Bitter Sweet Harvest Part 7

"Can we talk to your son, Jeremy, about the job?"

Nelly's face brightened. "Yes. He has already offered to help."

"Does he know about Hussein and me?

"That has not entered into our conversation."

A uniformed, turbaned footman, complete with gold-fringed epaulettes, opened the huge gla.s.s door. Jeremy stepped aside to let An Mei enter before following her into the foyer. A black marble floor tinged with woven gold and red stretched from one end of the room to the other.

"It's on the first floor. Let's take the stairway," he suggested, pointing to a central staircase that wound upwards hemmed in by ornate railings to the next floor.

They walked up the steps in silence, the tapping of her high heels echoed in contrast to the soft fall of his leather shoes. She felt a sense of vertigo. Everything was huge, enormous even, in the building. Two years away from Kuala Lumpur and things had changed. Buildings seemed to have become bigger and the high rise blocks even higher. Wealth it seemed was measured by size, and success by the ability to dwarf neighbouring buildings.

"This way," he said pointing to an exquisitely carved door to the right of the stairway. "I have spoken to them about you and they are expecting us. I am sure you will be fine. I had a look at your curriculum vitae and it was impressive."

Nervously, she acknowledged his encouragement.

"After the preliminary introductions, I will not be taking part in your interview. I will not be involved in the final decisions." He felt the need to explain as Nelly had said how keen An Mei was to get the job. "It is an American bank and the board's decision is solely theirs."

"Yes, I would not expect otherwise. Thank you," An Mei replied, slightly amused at his discomfort.

"We'll meet up with Kai Min and her husband Tek San tonight. Kai Min is An Mei's aunt, her father's youngest sister. I'll introduce you, Jeremy. I am sure you will like them. They are very forthright and keen to meet you," Nelly said, leaning forward from the back seat of the car to pat Jeremy on the shoulder. He was driving.

She turned to An Mei, at her side, "And we must also tell them about your new job, An Mei. Gong hei, gong hei! Congratulations! It is such a pity that Jane cannot be with us." Bending closer to An Mei, she whispered in her ear, "We have to make an extra effort with your uncle Tek San. Relations between your father and Tek San are still a bit awkward because of past misunderstandings and business rivalry. Your mum's failure to ask for their help when you fled from Oxford has only added to the tension. Kai Min has always considered your mother, Mei Yin, as her best friend so she is miffed. She is coming around though. I have primed her about your decision to stay and have extracted a promise that she will keep it between us."

"Where are we going?" asked Jeremy, unaware of what was being said. He steered the car through the congested streets. "It would seem that things are beginning to settle down at least in this part of Chinatown. People seem to be going about their day-to-day business," he observed.

"Tek San said to meet at his favourite kopitiam. I have forgotten its name. He said it has been five months since he has eaten there. It is a coffee shop in Chinatown, near the Rex cinema. It is a grotty place in an old alleyway. Do not be surprised to see rats scuttling by," she teased. "Tek San is always going on and on about the good old days and the flavour of food in the past."

They turned into a brightly lit street. A neon display with the caption Rex Cinema loomed large.

"Look, we have arrived. Park over there."

They got out of the car and walked over to the corner coffee shop. Bright neon lights lit up the 'open-plan' eatery. Where there should have been walls, individual food stalls were set up instead, separating it from the roadside. Wooden tables with rickety stools were set in the middle of the coffee shop as well as by the roadside. Jeremy looked at the stained floor and walls.

"Where should we sit? Inside?" he asked, looking at the tables in the room and the slowly revolving fans on the ceiling. He could feel the simmering heat from the hot cauldrons and pans in the stalls. "Perhaps not. Outside?" he asked turning to look at the tables by the roadside.

"Not much of a choice. It seems to be between smouldering heat inside or car fumes outside," said An Mei. Despite herself, she could not help but smile at his discomfort. "But the food will be good, perhaps not as hygienic as one might have wished, but Aunty Nelly will see to it. Just watch." Nelly had told her of Jeremy's fear of getting food poisoning.

"I am not worried," he replied pretending indifference. "When you are in Singapore, I'll take you to Bugis Street and you will see that I am not at all unfamiliar with such set-ups. Singapore may have had a big clean-up campaign but there are still lots of the old places left."

"Bugis Street! What are you thinking off? Don't you dare take An Mei there. Ham blan do hai kai tai, hang lei, hang hui! It is full of transvest.i.tes, men dressed as women walking here and there," cried Nelly.

Both An Mei and Jeremy laughed. "That is why it is worth a visit! Plenty of entertainment and eating stalls."

"Choi! Choi! Bad luck! Bad Luck! Who wants to eat in such a place?" muttered Nelly darkly. But she was pleased. It was the first time since her return to Kuala Lumpur that she had seen An Mei really smiling.

"Well, let us take this table on the kerb. It is cooler here," she suggested and drew up a stool and sat down. An Mei and Jeremy followed suit. Immediately, youngsters, dressed in ill-fitting shorts and tee shirts, some no older than twelve, and all in various degree of grubbiness, surrounded them each demanding that they order food from them.

"Char Hokkien mee, fried f.u.kien noodles," one shouted. Another, not to be outdone, proclaimed, "the best Chui yuk chok, pork b.a.l.l.s congee!" This was followed by another loud voice coming from the back, "Sui gow tong, prawn dumpling soup!" The children gathered around the table, repeating their offers by rote until Nelly told them, "Wait. We are meeting someone. Just bring us tea, a big pot and it must be boiling hot, and also a small basin and some bowls. Then, we'll order."

An Mei looked at Jeremy, her eyes twinkling, and mouthed, "Just watch."

A big enamel pot, chipped in places, arrived with small China teacups and bowls. Nelly immediately poured the boiling hot tea into the basin and rinsed the bowls and chopsticks that had been set earlier in a holder in the centre of the table. Satisfied that they were clean, she then fished out tissues from her bag and wiped each utensil carefully before placing them back on the table. "Germs," she said very seriously. "Can never be too careful. Another pot of tea, please," she added to the urchin waiting for her order, An Mei placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"I'm no stranger to such treatment of germs," Jeremy said, keeping a straight face and determined not to be outdone. "In Singapore, Mary does much the same thing." He mimicked Nelly's vigorous cleaning of the chopsticks. More children gathered around the table. They too laughed. No one was offended. "Yes," they chorused, "germs."

An Mei looked away. A shadow crossed her face. Thoughts of Hussein intruded into her mind. He would not have been able to join in such revelries in a place like this, she thought, looking at the meats and poultry hanging at each stall. Every dish had pork, that essential meat for Chinese dishes. Even the fat used was likely to be pork lard. And, of course, nothing was halal. She did not know how she could have deluded herself into believing that they could be together when so many things, even common everyday things, divided them.

Nelly saw the sadness on An Mei's face. She wanted to reach out and comfort her but refrained. Distraction would be the best remedy. She saw two figures walking towards them. Her face brightened. She stood up and placed a hand on An Mei's shoulder.

"They are here. Kai Min and Tek San!" Nelly took two more stools from a neighbouring table for them. "Please sit. Let us order first. I'll introduce everyone later. The poor children are getting impatient. You know, they have to go to school tomorrow and probably need to find time to squeeze in some homework between serving guests." Turning to An Mei, she explained, "They are probably the stall owners' children. They work hard to earn enough money to send their children to school. Some even manage to send them overseas for education. But the children are expected to do their share."

"Hokkien mee for me," said Tek San promptly as he hitched up his trousers to sit down. "I love the dark-sauced, fat noodles fried with pork, prawns and squid. Black paradise!"

"I'll have the same," said Kai Min, "but with white rice vermicelli, please. Less fattening than those thick yellow noodles that my husband likes," she continued, patting Tek San on his girth before turning to Nelly. "Tell me, is this Jeremy, the son you spoke of on the phone?" she asked quietly, her eyes examining him. "You have still to introduce us."

Jeremy heard and looked at Nelly expectantly. With a quick glance around the table, Nelly introduced Jeremy immediately. Her face was filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension. She had already explained over the phone to Kai Min about her rediscovered family after she had called Ming Kong. Kai Min, taken by surprise, had demanded detailed background and explanations, exclaiming that she had no inkling of Nelly's past. Nelly had told her then and had no wish to dwell on her affairs in public again. Instead, she told them of An Mei's success in getting a job with Citicorp.

"Congratulations!" Tek San said. "So you will stay on in KL. What about...?"

"Kai Min will tell you later," Nelly cut in. "Do you want to hear about An Mei's job?"

"Yes, tell us," said Kai Min, kicking Tek San's shins under the table.

Chapter 16.

Mimi walked into An Mei's office. She was fl.u.s.tered." It's that Mr. Hussein again," she announced. "He has called you three times this morning. He is now waiting in reception. He insists on seeing you, even when I said that you were busy and that he needs to make an appointment. He would have barged in if I had not stopped him."

An Mei feigned a nonchalance she did not feel. "Give me five minutes and then send him in please," she instructed her secretary and continued with what she was doing, her head bowed low over the desk. Mimi opened her mouth to speak, but checked herself. It was not her business, but the man had been calling persistently every day this week. She walked out of the room to do as she was told.

An Mei kept on with her writing until the door closed behind Mimi. She put her pen down and leaned back in her chair. It had been some ten months since she had taken the job with the bank and in the last couple of months she had begun to take some of Hussein's telephone calls. But she had not answered them this week. They intruded too much into her peace of mind. She was settling in to her job and her boss was full of praise. "A hardworking, capable and trustworthy employee with a quick and innovative mind," he had written in the last review.

In the evenings, she carried out her promise to help with her father's business. She kept every minute of her time occupied. The pain and hurt she felt had not eased, but she had successfully pushed them to the back of her mind, at least, until nightfall and bedtime. Resolutely she worked hard to fill her days with activities. If she had any time after she attended to Nelly's needs, she went to her old University campus to play netball or badminton. She longed to join a gym and attend keep-fit cla.s.ses, but these were not widely available. "Girls don't go to the gym; gyms are only for men," was Nelly's comment. Despite Nelly's misgivings, An Mei had started jogging in the park early in the morning before work. She would return home, wet with sweat and her leg muscles taut from the exercise, to take a quick hot shower before going to the office. She had grown toned and brown; her large almond eyes were alert and bright. The slightly apprehensive and unsure expression of the past was replaced now by one of confidence and determination.

Although she would occasionally have a faraway, wistful look when Hussein intruded into her thoughts, she was always able to get a grip on herself and address the situation at hand. Even so she found Hussein's persistent calls wearing her thin. She could not afford to let him find a c.h.i.n.k in her armour. She regretted taking that call two months ago and agreeing to see him. She was determined that this first meeting with him would also be the last. Straightening her pencil-slim skirt, she crossed her legs and placed the writing pad in front of her in an attempt to find something, anything that could occupy her if things got tricky. She felt her heart beating almost uncontrollably; thud, thud, thud.

The door opened and Mimi put her head in to announce Hussein. He did not wait for her to finish. He strode in, weaving from behind her without a backward glance, leaving Mimi aghast at his boldness. She hovered for a minute and then left, quietly closing the door behind her.

An Mei saw him approaching. She sat frozen in her seat. She was determined to keep some distance between Hussein and herself. She motioned him to the seat in front of her desk. He ignored her and walked purposefully towards her, skirting around the desk.

"No, please take a seat." She had difficulty controlling her voice. It came out high-pitched. Her face was grave as she waved him back to the chair. She did not smile. She felt a smile would be her undoing. She remained very stern even while she greeted him and went through the formality of asking how he was. Her expression gave no inkling that her legs felt like jelly and that, if she had stood-up, she would not have been able to remain standing. She examined the face that had been so dear to her in her memory. Her heart continued its wild flutter. This would be the last time she saw him, she told herself.

"An Mei, why have you stopped taking my calls? Have you nothing more to say to me than mere pleasantries?" He stood up and made as though he was going to come round the desk to her again.

"No!" she said sharply, panic in her voice. "No, stay where you are. I do not have much time. I have a client coming to see me in five minutes. So please say what you have to say. We should not see each other again. I took your calls only because I felt that I should be polite, and I wanted to know how you were. I know now and what else there is to learn I can read in the newspapers. You are doing well. You are making a mark in politics. It is what you wanted."

"An Mei, have you not heard what I have been saying to you all this time. I love you. Will you marry me?"

Taken aback, she went death-pale. She grasped the edge of the table.

"Why?"

"I have always wished us to marry. It is just circ.u.mstance that did not allow it."

"And these circ.u.mstances have changed?" she asked. She could not avoid the sarcasm that crept into her voice.

"Yes, my father has agreed to our marriage." Hussein dropped his eyes. He let out a sigh. Linking his fingers and clasping both hands together as though in prayer, he brought his forehead down towards them. He stayed in that position, head on the clasped hands, both elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor. He could not bring himself to look at An Mei because he was not telling her the caveat his father had attached to the agreement. "You are a Muslim. You are ent.i.tled to four wives. She should know her position. And I expect you to take at least another wife, this time a true Muslim girl, a Malay girl, preferably someone with good connections. You can divorce An Mei after you tire of her. So have her, if you must. It seems that this is a price I have to accept in order to get you to focus on your career."

He kept his head bowed, muttering to himself that he would never do this to An Mei. That he would not take another wife. He convinced himself that there was no reason to tell An Mei and upset her when he had no intention of doing what his father had demanded. All he could think of was to be together with An Mei and the immediate gratification of having her to himself.

An Mei misunderstood his posture; she thought he was not able to look at her and kept his head bowed because he feared losing her and regretted his past actions. She stood up and went to him. She knelt next to his chair; she placed her head close to his and without thinking, kissed the top of his head. And the very next moment, she found herself in his arms.

She pushed him away. "Wait, wait, not here. Please go." She rushed back to sit behind her desk. Everything was going too fast and contrary to all that she had planned. She could not deal with it. She could not absorb the situation fully. She was alarmed, appalled even at her own actions.

"I'll see you later, but not at home. Aunt Nelly will not allow it. Meet me at the Lake Club after work."

He made as though to go to her. She shook her head. "No! Go! Please," she pleaded.

Hussein walked into his parent's residence with barely a glance at the tall columns in the entrance, standing incongruously in the tropical surrounds. The columns, huge and imposing, were inspired by the 'wedding cake' in Rome's Piazza Venezia, the famous Monumento n.a.z.ionale a Vittorio Emanuele II. His parents were awed with what they saw in Italy and made a grand building of similar design a 'must have' in their list of things to acquire. He had tried to talk them out of it, but they ignored him. "Son, you do not know of such things. A building of such size and grandeur is bound to impress people," they had replied. "It will be a wonderful place in which to entertain and will soon become the envy of everyone in Kuala Lumpur."

His father and mother were waiting for him in the drawing room. They sat facing the French windows with their heavy gold damask curtains draped artfully on either side. His mother had her back to him as he entered the drawing room. His father, who was sat at a half angle facing the window turned, c.o.c.ked his eye questioningly, and asked, "Sudah? Done?"

"Sudah," Hussein replied.

"Then, let us get on with the planning in preparation for the next party meeting. We will put you forward as the candidate for the ministerial post."

"Isn't that a bit presumptuous? I am still new and learning the ropes. Shouldn't we wait?"

"Leave it to us," Rahim replied, waving away Hussein's protestation with impatience. "Get Tengku Ahmad to join us. He is in the library," he instructed the servant, before turning to address his son. "We need young people like you with new ideas. Have you not heard our new Prime Minister's instruction? He said he needs young leaders who are grounded in the Muslim faith and Malay culture, and who can debate both in English and Malay, to take up ministerial posts. Wouldn't you say you fit the bill? Or have I wasted my money sending you to Oxford?"

Hussein could only shrug his shoulders. He felt that to argue with his father would just be a waste of energy. It was far better to go along with what he said. He was also feeling increasingly tired, a lethargy that seemed to sap his very lifeblood. The oscillations between energised jubilation and extreme la.s.situde were becoming an all too frequent occurrence. He fought to shake off his fatigue and put on a smile.

"Of course! Not a problem at all," he said brightly. He tried to instil in his voice an enthusiasm that he did not really feel. "Of course I can debate. I was President of the Oxford Union, one of the world's most famous debating societies. I just thought that as I have only been recently..." His voice trailed off. He knew that his father was not listening and any protestations would fall on deaf ears. Already his father's attention was switching to Ahmad who had entered the room.

"Here, study this," said Ahmad, handing him a folder. "It contains some of Lee Kuan Yew's speeches. Singapore idolised their Prime Minister for his oratory skills and, I am sad to say, even people in this country do as well." Ahmad had caught Hussein's p.r.o.nouncements that he could debate. He smiled in amus.e.m.e.nt at his bl.u.s.tering, drawing comfort from his discomfort. He had not forgiven Hussein for reneging on Shalimar. "See what you make of it. It might serve you well if you are to be our champion in parliamentary debate."

"We'll get someone to draw up your next speech to your const.i.tuency. Jot down some ideas and we'll work on it. You may go, unless you have something to say. That is, something other than to do with your preoccupation with that girl, An Mei."

"He is besotted! All he can think of is the girl!" Faridah exclaimed after Hussein left the room. She was exasperated with her son. "I have enlisted the bomoh to see if this Chinese girl has cast some evil charm on him. I suspect so. Why else can he not give her up? We present him with Shalimar, such a beautiful girl, and he refuses her. Minta maaf, apologies, Ahmad, but we have even lined up other equally beautiful girls who he has also steadfastly refused. I see nothing in this Chinese girl. Nothing!" She waved her hand dismissively.

Hope stirred in Ahmad. Perhaps all was not lost and there might still be a small chance that Hussein could be persuaded. He kept a low profile, bowing his head to maintain a humble att.i.tude that he knew pleased Faridah.

Unchecked by both men, Faridah became even more expansive and outspoken. "The bomoh has given me some potions to undo her evil charm and I will see to it that it is infused in his drinks." She sniffed in frustration, her nose creased up at its bridge, before exclaiming, "Kepala sakit! Headache! Let us hope that he recovers from this malady. Otherwise, we will have to go ahead with this sham marriage."

Rahim broke his silence. He was tired of his wife's meddling with charms and potions that had become increasingly costly and senseless to him.

"Remember," he said, "it is such an opportune time to launch his career now with a new Prime Minister that we should let him marry her if only to get him to settle down to some serious work. You have spoilt him, giving in to his whims all the time since he was a little boy. That is why he expects the same now. I say, let him have her, tire of her and then we can get on. In any case, it is too late to obstruct this marriage. I have given my word. Your role is to make sure she converts to the Muslim faith. She is to be presented in the future as a devout Muslim imbibed with our culture. You make sure she learns it."

"No! Let me try one more time to make him see sense."

"And I say, let him have her. It will not last. It is just gatal, an itch that will pa.s.s. You make sure that the wedding preparation goes to plan."

"Adoi! All I get is the hard work. Do you know how many ceremonies are involved?

"Get a wedding planner," retorted Rahim.

"You are good at it, Datin," said Ahmad. He was bitterly disappointed, but he hid his feelings behind an affable smile. "I will help if you need me."

"How I wish my son was a bit more like you," Faridah responded.

Chapter 17.

The wedding took place in Kemun, his hometown and the const.i.tuency that he hoped to gain in the next election. Hundreds of people congregated in the grand hall of his parents' house to partic.i.p.ate in the bersanding ceremony. The residence was open to the public for the special occasion.

An Mei sat next to Hussein on the pelamin, a raised ornate dais, beneath a canopy of drapes and silk flowers of different hues, yellow, blue and gold. She looked down at her feet. She felt nothing, a coldness clutched at her heart. She stared at the Mehndi, the intricate light orange and deep brown, henna-stained patterns on her hands and feet. They were a symbol of love and fertility, she had been told. The artist had spent hours patiently grinding the dried henna leaves, mixing oil and water before painting them. People came to the dais, chanting blessings and prayers, scattering beras kunyit, rice stained with tumeric, bertih, fried rice grains and tepung tawar, scented water, around her. The music was unending as was the queue of people who came. Young and old, some with their entire family, people from the surrounding villages and towns, trooped in with their gifts. Still she sat, detached, the custom as alien to her, as she was to them, her hijab, an unfamiliar constraint.

The wedding was rushed. Things moved quickly from the time Hussein proposed to her. Her mother-in-law who had been dead set against the marriage worked at breakneck pace to speed it up. She had not softened in her stance towards An Mei. She hardly looked at her other than to give her cutting glances. "I just want it over and done with," she would say. The various complex stages of a traditional Malay wedding were reduced to two. Nor did Faridah, her voice, loud and brusque, hesitate to say why it was so. "If you had been one of us, the Akad Nikah, the signing of the wedding contract, and the Bersanding or wedding ceremony would have been in your family home; needless to say, we have had to pay for everything."

Yes, my family or the absence of it, An Mei thought. She'd had so little time to prepare her parents. She looked to where Nelly sat and caught her eye. Nelly, despite her father's threats, had flown to Kemun from Kuala Lumpur to be with her.

Hussein sat next to her, resplendent in a silk top, a beautifully woven sarong tied over silk pants, a songket headgear and the traditional silver dagger, the keris, at his waist. "It will be soon over. I'll make it up to you," he whispered, sensing her sadness. His voice was drowned by the start of loud recitations of the Koran and blessings. An Mei almost jumped at the loud intrusion. She closed her eyes tighter, reminded of the Khatam Al-Koran that had been conducted in the mosque the previous day. Surrounded by women folks, she had recited the last few pages and verses of the Koran. It signified that she had completed reading the Holy Book and that she, An Mei, now renamed Noraidin, was transformed into an adult responsible for bringing up her own children and family in the Islamic way. She trembled in memory of the Imam's interrogation. She had lied about her circ.u.mcision. With the support and agreement of Hussein, she had betrayed the faith even as she had professed to grasp it. Hussein reached over and held her hand. Gritting her teeth, she steadied herself, taking deep slow breaths.

Throughout the ceremony, her thoughts flitted to the events that followed after she accepted Hussein's proposal of marriage. One in particular kept coming back to haunt her.