The Plantation (48 page)

‘My poor brother. How did he finally adjust to his new life?’ asked Caroline.

‘It took some time. The first few nights he crept out of his room to curl up in bed with me as we’d done for so long, and I put him back into his bed early each morning so Margaret wouldn’t know. It was my father who suggested that I go away for a holiday. I needed a break and it was a chance for Philip to get used to his mother and new surroundings without me. Then I tried to start my own life again. I went to art school and then I moved to Sydney for a while. You can see the product of those classes, all these years later,’ said Bette, with a smile.

Julie was about to ask another question, but Caroline put a hand on her arm.

‘Bette, thank you for telling us all this. It must have been difficult for you. Of course we want to know more, but you look tired.’

Bette waved a dismissive hand. ‘Nonsense, I’m fine and after the war there were good times. Many good years. I’d like you to know about those. As you can imagine, after the war it wasn’t easy to pick up where everyone had left off. Philip and I weren’t the only ones who’d had tough times. Roland had served through the war under extremely difficult circumstances and he had returned to his home to find it in a very poor condition and his father dead.

‘At the beginning of 1946 Margaret and Philip sailed for Malaya to join him and to pick up the pieces of their life on the plantation. It was difficult for Margaret as the house had been occupied by the Japanese. Eugene was tragically gone and life was not the long party that it’d been before the war. But Roland refused to leave the plantation that his father had worked so hard to establish and a lot of the loyal staff had remained and so they battled on to rebuild it.

‘And then you came along, Caroline, and then, when you were about three, Margaret wrote and asked me to come up and visit again. I was in two minds. I was enjoying my life and had an interesting job and a nice circle of friends, but Roland wrote to me privately to say it would be helpful if I could come and he offered to pay my fare. He said that Margaret was lonely and, reading between the lines, I suspected that she was unhappy. So I agreed and I returned to Malaya.’

As she said this, Suzie appeared. ‘Suzie, could you clear away the tea things, please? I think we’re done.’ Stiffly Bette stood up. ‘If you both don’t mind I have to go out for a while. Cyndi wants to talk to me about the sales of my paintings.’

‘I hope we haven’t been pests,’ said Caroline quickly.

‘Not at all. You’ve opened a floodgate of memories I haven’t thought about for a long time.’

‘You mentioned the good times after the war. It sounds like you had a wonderful life. We’d love to hear about those, as well,’ said Julie, taking Bette’s thin but strong hand in hers.

‘Jules, please, I don’t think that we should ask Bette too many questions about her personal life.’

Bette smiled at Julie. ‘Nonsense, Caroline, I’d be delighted to tell you both, if you’re interested. Perhaps tomorrow. You’ve been to Rose Mansion, Julie, and you’ve met one of my granddaughters and you’ve visited the Iban, so we seem to have a lot in common. I think I’d enjoy telling you more about my life.’

‘I’d love that. From the little I know about you, it sounds really interesting,’ said Julie smiling.

‘Tomorrow then.’ Bette lifted her cheek for Julie to kiss and they embraced warmly as Caroline did the same.

Back at their hotel Caroline and Julie recounted Bette’s story to Paul who shook his head and stood up. ‘What a remarkable person. I need a stiff drink after what you’ve told me. Anyone else like one? What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?’

‘We thought we’d ask Bette if she’d like to go somewhere nice, just a social thing, no draining conversations,’ said Caroline.

‘You might find that once you open a door to old memories she might want to keep talking,’ said Paul. ‘It’s probably quite cathartic. And I’ve heard that old people like to pass on their story, so that it’s known, and their life with all its triumphs and tragedies doesn’t disappear when they do.’

‘That could be true,’ agreed Caroline. ‘It’s also important for me. Look how little I know about my parents.’

‘Margaret always seemed to be holding something inside her,’ said Paul. ‘When I first met her I thought she was a very straight-laced lady. I thought she disapproved of me.’

‘Never! She loved you,’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘Especially after we moved in with her and she could boss you around.’ Caroline smiled and gave her husband an affectionate kiss. ‘You were so patient, so kind and easygoing all those years.’

‘Shame you’ve turned into a grumpy old man, Dad,’ joked Julie affectionately.

That night after Caroline and Paul had gone to sleep Julie sent an email to Chris, telling him that they’d met Bette and how amazing she was, not just because she was nearly ninety, but because she was an artist and a warm and vibrant woman.

She told us how she and Margaret became separated and how she ended up in a POW camp with Philip. She also told us that the man she loved and was probably going to marry was horribly killed. And yet she says she has had a full, good life. Mum and I are curious about her marriage to Tony Tsang. She seems quite happy to tell us about it. Dad thinks that now she’s started reminiscing, she’ll want us to know everything. I’ll write more tomorrow. Julie.

Julie lay in bed trying to read but she kept putting her book down and thinking about Bette. Then to her surprise her mobile rang. She grabbed it, wondering who would ring her at this late hour. When she saw the name on her mobile, her heart leapt.

‘Hi, Chris! What’s up? This is a nice surprise.’

‘Hi, Jules, I got your email and figured you might still be awake. Is it okay to talk?’ His voice was warm and familiar and she found she couldn’t stop smiling.

She spoke softly. ‘I’m curled up in bed trying to read, but I can’t stop wondering about my aunt. How are you?’

‘Nothing new this end, for the moment anyway. It sounds as though Aunt Bette is something out of the box. Are you happy you found her? No nasty surprises, skeletons in closets?’

‘No, nothing like that at all. Even without knowing anything about her life, she’s a personable woman. She’s quite different from my grandmother, even though they were sisters. Bette seems very open, warm and giving. Gran was a closed sort of person.’

‘You mean bitter?’

‘No, more a private person. Not at all outgoing.’

‘On another topic, you haven’t mentioned the battle of the bypass lately.’

‘A glimmer of light. David Cooper is going through some old records. There was a similar plan for a bypass a few years back which was abandoned and David wants to know why.’

‘And how is the good Doctor Cooper?’ asked Chris, and she knew he was smiling.

‘The same. He’s rather like an uncontrollable puppy dog, desperate to be loved but actually rather irritating. But I feel bad thinking that about him, he’s doing a terrific job on this bypass and Mum really likes him and appreciates his efforts, so I’m being mean.’

‘I have to admit I’m rather pleased you feel the way you do, though,’ said Chris. ‘I’m jealous that he’s in and out of your house, involved with your family, helping you. I wish I could see more of you. I was hoping you’d have time to come back up here.’

Julie cradled the phone against her pillow. ‘I wish you were here too.’

There was a brief silence. It was as if Chris was going to say something then changed his mind. Then he said, ‘How’s your job going?’

‘It’s fine. I’m keeping busy, which is good. Mum enjoyed Adelaide.’

‘Well, enjoy the bright lights of Cairns. Will you keep me posted about Bette’s story? Now we’ve been to Rose Mansion, I want to know all about her life in Penang.’

‘Me too. Thanks for the call, it’s been great hearing your voice,’ said Julie. ‘I miss you, Chris,’ she added suddenly.

‘I’m pleased about that. I miss you too. Sleep tight.’ Sleep didn’t come easily despite the late hour. When she finally did fall asleep, Julie kept her phone under her pillow as if through it, she could reach out and touch Christopher.

12

A
S JULIE’S FATHER HAD
surmised, Bette was enthusiastic when Julie and Caroline arrived to spend the next day with her. She was settled comfortably in a chair and her eyes sparkled.

‘Suzie has made us lunch and left it in the kitchen, so we won’t be disturbed at all,’ said Bette. ‘Suddenly it seems important to me that you, my Australian family, my blood relations, know
my
story.’

1950

The white house glowed with a mellow warmth as yellow light spilled from its windows onto the verandah. Ted Oldham watched as his daughter Bette walked up the hill from the bus stop. She called out to him as she came through the garden.

‘Now, how’d you know I was out here?’ he said.

‘The red glow from your cigarette,’ she answered, knowing he’d been watching and waiting for her.

‘Pleased to be back in Brisbane?’ he asked as she came up the steps. ‘You could stay here and get a job, you know. Why don’t you do a secretarial course?’

‘Mum’s been in your ear again, has she? I don’t think she wants me to go back to Sydney. Mmm, something smells good.’ She followed her father down the hallway to the kitchen.

Winifred looked up from the flour-covered tabletop where she was rolling out pastry. ‘Glad you got back safely, dear. Dinner won’t be long. It’s lovely cooking for more than just your father and me. I’m so glad that you’ve come back for a holiday. It would be even better if you could get a nice job here, at home.’

‘Mother, we’ve been through this. Brisbane is such a backwater. I know that Sydney is not the centre of the universe, either, but there are more opportunities there than there are here.’

‘Let her be, Win,’ said her father. ‘What’s for tea?’

‘Steak and kidney pie,’ said Winifred flattening the circle of pastry with a firm bang of the rolling pin.

Bette wandered out of the kitchen. She knew her parents worried about her future. It had taken some time for her health to return after the years of deprivation in the prison camp, but she had been determined to catch up on life. She enjoyed Sydney, mixing with the bohemian artists, while she worked in several jobs. But Bette felt that she had lived for so long minute by minute, day by day, that she still couldn’t bring herself to make long-term plans. Maybe Winifred was right and that she was indulging herself by doing only what interested her and gave her pleasure. Art seemed to fulfil her. She was content losing herself in the images she could paint, which replaced the ugly scenes that haunted her sleep.

‘There’s a letter for you from Margaret. I put it on your bed,’ said Winifred. ‘I do hope she’s sent some photos of Philip and our dear little Caroline.’

Margaret and Philip had returned to Malaya three and a half years ago. Eventually Margaret had given birth to a daughter, whom they’d named Caroline, while Roland tried to rebuild Utopia after the devastation of the war. But clearly life was difficult. In her letters home, Margaret described things as being tiresome, nowhere near as glamorous as the pre-war years had been.

Bette skimmed through the opening niceties of the letter, before finding the real reason her sister had written:

And while I understand you’re absorbed in whatever you do in Sydney, it would be very nice, and very helpful, if you could come up and visit us. Roland agrees with me and, indeed, is very keen to have you here again. Unfortunately, you must realise that things won’t be as they were. Sadly many of the wonderful men like Gilbert are no longer around. As you know, the estate was a disaster at the end of the war and it’s a big job for Roland to get things turned around, especially without his father, although some of the old staff are still here to help. I’d like the opportunity to get out and about a bit, and if you were here I’m sure Roland would be more amenable to the children and me taking a few little trips. I’d also like Caroline to meet someone from my family and it would be nice to have you here to brighten our dreary social calendar! I know Mother and Father are getting on a bit and, anyway, they’re not travellers, so I don’t expect them to visit me. You don’t have a proper job to speak of, so it’s easy for you to leave. It would please us both if you could come. I’ve enclosed some current photographs of Caroline for you.