The Plantation - Di Morrissey [23]
‘What is happening, Hamid?’ Margaret asked the driver.
Hamid shrugged. ‘I don’t know, mem. Some trouble.’
Margaret got out of the car and hurried after Roland, ignoring Hamid’s shouts. As she got closer she could see in front of the doorway of a small house the smouldering remains of some kind of vehicle. But she stopped in shock as, from an alley beside the house, a small Malay man came running, wielding what looked to Margaret like a huge knife. The crowd suddenly parted. Women were screaming and running. The man with the parang stopped as he saw the two policemen and Roland. Even at a distance the sight of the near-naked man holding the large machete in such a threatening manner was very frightening to Margaret. In the glow of the firelight he looked quite crazy and he was shouting incoherently.
‘Roland!’ she cried.
Furiously Roland turned around and hurried back to her. ‘I told you to stay in the car. The man is crazy and he’s likely to start slashing at anyone. Go. Now.’ He gave her a firm shove.
Margaret was stunned, shocked as much by Roland’s brusque manner as by the scene before her. Suddenly the crazed man lunged towards the crowd. Margaret ran. When she reached the car, Hamid quickly opened the door. From there she could see one of the policemen suddenly grab the man from behind, forcing him to drop the weapon. The other policeman was brandishing what looked like a thick wooden stick, hitting the man about the shoulders.
Shaking, Margaret huddled in the corner of the car. The romantic evening was spoiled and suddenly she realised she was in a strange place that had lost its benign novelty. She felt that there was another current here. The mixture of faces and nationalities and the way the people had looked, the fear in their eyes, unsettled her.
Roland spoke to Hamid and got in beside Margaret.
‘Sorry I shouted at you but anything could have happened back there. The man went amok. It happens for no reason that anyone knows. These fellows just explode, grab a weapon and threaten to murder anyone in their way. And they do, which is why I wanted you out of sight.’
‘Sorry, Roland. I was so afraid for you.’
‘Don’t worry about me, darling, I can look after myself. Hotel, please, Hamid.’
‘Does this happen often?’ asked Margaret wondering how safe she’d be in the streets.
‘No, not very often. It’s mainly Malays, it’s as though they just can’t cope any more and they go crazy, almost inviting someone to kill them. A dark streak in their normally sunny nature.’
‘Amok, is no good, sahib,’ said Hamid. ‘I think maybe a riot. Chinese people.’
‘Riots?’ said Margaret, her voice rising.
‘There, there. Calm down, dear. There was a clash, a strike over wages last month. An isolated incident caused by some communists.’ He smiled. ‘Nothing like this happens out at peaceful Utopia.’
‘But if it’s in their character …’ Margaret had a sudden vision of being alone in a house when a native suddenly had one of these wild turns.
‘You will be safe, Margaret. I’ll see to that at all times. But perhaps it might be better not to mention this incident to your mother. Tomorrow at lunch, when you see the old Spotted Dog, you’ll enjoy it more.’
‘Oh, the Selangor Club. Yes, Roland,’ said Margaret, too exhausted to argue.
The tall Sikh doorman at the hotel gave Margaret a small bow. ‘Did memsahib have a very excellent evening?’
Margaret gave him a withering look as the door closed behind her. ‘Not exactly.’
In the morning Winifred put Margaret’s pale demeanour down to tiredness.
‘Well, this is all very exciting, isn’t it? My daughter getting married. It’s really coming home to me that you are,’ said Winifred effusively.
‘Yes, Mother. Me too.’ She picked up her handbag. ‘It will be interesting to discover why this Selangor Club is known as The Dog. Sounds a bit of a worry, really. Not quite where I’d envisioned