hilly suburb in Singapore. Huge houses with equally large gardens stood on either side of the road. The chatty taxi driver had told her that the hill,
Bukit
, had been originally named after the Temak trees that grew in abundance in the area but it had been wrongly pronounced during the colonial days as
Timah
or tin and the name had stuck. “See,” he had waved his hand expansively, “no tin but it is still called Tin Hill! No tin but still rich. Only rich people live here.” He eyed Nelly as she fished out her purse to pay him, hoping that his acknowledgement of the rich would bring him a big tip.
The taxi had stopped in front of a mansion, the size of which dwarfed even the other substantial surrounding buildings. Nervously, she checked the house number and then made her way to the mansion’s gate, a massive wrought iron structure, painted green with sharp spear-like tops gilded gold. She buzzed the bell and within minutes the gate opened like a well-oiled machine opening its jaws to claim her. “Please enter,” a voice echoed through the intercom. “Our mistress is expecting you.”
Nelly mopped impatiently at the perspiration on her forehead and walked briskly forward. Shimmers of heat steamed up from the black tarmac. It enveloped her feet making them swell. Her legs grew heavy and she felt faint. She had become unaccustomed to the heat, even in the short time she had been in England. But she persisted, increasing her pace in her haste to reach the mansion. “I cannot run away this time,” she told herself. The thought of seeing her children again made her forget her age, her weight and her lack of fitness. She hurried forward, puffing. She saw a servant in uniform coming down the steps of the mansion carrying a parasol.
“
Siew Nai,
mistress, wait! I have this shade for you. It is too hot to walk so fast.” She saw the sweat that was pouring down from Nelly’s face and thrust forward a waxed paper parasol painted with yellow chrysanthemums. Bamboo spokes, splayed out from the stem handle, supported the fragile fabric of the shade.
“Let me, let me,” the maid said, holding it high above Nelly. “I will hold it. I am Ah Kuk’s replacement. She died last year.”
Nelly stopped in her track. For a moment, she was speechless. Already the unexpected had happened. She thought she would see Ah Kuk, and was looking forward to the reunion. Ah Kuk had been Mary’s maid and had been so good to her. She had helped her look after her children.
“We should not stand under the sun. Mistress Mary is within. She is waiting,” coaxed the maid, anxious to go into the house and escape the relentless heat.
They walked up the flight of steps that stretched the entire length of the terrace in front of the mansion to reach the entrance. By this time, Nelly was puffing hard. She paused at the top of the steps; her hand went to her heart to still its wild beating. She took a few deep breaths and then slowly, with great trepidation, she entered the house. Standing in the middle of the expansive hallway was an old lady, her hair almost pure white, her face a cobweb of wrinkles radiating from her eyes and her cheeks. Flanking her on either side were a man and a woman. He was very tall and she diminutive and slight. Nelly checked herself. She looked in bewilderment from one to the other; she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of the nose and looked again.
“Mary, Chai-chai and Mei-mei?” she asked hesitantly.
Nelly clasped her hand to her mouth, the motion, involuntary and clumsy. In all her dreams, she had pictured her children as they were when she left. She knew that after well-over twenty-five years, they would be adults. Yet in her mind, she held only an image of them as children, taller, bigger, yes, but nothing resembling the two adults standing before her. She could not recognise them. She turned to Mary.
“Mary? Is it you?” she asked again.
“Come, let’s go and sit down. You are in shock.” Mary
Bukit
, had been originally named after the Temak trees that grew in abundance in the area but it had been wrongly pronounced during the colonial days as
Timah
or tin and the name had stuck. “See,” he had waved his hand expansively, “no tin but it is still called Tin Hill! No tin but still rich. Only rich people live here.” He eyed Nelly as she fished out her purse to pay him, hoping that his acknowledgement of the rich would bring him a big tip.
The taxi had stopped in front of a mansion, the size of which dwarfed even the other substantial surrounding buildings. Nervously, she checked the house number and then made her way to the mansion’s gate, a massive wrought iron structure, painted green with sharp spear-like tops gilded gold. She buzzed the bell and within minutes the gate opened like a well-oiled machine opening its jaws to claim her. “Please enter,” a voice echoed through the intercom. “Our mistress is expecting you.”
Nelly mopped impatiently at the perspiration on her forehead and walked briskly forward. Shimmers of heat steamed up from the black tarmac. It enveloped her feet making them swell. Her legs grew heavy and she felt faint. She had become unaccustomed to the heat, even in the short time she had been in England. But she persisted, increasing her pace in her haste to reach the mansion. “I cannot run away this time,” she told herself. The thought of seeing her children again made her forget her age, her weight and her lack of fitness. She hurried forward, puffing. She saw a servant in uniform coming down the steps of the mansion carrying a parasol.
“
Siew Nai,
mistress, wait! I have this shade for you. It is too hot to walk so fast.” She saw the sweat that was pouring down from Nelly’s face and thrust forward a waxed paper parasol painted with yellow chrysanthemums. Bamboo spokes, splayed out from the stem handle, supported the fragile fabric of the shade.
“Let me, let me,” the maid said, holding it high above Nelly. “I will hold it. I am Ah Kuk’s replacement. She died last year.”
Nelly stopped in her track. For a moment, she was speechless. Already the unexpected had happened. She thought she would see Ah Kuk, and was looking forward to the reunion. Ah Kuk had been Mary’s maid and had been so good to her. She had helped her look after her children.
“We should not stand under the sun. Mistress Mary is within. She is waiting,” coaxed the maid, anxious to go into the house and escape the relentless heat.
They walked up the flight of steps that stretched the entire length of the terrace in front of the mansion to reach the entrance. By this time, Nelly was puffing hard. She paused at the top of the steps; her hand went to her heart to still its wild beating. She took a few deep breaths and then slowly, with great trepidation, she entered the house. Standing in the middle of the expansive hallway was an old lady, her hair almost pure white, her face a cobweb of wrinkles radiating from her eyes and her cheeks. Flanking her on either side were a man and a woman. He was very tall and she diminutive and slight. Nelly checked herself. She looked in bewilderment from one to the other; she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of the nose and looked again.
“Mary, Chai-chai and Mei-mei?” she asked hesitantly.
Nelly clasped her hand to her mouth, the motion, involuntary and clumsy. In all her dreams, she had pictured her children as they were when she left. She knew that after well-over twenty-five years, they would be adults. Yet in her mind, she held only an image of them as children, taller, bigger, yes, but nothing resembling the two adults standing before her. She could not recognise them. She turned to Mary.
“Mary? Is it you?” she asked again.
“Come, let’s go and sit down. You are in shock.” Mary
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