The Plantation - Di Morrissey [163]
Philip nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak but managed to say, ‘I still have Lumpy. My elephant.’
Bette took his hand, the tall boy on the brink of adolescence suddenly looking like the insecure little chap she’d loved through those terrible war years.
‘I’ll be going to England, soon, to boarding school.’
Bette nodded. ‘Yes. But, Philip, your mother needs you now. Before you leave, let her know that you love her. She will miss you so much while you’re away. I know that we’ll always have a special tie between us, but we have to get on with our own lives now.’
‘She’ll have Caroline,’ said Philip pragmatically.
‘Yes. And your father.’ She dropped his hand. ‘Be generous, big-hearted and work hard. As I know you will. And think of me sometimes.’
‘I’ll never forget you, Bet-Bet.’ He looked stricken, tears filling his eyes.
‘I know I’ll always be proud of you, Philip. Give Lumpy a cuddle from me.’ Bette smiled and turned away, relinquishing the boy she loved so deeply.
As the driver turned the car into the laneway outside the garden of the big house, Bette glanced up at the solid colonial home Eugene had built so many years ago, and knew that behind a curtain a young boy was watching her leave.
Although Roland had suggested that the driver take her all the way to Penang, Bette insisted on taking the train, even though it was very slow. She loved the jungle-clad hills, the stretches of plantations, the villages and rivers as they wound through the countryside.
Bette was happy to be in a city. The threat of insurgents and attacks on remote estates seemed far away. She indulged herself, wandering through the places she’d missed on her previous visit. She found that in spite of the circumstances, she enjoyed travelling and visiting Roland’s friends, many of whom remembered her from her previous visit. They were all delighted to entertain the pretty, charming woman in their happy-go-lucky social circle.
But behind the laughter, the drinking, the dancing and the sports, there was always a shadow. All had been affected in one way or another by the war and now they had to live with the uncertainty of the Emergency and the push for independence. Sometimes it seemed to Bette that there was a tinge of desperation to their gaiety. But Bette thanked them for their hospitality and the opportunity they provided for her to have a bit of adventure and the chance to sketch and absorb something of the rich culture of this interesting country. And she told them that she was, of course, in regular contact with Roland and Margaret who continued to make so many wonderful introductions for her. This wasn’t quite the truth, for Bette sent the occasional note to Roland only. Margaret had made it very clear that what Bette did and where she went were of no interest to her at all.
Being on her own, Bette felt a great sense of freedom and fun. She booked herself into the E&O Hotel where there was no Margaret frowning at her, no parents to worry about and no demands on her in any way. It was a heady time. There were many single men and a dearth of attractive, unattached women, so Bette was whirled from dances to dinners. There were social sporting events, picnics, house parties and tour trips. She accepted an invitation from some friends of Roland’s, Lori and Andrew Pike, to stay in their summer house on Penang Hill. Other friends of Roland’s, Nancy and Beau Gideon, asked her to join them for a weekend party at their beach house at Batu Ferringhi.
She travelled to the Pikes’ summer house on the pretty funicular railway, with its two carriages that stopped at tiny stations on the way up Penang Hill. Bette felt the temperature cooling and the humidity dissolve as the train gained altitude. At the little viaduct station she was met by Andrew with his driver but no car.
‘Can you carry your small bag? Lim will take the rest. The house is a bit of a hike from the station,’ Andrew told her. ‘The other guests are already there.’
In single file, they followed a jungle path that ended at some rough