The Plantation - Di Morrissey [63]
‘My gosh!’ laughed Julie. She lifted out a heavy wooden tennis racquet. ‘This could have belonged to my grandmother! Ah, here’s something more modern. And shoes, I’m sure I can find a pair to fit me. Look at this! Old swimsuits, paddles, fishing rods, a croquet set!’ She found a pair of tennis shoes and a reasonable tennis racquet, and went to her room to change into shorts.
Julie looked around her. She couldn’t believe that she was staying in a large, three bedroom bungalow, which she had all to herself. It was a contemporary design and she supposed that it was built for businesspeople and friends who came to stay. The bungalow was fully air-conditioned as well as having ceiling fans. These whirled slowly all day and evening.
Each morning, Siti prepared Julie’s breakfast and set it out in the sunroom that looked over an enclosed garden where banks of orchids grew up old trees and where a faded hammock hung on old ropes. On the other side of the house, was a large kitchen garden and a comparatively modern kitchen was separated from a dining room by a swinging door. This domestic area was obviously the domain of the staff, for when Julie had picked up her empty breakfast plate and taken it into the kitchen Siti looked surprised and a little offended.
‘No, no, mem. My work. Siti do.’ And she hustled Julie from the kitchen. Julie never set foot in there again.
Julie was pleased to find that the tennis party was more social than tennis. The original tennis court was surrounded by a large fence completely smothered in vine that hung with bunches of flowers like pink grapes. It was almost a foot thick, screening the court and sheltering it from any wind. There was a large pavilion at one end of it, housing the change rooms and an entertaining area, where a refrigerator was stocked with cold drinks. One of the houseboys poured the drinks and brought out trays of snacks from the kitchen. An elderly Indian gardener enjoyed himself acting as the ball boy.
Julie found Peter and Shane’s friends to be a fun group. They comprised of two English couples, both in their thirties, a German couple, an Australian, the same age as Shane, and two other single men. One was Chinese, the other of Scottish descent, who, like Shane and Peter, had grown up in Asia. All of them were intrigued by Julie’s connection to Shane and Peter and Utopia.
‘You’ve waited a long time to visit,’ said Cynthia, one of the English women.
‘It’s a bit of a long story. But I’m planning on making the most of this trip,’ said Julie.
‘Will you be here when Martine gets back? We’ll have to have a big party then,’ said the other girl.
‘She’ll be back any day,’ said Shane. ‘A party would be wonderful.’
‘Is she seeing her family in France?’ asked Cynthia.
‘Yes, as well as the children in England,’ said Shane.
Everyone was friendly and well travelled, and either ran their own business or were connected to the palm oil industry in some way. Christopher Nichols, the Australian, was a good friend of Peter’s.
‘And are you in the palm oil business, too?’ Julie asked him.
Christopher shook his head. ‘No, I’m the ring in. I’m in the Royal Australian Air Force, following a family tradition. I’m at Butterworth here in Malaysia.’
When Julie looked blank, he added, ‘Butterworth Air Base. Near Penang. It’s now run by the Malaysian Air Force, as a training facility there. My father was stationed there in the sixties, and I’m there now.’
‘Oh. I see,’ said Julie. ‘You do have a connection to this country then.’
While most of the group lived some distance from a major city, they seemed sophisticated and well-to-do. It was stimulating to be around people different from those she mixed with in Brisbane. After they finished playing tennis, they walked over to the big house and settled themselves into cane chairs on the verandah.