The Plantation - Di Morrissey [107]
Julie had arranged to meet Marjorie at her resort for morning tea, so she bought some flowers, popped a notebook into her handbag and called a taxi. Marjorie was in her villa facing the beach and greeted Julie warmly. Julie thought that she looked a little older in the bright light, compared to the candlelight of the evening before, but she was just as charming.
The villa was surrounded by an oasis of lush greenery, which screened Marjorie from the neighbouring villas. In front of it, on the beach, was a gauzy tent, under which sat tables and chairs. The sand had been swept clean in a raked pattern, and flame torches were stuck in it, ready for the evening.
‘Wow, is that where you eat?’ asked Julie as Marjorie took her out onto the shady deck where’d she’d been relaxing on the daybed.
‘That setting is for romantic dinners for two. I’m happy to get the buggy to the beach café. You can reach it by walking along the sand, but that’s a bit difficult for me with my legs, these days. Now, let’s sit at the table. I have tea, coffee or cool drinks.’
‘A fresh lime juice, if you have it, would be lovely. Thanks, Marjorie,’ said Julie. ‘Do you stay over here on the island regularly?’
‘I do. I loved being invited to the Elliotts’ beach house. The boys sold it after Philip and Stephanie were killed, such a tragedy. But the boys have done very well for themselves since then. I hope Peter marries his girl soon, but she doesn’t seem keen on the idea of life in Asia. She hasn’t been here enough, that’s the trouble.’
‘It’s a beautiful place to visit, but perhaps the thought of life on a plantation doesn’t appeal to a young career girl,’ said Julie.
‘What about you? Could you live here?’ asked Marjorie with a quizzical smile. ‘After all, your family lived here in the old days.’
‘Yes, they did,’ said Julie. ‘But I didn’t know anything about this life till recently, and I’m not sure that I’d be all that keen to leave a career and my way of living to move here, unless I was really in love. What about you? Did you grow up here?’ Julie had thought that she would be anxious to plunge in and ask about her great aunt and her uncle, but now she felt she wanted to know more about Marjorie first. ‘I found out last night that you lived in Sarawak. I’ve just been there – it was wonderful. So very beautiful and so interesting. I bet that it’s changed since you were young.’
‘It certainly has. I’ve been back to Kuching a few times, and I find it almost impossible to reconcile it with the place where I was born. My parents were Scots. My father was with the Civil Service under the last of the White Rajahs, Charles Vyner Brooke. He was a district officer, up-country. My two older brothers were at boarding school in England, and I had my parents’ undivided attention, so I was the spoiled baby of the family. I had a very indulged childhood.’ Marjorie smiled.
‘Servants? Being the only child?’ asked Julie.
‘Yes. Though my parents were just ordinary people back home, in Sarawak, I had an amah and there was a lot of staff. My goodness, the life in Sarawak in the thirties was great fun. I remember trips on the river with the Iban, hauling the boat over the rapids, punting in the Sarawak River, hiking through the jungle to a waterfall, being spoiled, a Chinese cobbler who drew around my foot and made pretty embroidered shoes for me. My parents went to wonderful parties at the palace, my father often went on hunting trips. I had some very odd pets and played with the children from the kampong.
‘Mother taught me at home. There was a school at the palace, for privileged children like myself, but Mother knew that I would have to go back to England eventually, so she wanted to keep me with her as long as she could. There were only about thirty European women living in Kuching at this time, and she certainly was the only white woman where we lived, so I suspect that she just didn’t want me to leave her, as it would have made her life very lonely. But before I was sent away to school, the war broke out …’ She paused and