The Plantation - Di Morrissey [35]
The bungalow had three bedrooms, and like the main bungalow, there was a sleep-out with several bamboo stretcher beds, their feet in saucers of kerosene.
‘Keeps the ants and bugs off,’ explained Roland. ‘Sometimes people stop over when travelling round the district. Dr Hamilton, the DO and his wife, if she’s with him, stay at the big house of course.’
Their bedroom was furnished simply, but there was a big mosquito net over a solid carved Chinese bed. A standing mirror, a dressing table with a small vase of fresh flowers, an armoire and an ornate chest at the foot of the bed made up the rest of the furniture. The windows had shutters without curtains, the floorboards were bare but painted cream and there was a small, attractive Indian rug.
The lounge room and dining room were combined, making one big space with lots of chairs and a long table. It was not the cosiness that Margaret was used to and compared with the ornaments, knick-knacks, decorative items and personal touches jammed into Winifred’s house, this looked very spacious and uncluttered.
‘It’s a nice big space, and cool,’ said Margaret.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll give this place the homey touch,’ said Roland. Then he added seriously, ‘But some things will have to wait. I’m sure we can manage quite well for the time being, don’t you? If you need anything for entertaining just borrow it from the big house. Come and meet Ah Kit, our houseboy. He’ll run everything, but keep an eye on the other servants and make sure they don’t rob us too much.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And don’t be too cosy with them. Pleasant but firm. You understand how it is.’
‘Er, yes. I suppose so,’ said Margaret.
Ah Kit was Chinese, younger than Eugene’s houseboy, possibly the same age as Roland, with bright, inquisitive dark eyes and a quick smile. He wore what was obviously the local uniform of white tunic and black pants. He bowed and said, ‘I am very happy to work for you, mem.’
‘Thank you,’ said Margaret.
‘You want tea? Ah Kit learn what mem like, no like.’
‘In a little while, Ah Kit. I’ll show the mem around,’ said Roland. As they walked away, he said to Margaret, ‘You’ll have to instruct him on the way you like things done, he’s very quick to learn.’
‘Does he cook as well?’ asked Margaret.
‘No, Cookie does that. Cookie’s Malay and a Muslim so he won’t touch any pork. Sometimes he has disagreements with the others about cooking utensils, which have been used to cook pork with, and so on. You’ll get the hang of it all. Come on, let’s go for a drive and I’ll show you some of the better divisions.’
Margaret recalled the big distances and the wide open spaces of Queensland but, even so, the size of the sections of the plantation surprised her. Roland drove her past mile after mile of avenues of rubber trees where occasionally he would stop and inspect some of the trees or chat to the working tappers.
‘Don’t get out of the car, you’re not wrapped up,’ advised Roland. ‘The mosquitoes among these trees are vicious.’
Margaret had noticed that the workers wore long sleeves and pants, or saris topped with cotton shirts. They all wore hats with scarves wrapped around their faces as they worked. Many wore cotton gloves and now she knew why.
‘The tapping is done in the early hours of the morning while it’s still cool,’ explained Roland as they drove. ‘The tappers cut into the bark in a spiral on one side and the latex bleeds down into the cup. Once the sun is up the latex congeals and stops flowing so after midday the cups are collected, which is what is happening now. Later, the opposite side of the tree is cut, while the other side heals.’
‘And what happens to the latex?’ asked Margaret.
‘It’s poured into moulds, smoked and dried and then rolled into rubber sheets for export. A lot of our rubber was on that steamship that runs between Port Swettenham and Singapore,’ said Roland.
It was a strange and eerie world that Roland inhabited, thought Margaret as she watched him shrug into his cotton jacket and don a solar topee, which had a