The Plantation - Di Morrissey [26]
‘Oh, Mother, are you sure you’ll be all right here on your own?’ asked Margaret, as she embraced Winifred.
Dr Hamilton took Winifred’s arm. ‘She’ll be right as rain, dear girl. We’re all off to a splendid dinner and during the next week I shall escort her anywhere she wishes, around the city,’ he said.
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary,’ began Winifred.
‘Nonsense. The DO’s wife has invited us all over for luncheon tomorrow. I shall collect you at noon,’ said the kindly doctor.
‘And we’ll be back in time to drive you to Port Swettenham for the boat home,’ Margaret assured her mother.
Dr Hamilton turned to the newlyweds and gave Margaret a comforting smile. ‘Now, off you two go.’
Margaret kissed her mother and in a shower of coloured rice and flower petals she and Roland got into the gleaming Studebaker that Roland had borrowed from a friend and they drove away. The wedding guests then adjourned to the long bar of the nearby Selangor Club.
Roland took Margaret’s hand. ‘Just the two of us. You looked so beautiful at the wedding. I was proud of you.’
Margaret leaned her head against the back of the car seat and smiled contentedly.
In the still, burning light that marked the end of her wedding day, Margaret gazed at the passing scenes of rural simplicity as they left the city behind and entered the lush countryside on the way to the dark, steep hills of their destination. In kampongs, she glimpsed children playing in a river where women washed their long black hair, the coloured fabric of their sarongs clinging wetly to their lithe frames. An unattended fruit stall, a bicycle lying on its side beneath trees, the lazy smoke of a cooking fire indicated the slowing of the day. Preparations for evening were unfolding. The long fingers of slanting rays were reflected in the still pools of the rice paddies, which were neatly dissected by mounds of raised red soil lying in mathematical precision.
The car began to climb the hills, though it seemed briefly to Margaret that they were sinking, shrinking into night, flattened by a sky alight with the glowing first stars. The trees reached upwards, dark fingers pointed to the heavens, and the headlights of the car danced from side to side as they curved their way up the steepening mountain.
Margaret sat in silence, her eyes closed, holding her husband’s hand.
‘Here we are. The Gap,’ said Roland. ‘Did you sleep, Margaret?’
‘No. I think I’m overexcited, it’s been a big day.’
He kissed her quickly, murmuring, ‘And it’s not over yet.’ Then added as he opened the door, ‘A relaxing drink, a small snack. I’m peckish. I didn’t eat enough today. Too busy socialising. Come along, Margaret.’
The sprawling government rest house was welcoming, but scarcely what Margaret considered to be elegant. Then she realised that it was simply a stopover that supplied basic accommodation, a dining room, a verandah and a bar.
‘We could spend the night here if you’re not feeling up to any more travel,’ said Roland looking at her pale face. ‘It isn’t particularly smart but it’s comfortable and hospitable. We have to wait here for the road ahead to open. There’s only a single lane into the hills and this is the changeover point.’
‘You mean cars can travel only in one direction on the road?’ asked Margaret.
‘Yes, this final ascent to the peak is narrow so there’s a timetable to allow cars to go up or cars to go down. But not at the same time.’ He laughed.
Margaret decided that she didn’t want to spend her honeymoon night here as it was not at all romantic. So she sipped her tea as Roland hugged a brandy and chatted with several other travellers who were also heading to Fraser’s Hill.
And then the road was opened, and they were back in the car as part of a small procession making its way in single file to the popular hill town.