The Plantation - Di Morrissey [39]
The houseboy has just brought me afternoon tea and truly exquisite scones. Cookie is a very deft baker! And no, I don’t feel too spoiled as I’m doing my bit and Roland is very pleased that the house runs so smoothly. But I have to admit, I am getting very used to the luxury of help and having no nasty domestic chores at all to do! Don’t forget the coloured buttons to match that piece of material I sent you, please, Mother. There’s an excellent tailor in Slim River and I’m having a light silk suit made for the races coming up. It will be a really big do in KL. Roland will combine it with business but we are looking forward to a few days in the city with friends.
Signing off for now,
Your affectionate daughter,
Margaret
Margaret wrote home weekly, in great detail, about her activities. But the next week her letter home had only one piece of exciting news – she was expecting a baby.
4
Port Swettenham, 1940
THE PORT WAS BUSY. Exports of rubber, copra, pine apples and wood from the large trading houses were swung in giant nets onto the decks of the cargo ships. Incoming goods were offloaded. The passengers on board the steamer from Singapore stood at the railing, watching the activity on the dock, seeking familiar faces as they waited for the gangplank to be raised and permission given to go ashore.
Roland stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd on the dock, dressed in his high-collared, white suit. He waved to Margaret, who was holding their son Philip’s hand as the two year old jumped up and down at the excitement of it all. Holding the boy’s other hand was Margaret’s sister, Bette.
Although there was a family resemblance, Bette differed from her sister in that she was shorter and curvier with long, thick hair which the breeze blew about her shoulders. Bette wore a sundress and looked younger than her twenty years. Margaret was wearing a smart suit and a small jaunty hat. Margaret usually tended to dress rather formally, especially since discovering the local tailor with his swathes of Indian silks and Egyptian fine cottons. She ordered fashion magazines that arrived regularly and designs from them were quickly copied by her tailor. Margaret acknowledged that she sometimes overdressed, but she felt that there was a standard to maintain in being Mrs Roland Elliott of Utopia plantation, especially as their busy social life seemed to demand an up-to-date wardrobe. It was an indulgence she said was justified and she rarely asked for anything for the house any more after an initial flurry of curtain and cushion making. Even the baby’s room had been kept somewhat basic. Margaret, however, did not extend the same restraint to her garden, which she loved. She had designed it herself and made sure that it was attended each day by the gardener. It had started to look quite beautiful.
The gangplank was in place and Roland smiled as he watched his son drop his mother’s hand and dart between adults, dragging Bette with him as he forged his way to the bottom.
Roland caught him and swung him high in the air. ‘Hello, young man. My, how you’ve grown! Did you miss your papa?’
In reply the little boy flung his arms around Roland’s neck, squeezing him tight.
Roland held out his hand to Bette. ‘Lovely to meet you, Bette. How was the trip?’
‘Wonderful. I’m so excited to be here. I think Philip has missed you.’ She turned to look for Margaret. ‘I must help Margie. Goodness knows where our bags have gone.’
‘They’ll be fine. Despite the apparent chaos, there is a system to all this. Hamid will sort out things. Hello, my dear.’ He untangled Philip and balanced him on his hip as Margaret caught up with them. He embraced Margaret and kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘Good trip? The boy was good?’
‘Spoiled rotten. But everyone thought him splendid. It will be good to get him back into a routine at home, though. Three months in Brisbane was too long to be away. I certainly missed the amah’s help,’ she added. ‘You’ve met Bette?’
‘Yes. We can talk in the car. Hamid