The Plantation - Di Morrissey [129]
‘I had no idea about any of this. Mum did mention Tony Tsang to me when she told me about Gran’s time in Malaya before the war, but neither of us had any idea about the connection. Did you boys ever meet the Tsangs?’ asked Julie.
‘No, we didn’t,’ replied Peter.
‘The Tsang house is now a boutique hotel, well, part of it is, I think,’ said Shane. ‘Have you ever been there, Pete?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s a pretty pricey place to stay, I believe.’
Martine looked at Julie and smiled. ‘Your visit to Penang is going to be interesting.’
Julie leaned back, shaking her head. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Perhaps you should ask Christopher to come with you,’ suggested Martine. ‘You’re going to see him, yes? It will be quite interesting for you to see the old mansion.’
‘Christopher did suggest dinner when I went to Penang, but now I have so much more to check out. Do you know the address of Bette’s old home, Shane?’
‘Oh, everyone knows it. It’s known as Rose Mansion. Big old pink stucco place with gold trim. It used to be virtually on the water but the land was reclaimed along the seafront so there’s a promenade in front of it now,’ said Shane.
‘At least the old home hasn’t been torn down, but restored and made into a hotel,’ said Peter.
‘I know Gran told my mother that he was very rich. Is that right?’ asked Julie.
Peter chuckled. ‘I’d say so. He kept racehorses. That was the heyday of high society before the war. Even afterwards, the Chinese and the Peranakan did very well, until the anti-Chinese riots in the 1960s. Things changed after that.’
‘The history of the mansion is probably well documented,’ said Shane. ‘In the last ten years there’s been a resurgence of interest in the old days. I think some of the Tsang descendants helped with its preservation.’
‘It’s interesting for tourists,’ said Martine.
‘I guess that’s what I’ll be, a tourist,’ said Julie quietly. ‘I wish I knew more.’
Martine touched her arm. ‘This is a quest. All the time you are discovering things. It will all unfold,’ she said to Julie.
Julie stared at her. ‘Yes. I suppose so. But I’m impatient to know as much as I can. My holiday is almost over. I have to go back home, go back to work … deal with my family’s fight to save our home …’ All these things seemed a world away. Here, in Malaysia, Julie felt herself touching a part of her family’s past that had been unknown to her. ‘I wonder when I see this mansion, if it might help me understand why there was such a rift between Margaret and Bette.’
‘Perhaps you may,’ said Martine gently.
‘Anyway, even if I don’t find any answers in Penang, it will be nice to see where Great Aunt Bette lived,’ said Julie, and sank back in the soft leather seat of the Jaguar.
She must have dozed off, for when she opened her eyes they were driving past the long plantation rows of Utopia in bright sunlight. A mini steam train was chugging along pulling iron buckets, each holding two tonnes of just harvested palm oil fruit. The spiky clusters of the red fruit were piled high.
‘There they go, straight from the field, no trucks, less handling, those metal cages go right into the ovens, so there’s less bruising,’ said Shane proudly.
‘Makes for better quality oil if it’s direct from the field,’ said Peter. ‘Nothing is wasted, the by-products and effluent from the mills are collected and made into bio gas, which is then used to heat the water, which becomes the steam, which runs the refinery. Everywhere we can, we try to reduce our dependence on petrochemicals.’
‘Let’s get some curry puffs at the bakery,’ said Martine, who had heard all this before, many times.
They got out of the car, glad to stretch their legs. As Shane and Peter walked into the bakery they were immediately greeted by a middle-aged woman and a younger woman behind the counter. While their order was being assembled the manager, a middle-aged man of Indian descent, proudly showed his bosses the food preparation area. It was spotless. Julie felt that she could have eaten from the floor. Every piece of equipment