The Plantation - Di Morrissey [158]
‘I don’t imagine Philip has much in common with her. Ten years is a pretty big age gap, but they will get closer when they’re older,’ said Bette.
‘Boys change once they go away to school,’ said Margaret.
‘They have to grow up, Margaret. And Philip seems to love the plantation. I’m sure he’ll come back and work with Roland,’ said Bette.
‘I don’t know how long rubber is going to be profitable. Times are changing. Some plantations are trying other crops. Roland was experimenting with palm oil before the war. But the workers don’t seem as dedicated as they were in Eugene’s day. There are always strikes somewhere. I’ve heard that some of their wage demands are quite outrageous. They’ll send the plantations broke if they get them. It’s all very destabilising.’
‘Yes, war has a way of changing things,’ said Bette quietly.
‘I might have been out of the fighting, but it wasn’t easy in Australia, either,’ said Margaret testily.
Suddenly Caroline wanted attention and Ho brought in the cake and tea, and the war was not mentioned again.
A few days later a group of Roland’s old friends, mainly planters, were relaxing on the verandah, stengahs in hand, and the discussion of the current political situation resur-faced. Bette was shocked to see that each guest arrived with a Malay special constable, and stacked his gun in a corner, before shaking hands with Roland. She sat in the shade by the steps watching Caroline play and listened with interest to their conversation.
‘Don’t know why they’re calling this communist insurgency an Emergency. It’s looking like a bloody war to me,’ grumbled an old friend of Eugene’s.
‘Because,’ explained Roland patiently, ‘our losses won’t be covered by Lloyd’s if it’s declared to be a war. And you wouldn’t like that.’
‘Insurgency, Emergency, it’s still a bloody anti-British war,’ replied the old planter. ‘’Cause we didn’t think much about it two years ago, when Chin Peng’s lot murdered those plantation managers in Perak. Nasty business. But now it’s really getting out of hand. These terrorists tell the workers to go on strike, or they’ll attack their villages, so we have trouble with our labour, as well.’
‘There aren’t the jobs there used to be, and food is expensive so that’s been part of the problem,’ said Roland. ‘But the administration is trying to get Malaya’s economy on track.’
‘It’s all a load of rubbish this propaganda that the commies are putting about. High wages and independence for everyone, what rot,’ said the planter. ‘We’ve got floodlights, dogs and guns at the ready on our estate, so just let them try something.’
‘I’d prefer it if it was an out-and-out fight,’ said another, younger man. ‘These terrorists have hit-andrun raids out of the jungle, sneaking around the villages, blackmailing the locals into giving them food and help. It’s all very underhanded and difficult to control.’
‘It’s highly unstable and I for one won’t venture too far afield without these security force fellows in tow,’ declared another of Roland’s neighbours, pointing to the Malay special constables sitting below the verandah. ‘I think the army and the police chaps are doing a fine job.’
‘They’ve re-formed the special air service I worked with in India during the war,’ said Roland. ‘Specialised reconnaissance, counterinsurgency, intelligence, that sort of thing, taking the fight to the communists in the jungle.’
‘You thinking of joining them, Roland?’
‘No, I have enough to do protecting my family and the plantation. Mind you, I worked with some of those communists during the war and there is no doubt that they are determined to make Malaya a communist country.’
‘Let’s hope they put a lid on it all quick smart. I’m tired of travelling in convoys, always carrying a gun, and being careful to alter my travel route every day I go out on to the estate. And as for having a curfew! Having to be at home between seven pm and six am means that you can’t go anywhere much