you can match this and the blood type, then you can have a 90 per cent chance of proving biological relationship.”

“Then why hasn’t your client done this?”

“Well, it is a relatively new method, especially in this country. It requires very large blood samples that might prove dangerous for infants. So the mother hasn’t pursued it. I am told, however, that work is underway now that would make HLA testing a thing of the past. It’s called DNA testing and from what I hear, it will be almost 100 per cent conclusive. So it may well be best for her to bide her time.”

Tay leaned back in his chair. He wondered at Mark’s fascination and interest of how paternity could be proved. His eyes wandered to An Mei and he saw how agitated she had become since he asked her if Hussein was the father. He surmised that Hussein was probably the father. Detective Kam had called to tell him that he was sending over two people who were desperate for help and that the lady in particular had had a terrible experience in her previous marriage. Mr Tay wanted to help them but they seemed to be holding back from him. He waited patiently. The minutes ticked by; Tay looked at his watch and asked again, “Who is Tim’s biological father? Is it Hussein?”

An Mei looked desperately at Mark. Mark had been elated when Tay said that blood testing was not conclusive. His hopes were dashed immediately, however, with the mention of HLA and, worst still, the future possibility of a foolproof way of establishing paternity using DNA. It could only be a matter of time before Hussein would stake his claim on Tim, even if they managed to avert it now.

“Can my wife and I have a word in private?” Mark asked.

Tay nodded, “Of course! But please note that I am not here to judge. If you would like me to act for you, then I will do so to the best of my ability. But I have to know the full story in order to advise you on the best options available. I think sir,” he said looking at Mark, “that you know you cannot evade the truth. It will come out sooner or later.”

Mark glanced at An Mei. “What we would like to know is whether we are free to leave Singapore.”

“It depends on the police. They might wish you to take the witness stand when the kidnap trial begins, but, unless they have specific objections, you should be free to leave. It is unlikely that the case will begin immediately, especially, if, as I understand it, not everyone has been caught. However, the Court might ask you to return in the future for the trial of the kidnapper.”

“Are we obliged to return?”

“Normally, a parent would wish to see the kidnapper punished and, therefore, would return. But note that a court’s order to a witness to attend is valid only in the country concerned, in this case, Singapore. If a witness were to live abroad, then he or she would be entitled to refuse to come in person to attend court. The witness could opt to give evidence and be cross-examined remotely. So a court in Singapore would not have jurisdiction to order an overseas witness to return here.”

“What about Hussein’s threat to take legal action against us? Can he subpoena us and could we be extradited to Malaysia? We would rather have any legal action settled in a country where we are more familiar with the legal system.”

“Ahhh! You use the word extradition. An extradition order can be issued only in criminal cases. And if we are talking about a criminal case, it really depends on where you are located. If you are a resident in Singapore and, say, the gentleman in question is in Malaysia and he subpoenas you, then Singapore as a member of the Commonwealth is obliged by treaty to extradite you to Malaysia. I would imagine, and I would have to check this, the same would apply if you were in the UK.”

“What if we reside in a country without such an agreement with Malaysia?”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Say, Italy. We both live and work in Italy.”

“Italy does not have such an agreement with Malaysia. So it is not legally bound to surrender an accused to Malaysia.”

Tay looked at the couple before him. He wondered if they were asking him the right questions; they seemed not on track with the real issues at hand. Both of them looked so desperate. He leaned forward and said, “Let me qualify this. You asked me about extradition. And I have answered accordingly. Extradition law is extremely complex and has to be taken almost on a case-by-case basis although some general rules apply. Are we, however, talking about a crime? There is no question of extradition being applied in civil matters.”

An Mei had said little. Her head was reeling. Every answer Mr. Tay gave seemed to open up ever more avenues to the unknown. Was her deed, concealing from Hussein that she was pregnant with Tim when he divorced her, a criminal act? She had so many questions, yet each of these would reveal her situation a bit more and she couldn’t bring herself to tell all. She felt, knew, even, that Tay must have reached a conclusion as to who the father was but still she held back on the answer. I have not confirmed it, she thought, and hence it would remain a suspicion rather than a certainty. She did not know whether confessing would help or undo her case. She was still not sure how far a lawyer would or could protect his client’s confidentiality despite all their assurances. Could she deny that Hussein was the father if she were put on the stand, if she had confessed to Tay? Would it mean that Tay would be forced to abet in her perjury? She felt the thump of her heart; it was beating so violently she felt sure the palpitations must be noticeable.

She recalled the decision she had made in Mr Tan’s office in Malaysia many years ago. She was not prepared to take the risk of telling the truth to a solicitor then; she felt the same now. She could not breathe. The fear of losing Tim overwhelmed her. She clamped her bloodless lips tightly together and looked to Mark for help.

Mark seeing her suffering turned to Tay, “Please would you excuse us? My wife is not feeling well. We will come back to you and make another appointment.”

“Of course. As you please.”

They stood up, awkward and embarrassed to abandon a consultation that they themselves had requested. Mark put out his hand and Mr. Tay shook it. He then took An Mei’s outstretched hand and shook it. Her hands felt small and cold. Tay held on to her hand and placed his other over it.

“Mam,” he asked, “are you sure you wish to go? Would you please stay for a little while and let me explain some matters to you.”

An Mei felt as though her knees would give way. Mark put his arms around her. “Shall we sit down and hear what Mr. Tay has to say?”

“Please, Mrs Hayes,” said Tay.

They sat down, she reluctantly and he expectantly.

“You said that Hussein has threatened to take legal action against you to retrieve Tim who he alleges is his son. Such a matter is a family issue and hence falls under family law. As Hussein is a Muslim, if the case were to be heard in Malaysia, it would most likely to be presided over in a Shariah court. You might be right that if you were to contest the case in a Shariah court, the ruling could favour Hussein and, if it were proven that he is the biological father, he might gain custody of the child. In a Shariah court, custody is normally awarded to the person best able to bring up the child as a Muslim.”

“That is preposterous!” exclaimed Mark.

“Not really. It is not uncommon for each nation to have its own peculiar bias when it comes to awarding custody. In the UK, the bias is towards the woman. In Germany, it is towards their own nationals. So if an Englishwoman were to marry a German man, then a German court would award custody to the man whereas an English court would probably favour the woman. So you can understand that in Shariah law, the bias is in favour of the Muslim.”

Tay paused to let his word sink in. “But,” he said with a resounding voice, “but” he repeated for emphasis, he hit his palm with the ruler with a flourish, “if a Malaysian civil court issues an order against you, it has only jurisdiction in Malaysia. You are not obliged to come to court in Malaysia to contest it, even if he attempts to summon your return.”

“So it is of utmost importance that we do not enter Malaysia,” said An Mei.

“Yes! And you have not done so.”

“What if Hussein takes criminal action against us and calls it a crime?”

“He might well make that allegation and call it kidnapping, but it is unlikely to succeed. The abduction of children by parents is a civil and criminal offence, but, generally, the criminal law is not evoked. The parent who has lost the child will normally have to resort to the civil courts to get the child back. In deciding whom to award the custody of the child, the court will consider how the child is affected by the abduction. If the child has been abducted recently, the court tends to favour the parent who lost the child in order to return to the ‘status quo’ of the child. If, however, the abduction took place a long time ago, especially if the child has adapted well to the circumstances of the environment he or she was brought up in, then it is unlikely the child would be taken away from the parent-abductor. To remove the child from the abducting parent and restore him or her to the other parent might be deemed as causing trauma to the child. According to the Hague Convention, it is habitual residence that matters, essentially what is best for the child, rather than the rights and wrongs of the contesting parents.”

A glimmer of renewed hope appeared in An Mei’s face. The fatigue that so marked her face just moments ago, went. Mark grinned broadly.

“It would not be easy for Hussein to succeed in his legal action,” added Tay. “If he does it through a Malaysian court, he has no legal jurisdiction to summon you to Malaysia. He could take legal action through an English court. Past cases have shown that an English court generally favours the mother unless it is to the detriment of the child’s welfare. And of course, as a member of the Hague Convention, what I said regarding habitual residence would apply and that too would favour your situation.”

“Thank you! Thank you,” cried An Mei.

“Yes! We really appreciate your help. That has cleared a lot of things in our mind,” said Mark.

“Not at all. It is my work. A word of caution! Malaysia is not, I believe, a signatory to the Hague Convention. So if Hussein did take his case to a Malaysian court, it might not be so guided by the rulings of the Hague convention. But you know, I think, what you must do. You must ensure that Tim never enters Malaysia while he is a minor.”

An Mei held on to Tim with one hand and carried a tote bag filled with books, crayons and toys with the other. Mark walked alongside An Mei carrying the cabin bags. She felt surreal walking amidst the surge of people all rushing to catch their flights.

A man brushed passed An Mei. She jumped.

“Sorry,” he said.

She moved away as though she had been stung. Seeing her reaction he glared at her. “
Gila!
Mad!” he muttered.

The three of them made their way towards the departure lounge. They had two full hours before their flight to Rome. Long queues had formed behind the security check. It was not quite a queue; sometimes two or three people stood side by side. The line curved and wound at random, like a snake inching forward. She held on to Tim’s hands. Her eyes were wary. They darted nervously, checking everywhere.

At a distance, she saw a man. He seemed to be watching them. When she stared at him, he looked away, seemingly preoccupied with the notices on the board. She blinked. She thought he looked familiar.

“Mummy, let go of my hands. I’m hot!” Tim was getting tired. He wanted to play. He pulled away. She hurried after him.

“No! Stay with mummy.”

“I want to see what’s there, I want to see,” he yelled. He ran towards the conveyor belt carrying the bags through for security checks. She followed, her body loping forward, banging her bag against others in the queue.

“Madam,” said an officer, his face bristling with indignation as he saw how she had tried to by pass the others in front of her and push ahead towards the security checkpoint.

“Sorry, I am not breaking queue. I am running after my son,” she answered. She took her eyes off Tim for a moment to speak to the officer. She looked back towards him. He was not there. She turned wildly to look at the people around her. They were pushing forward towards the checkpoint. She could not see Tim. She turned back to where Mark was. “Where did Tim go?” her voice was hoarse.