The Plantation - Di Morrissey [27]
A servant opened the car door and Margaret shivered in the surprisingly chill air. The mock Tudor building had ivy climbing the walls and boxes beneath its diamond-paned windows were filled with flowers. Mr MacAllister, the manager, welcomed them effusively and showed them into a small lounge room where the décor was a homage to bonnie Scotland – the cushions and a sofa were upholstered in the Fraser tartan. A fire burned and Margaret suddenly felt as though she was in the Scottish Highlands again.
‘Welcome, Mr Elliott and Mrs Elliott. Please enjoy a drink while your luggage is taken to your room. Would you like a bath drawn, sir?’
Roland turned to Margaret. ‘Would you care for a relaxing bath, my dear? I will be up shortly. Unless you care to join me here for a nightcap?’
‘A hot bath sounds wonderful. You won’t be long, Roland?’
‘Not at all. I’ll let you settle while I catch up on the district news with Mr MacAllister.’
Their host bowed slightly. ‘This is my wife, Janet. She will show to you to your room and provide anything you need. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mrs Elliott.’
‘Thank you.’ Margaret followed Mrs MacAllister up the stairs feeling incredibly pleased at being called Mrs Elliott.
The time at Fraser’s Hill passed too quickly for Margaret. It took a little while to adjust to the lack of privacy caused by living with a man and being together twenty-four hours a day. But Roland was kind and attentive and obviously very pleased with his young and attractive wife. Margaret was glad she’d been a virgin on her wedding night but, while Roland was a considerate and gentle lover, Margaret was yet to really experience the wild, passionate elation from sex that she’d read about in novels. She responded with what she hoped was satisfactory ardour to Roland’s lovemaking but couldn’t help feeling relieved when it was over.
Margaret revelled in the cool climate. Roland was an early riser, so, before breakfast, they took a walk around the grounds of the hotel while the mist still shrouded the thickly wooded hillsides. After a traditional English breakfast they went out into the bright morning armed with binoculars and a field guide to watch birds.
‘The highlands are famous for the birdlife,’ said Roland. ‘The hornbill, an extraordinary looking bird, is quite something. Magnificent colours and a huge curved beak. Supposed to be good luck if we spot one.’
Margaret had never been particularly interested in birds but found she quite enjoyed the meandering walks along the tiny trails in the forest. Sometimes they passed Indian girls carrying produce or clean laundry up to the other hotels and occasionally they came upon a neat bungalow that was both fenced and guarded.
‘A lot of banks, companies and wealthy business people have bungalows up here. It gets very busy and very social as people come up from the coast to escape the heat,’ said Roland. ‘Cameron Highlands is becoming popular too. It’s bigger and has tea plantations in the area.’
On their walks they sometimes came across a group of English schoolgirls who attended St Margaret’s Anglican Boarding School at Fraser’s Hill and they would exchange pleasantries with their teacher. Margaret thought it must be a lovely place to go to school and the girls would have the benefit of being close to their families. Better, she thought, than being sent to school in England.
After their post-luncheon nap, they took tea with scones and strawberry jam on the terrace each afternoon. Their cosy room was furnished with rattan chairs and chintz curtains. There was a small fireplace in their sitting room, which they found blazing each night when they came up after dinner.
They met several other couples and played cards and joined in a games night, but Roland preferred to have