The White Amah

The
White
Amah
Ann Massey
› ii‹
First published in Australia 2010
This edition published January 2010
Copyright © Ann Massey 2010
Cover design, typesetting: Chameleon Print Design
The right of Ann Massey to be identified as the Author
of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to that of
people living or dead are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means without
the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be
otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover
other than that in which it is published and without
a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.
Massey, Ann
White Amah, The
ISBN: 1456578065  EAN13: 9781456578060
pp324
Crystal
› 1 ‹

› 3‹
Chapter 1
Shake shake shake, Shake shake shake, Shake your
booty, Shake your booty …
The funky tune blaring from the boom box could be
heard as far away as the English block and irritated teachers
closed their windows. The first full dress rehearsal for the
Rock Eisteddfod School Challenge was underway and the girls
performing the hectic routine were having fun, showing off in
the gold Lurex outfits they had made in home ec, thrilled with
the greasepaint and false eyelashes their teacher had ordered
in bulk.
A late student strolled down the corridor, seemingly in no
hurry to get to class. She pushed open the door to the dance studio and was stunned. The familiar room had been transformed
overnight, with strobe lighting, dry ice and a cage suspended
from the ceiling, courtesy of the design and technology boys who
were rapt to have an excuse to hang around the dance students,
by far the hottest chicks in school.
‘You have to sign this, Miss,’ yelled Crystal, trying to make
herself heard over the deafening music.
The teacher signalled to a student to turn it off. ‘I didn’t recognise you. What a transformation,’ she said, trying to keep the
disapproval out of her voice.
Crystal’s waist-length cloak of silky black hair had been
bleached and crimped into a mane of wild, platinum-blond curls.
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Ann Massey
Disapproval turned to horror when the teacher realised the star
of her next production was leaving school for good.
‘What about the Rock Eisteddfod?’ she said, collapsing into
her director’s chair. ‘It’s only a fortnight away and you’re singing
two solos.’
Crystal tossed back her bouncy blond tresses. ‘Get Shannon
to take over, she’s the understudy.’
‘But it’s only three weeks before your final exams. Are you
moving?’
‘If you must know, I’ve got a job. Look for yourself.’
The teacher scanned the letter offering Crystal a place in the
White Diamonds tour of South-East Asia. ‘Surely your father isn’t
going to let you travel overseas on your own,’ she asked. After all,
Crystal was only seventeen.
‘Why not? This is my big chance. You’ve heard of the Bluebell
girls, haven’t you?’
‘Of course I have. They were a legend, the most famous dancing troupe in the world.’
‘Well, the White Diamonds are as big in Singapore as the
Bluebells were in Paris. Dad’s proud of me. It’s really hard to
get in. Places hardly ever come up. It doesn’t matter how good
a dancer you are, they won’t look at you unless you’re tall and
blond. I was really smart – I wore a wig to the audition or I
wouldn’t have got through the door.’
‘You’ve always been resourceful,’ said the teacher, who had
spent the weekend marking assignments. Crystal’s was blatantly
plagiarised, but it was too late to worry about that now. ‘You’re
so close to graduating, Crystal. At least with a school certificate
you’ll have career options. Show business is a very precarious
way to earn a living.’
› 5‹
The White Amah
‘If Dad’s okay with it, what’s it to you? Are you going to sign
the release? I’ve got to get all my other teachers to sign this too
before I can leave school.’
‘I’m not happy about you backing out of the school production
at such short notice.’
‘Life’s a bitch!’ Crystal’s friend Tess called out and the class
convulsed in laughter.
Watching anger flash across the teacher’s face, Crystal decided
it was time to get out of there. ‘Can Tess come with me to get
the rest of the signatures?’
‘Just go, both of you.’
‘I thought she was going to have a hissy fit,’ giggled Tess when
they were out of earshot.
Crystal dropped down on the lawn in the great court beside
her friend. ‘She’s making a big deal over nothing, like usual.
Shannon knows all the songs and routines.’
Momentarily Crystal’s dazzling eyes dimmed. The set was
amazing and the girls looked great in their spunky costumes; this
could be the year the school finally won. The Eisteddfod was
a big deal. The star of the winning production could walk into
any of the performing-art courses. Frustration churned inside
her. It would be just her luck for that snake Shannon to end up
at the National Institute of Dramatic Art. In her mind she saw
her rival accepting the shield on behalf of the school, taking her
bows, accepting the bouquets, the centre of attention.
Nervously, Crystal twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
It felt dry and lifeless. She anxiously inspected it for split ends.
She wouldn’t admit it but she cringed every time she looked
in the mirror and saw her blond hair, but the troupe’s director
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Ann Massey
Jimmy Wong had insisted. The pint-sized Singaporean, in a
creased linen safari suit and wearing enough gold chains and
rings to stock a jeweller’s showcase, had exhaled a pungent clovescented cloud and looked her up and down in a way that made
her feel uneasy.
‘Asian men like blond girls with long legs,’ he said. ‘Fix your
hair and the job’s yours. I’ve got a friend with a salon. Tell him
you’re one of my girls’ – his eyes flickered over her possessively
– ‘and he’ll do it pretty damn cheap for you, lah.’
It’ll probably break, she thought, tucking her hair behind her
ear and vowing to buy the most expensive conditioner she could
find. ‘You haven’t told me what you think about my makeover,
Tess. Tell me the truth, Tess. I won’t get mad if you say you don’t
like it.’
‘All you need is a beauty spot and you could be Cindy Crawford’s twin sister,’ replied Tess, eyeing Crystal’s crimped platinum
hair. Most of it was piled in a loose, high chignon with the rest
tumbling in ringlets to her waist. ‘I wish Mum would let me dye
mine. You don’t know how lucky you are, living with your dad.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Crystal, who got tired of listening to her friends
moan about their mothers. The only girl at school with a mother
who’d run off to join a commune, she’d accepted living with her
father as long as the compulsive workaholic didn’t interfere in
her life. After ten years she could hardly remember her mother
and there was nothing left to remind her. Soon after the split
she and her father had moved from the homely, welcoming cottage set on five acres of timbered parkland, with a winter creek
and a paddock for Crystal’s Welsh pony, into a glass-and-steel
apartment in the city close to her father’s office. Every photo and
piece of clothing or jewellery had been thrown away; even the
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The White Amah
furniture had been replaced. An interior decorator her father was
dating had furnished the rooms like something out of Home and
Garden. The apartment had nothing of her mother’s quirky taste,
but worse than the absence of mementos was the conspiracy of
silence.
On her eighth birthday her Auntie Rose had taken her aside
and told her that she must stop asking when her mother was
coming back. ‘Your father can’t take much more after what your
mother put him through,’ she warned. ‘You could move in with
me and Uncle Bill … but that would mean your cousins sharing
a room and they wouldn’t like that. You know how they fight.’
Crystal had often heard her father complaining that his lazy
good-for-nothing brother-in-law should ‘get off his arse’ and provide a decent home for his sister. She couldn’t bear the thought
of living in her aunt’s cramped housing commission duplex and
she could still remember her father shouting at her mother, ‘Get
out, you tramp, and don’t show your face here ever again.’ Crystal
wasn’t taking any chances and never asked about her mother
again.
‘I still can’t believe your father’s agreed to let you go to Singapore on your own,’ said Tess. ‘I mean, it would be different if you
were going with me. We could look out for each other.’
‘You’re making it sound like Dad doesn’t care what happens to
me,’ said Crystal. ‘The only reason he’s letting me go is because
he thinks it’s an unbelievable opportunity. Who knows what it
might lead to: Broadway, Vegas, Hollywood … Mr Wong said
there’s no way they’d have taken on a beginner if Lucy Andrews
hadn’t sprained her ankle.’
‘Lucky you,’ said Tess, narrowing her eyes. ‘Have you told
Taylor the news ? ’
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Ann Massey
Crystal Brooke and Taylor Ardross had been an item since
year ten. Everyone thought of them as a pair: big, sturdy Taylor,
captain of the school footy team, and stunning, talented Crystal.
The school’s very own Romeo and Juliet.
‘I’ll tell him tonight.’
‘You better give him something to remember you by,’ said Tess.
‘There’ll be lots of girls wanting to hook up with him.’
‘And I suppose you’ll be first in line,’ accused Crystal.
‘Are the stars out tonight, I don’t care if it’s cloudy or bright,
for I only have eyes for you, dear.’ Tess sang the Broadway hit
in a sweet soprano, which seemed odd coming from the sharpfaced, surly teenager.
Crystal smiled. ‘Why don’t you wag school tomorrow? Come
round to my house and I’ll tell you everything, and I do mean
everything!’
Crystal could tell Taylor was riled the minute she got into the
‘sin bin’, Taylor’s nickname for the burnt orange panel van fitted
out with shagpile carpet and a foam mattress.
‘When were you going to tell me? Were you going to send me
a postcard from Singapore?’
‘I suppose Tess told you. It’s only for twelve weeks,’ she
answered, embarrassed at losing the initiative.
‘Three months!’ he said. ‘I thought you were my girl.’
‘You know I am.’
‘If you love me you won’t go.’
‘I don’t know why you’re being so … unreasonable. You
haven’t even begun to try to understand what it’s like to want
something so badly you’d do anything to make it happen.’
Taylor winced as if he’d been kicked in the guts. Crystal
› 9‹
The White Amah
was the reason he’d turned down the offer from Collingwood
Football Club to play for the Colts next season, even though he
wasn’t sure if he’d be picked up by a local club.
He fixed her with a look loaded with disbelief and indignation. ‘If you go, we’re through.’
‘You’re not breaking up with me.’ Huge tears welled up in
eyes of a hue as dark and inky as cloudless sky at midnight. ‘I
don’t want us to end like this.’ She moved closer and kissed him
softly on the neck, giving it a little flick with her tongue before
moving up to his ear lobe and nibbling it gently.
Taylor knew he was lost if he kissed her back. ‘Damn you,
Crystal,’ he said, too aroused to hold out, and he brought his lips
down fiercely on hers. ‘Let’s get in the back’ he whispered. Once
they’d made love she’d forget about show business. Right.

› 11‹
Chapter 2
Crystal arrived in Singapore in high spirits. On the plane
the young British stock trader in the next seat had tried his best
to impress the beautiful blond dancer and kept the bubbly coming. She giggled her goodbyes dizzily, teetering on high-heeled
platform shoes. The hotel driver was waiting in the arrival lounge
holding up a sign with her name on it. He helped her load her
baggage into the mini bus.
This was Crystal’s third visit to Singapore and she felt like a
seasoned traveller. The first time she’d stayed at the Raffles, the
most luxurious hotel in the Lion City. There was a photograph
with her as a small girl with her parents in the hotel’s foyer in
front of a magnificent Christmas tree. She kept it hidden in the
bottom drawer of her dressing table because her father didn’t
like to have photos of his ex-wife on show.
When she was older her father had forked out for a cruise
aboard the Pacific Queenoperating out of Singapore, not just
for Crystal but for her aunt, uncle and cousins as well. While
they were in Singapore they stayed at the Shangrila, just a short
walk from Orchard Road, Singapore’s premier shopping precinct.
Every day she and her aunt hit the malls and bought up big time:
fabulous clothes and shoes to die for. What did it matter if Dad
and his latest girlfriend were skiing in Aspen when she was having so much fun?
It was raining when the mini bus turned into the Cathay
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Ann Massey
Hotel in Changi Village, not far from the airport. Crystal looked
at the hotel entrance. Usually a major-domo, neatly dressed in
an immaculate uniform, held the door open for her like she was
a princess and looked after her luggage. But there was no one in
sight. Uncertain whether to scream or stamp her foot, Crystal
lugged her suitcase inside. Her heart sank. She could only hope
there’d been a mistake. The dim, dingy foyer was as congested
as a Tokyo train station at peak hour.
A harassed reservation clerk was checking out a party of Japanese businessmen. They gawped when they spotted the blond
babe in the skin-tight velvet pants. As one, they took out their
cameras. For a moment Crystal considered turning round and
heading back to the airport, but she couldn’t turn tail. How
would she face her father and friends?
Twenty-five minutes later, when the Muslim clerk condescended to check her in, Crystal was fuming but she didn’t know
that Jimmy Wong had a long-standing arrangement with the
management. All his acts stayed at the Cathay at a very substantial discount, too low to demand much in the way of service.
She found her room on the eighth floor. It was a family room
popular with the parents of large families. What a dump, she
thought. All right, her bedroom at home often resembled a tip,
but this was something else. The original beds had been replaced
by bunk beds; that way Jimmy only had to shell out for one room.
It looked like the combined wardrobes of five fashion victims
were either hanging out of drawers, strewn haphazardly on the
floor or piled up on the beds. The open door of a miniscule
bathroom revealed a vanity covered with a conglomeration of
cosmetics and hair products. Damp underwear hung from a line
over the bath. The smell of cheap perfume was overpowering.
› 13‹
The White Amah
Crystal went over to the window and tried to open it but it
was sealed shut.
‘Who the hell are you?’
Crystal spun round and gaped as the cabaret star sauntered
into the bedroom like a Sultan’s prized houri.
‘I’m Crystal Brooke from Perth in Western Australia. Didn’t
Mr Wong let you know I was arriving today?’ Blushing, she
averted her eyes. She thought the naked woman should have
felt awkward, but it was Crystal who felt vulnerable and seriously
intimidated.
‘Are all those cases yours?’ The statuesque showgirl surveyed
Crystal’s gear coldly and kicked her night bag out of the way.
‘This place is already like a sardine tin.’
Acting as if Crystal wasn’t there, she shrugged on a peach-andblack satin kimono, knotted it tightly round her diminutive waist
and tied back her long blond hair in a scrunchy. Without a scrap
of makeup, and with a nasty sneer pasted on her face, she was still
the most stunning woman Crystal had ever set eyes on.
‘Give the kid a break,’ said a friendlier voice from the top bunk.
A tousled blond head emerged from under the duvet. ‘Hi, I’m
Melanie, and Miss Congeniality is Imelda.’ She swung shapely
legs, toned and tanned, over the side of the bed and jumped down.
‘You’re probably hanging out for a cup of tea and a bickie. That
was Lucy’s bed,’ she said, picking a mess of clothes off the bed and
dropping them on the floor. ‘Push your case under the bunk,’ she
instructed on the way to the bathroom to fill up the jug.
Dizzy from champagne, lack of food and the shock of finding
out that she was expected to live in such sordid conditions, Crystal wondered if it was worth even unpacking. She glanced at her
wristwatch. It was ten to eleven, recess. Back home she’d be on
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Ann Massey
the oval watching the guys play football. Normally Taylor would
be looking around, hoping she was watching, and he’d kick the
ball out of play just to have an excuse to be close to her.
Melanie noticed Crystal’s glum expression. ‘It’ll seem better
once you’ve had a shower and a cuppa.’ She sashayed up to the
sofa, endless legs exposed in an impudently short skirt. Carefully,
she put down a tea tray set with surprisingly delicate teacups. ‘I
was a waitress at Fat Joey’s when I met Jimmy,’ Melanie said,
chatting as easily as if Crystal were an old friend. ‘I tell myself
I got hired on the strength of the jazz ballet classes I took back
in Oz, but to tell you the truth, kiddo, it was the size of my tits.’
She winked and lit up a cigarette.
‘Cow!’ It was said mildly; Imelda came equipped with her
own set of dangerous curves. She sat down, lit a cigarette and
blew a perfect smoke ring. Then she started firing questions at
the newcomer. ‘If we’re going to be sharing a bath, I want to
know who the hell you are.’
Crystal found herself telling two women she’d known for less
than thirty minutes things she hadn’t talked about with anyone:
how she felt about her mother, the woman who’d run away; and
her busy father and his succession of stylish career women, none
of whom lasted more than six months. And she showed them
the snapshot with Taylor taken at the school ball. She bragged a
bit about being picked for the lead in the school Eisteddfod, but
when Imelda asked what her father was thinking of, letting her
travel to Asia on her own, she decided she’d said enough.
‘Can’t we talk about you now?’ she said to Imelda.
Crystal’s eyes became rounder and rounder as Imelda told
her about the clubs and casinos where she’d topped the bill, the
celebrities she’d dated and the expensive gifts from rich admirers,
› 15‹
The White Amah
and Crystal blushed remembering how she’d boasted about a
mere school production.
Imelda exhaled a lazy plume of smoke with a distant look
in her eyes. ‘You’ve no idea what it was like performing at the
Lido in Vegas on the same bill as Neil Diamond and Barry
Manilow.’
‘Too right!’ said Melanie. ‘I’ve got a whole lot to learn about
show business and that’s why I love listening to you talk about
the old days, Imelda. I bet Crystal feels the same,’ she added and
winked mischievously.
Imelda’s response was lost as a Boeing 747 took off from
Changi Airport.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ shouted Melanie.
But Crystal didn’t think she ever would. This wasn’t what
she had signed up for: sharing a crowded room with two women
who were, well, not really respectable. She was wondering if the
unhelpful clerk would call her a taxi when the door opened and
Jimmy Wong rushed in like a mini tsunami.
‘Aiyoh! Welcome to Singapore,’ he said breathlessly, flicking
ash onto the stained carpet. ‘Did you have a good flight? I hope
the girls have made you welcome, lah. I apologise for not picking
you up in person but I’ve been out to lunch with Suzy Chang
from The Straits Times. She’s set up a photo shoot to publicise
the dragonboat races. Get into your glad rags, girls, we’re off on
jet boat trip round the harbour.’ He laughed, showing off stained,
gold-filled molars.
He looked so pleased with himself that Crystal felt slightly
ashamed. So what if she had to rough it, she was only just starting
out. Her dark eyes flickered over Imelda and Melanie, who were
talking together. They weren’t the kind of people she was used to
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Ann Massey
mixing with, but all the same they obviously knew their way around;
she’d watch and learn from them. There was one thing she knew for
sure: she wouldn’t still be in the chorus when she was their age.
Jimmy looked round the room. His fleshy lips drew together,
his jaw dropped and he picked up the phone. ‘This is Jimmy
Wong, room eight-eight-eight. Send a housemaid to tidy up
immediately,’ he ordered. ‘And some fruits. Make it jolly quick,
lah.’ He slammed down the phone. ‘Wear the white cancan costumes with the ostrich feather headbands and bird of paradise
tails,’ he said, already opening the door. ‘Be ready in an hour.
That’s onehour, lah.’ He looked at Imelda sternly. ‘Where are
the others?’
Imelda and Melanie exchanged glances. ‘Out shopping,’ they
said in unison.
‘Aiyoh! Call them on their hand phones. Tell them to get back
here pretty damn quick. Wah, so much pressure,’ he said and
swept out of the room.
‘How the hell are we going to get hold of them,’ Melanie said,
running her hands through her curls. ‘If I know Tracey she’ll
have turned her mobile off.’
‘Who gives a damn?’ said Imelda. ‘It’ll be their own fault if
they get kicked out. They know the score.’
For the next ten minutes Melanie showed signs of intense anxiety, jumping up every time she heard footsteps in the corridor.
After Crystal caught her checking her watch for the umpteenth
time, a warning bell went off in her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ Crystal said, her voice deliberately casual, ‘I
don’t mean to pry but can someone tell me what’s going on …
please?’
Melanie looked at her for a long time, wondering how much
› 17‹
The White Amah
to tell her, how much she already knew. ‘The thing is, the girls
are probably with their boyfriends and we’re not supposed to date
the punters. Jimmy says it cheapens our image. ’
Imelda stubbed out her cigarette in her saucer. Balancing as
easily as an acrobat on one leg, she grasped her other leg by the
ankle and pulled it straight up above her head. Holding on to
her ankle, she began to spin like a dervish. Suddenly she bent
over and threw up the hem of her robe to reveal a very white,
shapely behind.
‘High class, that’s us.’ She winked lewdly, her wicked face grinning from between her legs at the younger woman’s shocked face.
Crystal spluttered as her tea went down the wrong way. She’d
been mooned!
Melanie patted her on the back. ‘You crack me up, Imelda. If
you get any funnier we’re both going to explode laughing.’
Crystal wiped her eyes and began to giggle helplessly. She
remembered a motto she’d read on a desk calendar and wondered if she dared repeat it. ‘Woman pilot who fly plane upside
down must have crack up.’
‘Glory be, the kid’s got a sense of humour.’ Imelda laughed
out loud, a real woman’s laugh, and collapsed in a shaking heap.
‘Oh my,’ she spluttered, standing up and holding her sides as tears
rolled down her face. ‘I think you’re going to slot right in.’
Imelda still hadn’t got control of herself when the other
girls burst into the room like exotic parakeets. Soon all six were
fighting over the one small bathroom mirror as they painted,
powdered and preened.
The promotions manager was waiting impatiently on the
quay with the crew from the Malaysian dragonboat and the
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Ann Massey
photographer when the White Diamonds ran onto the jetty to
the ‘ooohs’ and‘aaahs’ of the awestruck crowd.
Crystal strutted along the wharf, swaying her hips, aping
Imelda like a little girl dressed up in her mother’s clothes.
Wah! Look at the way that Crystal gelek, thought Jimmy. No
wonder all the men were following her with their eyes. His latest
find was delectable: an intriguing mix of youth, radiant beauty
and eager naivety. A woman-child. Reflexively, he licked his
lips.
A gentle breeze off the water set the girls’ feathers flapping.
Anxiously, Crystal put her hand up to her headdress to stop it
flying off.
‘Wah-lau,that girl damn jude, lah,’ the photographer whispered to the reporter. The photo he snapped of Crystal was sexy
enough to feature on page three of a British tabloid. All the same,
he was surprised when the editor ran the picture in colour across
four columns of the conservative Singapore broadsheet.
The flamboyant Taiwanese crew, gaudy in their gold vests and
red satin pants, all wanted their picture taken with the beautiful girls. After exhausting the photographer’s emergency stock
of film the party clambered aboard the jet-powered launch for
a thirty-minute trip around Singapore harbour, flying through
the foam at one hundred kilometres per hour. With her shapely
legs clad in shiny white boots up to her thighs, lush ripe curves
bursting from a minuscule gold bikini, honey hair and a smile
to match, Imelda was every man’s fantasy. The drummer and
steerer, by far the two best-looking members of the crew, were
vying for her attention. Crystal glared at the confident, sophisticated woman. For the first time in her life she didn’t have dibs
on the best-looking guys.
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The White Amah
By the time the boat tied up the small, formal gathering of
dignitaries that had seen them off had swollen into a raucous
crowd. Word had got round that the White Diamonds were going
to put on a free show.
‘And here are the White Diamonds,’ Jimmy announced and
turned up the volume on the portable CD player.
Whooping excitedly, the gorgeous girls ran down the jetty,
their ostrich feathers ruffling in the breeze. Unsure of the steps,
Crystal hoofed it in the back row, kicking up her legs a nanosecond after her companions, while Imelda dashed off a series
of spectacular cartwheels that ended in the splits.
‘Okay, you want to see more, lah,’ Jimmy said to the avid-eyed
men carefully folding flyers for the show and placing them in
their billfolds. ‘Turn up tonight at the Merlion Club. Very cheap
tickets, only twenty dollars.’
‘We’re not on tonight, are we?’ Crystal whispered to Melanie.
‘Every night except Monday.’
‘But I only got in this morning.
‘That’s show business.’

› 21‹
Chapter 3
‘You broke my will, oh what a thrill, goodness gracious,
great balls of fire,’sang the greasy MC, innuendo dripping
from his lips like oil from a clapped-out engine as the White
Diamonds ran onto the stage shouting, jumping and hollering.
The audience went wild when the girls lifted crimson skirts and
white frilly petticoats and they copped an eyeful of shiny black
silk stockings, scarlet suspenders and centimetres of glorious
white thighs.
The MC patted his chest in a stagy gesture and groaned, ‘Oh,
those legs.’
‘Oh, my back,’ whispered Melanie out of the corner of her
mouth. One day she’d sat down with a calculator and worked
out that the troupe did eighteen thousand high kicks during a
ten-minute cancan. Peeling off the end of the chorus line, she
let out a spirited yell and cartwheeled across the stage to tablethumping applause from the audience.
The individual ‘specialities’ were the most popular part of
the routine and the girls vied to outdo each other, but none
could compete with Imelda. Her jump-slits were the high point
of the show. The statuesque dancer could leap with the grace
and elevation of an impala – and do the splits while she was in
the air. She had the audience panting for more by the time she
flashed her tight little knickers.
› 22‹
Ann Massey
Crystal found it hard to keep her smile in place as night after
night Imelda stole the show. It should be mein the limelight
taking the bows, she fumed. She made up her mind. She’d go to
Jimmy and tell him her idea, and if he refused, well, she’d quit.
It was two in the morning when she tracked Jimmy down in
the Cathay’s cocktail lounge. The dimly lit bar was empty apart
from Jimmy and a bored cocktail waitress. The bargirl’s feet
ached and she wanted to close up for the night. Her heart sank
when she saw Crystal standing in the archway. No chance now
of getting out of there in the next hour. She kicked off her heels
and rummaged under the bar for her sandals.
‘May I join you?’ Crystal asked Jimmy as she pulled out a
barstool.
‘Of cos, lah,’ slurred Jimmy, wondering what she was doing
out on her own at this time of the morning. It was obvious she
had something on her mind, the way she was fidgeting with her
hair. Most likely she was trying to get up the nerve to tell him
she was quitting. He downed his drink and dragged on a clovescented cigarette with the air of a cornered rat. If he offered her
a pay rise she was bound to brag about it and then they’d all be at
him for more money. That’s the trouble with broads, he thought.
They don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.
‘What can I do for you, Chicken?’ he said. ‘Have those bitches
upset you? No wonder they jealous, you so pretty, lah. All the
men look at you.’
Crystal swivelled round and flicked her hair back like a Hollywood starlet. ‘I was hoping we could have a talk about the show.’
‘At two in the morning?’
‘You’re such an important man. I don’t like to bother you
when you’re busy.’
› 23‹
The White Amah
‘Okay, I’m listening awreddy, lah,’ he said, staring at his bar
bill suspiciously. He wouldn’t put it past the slut to have diddled
him. She probably thought he was too drunk to notice.
‘I’ve come up with a great idea for the act.’
Impatiently, he clicked his fingers at the waitress. ‘Same
again and make it quick, lah.’ He took a deep breath, puffed out
his cheeks and expelled the air in a long whistle, ‘Wah, I don’t
understand why you concern. No need mend it when it not broke.
You wanna go some place and dance?’ he said and leaned over
and patted her on the knee.
Crystal’s chin snapped up and she pushed his hand away
angrily. ‘Don’t treat me like I’m a dumb blond.’ She got to her
feet, her eyes dark with indignation.
‘Aw, don’t be like that. I want be your fri-end. I have fwweelings for you, you know. We discuss the matter. No good here, too
many ears.’ He glared at the hovering bargirl and guided Crystal
to one of the darkened booths.
She perched stiffly on the stained velvet seat. Uneasily, she
looked over at the bar; the waitress wasn’t around. ‘All I’m asking is that you hear me out,’ she said, wishing he wouldn’t sit
so close.
‘Of cos, lah,’ he said, stroking the delicate veins of her inside
wrist, his flank pushing intimately against her thigh. He put his
arm round her. ‘Spit it out. Don’t be shy. How can Uncle Jimmy
say no to his little chicken?’
Despite Jimmy’s misgivings, the saucy skit Crystal wanted to
include in the routine brought the house down. Night after night
the show was sold out. The jaded audience was titillated by the
cute antics of the saucy ingénue and her clandestine attempts to
› 24‹
Ann Massey
mimic Imelda, the stuck-up star, and they fell in love with the
sexy comedienne.
At the end of the sketch the White Diamonds raced down
between the tables in their ruffles to a standing ovation from
the nightclub’s patrons. One young man pulled Crystal down
on his knee. She struggled prettily, giggling, accepted a glass of
champagne, toasted the audience and pretended to burp. The
audience chuckled at the little darling.
Exhilarated by success, Crystal’s face wore a permanent grin
while Imelda seethed.
One particular night was the last straw. In the finale, when
the girls bent over and flipped their filmy petticoats over their
heads to show off their lace-covered derrieres, instead of an
intake of breath Imelda heard the audience roaring with laughter. Crystal was wearing red flannel knickers appliquéd with a
giant letter ‘L’. Not in the know, the other girls were confused
and perplexed. The audience and Crystal thought it was a hoot.
Imelda was not amused.
Jimmy accused Imelda of acting like a spiteful cat when she
complained to him about being the butt of Crystal’s comic antics,
but all the other girls sided with her when she told them he had
just laughed at her and said she was ‘an ngeowtype one’.
‘Well, what did you expect when he’s sleeping with her?’ one
of the girls said.
‘You don’t know that for sure,’ said Melanie, who had a soft
spot for the younger girl.
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the old casting couch,
Mel,’ said Imelda. ‘It’s one of the perks of being a producer –
getting to sleep with a wide-eyed starlet who wants to take the
easy route.’
› 25‹
The White Amah
‘I can’t believe she’s that calculating.’
‘Look for yourself, hot off the press.’ Imelda held up the new
publicity poster.
Eagerly the girls crowded round. When they saw it they fell
silent. Crystal was pictured astride a bentwood chair in suspenders and stockings, looking over her shoulder into the camera
and winking broadly. Above, splashed in large red letters, the
banner read ‘The Merlion Club presents Crystal and the White
Diamonds’, leaving no confusion over who was the new star of
the show.

› 27‹
Chapter 4
Crystal was eating breakfast alone, sitting stiffly, head
erect, trying to pretend she didn’t care. The suggestion that they
all quit had been dropped when Imelda pointed out that they
would lose their bonus and have to repay their airfares if they
reneged on their contracts. Unable to get back at their boss, the
girls closed ranks against the interloper.
Crystal’s dark gaze flickered over the boisterous party by the
window. They were having fun, laughing and giggling, most
probably at her. The bitches, she thought. I hope they choke on
their muesli. It was pathetic the way they were behaving, just
because the audience loved her. But if that was the price she had
to pay for fame … She pretended to be interested in the menu.
She brightened up when the waitress put a blue airmail letter
on her plate. She recognised her friend’s scrawl. She skimmed
the letter but it was all about Tess: Tess having the best time at
Schoolies Week; Tess being accepted into law at uni; Tess going
clubbing with the gang on Saturday nights. The only time she
mentioned Crystal was when she thanked her for the poster. ‘My
olds freaked out,’ she wrote.
Wasn’t that typical? Perth people were so narrow-minded. It
was just a glamour shot. You couldn’t see anything, for christ’s
sake. If they got their knickers in a twist about a bare back,
what would they say if they saw the actual show? Maybe she
shouldn’t have sent posters to her family and friends. She’d
› 28‹
Ann Massey
been so proud to be starring in a professional show but now
she felt uneasy. What did Taylor think of the sexy pose? What
did her dad think? She crumpled up the letter and tossed it
in the ashtray. She wouldn’t bother writing to Tess again. She
was so immature.
‘Off to try your luck on Bugis Street? ’ Imelda hissed as Crystal
flounced past the table looking devastating – and sluttie, Imelda
thought – in a skin-tight, leopard-print mini dress. Bugis Street
was a notorious red-light district, the haunt of transvestite prostitutes, the trans-women who were drop-dead gorgeous, prettier
and sexier than real women.
‘How dare you, you old … has-been.’
Imelda blinked, too stunned to answer. Before she could
retaliate, Crystal had stalked off.
‘I think she’s crying,’ said Melanie, and a wave of guilt swept
over her. Crystal was only a kid after all.
‘Did you hear what she called me?’
‘I just want to make sure she’s okay,’ said Melanie, and she
hurried off in the direction of the lobby just in time to see Crystal
step into a cab. She would have to have a serious talk with Crystal tonight. If the younger woman wouldn’t see sense Melanie
would have to write to Crystal’s father. It was about time he knew
what sort of company his daughter was keeping.
‘We’re putting on a private performance in Johor for a member
of the royal family,’ said Jimmy. The girls were huddled in their
cramped, squalid changing room after the show. ‘We’ll stay overnight in the palace and be back in time for the show on Sunday,’
he said, smiling at the girls in the slimy, self-satisfied way that
made Crystal’s skin crawl.
› 29‹
The White Amah
‘Is it a special?’ asked Imelda.
‘Naturally he’ll expect you to perform topless.’
‘Topless!’ shrieked Crystal.
‘Er … yes. But it’s treble time, Chicken, and you get to keep
your tips.’
‘I’ve got a migraine,’ wailed Crystal.
‘The prince was very taken with you,’ Jimmy told Crystal. ‘He
asked for you specially. It’s no big deal.’ Sensing her reluctance,
he flashed a smile to show off his latest extravagance: a diamond
sparkled in his front tooth. ‘I’m going to promote the troupe as
Diamond Jim and his White Diamonds. Wicked idea, lah?’
‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ Melanie said. She knew it
would take more drastic measures to get the young girl off the
hook.
Jimmy stepped back, thinking of his new white dinner jacket,
and rushed off to find a bucket. Melanie winked broadly. By the
time Jimmy came back with an ice bucket the girls had stopped
giggling.
‘Get a taxi back to the Cathay. There’ll be another time.’ The
new diamond flashed again.
Neon lights were flashing. The hawkers’ stands and the brightly
painted shop-houses were packed. Chinatown was humming
and the streets were awash with partygoers looking for a good
time. At two am it was as warm and balmy as a summer’s day.
The pedestrian mall had been transformed into a night market,
and the cafes and bars lining each side of the street were full of
tourists and locals. Mel was in the mood for fun but she knew
the time had come for some straight talk with Crystal. What was
Crystal’s father thinking of, letting her go off on her own, she
› 30‹
Ann Massey
wondered again for the umpteenth time. Couldn’t he see what
a sleaze Jimmy was? Or didn’t he care?
She ordered two shandies from an outdoor bar, and while
they waited for the waitress to bring the drinks over she started to
tell Crystal about the special parties where the White Diamonds
entertained rich businessmen away from home.
‘They don’t think it’s been a good night if they don’t end up
having sex with one of us.’
Crystal lowered her voice and hoped the tourists sitting chin
to jowl at the next table couldn’t hear. ‘Are you telling me you
sleep with men you don’t know for money?’ She couldn’t believe
the sophisticated, worldly women she’d aspired to copy were little
more than high-class callgirls.
‘Only if I like the look of them,’ Mel said. ‘I wouldn’t go with
anyone who was old or repulsive. Why not get paid for something
I’d do for free? There was this one guy who was a deadringer for
Imran Khan. I got a real kick out of that. I’d always dreamt of
making it with the captain of the Pakistani cricket team …’ She
tailed off when she saw the way the younger girl was looking at
her. ‘But you’re just a kid. You don’t want to get into this kind of
a life. Maybe you should go back to Oz and finish school, think
about getting a degree or something.’
The advice was unnecessary. Crystal knew she would never
get involved in anything so low. Why would she? She was paid
well, they all were. Didn’t Melanie have any morals?
‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ She laughed in an attempt to hide
her shock. ‘Do you know what they call Perth? Dullsville. Jimmy
says we’re going to KL in a fortnight and I can hardly wait.’
Melanie saw that it was going to be hard to convince Crystal,
and perhaps after all it wasn’t her place. At least she’d tried.
› 31‹
The White Amah
The Indian temple was just across the road. Tourists were gaping at the elaborate plaster sculptures and Hindu ornamentation
on the six-tiered tower, but Crystal was more interested in the karaoke bar’s flashing lights and told her friend she’d rather sing than
pray. The dingy bar was half empty. A tall, brash Yank was singing
‘On the Road Again’ to enthusiastic applause and whistles from
a noisy group in the corner. Crystal took one look at the shabby
lounge and the smattering of unfashionable, middle-aged customers and knew it wasn’t her kind of place, but Melanie put her arm
round her waist companionably and propelled her forward.
‘I love country music,’ Mel whispered, ‘and he’s not bad.’
They slipped into a booth, Mel’s eyes on the singer who was
performing the number in a showy style, enjoying the attention.
When he finished the song his friends encouraged him to sing
another and he launched into ‘Country Road’.
‘More country and western,’ groaned Crystal.
Unmoved by Crystal’s complaints, Melanie sang along and
when it was over joined his friends in calling for more, but a
couple of Malaysians were already pestering the MC for their
turn and the rangy singer stepped down from the stage. He
took the long way back to his seat so he could check out the two
good-looking blonds. It was unusual to see two Western women
in a non-tourist bar like this, which was mainly patronised by
locals and oilfield workers who lived in Holland Village when
they weren’t working offshore.
Melanie leaned out of the booth and smiled up at him. ‘That
was great. I hope you’ll sing for us again when he’s finished murdering “My Way” … in hisway,’ she said, dimpling up at him
as the beaming Malaysian pompously belted out the familiar
lyrics, jarringly off-key.
› 32‹
Ann Massey
Hank introduced himself and said, ‘Can I get you ladies a
drink? And would you like to join me and my friends?’ A crinkly
smile lit up his pleasant, homely face.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ replied Melanie, wasting no time
in getting to her feet.
Crystal sighed, annoyed. She didn’t want to spend her first
night out in Singapore in a fifth-rate bar with dreary, middleaged oilfield workers who couldn’t talk about anything other
than work. With reluctance she joined Melanie and Hank at
the other table.
Hank and Melanie got up to dance and Hank’s friend Walter
thoughtfully tried to include Crystal in the conversation. He was
impressed when she told him she was in show business. ‘I bet
you sing too. Why don’t you give us a number?’
But she just shook her head, making no effort to be at all
friendly or sociable. She seemed so standoffish that he quickly
lost interest and turned back to the hovering bargirls, both flatteringly fascinated by his stories. The men started to talk about
moving on. The barmaids had just finished their shifts and
were invited to join the party. Melanie was equally enthusiastic
at the thought of kicking on. In the squalid unisex washroom
she confided to Crystal that she had the hots for Hank and
she was clearly excited at the prospect of spending more time
with him.
Crystal groaned. There was no way she was sticking with
such boring company.
‘Okay, get the barman to call you a cab,’ Melanie said when
Crystal steadfastly refused to go with them. ‘But it’s not too late
to change your mind,’ she added.
‘No thanks,’ said Crystal. She couldn’t believe her friend was
› 33‹
The White Amah
really going to go off without her and she was dumbfounded
when, without a backward look, the happy party trooped out,
laughing and talking nineteen to the dozen.
Crystal sipped her drink dejectedly. Normally people went
out of their way to please her. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked
and a teardrop ran down her cheek. She sniffed. It would be so
easy to cry. She was just about to go and ask Billy, the Sikh barman, how long the cab was going to take when three young men
came over and asked if they could sit down. All three had downthe-back long hair, myriad facial piercings and were dressed in
regulation blue jeans, boots and black leather jackets. Belligerent
and with attitude. Crystal was scared. She thought they were
bikies at first glance.
It would have surprised Crystal to know how much courage
it had taken for the guys to come over and talk to her. Josh had
spotted her the moment she and Melanie had come through the
door and had been watching her ever since. When her friends
left, Aryn and Geoff pushed him to go up to her, and when he
couldn’t get up the nerve they all came over to lend support.
Crystal knew that if she hadn’t been feeling so low she would
probably have given them the brush-off. A wealthy, smart, gogetter like that stock dealer she’d met on the plane was the sort
of guy she wanted to be with. These long-haired Pommy punks
weren’t her type at all, but she was lonely, and besides, she didn’t
have enough money for another drink if she was going to take a
cab back to her hotel.
Josh bought her a Singapore sling and all three were fascinated when she told them she was touring with the White
Diamonds dance troupe.
‘We’re going to KL soon,’ she said self-importantly.
› 34‹
Ann Massey
‘We’ve got a gig there too,’ exclaimed Josh, amazed at the
coincidence. Like Crystal, Josh, Aryn and Geoff were on tour
for the first time. The three young musicians were working-class
boys from Manchester, the third largest city in Britain. Long-time
friends, they had formed a garage band when they were still in
school. Their early success had been due to Josh’s gift for songwriting as much as their musical ability. Six months ago they had met
Tom and William, who had split from a group called the Satyrs,
and the five guys had combined forces to form a new band, Speed.
After some fast-talking from Tom, Speed was booked to replace
the defunct Satyrs for a South-East Asian tour.
‘We’re booked for a fortnight at the Riverine,’ said Josh. ‘Where
will you be? We’d like to catch your act, wouldn’t we, lads?’
‘I wish I knew. The director likes to keep us in the dark.’ Crystal sighed. She was thinking that it would be fun to catch up
with the guys and make the other girls jealous when Billy came
over to tell her that her taxi was waiting.
‘Send him away,’ said Josh. He pulled out his wallet and
handed over twenty dollars to the tall, handsome Indian in the
neat black turban. ‘I’ll see she gets home safely.’
Billy shrugged and pocketed the money. Lucky guy, he thought.
Like Josh, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Crystal.
‘Where are you staying, luv?’ asked Josh.
‘At the Cathay Hotel in Changi Village.’ Crystal was embarrassed that she couldn’t tell him the Orchard or the Hilton.
‘Me and the lads are in the staff quarters at the Shangrila La
Rosa on Sentosa Island,’ explained Josh, wishing he had a place
of his own where he could take her. ‘We come over here after our
session for a bit of action. The drinks are cheaper in Chinatown
if you know where to go,’ he boasted.
› 35‹
The White Amah
Crystal wasn’t impressed. It didn’t sound like Speed was a big
success if they were staying in the hotel’s staff quarters and saving
money by drinking at dives like this. ‘You don’t have to worry
about taking me home,’ she said, ‘I can call another cab.’
‘Won’t hear of it, Crystal luv. It’s not safe. I don’t know what
your friends were thinking of, leaving you alone in a place like
this. Come on,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘See yer, lads,’ he
called out to his friends and steered Crystal towards the exit.
Crystal was in no hurry to go back to a lonely hotel room, and
when she admitted she’d never been to Sentosa Josh insisted on
taking her.
‘There’s nothing more romantic than exploring a tropical
island in the moonlight,’ he said with a likeable grin.
It depends on the company. Admittedly the gangly youth
with the mobile mouth, always on the verge of a grin, and
dreadlocks, so deep and solid black that the colour had to
come in a packet, didn’t make her flesh crawl like Jimmy,
but there was no way she’d be seen dead with such a plain,
ordinary guy back home. All the same she didn’t object when
Josh put his arm around her waist as they strolled the brightly
lit streets.
‘That looks fun,’ said Crystal, staring enviously as a beefy
Texan in a ten-gallon hat and his portly wife sped past in a
brightly coloured rickshaw pedalled by a weedy old man. ‘Look,
they’re stopping,’ she said, clutching Josh’s arm and pointing,
dropping the blasé star act and reverting to wide-eyed teenager.
Josh sighed and looked in the side of his wallet he reserved
for emergencies. Soon the red rickshaw was bowling along at a
furious pace, the tasselled gold fringe on the green canopy bobbing as, puffing and panting, the soft-hearted muso pedalled
› 36‹
Ann Massey
hell for leather up Mt Faber Road to the cable-car station. The
old man beamed at the pretty passenger sitting next to him, his
head nodding like the tacky tiger in the rear window of Taylor’s
panel van. For the first time he was experiencing the journey
from a tourist’s perspective.
‘I couldn’t let that poor old guy pedal up that big hill,’ Josh
said with an apologetic grin, sweat beading like raindrops on
his red, beaming face, his heart threatening to burst through
his chest.
They were sitting side by side in a cable car suspended sixty
metres in the air above Kepple harbour, a rare treat for Josh, even
though he worked on the island resort. Living in Singapore was
more expensive than he’d realised. Invariably hard up, he and
his mates always walked across the bridge like the locals; the
expensive aerial ride was for the free-spending holidaymakers
who flocked to the island like sheep, their fat pockets crying out
to be fleeced.
The view across the bay was breathtaking by day, but at night
it was magical as silhouettes and shadows of ships in the starlit
sea vied with the lights of Sentosa.
‘Isn’t this cool,’ Josh said, overwhelmed by the spangled panorama. He leaned across to get a better view, his jean-clad leg
pressed against the curve of Crystal’s bare, silky thigh. Sleepily,
she nestled into the comfortable bulk of his shoulder and closed
her drooping eyelids.
Fifteen minutes later they were walking through the park.
At three in the morning the Enchanted Grove of Tembusa was
the perfect setting for lovers. The romantic, dimly lit garden was
pungent with the sweet scent of the tembusablossom but the
moonlit magic was wasted on Crystal. It was almost dawn and
› 37‹
The White Amah
she’d performed two gruelling shows before heading off with
Melanie to Chinatown.
Josh sneaked her into the room he shared with the other band
members. He was pleased that they were still out partying and
they had the place to themselves. He turned on a CD.
‘That’s a nice track,’ she said, not bothering to hide a yawn.
‘Who is it?’
‘That’s me and the lads,’ replied Josh.
‘Do you think you could turn the music down?’
‘Are you feeling tired, luv? Do you want me to take you home?’
Josh hoped he had enough money for their fares.
‘What’s wrong with right here?’ Crystal pressed her lips down
on his and thought of Taylor.
Josh was a sound sleeper. He lay on his stomach hugging a pillow
to his chest like a contented puppy. Crystal slipped out of bed,
careful not wake him. He was nice, in a boy-next-door sort of
way, but she didn’t want to do it again, and as for his suggestion
of meeting in Kuala Lumpur … dream on.
While she was in the shower Aryn and Geoff arrived back,
both bleary eyed. She overheard Josh telling them he was
strapped for cash. She knew they must have coughed up because
he shouted her breakfast in the hotel’s sumptuous dining room.
She piled up her plate with an assortment of exotic fruits, conscious of the appreciative, surreptitious looks of all the male
guests and the hostile vibes from their wives. This is more like
it, she thought.
Later they took the Sentosa Express monorail to the mainland
and Josh paid for a cab to the Cathay Hotel. Crystal was starting
to feel nervous about staying out all night. What would Jimmy
› 38‹
Ann Massey
do if he found out she’d been with a man? She could only hope
that Melanie had covered for her.
‘I had a good time. Call me some time.’ She pecked Josh
on the cheek after she’d checked that her boss wasn’t hovering
round the lobby.
‘Is Jimmy in?’ she asked the receptionist.
‘I haven’t seen him today, or any of the girls except for Mel.’
As Crystal turned away with a relieved smile the receptionist
said, ‘Just a minute, Mel left this for you,’ and she handed over
a sealed enveloped.
Crystal couldn’t imagine why her friend was writing to her.
With a sense of foreboding she ripped open the envelope and
scanned the scrawled note. It had obviously been written in a
great hurry. It was worse than anything Crystal could have imagined. Stunned, she looked around for a chair.
‘What’s the matter, luv?’ asked Josh, who was still hovering
in the foyer like a lost puppy.
Crystal held out the letter to him, her lovely face crumpled
in shock. ‘Mel says all the girls have been arrested and the police
are after us. Oh, Josh, what am I going to do? You’ve got to help
me.’
› 39‹
Chapter 5
Josh turned up the sound on the television. ‘Sit down.
We better listen to this.’
The Chinese presenter had been educated in England; her
voice was as plummy as Princess Anne’s:
Members of a European dance troupe could face up to ten
years in jail after getting arrested during a sex romp at a private
party in Johor. Malaysian authorities have also charged the
Singaporean promoter, Jimmy Wong, with running a prostitution
ring and supplying drugs.
The colour drained out of Crystal’s face as she watched an
overabundance of stern-faced police officers herd four frightened
women, still dressed in their tawdry costumes, into the police
wagon.’
‘Jeez, that’s you, isn’t it?’
The TV journalist had tracked down the photo taken on the
wharf the day Crystal arrived in Singapore.
‘Oh my god, what am I going to do? They’re after me too.’
‘Christ, Crystal, how did you get mixed up in something so
risky? They neck you if you get caught with drugs in Asia. You’d
have to be blind not to see the warnings in the airport.’
She was shivering, even thought the air was hot and steamy,
and tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. ‘I don’t know anything about it. I’d never do drugs. Oh Josh, what am I going to
› 40‹
Ann Massey
do? I don’t want to go to prison.’ She clung to him as though the
police might break in any moment and drag her away.
Josh looked down at her. She looked so young and lost. He
knew it was foolish to get involved but how could he leave her
like this on her own after last night? ‘Pack a few things and you
can hide out at my place. At least until we can get you home. No,
just an overnight bag, the receptionist will think something’s up
if she’s sees you with a suitcase. Let’s pray she hasn’t read the
papers or turned on the news. Put this over your hair,’ he said
and handed her one of Imelda’s gauzy scarves.
The clerk was so busy she didn’t even look up as Josh and Crystal
passed through the revolving door and got straight into a cab.
Josh asked the driver to drop them off in Scott Road. As soon as
the taxi sped off, he hailed another.
‘We’re changing cabs to put the police off the track in case
they check if any of the drivers who service the Cathay Hotel
picked you up.’
‘That’s smart. What will your friends say when you turn up
with me?’ she asked, looking into his eyes anxiously as the reality
of her situation sank in.
‘Geoff and Aryn will be all right. You’ve met them. They’re
mates …’
‘But?’ she said worriedly, sensing he was holding back.
‘There are no buts.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘There’s no way
I’m going to leave you to face this on your own. It’ll be all right,
we’ll get you home safely somehow,’ he said with an assurance
he was far from feeling. Although he was certain his pals would
say yes to protecting Crystal, he wasn’t so sure about Tom and
William, the two former members of the Satyrs.
› 41‹
The White Amah
Tom and William had met at university and teamed up
with two other students to form the Satyrs. They were a
strange pair and at times Josh was sorry he and his mates
had joined forces with them. After just a few weeks of their
company, he understood why the Satyrs had split up. He just
hoped the same wouldn’t happen to Speed but their anticipated tour of South-East Asia had been marred by persistent
bickering. The main point of contention was who was going
to front the group. Tom wanted to be the lead singer and he
didn’t relish sharing the limelight with Josh, who had always
sung lead for Speed.
But it wasn’t just professional rivalry that was the root of their
problems: it was a mismatched partnership all the way down
the line. The Satyrs had been a coming band with a strong following before the fallout and they treated the garage-band boys
like rank amateurs. But while Speed was a Cinderella band by
comparison, Josh knew they could really play. And they didn’t
just play the same old stuff. He was a talented songwriter and his
compositions set them apart from other groups struggling to get
known. The trio of friends felt good about themselves. Somehow
they knew they’d make it and they were getting tired of Tom’s
putdowns and William’s patronising remarks about their accents
and education. So what if they hadn’t sat their A-levels? At least
they were into normal stuff: football, girls and booze. None of
them were into serious drugs. Josh’s mam would’ve killed him
and the same went for Geoff and Aryn.
He wasn’t so sure about Tom and William. They kept to
themselves and rarely joined them on their nights out. Josh sometimes wondered if they were poofters, except that Tom was a
chick magnet and there was always a new babe in his bed.
› 42‹
Ann Massey
Luckily everyone was out when they got back to Sentosa.
Crystal raised her eyebrows when he took a box of hair colour
out of the bathroom cabinet.
‘Yeah, it’s mine. The fans don’t dig ginger-headed metal singers,’ he said in his blunt, down-to-earth manner. ‘I bet I wouldn’t
have pulled you if you’d known I was a ranga.’
‘That would have been my loss,’ she said, looking beautiful
even wearing a ridiculous pink plastic shower cap with black hair
dye running down her cheeks.
While she waited for the dye to take, Crystal racked her brains
for a way to persuade Josh to let her stay. Nothing would be worse
than going home in disgrace. She could imagine the hateful
stories that would circulate and she’d never live it down. But the
worst part would be her father’s cold, emotionless contempt.
Josh made a credible job of cutting and dying Crystal’s hair.
‘Your own mother wouldn’t recognise you,’ he said when she’d
washed off the colour.
Josh’s innocent remark was a gift, the perfect opening. Lifting
her chin, she spoke in a wavering, small voice. ‘My mother’s dead.
Both my parents were killed in a car crash when I was seven.’
Josh looked stunned. ‘I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t realise. But you
must have other relatives that care about you. Who brought you
up?’
‘I lived with Nanna at first, but she passed away when I was
thirteen. After that I was placed in foster care.’ She shuddered
convincingly, proving her father wrong when he’d said she’d
be better off taking cooking than drama because at least she’d
learn something useful. ‘I ran away when I was fifteen and, well,
I’ve been on my own ever since. To tell you the truth I never
want to go back to Perth. I’ve got really bad memories. That’s
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The White Amah
why I took this job. I thought it was going to be a brand-new
start for me and look what happened. The only good thing to
come out of this whole fiasco is finding you. Please don’t send
me away.’
Josh’s heart was pounding in his throat with fear, excitement and joy. ‘Come here, lovely, lovely girl. As if I’d let you
get away.’
Aryn and Geoff didn’t immediately recognise the lovely, darkhaired girl with the Halle Berry short haircut. The brassy blond
hair had been replaced by a soft, natural style that feathered
appealingly around her pixie face. She looked more like the girl
next door than ‘Scary Spice Meets Dolly Parton’, as Geoff had
dubbed her when she’d barged out of the karaoke bar with Josh
firmly in tow. Neither had heard about the drug bust and they
were both shocked when Josh told them the story but, as he had
anticipated, his pals were as ready to help as he was.
‘I don’t think we should let on who you are to Tom and William, though,’ said Geoff, who had as low an opinion of the
other two as Josh.
‘Agreed,’ said Josh. ‘It’ll be safer for you if they think you’re
just a girl I’ve met up with. We haven’t known them all that long,’
he explained to Crystal. He felt he had to explain his reluctance
in confiding her situation to the two missing members of the
band.
‘We better think up a plausible story and stick to it then,’ said
Geoff.
‘Okay, how about this,’ said Aryn, who’d been listening
intently. ‘You were backpacking with a mate but she’s hooked
up with some guy and gone off with him and left you in the
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Ann Massey
lurch. We met up last night, hit it off and invited you to come
along with us.’
‘They won’t like it,’ said Geoff.
‘Too bad,’ said Josh, more confidently than he felt.
Just then the door opened and Tom sauntered into the room
wearing suit trousers and suspenders with no shirt and bare feet.
His dark hair was tied back in a ponytail with a beaded leather
thong. The stubble of two days’ growth lay on his stubborn jaw.
Slightly built and of medium height, he had an intriguing, silky,
offbeat style.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked, smiling at Crystal, coal-black eyes
gleaming dangerously.
Crystal shook her head and smiled nervously.
Tom listened as Josh explained Crystal’s predicament, his
expression unreadable. So that’s how it is, he thought, noticing
Josh’s arm placed proprietarily around her waist. He smirked.
Taking her away from Josh would be amusing. He turned to the
tall weedy guy with the aviator glasses and the slicked-back hair
who was staring at Crystal as if she was a piece of trash.
‘Hey Willie, how about going up to the bar and getting a couple of bottles of champagne? This calls for a celebration. Drinks
all round,’ he said good-naturedly to Josh, who was stunned by
his friendliness.
Giddy without having anything to drink, Crystal leaned back
against Josh and peeped up at Tom through her lashes. Once
again she’d fallen on her feet.
› 45‹
Chapter 6
The Riverine Nightclub in Kuala Lumpur was an
opulently regal room.A full gallery of portraits of the
Malaysian royal family in ornate gilded frames were mounted
on lavish gold-leaf walls. The luxurious ambience of the salon
was enhanced by two crystal chandeliers suspended from the
high-domed ceiling, reflecting high-wattage light onto the white
linen-covered tables arranged around a central stage, which was
dominated by a grand piano.
Josh looked around unhappily. It was too posh, too over the
top, and he knew he’d have his work cut out creating the right
look and feel for the show. Right now all he wanted to do was
try out some special effects. He didn’t have the patience to listen
to Crystal, who’d kept him awake half the night pestering him
about joining the band.
‘Face facts,’ he said to Crystal now. ‘Metal is dominated by
males. Our fans won’t respect us if we have a girl in the group.
Isn’t that right, lads?’
‘I disagree,’ said Tom. ‘There are plenty of female metal singers and some of them are truly amazing.’
‘Yeah,’ said Aryn, joining in unexpectedly on Tom’s side.
‘There are metal bands that are all female.’
Crystal looked over at Aryn with a smile and mouthed, Thank
you. He blushed, embarrassed. Crystal smiled to herself; making
up to Josh’s shy best mate had paid off.
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Ann Massey
‘Can you play an instrument?’ Josh asked Crystal, glaring at
Aryn for encouraging her.
‘I fool around on the keyboard, but I can sing. I was chosen
to sing both solos for the school’s Eisteddfod.’
‘Singing in the school gym is hardly the same thing, Crystal
luv.’ Josh didn’t like hurting her, but he wasn’t prepared to trash
the band’s integrity by taking on a singer just because she was
his girlfriend.
‘At least you could let her try out,’ Tom said. ‘There’s nothing
cooler than a metal chick. Some guys think women should just
stay home cleaning, but I disagree. Everyone should be judged
on their merits, and gender shouldn’t come into it.’
‘Could I just try out? Please, Josh.’
‘Okay, what are you going to sing?’ Josh snapped, angry with
Tom for making him sound chauvinistic. He didn’t think he was.
Well, no more than any other bloke. It was just that Speed’s style
was aggressive, machismo, and introducing a girl as feminine as
Crystal would ruin their image.
‘ “Smells Like Teen Spirit”.’ Crystal knew Josh was a Nirvana
freak. ‘You’ll play for me, won’t you, Tom?’ She tried to steady
her breathing. Her heart was pounding like it did every time she
looked at him.
Tom was standing in the middle of the stage like he owned
it, dressed in black-studded jeans and a fringed suede jerkin,
open at the front. Cables from the sound equipment snaked
on the floor around his Cuban-heeled leather boots. He was
worlds apart from the other band members in their torn jeans
and shapeless grey-white T-shirts. No wonder he’s angry at playing second fiddle to Josh, Crystal thought. Anyone could see he
should be the star.
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The White Amah
Tom nodded, his eyes dark and brooding. He reached down,
picked up his electric guitar and began to play the opening riff,
hesitantly, as if he was trying to remember how it went, when
in fact he and Crystal had secretly been rehearsing the rock
anthem for days.
Crystal crossed the stage and sat on a straight-backed wooden
chair, head down, her bare legs spread wide apart. Josh thought
she looked a dream in her cut-off blue jeans and one of his old
T-shirts, but he’d never seen anyone who looked less like a metal
chick. He noticed she was trembling and his heart went out to
her. The poor little darling was nervous. He winked and gave
her thumbs up.
Crystal licked her lips. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with
cotton. She hadn’t felt this nervous when she auditioned for the
White Diamonds against twenty wannabes. She had to get a
grip … take a breath … breathe … She knew she was good. Tom
had assured her that their take on the number was going to blow
Josh’s mind. At the sound of the first discordant chord her head
snapped back, a low primitive growl started deep in her throat
and she began to rock backwards and forwards, throbbing with
the demanding beat.
Go for it, bitch, Tom mouthed, jerking the guitar hard against
his chest like an impatient lover.
‘Hello, hello, hello, how low?’ she howled, the microphone
crammed hard against her mouth, her voice a strangled whisper
as Tom played and replayed the pounding riff as if he could keep
it up for ever.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she yelled, threshing wildly as the music peaked.
Geoff nudged Aryn. ‘Fucking hell, I think she’s coming,’ said
Geoff.
› 48‹
Ann Massey
Aryn never heard him. He was staring at the stage in openmouthed awe.
Josh didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t believe Crystal
had simulated an orgasm in public and in front of his best mates.
That’s what comes of getting mixed up with that White Diamond
crowd, he thought with disgust, too shocked to grasp how, by sheer
audacity and cheek, Crystal had made Cobain’s macho lyrics her
own.
‘Am I in?’ Crystal asked Josh, her face like sunshine.
Josh’s stern gaze softened as he looked at her and his balledup fists unclenched. She’s got about as much idea as a newborn
kitten, he thought. He wanted her real bad and wished he didn’t
have so much to do or he’d take her back to their room right now.
‘Can we talk about this later?’
‘No, we can’t. I want to know now.’
‘I’m sorry. You’re phenomenal but you don’t look metal. We
wouldn’t be taken seriously with you in the line-up.’ Even to
himself he sounded unreasonable.
‘She’s too chocolate-box pretty, isn’t she, Josh?’ drawled Willie, looking down his long, thin nose in the way that always got
Josh’s back up.
‘That sucks,’ said Tom. ‘Give her a chance. She can’t help it
if she’s drop-dead gorgeous.’
‘How about we take a break for an hour and I’ll try to figure
out how we can use you.’ Josh’s mind was racing through their
stock songs. He knew one thing for sure: there was no way she
was going to sing ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ on stage ever again.
‘Josh, you’re wonderful.’ She put her arms round his neck and
winked at Tom, a jubilant smile lighting up her flawless face.
Willie glowered at her. The little tramp had got her way again
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The White Amah
and now she was making up to both Josh and Tom while Aryn
beamed at her like a love-struck adolescent.
‘Are you coming’ she asked Josh, who had gone back to experimenting with the lighting.
‘No, but you go,’ he replied abstractedly, impatient to try out
some ideas he had on laser effects. ‘How does this look from front
of house?’ he asked Geoff as he turned on a harsh red light and
the fog machine.
By the time they opened at the Tropicana in Penang, Crystal
was an established member of the band, with a strong following
of male fans crazy about her sexy, strong physique, shaved head
and the tat, which snaked down the entire length of her neck
and coiled around her shoulder.
It was Tom who had got her hooked on both bodybuilding
and tattooing. At first she had been turned off by the photos of
muscular women, and she told Josh she thought they were gross.
She’d shown him couple of bodybuilding magazines Tom had
given her and she and Josh had joked about how many steroids
she’d need to take to look like the muscular girls posing with the
massive pecs. But Tom had kept on at her and she began working out with him. At least it gave her an opportunity to see him
without the others hanging round. Now even Josh admitted she
looked incredible. He was even reconciled to the brutal haircut
that made her dark, almond-shaped eyes look enormous and set
off the cheekbones in her perfect, oval-shaped face. But he hated
the king cobra tattooed down her neck, the hooded head rearing
up from her shoulder blade poised to strike.
‘Why didn’t you talk it over with me before you went ahead
and ruined your looks? Your hair will grow back, luv, but you’ve
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Ann Massey
got that for the rest of your life. What were you thinking of? Or
don’t you think?’
How dare he criticise the way she looked when he was the
one who wanted her to look like a metal chick. At least Tom
thought she looked hot. She wriggled into her new leotard.
It fitted her like a second skin and she smiled in the mirror,
admiring her strong, toned legs and bum. Wait till Tom sees
me in this, she thought, drenching herself with the perfume
Josh had bought for her from the in-flight duty-free shop on
the way to KL.
‘For god’s sake, Crystal, do you know what time it is? This
working out is getting ridiculous. You’re obsessed.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said, sitting up and reaching for her. ‘Give it
a miss this morning, luv. Come back to bed.’
Oh no, she groaned under her breath. When it came to a
choice between her gym date with Tom and morning glory with
her boyfriend, there was no contest.
‘I wish,’ she said with a pretty pout and dodged his embrace,
‘but I’ve got a session booked with a personal trainer and I can’t
keep him waiting. Go back to sleep,’ she whispered and blew
him a playful kiss.
‘What’s new, pussycat,’ said Tom a short while later, crushing her against his hard body, wet and warm from the billowing
steam.
At five in the morning only a few enthusiasts were working
out in the hotel’s fitness centre and they had the Turkish bath to
themselves. Crystal moaned with pleasure as he ground himself
against her. She’d been awake for hours thinking of this, imagining him inside her. She pulled at the towel draped round his
› 51‹
The White Amah
lizard hips and it dropped to the floor of the steam room. She
wanted him, and she was tired of waiting.
‘Harder, harder, give it to me –’
‘I’ll give to you, all right,’ roared Josh, standing over the
shameless lovers who were blatantly making out on the bench
in the hotel’s steamy Turkish bath. He grabbed hold of Tom and
pulled him off her.
‘Don’t! Stop it! Stop it!’ screamed Crystal as Josh lashed out.
But before Josh could get in a good punch, the door opened
and Willie grabbed him from behind in a wrestling hold. He
braced himself, waiting for the beating he knew he had coming,
but Tom just shrugged and wound a towel round his waist.
‘You two need to talk. Let’s grab some breakfast, Willie.’
Willie waited until Tom was safely outside before he released
Josh. He smirked maliciously at Crystal before following his
friend. What I’d give to be a fly on the wall, he thought.
‘Oh, Josh, I’m sorry.’
‘Shut up!’ he screamed at her. ‘Don’t give me that sorry shit.
Just shut up.’
Josh thrust his hands in his pockets in a desperate attempt
not to hit her. He was shaken by the intensity of his rage. As a
child he’d been scared by his father’s unpredictable temper and
he’d vowed to be different, but that was before he caught his
girlfriend cheating. He looked at her now, huddled in the corner,
enormous black eyes in a white face, trembling lips, quivering
chin. Josh’s bitter, angry eyes swept over her. He picked up her
discarded towel and threw it at her.
‘Cover yourself up. Anyone could come in. Or didn’t you
think about that when you were screwing that bastard’s nuts
off?’
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Ann Massey
She gave a weak cry, dropped her head into her hands and
began to sob.
‘Go on, cry. That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Well,
it’s not going to work anymore. Do you want to know what I
think of you? I don’t suppose you do but I’ll tell you anyway.
You’re a cheat, you’re a user … you’re rubbish. One of these days
you’re going to get what’s coming to you and it can’t come soon
enough for me.’
› 53‹
Chapter 7
The hotel manager was sorry to see Josh leave.He’d
been impressed by the talented, level-headed lead singer who managed the group. Unlike many UK bands, Speed didn’t turn up on
stage stoned, drunk or both. The group was always reliable and it
was largely due to Josh. Not only was he efficient and cooperative
to work with but he could really sing. The hotel manager thought
he was phenomenal. Before Josh left, the manager had asked him
to sign the promotional poster on display in the foyer.
‘That boy is going to make it big one day. Who knows, his
autograph could be worth a lot of money one day,’ he had told
his wife, who didn’t like head-banging music.
But on the subject of changing his music, Josh had proved
stubborn. And, though her husband always said she could have
nagged for China, the manager’s wife hadn’t been able to persuade Josh to play ‘Dancing Queen’ or ‘Mamma Mia’, not even
when she explained that the customers drank more when they
were hot and tired from dancing.
That first month after Josh and Geoff flew back to Manchester felt like a honeymoon. Tom couldn’t get enough of her
and Crystal was always ready for him. There was no talking,
no endearments, no whispered confidences, just fast, hard sex,
so hot and so good that they’d be at it again within minutes.
Sometimes they didn’t wait until they were back in their room
after the show.
› 54‹
Ann Massey
He would open his fly and push her up against the cold steel
of the lift wall. ‘You want it, don’t you, bitch?’
Crystal was excited by the rough talk and the brutish sex. She
was in love. It hadto be love. She’d never felt this excited sense
of anticipation with either Josh or Taylor. That was kids’ stuff.
Tom was the real deal.
She would angle herself on stage so that he was always in
view. She loved the way he seemed to burn up the stage like he
was on fire, jerking the guitar vertically, working the fret like a
madman. She would think of those killer fingers on her skin,
playing her as she quivered, drawing the music from deep within
her – a yearning, cavernous chord. Sometimes a violent spasm
would shake her body and she would feel a rush of fluid soak her
panties. Somehow he always knew.
‘You look so damn sexy,’ he would whisper softly, intimately,
and she would throw her head back and howl, the lyrics deep in
her throat like a nubile tigress on heat.
Tom’s fear that the manager might use Josh and Geoff’s
defection to cancel the show was put to rest when their run was
extended. The audience couldn’t get enough of Speed and their
compelling female singer. The only fly in the ointment was Aryn.
Tom resented sharing Speed’s fat fee four ways.
‘What’s he sticking around for?’ Tom complained to Willie.
‘Wouldn’t you have thought he’d have left with Josh? They were
supposed to be such good mates.’
Tom did his utmost to make the shy, tongue-tied youth feel
unwelcome but no amount of abuse had any effect on Aryn.
He was staying put for Crystal’s sake. He didn’t blame her for
falling in love. He knew Tom was a player, a serial philanderer.
He guessed that getting the better of Josh had given this affair
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The White Amah
with Crystal longevity and a little extra zest. Right now Tom was
on top of the world. Not only had he stolen Josh’s girl, but he’d
assumed the role of lead singer and manager without consulting
the other members of the band. He was ‘cock of the walk’, as
Aryn’s grandfather used to say. Internally, Aryn seethed but he
didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to rock the boat. He wanted
to be on hand to comfort Crystal when it all went pear-shaped,
as he knew it must.
Crystal wasn’t concerned when her menses stopped. She’d read
an article by a former Ms Fitness America and she knew that
could happen when you trained and dieted excessively. But after
she’d been complaining about throwing up for two solid weeks,
Aryn, who had three older sisters, gave her a pregnancy test kit.
Oh my god, this can’t be happening, thought Crystal when
the band at the bottom of the test strip turned a deep blue. She
couldn’t be pregnant. Having a baby would spoil everything.
She was still crying when Aryn put his head round the door.
He made her get up and wash her face, and he insisted she tell
Tom right away.
‘There’s no way you’re laying this on me,’ Tom yelled when
Crystal announced she was pregnant. ‘You’ve got noidea who
the father is.’
‘It could as easily be Josh’s or one of your johns,’ sneered
Willie.
Crystal’s face flushed with colour. It had been a mistake telling Tom that she was a former White Diamond. It had slipped
out when their trial began and the scandalous details were being
churned out daily. But she’d never have believed that the man
she loved would betray her trust by telling Willie.
› 56‹
Ann Massey
‘It’s yours. You knowit is.’
‘What I want to know is, are you going to marry her?’ Aryn
said, barging in before Tom had time to reply.
‘Are you fucking crazy? She knew the score. It’s not like she
was a virgin.’
Aryn couldn’t decide if he should comfort Crystal or smack
Tom in the mouth.
In the months that followed Tom partied hard, with Willie his
constant companion. More often than not he stayed out all night
with the groupies who hung round the band. Tired, sick and
frightened, Crystal tossed and turned in their king-sized bed. I
hatehim, she thought. How dare he treat me like this? Who did
he think he was? He couldn’t have suddenly stopped loving her.
It had to be the baby that was freaking him.
Every morning Aryn would bring her in a cup of tea and a
dry biscuit, the only thing she could keep down. He was her
sounding board. She didn’t know how she would have got by
without the tea and sympathy.
‘I can understand why Tom is furious with me,’ she reasoned
to Aryn. ‘We were making a name for ourselves and he thinks
the baby is going to spoil everything for us. Of course he’s feeling angry. But he must have feelings for me or he wouldn’t still
be around.’
Aryn didn’t have the nerve to tell her that Tom had bragged
there was no way she was going to trap him. He could have told
her she’d never been more than a bit of fun to Tom, just like the
girls he and Willie bedded night after night. In Aryn’s opinion,
the only reason he was still stringing her along was because she
was the drawcard who got them the gigs.
› 57‹
The White Amah
‘I think you should go home,’ Aryn said, ‘at least until the
baby’s born.’
Crystal swirled the tea leaves around the inside of her cup.
Auntie Rose used to read the tea leaves as a bit of fun, a way of
amusing her as a child. She’d stopped playing the game when
Crystal kept asking her when her mother was coming back. Crystal put down the cup. She didn’t need tea leaves to tell her what
her future would be like back home. She could picture everyone
pointing at her, sniggering about how she’d boasted she was
going to come back as a star.
She snapped at Aryn. ‘How many times do I have to tell you
I don’t have a home? There’s no one who gives a damn about
me in Australia.’
She didn’t know that her distraught father had employed a
private detective to search for her. After he drew a blank in Singapore, the detective had widened his search to the ashrams and
spiritual sects, the haunts of disaffected Western youth, but no
one had seen or heard of her. It was as if she had been swallowed
up by the arcane, predatory dragon that was Asia.
‘You poor girl,’ said Aryn, and he put his arm round her and
patted her awkwardly.’ You could marry me. I love you, you know,
and I’d love your baby too.’
Crystal didn’t laugh. Maybe I should take him up on his offer,
she thought. She stared at him – his mousy hair, long nose and
spotty complexion – and knew she couldn’t wake up with his
needy face on the adjacent pillow every morning for the rest of
her life.
Working out with weights had forged an abdomen as confining as a heavy-duty, reinforced girdle, and it wasn’t until well
› 58‹
Ann Massey
into the final trimester that Crystal’s baby bump finally popped
out. Horror struck, she looked from her bulging stomach to the
halter-neck lace corset and skin-tight leather pants. She laughed
hysterically as she flung the entire contents of her wardrobe on
the bed.
‘No going back now, kiddo,’ she said to the mirror, and her
face twisted and crumpled.
Crystal’s wardrobe meltdown was the first in a series of catastrophes that culminated in the manager tearing up Speed’s
contract.
Ignoring Aryn’s advice, one night Tom maxed the volume
on every amp loud enough to cause permanent hearing loss.
Some of the audience got up and headed for the lounge, but
Crystal’s fan club stayed long enough to boo when she appeared
on stage in a baggy cotton caftan. Then, halfway into the first
set, the overloaded main board fused. Ranting and raving about
the sub-standard conditions, Tom stormed off with Willie. When
the power was restored, they couldn’t be found anywhere. Aryn
hunted them down in a local dive, stoned – too stoned – to be
bothered returning.
The manager was furious, but it was the opportunity his wife
had been waiting for. There was a new Filipino group in town,
ABBA impersonators.
‘You’ll be sorry if you don’t sign the new group,’ she told her
husband, ‘and they end up playing across the road and we lose
all our customers. That Crystal isn’t going to pull the crowds
with a belly bigger than Buddha’s.’
They moved into a cheaper hotel and Tom did the rounds of
hotels, bars and clubs, but word had got around and the band
› 59‹
The White Amah
had acquired a reputation for being unreliable. It had been three
weeks since they’d played a gig when Aryn got talking to Stephen
Chan in the hotel’s karaoke bar. Stephen’s brother managed the
Adelphi Hotel in Miri, in northern Sarawak on the island of
Borneo. The third largest island in the world, Borneo was a land
of steamy, rain-sodden jungles and home to the Dayaks, fierce
tribes who worshipped pagan gods and spirits and whose name
was synonymous with headhunting.
‘It’s a boomtown,’ Stephen told Aryn, ‘and my brother’s always
on the lookout for new acts. I’ll call him for you.’
Thirty-six hours later the group had arrived in Miri, the home
of the state’s oil industry.
‘I know it’s not much,’ Aryn had said nervously when they
were shown into their quarters, ‘but for the moment we’ve got
a roof over our heads and that’s the main thing, what with the
baby being nearly due.’
The other three looked at him glumly, too demoralised by
the shabby, seedy-looking hotel to argue. There were a great
many international hotels that were eager to provide entertainment to the large, wealthy expatriate community that worked
in the petroleum industry, but the Adelphi wasn’t one of them.
Built some thirty years earlier, it was rundown, and catered to a
humbler clientele that would rather sacrifice flashy decor and
entertainment for the sake of cheap drinks.
During the first fortnight, the power had gone off at least
four times.
Today they’d been without electricity for six hours. Aryn was
lying on the hard, narrow bed in the steamy room he shared
with Willie, feeling hot, sticky and miserable. When Crystal
› 60‹
Ann Massey
burst through the door he took one look at her tear-stained
face and poured a generous measure of scotch into a chipped
mug.
‘Medicinal,’ he said. ‘Get that down you, luv. Now tell me
what’s bothering you. Slowly, from the beginning.’
Crystal gulped down a mouthful, grimaced and put the mug
down on the bedside cabinet.
‘Don’t cry, luv, it’s not good for you,’ he said, trying to cheer
her up. ‘You’ll get your figure back once you’ve had the kid.
Tom’ll come round. He’s not used to roughing it. It’ll be better
once you’re back performing with us. We’ll get a well-paid booking at one of the top hotels and we’ll be in clover.’ But the words
of consolation brought on another flood of tears. ‘Crystal, please,
what’s the matter? I need to know if I’m going to help.’
‘You can’t help,’ moaned Crystal, dabbing her eyes with a
tissue, her arms crossed protectively over her huge belly. ‘Tom
says I can’t be in the band if I keep the baby. He says I’ve got to
have it adopted and if I don’t he’s going to leave me.’
‘The shit.’ Aryn put his arms round her shoulders and patted
her awkwardly. ‘I wish you’d change your mind and marry me.
I love you and I’d love your baby too.’
‘You can’t expect Tom to want the baby when he thinks Josh
is the father.’ Crystal said, not bothering to acknowledge Aryn’s
proposal. ‘It’ll be different when we have one of our own.’
‘Don’t tell me he loves you or I’ll throw up everything I’ve had
for lunch,’ yelled Aryn. He couldn’t understand why she was so
gullible where Tom was concerned.
Crystal glared at him. She was on the point of walking out
but she had to tell someone and there was no one else. ‘Tom
knows someone who can arrange the whole thing for us. Her
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The White Amah
name is Michelle Kong. She was at the show last night and she
and Tom got talking. Michelle’s husband is an obstetrician and
she said they often helped out girls like me. She told him there
are a lot of wealthy couples who can’t have a baby of their own
who would be willing to adopt our baby.’
Aryn was fuming by the time Crystal had finished telling
him about the business arrangement Tom had made with this
Michelle Kong. He could hardly contain himself when she told
him that the adoptive parents had agreed to compensate them
for their expenses – twenty thousand ringgit, a godsend for the
impoverished band.
‘It’s not right. You can’t sell your baby, Crystal. Surely you
can see that.’
‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. The baby’s going
to be adopted either way. Why shouldn’t I get some money out
of it? They can afford it.’
‘But you don’t know anything about these people. It all sounds
dodgy to me. If you’ve really decided to have the baby adopted,
go back to Australia. That’s the best thing to do.’
‘But this is the perfect solution. The baby gets a good home
and the cash takes the pressure off us. We’ll be able to pick and
choose our gigs. No more playing in dives like this.’
Aryn stared at her bleakly; he’d never seen her look so hard
and calculating. ‘If you go through with it, I’m leaving,’ he said
through clenched teeth.
‘Go, then. Who needs you? It’s like Tom says, you’re nothing
but a hanger-on.’
‘You can’t believe that. I only stayed because of you.’ The
colour drained out of Aryn’s face and he sank down on the bed,
holding his head in his hands.
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Ann Massey
‘More fool you, then.’ She stormed off, slamming the door
behind her.
She sank with relief onto her own bed. In a few days it would
all be over. The baby would be gone to rich, loving parents and
there’d be enough money to make a fresh start. She closed her
eyes. Five minutes later she felt her first pain …
› 63‹
Rubiah

› 65‹
Chapter 8
Rubiah nursed the baby girl expertly; she’d had plenty
of practice. In her tribe unmarried girls were expected to
keep an eye on their younger siblings while they practised their
weaving. Weaving was as vital for a Dayak maiden as carving was
for a man. A newly wedded couple had to produce all the items
needed to survive in the wild, formidable jungle.
‘Skilful weavers never lack for suitors,’ her mother had often
chided her when she caught Rubiah daydreaming, the pile of
reeds collected from the riverbank uncut beside her on the
floor.
Rubiah would roll her eyes and pick up her small knife again.
Why should she spend her life stagnating in a backwater like her
parents and grandparents? The time of the headhunters was
over. There was an exciting new world beyond the jungle that
she longed for.
Rubiah was a Dayak, one of the indigenous tribes that inhabited the steamy rainforests of Borneo and lived in communal
longhouses along the main rivers and their tributaries. Her family
were seafarers who supplemented their income with the sale of
excess fish her father caught in the South China Sea, and the
ginger and pepper her mother grew in her equatorial garden.
Ever since she’d been a small child she’d listened to the
stories travellers told about Miri, the fabled city where a wide
river flowed with black gold, and bold adventurers made their
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Ann Massey
fortunes on the foreign rigs that pumped the oil that gushed
rich, thick and black from the seabed. At night she’d lie on a
rattan mat on the bare boards of the hut next to her parents and
siblings and dream of the bright lights of Miri, a place where
a pretty girl could live in a house like a palace and wear a different dress every day, not made from cloth she’d woven herself
but purchased from glitzy shops crammed with jewels, creams
and perfume, shops with every delight imaginable to make her
beautiful for the parties where she’d dance and laugh all night.
Miri was just a day’s trip down the river but to the discontented teenager from the backblocks of Sarawak, it had seemed as
far off as the moon. The stars glittering through the palm-frond
thatch of the longhouse are the only lights I’ll ever get to see, she
thought rebelliously when she lay in bed at night, tossing and
turning in frustration.
When the chief’s brother, an elderly widower, had placed
three bamboo boxes, a length of black satin and a bunch of sirih
leaves, handpicked from the tallest tree in the forest, outside her
family’s door, Rubiah had known it was now or never. Frightened
that her father would accept the tribal elder’s marriage gifts, she
pleaded with her cousin Dedan, who was spending Gawai, the
Dayak harvest festival, with his family, to take her with him when
he returned to Miri. Dedan felt sorry for his pretty little cousin.
He didn’t think it was fair that she should be forced into marriage
with an old man and he agreed to help her escape.
Dedan worked at the drycleaners in Miri and he found her a
job there too. But Rubiah hadn’t liked the hot, steamy drycleaning shop; the smell of the chemicals made her feel sick. When
Roger, one of the customers, told her that his wife was looking
for a live-in amah she’d jumped at the chance. A middle-aged
› 67‹
The White Amah
driller from Calgary, Roger told her they didn’t have any children
of their own and they were adopting a local baby as soon as the
mother gave birth. Just my luck to be looking after a baby again,
Rubiah thought, but she accepted the job.
In the days before the birth the missus spent most mornings
shopping for the baby, taking along her new amah to carry the
bags. Mountains of neatly folded BabyGros, frilly frocks, bootees,
bibs and nappies filled every drawer and shelf of the room the
missus had converted into a nursery. The rest of the tiny garments, still in their plastic carrybags, were strewn on the floor
of the baby’s wardrobe. Who would have thought a baby would
need so much? In Rubiah’s tribe children didn’t wear clothes
until they approached the age of puberty, and except for special
festivities, adults just wore a small piece of cloth wrapped round
their waist made from flattened tree bark. What a lot I’ve missed
out on, she would tell herself as she pressed the ruffles on a
diminutive, flounced nightgown.
Rubiah gazed with narrowed eyes at the baby decked out like
a little doll in Swiss cotton, ribbons and lace. The missus had
spent all that time and money buying fripperies and forgotten
to purchase the one garment that was essential. Back home in
the village no mother would ever leave her baby’s head exposed.
Her mother had made Rubiah wear a thick woolly hat to stop
evil spirits entering her head through the soft spot to steal her
soul until she was more than three years old.
Carefully, Rubiah pulled the bunny rug up over the baby’s
head. The tiny infant looked so sweet and innocent. No one
would guess that she was a witch’s child. But Rubiah had seen
the evidence with her own eyes when she had reached down
to take the baby from the mother’s arms: the sign of the snake,
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Ann Massey
a fearsome symbol and absolute proof the wearer possessed
supernatural powers was tattooed on her neck. With a feeling
of foreboding Rubiah had backed away. She knew evil spirits
could leap to a new host.
But her employer had no such qualms. ‘Isn’t she sweet?’ Heather
said. ‘May I pick her up?’ It was just empty civility. Crystal had no
say. She had already signed over custody of the child.
Fearfully, the superstitious Dayak touched the handmade
necklace she always wore. The shell amulet, finely carved with
protective motifs by the village witch doctor, was guaranteed to
protect the wearer against evil spirits. But from the first moment
Rubiah had set eyes on the fearsome tattoo she’d known it would
take much stronger magic to save her from the witch’s curse.
Perhaps Dedan could help her find a witch doctor. Getting the
money to pay him wouldn’t be a problem: hadn’t Roger bought
her the gold anklet she’d asked for? She looked down at her
delicate ankle and smiled.
Leonie turned around and looked at Rubiah nursing the baby
in the back seat. ‘You should buy a baby capsule, Heather,’ she
said bossily. ‘You’d be fined in Calgary if the police pulled you
over.’
‘I already have. Roger’s going to install it when he gets home
from work tonight.’
‘Is he pleased?’ asked Leonie.
Heather had confided that she and Roger had been trying for
a baby unsuccessfully for years and had little chance of adopting
back in Canada because of their age, but all the same the arrangement with Michelle Kong, her doctor’s wife, seemed unorthodox,
very dodgy. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. The rest
› 69‹
The White Amah
of the wives in her bridge club agreed. Leonie’s three children
were all at boarding school, paid for by the oil company. Appalled,
she couldn’t believe any woman would hand over her baby to
strangers. Heather hadn’t admitted that she’d bought the baby,
but Leonie knew for a fact that money had changed hands. Roger
had confided to her husband that he’d handed over fifty thousand
Malaysian ringgit to Michelle Kong to seal the deal. Twenty thousand was for Crystal and thirty thousand was for the Kongs.
‘Yes, he’s over the moon, can’t wait to be a daddy,’ replied
Heather.
‘I can’t believe it was so easy. I’d have thought adopting a baby
would have been more complicated. There has to be more to it
than that, surely. For it to be legal, I mean.’
‘The mother signed an affidavit giving up all rights to the
child, but I expect we’ll have to go through the proper channels
to adopt her officially. I rang my sister, Hazel, and she’s looking
into it for me. She’s really good at sorting things out. Did I tell
you she works in the prime minister’s office in Ottawa?’
Only about fifty times, thought Leonie. ‘Did you get a look
at the mother? What about the snake tattoo? She’ll regret that.
It’ll look awful when she’s older and her neck crepes.’ Leonie
examined her own lined neck in the rearview mirror.
‘Madam Kong told me she sings in a band. The tat and the
shaved head are probably just her way of making some kind of
bizarre fashion statement.’
‘Do you think one of the boys in the band is the father?’
‘It’s not likely, is it? Even if he wouldn’t marry her, surely
she’d have gone home to her family. I think she must’ve had a
relationship with an Asian boy and she’s frightened about what
her parents will say if she goes home with a baby.’
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Ann Massey
‘That makes sense. I can imagine Steve going through the
roof if Rosie dated a local, let alone had a baby with him. How
does Roger feel about it? I mean most men like their kids to look
like them.’
‘He just wants to be a daddy. But I don’t think she looks Asian.
She must have taken after her mother. What do you think?’
Leonie turned around and snapped at Rubiah. ‘Give her to
me, girl.’ She studied the sleeping baby closely. ‘Well, she’s got
heaps of straight black hair and she’s quite yellow, but they’re often
jaundiced if they’re overdue. It’s hard to tell … Ugh! She wants
changing.’ She thrust the baby back at Rubiah. ‘If you’re going to
have a baby, this is certainly the place. You’ve got your amah to do
all the nasty, smelly work. It’s like being a grandparent, isn’t it? Just
enjoy her, Heather, and give her back to your maid when you’ve
had enough. What are you calling her, by the way?’
‘Millie, after my granny. Do you like it?’
‘Yes, I do. All the old names are coming back in fashion.’
‘What about you, Rubiah?’ asked Heather. She couldn’t get
used to having a maid and felt embarrassed if she didn’t include
Rubiah in the conversation.
‘Pardon, Missus,’ said Rubiah, who was still worrying whether
the witch had put a spell on her. She knew witch doctors were
expensive and she’d made up her mind to ask Mister Roger to
give her extra money when he came to her room tonight.
‘We’re calling the baby Millie,’ said Heather slowly and
patiently, as if she was addressing a backward child.
‘Mei Li,’ repeated Rubiah. ‘It’s a good name, a lucky name,’
and she smiled at the sleeping baby and covered her bare head
tenderly.
› 71‹
Chapter 9
‘I’m sorry the place is such a mess,’ apologised Heather.
‘I couldn’t get Millie to go down for her sleep.’
‘Well, she’s sleeping now,’ said Leonie smugly. She’d given
Millie her bottle and put her down in her cot with her favourite
teddy. ‘What else can I do to help?’ she asked.
Really, Heather was hopeless, she thought, looking at the
untidy living room. The other wives were due in half an hour
for bridge, the place was a mess and Heather hadn’t even started
preparing lunch.
‘Could you make the sandwiches?’ asked Heather gratefully,
wishing she could have stayed home on her own, working on the
patchwork quilt she’d started when Roger had first been posted
to Miri. She found it overwhelming having the company wives
round for lunch. They were so snooty. She knew they thought
she was pathetic at bridge. She couldn’t bear to have them find
out she was a hopeless housekeeper too. Why did Rubiah have
to take off when it was her turn to entertain?
‘Rubiah is better with Millie than me,’ she said. ‘I don’t seem
to have the knack with babies.’
‘You need to spend more time with her. You won’t have a
maid when you go home.’
‘That won’t be for another couple of years. I’ll be better with
her when she’s walking and talking. They’re more interesting
then, don’t you think?’
› 72‹
Ann Massey
Leonie didn’t agree. She’d loved her babies madly through all
their different stages. But it’s probably different when you adopt,
she thought complacently. ‘You shouldn’t have let her have time
off,’ she scolded, changing the subject. ‘She takes advantage. You
pay her too much, too. I give my amah three hundred ringgit a
month and she does a lot more work than Rubiah. Noor keeps
my place spotless,’ she boasted, looking critically at Heather’s
kitchen floor.
‘Roger says we can afford it. He’s on a big salary and the
company provides us with a house and car and pays all the
utilities.’
‘It’s not good for the rest of us. They talk among themselves,
you know. Noor asked me for more money yesterday, but I soon
put a stop to that.’
‘They have to send money back to their families, Leonie. It’s
their culture. They don’t keep much for themselves.’
‘Mmm,’ said Leonie. ‘She’s gone back to her village, you say.
How long is she going to be away?’
‘Only a week. Her brother’s getting married.’
‘Oh well, at least Roger’s offshore so you’ve only got Millie
and yourself to look after.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Heather. ‘That’s one blessing at least. Roger
phoned me from the rig and said the job was going to take longer than they thought, an extra week at least.’
The tiny sandwiches were arranged attractively on Heather’s
best platters and looked like they’d been prepared by a professional caterer.
‘Thanks for doing the sandwiches, Leonie,’ she said. ‘You’re
a good friend.’
Pleased, Leonie said, ‘I’m happy to help out. I tell you what.
› 73‹
The White Amah
How about I let you have Noor in the afternoons, just till your
amah gets back. Would that help?’
‘Would it ever. But do you think she’ll do it?’
‘She will if she wants to keep her job,’ replied Leonie. ‘I’ll
phone her later and she can come round and clean up after we’re
through. There’s just one thing I want to talk to you about before
the others get here, partner. Do you remember how I told you to
respond when I bid three hearts?’

› 75‹
Chapter 10
‘This is for you, Ruby,’ said Roger,holding out a small
package wrapped in the hotel jeweller’s distinctive silver paper
sprinkled with tiny gold hearts. ‘Do you like it? That’s a real
ruby. That’s why I chose it. You’re my treasure, far beyond the
price of rubies.’ He dimly remembered the biblical text but not
that it was intended to extol the value of a virtuous woman. ‘It’s
a locket. See, there’s a space where you can put a photo. I could
get you one of me,’ he said hesitantly.
Roger had never been a ladies’ man, even when he was a
young, fit fellow three decades ago. It seemed improbable that
a stunner like Ruby could really be in love with him. ‘You’ll
have to be careful not to wear it round the house. We don’t
want Heather finding out about us,’ he said uneasily. Perhaps
he wouldn’t give her a photograph after all.
‘Is very nice, Roger,’ said Rubiah, placing the locket round her
neck. ‘You fasten for me please.’
Roger lifted up her heavy black hair and breathed in her
alluring scent, so different from his wife’s, who was keen on the
Body Shop’s fruity fragrances and smelt like a fruit salad most
of the time. His big, clumsy fingers trembled as he fastened the
chain round his amah’s delicate neck. He bent to kiss her but
she slipped from his grasp and ran over to the mirror.
‘Very pretty … you like?’ She smiled her coy, knowing
smile.
› 76‹
Ann Massey
Roger gazed at the lovely Dayak, overwhelmed by her graceful femininity. What was there not to like? She was exquisite:
tiny, delicate and fragile. The heart-shaped locked gleamed
against skin rich as smooth, golden butter, the perfect canvas
to show off precious metal and rare stones. He didn’t begrudge
the two thousand ringgit the jeweller had asked for the locket,
not in the least, although he knew he’d have got a better deal
if he’d taken Ruby with him. It was annoying that the prices
weren’t marked on the goods, although he knew it was because
there was a dual system: one price for the locals and another
for the ex-pats, whom the locals considered fair game. On
other occasions Ruby had haggled with the shopkeepers and
he ended up paying the local price. She’s probably saved me
thousands, he thought fondly. But this time he’d wanted to
surprise her.
His romantic impulse had upset Rubiah’s plan to swindle
him. Whenever Roger bought her a gift she always offered to
bargain with the shopkeeper. ‘I’ll get it cheaper for you. They
think ex-pats are rich and stupid,’ she would say, confirming
Roger’s own belief.
She would slip into conversation with the shopkeeper in
Bahasa, thinking how fortunate it was that Roger didn’t understand her language. Then she would suggest to the merchant
that he add an extra thousand ringgit to the price and split the
difference fifty-fifty.
Still, the locket was pretty and she only knew one way to reward
him. Slowly she removed the flimsy red nightdress trimmed with
fake white fur, which she had admired at the airport in Labuan,
the duty-free island in the South China Sea where Roger had
slipped away for a romantic idyll with his enchanting maid. Roger
› 77‹
The White Amah
looked at her slim, flawless body and wished once again that he’d
carried out his New Year’s resolution.
Twenty minutes later he lay exhausted on the bed and after a few
moments began to snore loudly. Rubiah pulled the sheet over
him to cover his nakedness; she didn’t like to look at his pale,
flabby body. She didn’t go to sleep. She was already going over
the next step in her plan to supplant Heather as his wife.
To succeed, she needed Jelian’s help and he wanted money,
lots of it. Her cousin Dedan told her that only a powerful bomoh,
or shaman, could protect her from the white witch’s curse and
he had introduced her to Jelian. The magician told her it would
cost five hundred ringgit to remove the spell Mei Li’s mother
had cast when her baby had been taken. This was an enormous
sum of money. Illiterate girls from the longhouses were fortunate
if they earned three hundred ringgit a month, but money wasn’t
a problem for Rubiah as long as she kept her boss happy.
The bomohgave her a paper wrapped in yellow cloth. He
told her that it had verses from the Quran and she should read
them three times before sleeping for forty-one days. When she
admitted that she couldn’t read he told her the spell would work
just as well if she placed the paper under her pillow. She was
counting off the days when she got word that there was a further ritual Jelian needed to perform if she was to be completely
released from the spell, but it would cost another five hundred
ringgit. The message came with a warning: if she didn’t pay for
the purification ritual, the curse would come back doubled.
Roger had laughed when she asked for money to pay the
witch doctor and dismissed her fears as uneducated superstition. He told her she was a silly, gullible little ‘jungle bunny’
› 78‹
Ann Massey
and he wouldn’t let her throw his money away on a cheat and
a charlatan.
Faced with arrogant, smug, ill-informed Western prejudice,
Rubiah knew she had no alternative but to help herself to the
cash left carelessly around the house by her rich employers.
She didn’t feel guilty taking their money. They had so much,
and after all, it was their fault she’d been cursed in the first
place.
When Rubiah entered the darkened house Jelian’s wife took
her through to the living room for the ritual cleansing ceremony. The three-piece suite, still protected in the clear plastic
wrap it had been covered with to keep it clean in transit, was
pushed against the side walls. The room was dimly lit by common candles stuck in empty cola bottles. Through the gloom
she saw the conjuror’s acolyte sitting cross-legged on the pink,
imported marble floor playing the traditional three-stringed
rebab. The medium was sitting on a carved sandalwood chair
under a yellow umbrella, gazing vacantly at his daughter.
Dressed in an exquisite dress of antique-gold cloth, she was
dancing around him, waving a palm frond and chanting an
incantation.
The air was heavy with the smell of incense, and the rhythmic chanting was working a spell on the susceptible jungle girl’s
senses. Rubiah felt weightless, as though she was floating and
looking down on the scene below, released from her body. This
is what it must be like to be Mother, she thought sadly. For a
moment she felt regret. Since she’d first learned of the ancient
power possessed by the women of her family, to travel at will
between the physical and metaphysical planes, she had longed
› 79‹
The White Amah
for the gift to be bestowed on her too. Now it would never happen. In escaping the world of her ancestors she had severed links
with her spiritual heritage.
A candle spluttered and Rubiah’s gem-encrusted bangle
flashed in the flickering flame. Grounded again, she gazed at
it with satisfaction. She watched intently as the bomah’s body
began to twitch and jerk, so violently that he fell from the chair
and lay on the floor shuddering.
His wife sidled up to Rubiah and whispered in her ear, ‘He
is fighting a deadly battle with the witch for the return of your
soul.’
Suddenly the bomah’s body convulsed, his eyes rolled back
in his head and an evil- smelling black liquid flowed from his
mouth.
Fearfully, Rubiah clung to Jelian’s wife, her eyes shut tight,
too scared to look.
‘It’s okay, it’s over,’ the other woman said, frowning. Some
of the vegetable dye had splashed on her new Persian rug. ‘My
husband is a very powerful bomah,’ she whispered. ‘If you want
to marry your boss, he can drive away your lover’s wife and you
can step into her place.’
‘How much will it cost?’
‘Only three thousand ringgit for you. You give me the money
and I’ll ask him.’
Rubiah was determined to find the money, even if she had
to go to a loan shark. But it wouldn’t come to that. She could
always sell some more jewellery.
Roger was too cunning to take his amah into the hotel restaurant
for breakfast and ordered room service. It was unlikely that any
› 80‹
Ann Massey
of his wife’s friends would be holidaying in Labuan. It wasn’t a
popular resort with the ex-pat community; they favoured Kota
Kinabulu or Kuching for local getaways. All the same, you
couldn’t be too careful. He congratulated himself on the clever
way he’d covered his tracks.
Roger wished Ruby had put something over her nightie. He
glared as he caught the waiter sneaking a look at her. Well, the
man could forget any ideas about getting a tip. But his good
humour returned as he tucked into a plate of halal bacon and
eggs. He’d got used to eating turkey bacon, prepared to resemble
the real thing, on the rig. He smiled across at Rubiah, who was
finishing off a plate of rice porridge.
She had ordered bubur sumsum. ‘Is good. You try. You like, I
make for you,’ she offered shyly.
Roger liked porridge, but he hadn’t had any since he was
a boy in St John’s and his ma had made him and his three
brothers eat it to counteract the storms sweeping across Newfoundland off the North Atlantic Ocean. He looked at the dish
of rice porridge mixed with unrecognisable vegetables, salted
fish and sambalin disbelief and shook his head. Rubiah hid
her disappointment and Roger had no idea that he’d hurt her
feelings.
It was an early, hurried meal because he had arranged to
take her fishing with a couple of guys he knew who worked on
the same rig. He wasn’t worried they’d gossip. Lots of married
ex-pats had local girlfriends, and not only the men whose wives
had stayed home. He knew he could rely on his pals to keep
quiet about Ruby, and anyway, they were based in Labuan so it
was unlikely they’d turn up in Miri.
› 81‹
The White Amah
Andre Marchant, the sales manager of the French oilfield equipment company Bourbon et Jardinière, was waiting at the wharf.
He smiled at Rubiah when Roger introduced him.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, madam,’ he said courteously. ‘I
regret I am not able to accompany you, Roger,’ he said with a
disarming smile. ‘I’m hosting a company golf tournament this
weekend, but Georges, my chauffeur, is a competent mariner
and you’ll be safe in his hands.’
‘It’s good of Andre to lend us his launch, eh,’ said Roger,
thinking he was giving Ruby a real treat by taking her fishing
in the South China Sea. He hadn’t bothered to find out that
her people were Sea Dayaks who lived near the mouths of the
great rivers and made their living from the sea. ‘I bought some
Quells from the drugstore in case you feel sick when we get
out to sea.’
Rubiah obediently swallowed the proffered capsule, although
there was no likelihood that she’d suffer any ill effects from the
sea trip. She had been fishing these waters with her father, brothers and cousins since she was a small girl.
‘I think I see your companions arriving,’ said Andre, gesturing
with a flourish towards the carpark.
Roger’s heart sank when he saw that Hank had brought his
girlfriend.
‘Walter rang me first thing,’ Hank said. ‘He’s got the runs.
Must’ve eaten a prawn that was off last night. Last thing he feels
like is sailing, even on something as luxurious as this baby. They
treat you very well, Andre,’ he added, commenting on Andre’s
use of the company launch without a trace of envy. ‘Have you
met my lady? Andre, Roger, this is Mel.’
Melanie was looking healthy, happy and relaxed. She and
› 82‹
Ann Massey
Hank had been together now for over twelve months and were
talking about making it permanent. Like Crystal, the ex-showgirl
was trying to escape her past. She’d let her hair go back to its
natural colour and put on a few pounds since she’d stopped dancing. There was little chance that anyone would recognise her as a
former White Diamond, but all the same she had kept her murky
past hidden from the hoity-toity oilfield wives in Labuan.
It was a perfect day. The sky was cloudless and the azure sea
was smooth and sparkling.
‘Oh no,’ said Roger when Georges dropped the sea anchor
thirty kilometres west of the island.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Hank.
‘I’ve forgotten the bait.’
Melanie rolled her eyes at Hank but she wasn’t really concerned. It was fantastic out here, flying through the foam, a white
wave creaming around the ledge of the boat.
‘There’s a fishing boat over there,’ said Hank, and he took off
his shirt and waved madly.
‘They’ve seen us,’ said Mel excitedly as the fishing smack
changed direction.
The authorities had a policy of suppressing information about
the explosion of piracy in the South China Sea so the ex-pats
had no idea they were courting danger, but Rubiah was on edge.
As soon as she saw the crew and realised they were Dayaks, she
calmed down. It was well known that Filipinos kidnapped foreigners but she’d never heard any stories about her own people
terrorising tourists.
When the ramshackle, leaky old craft was bobbing up and
down alongside, Roger tried to explain to the perplexed fishermen that they wanted to buy a fish to use for bait. He was amazed
› 83‹
The White Amah
when they didn’t understand him. The wire-line crew he worked
with on the rig were mainly Dayaks and they all understood
English.
‘He no understands,’ said Rubiah, pushing in front of him and
explaining the situation in Bahasa. ‘You give him money for fish,’
she ordered Roger. ‘Twenty ringgit.’
Roger was about to haggle but Hank opened up his billfold
and handed over the money. Their captain handed over a fish
from their catch and they motored away noisily, waving and
shouting. Mel waved goodbye to them, her smile curved and
red as a freshly cut watermelon.
‘It’s a good job Ruby speaks their lingo,’ Roger said, beaming
at everyone as he cut up the fish. ‘I’ll bait your line, Ruby,’ he
said, expecting her to be squeamish.
‘We go now,’ she said, ignoring the proffered line.
‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ He thought she looked queasy and
he hunted in his pockets for the Quells, oblivious to the danger
that had turned her face sickly green.
‘Look, they’re coming back,’ said Mel, clapping her hands.
‘I must get a picture. They look so authentic. You don’t see the
real, traditional people until you get off the beaten track. This
is so exciting, Hank.’ She opened up her backpack and took out
a camera.
The fishing boat circled the launch and the sailors held up
fish. ‘You buy … only twenty ringgit.’
‘No, one’s enough,’ shouted Roger.
‘Look, there are even more coming,’ said Hank. ‘That fisherman must’ve told the whole fleet there are some crazy white men
paying big money for fish.’
‘No wonder,’ said Roger, giving Rubiah a dirty look. ‘I could’ve
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bought a fish this size for five ringgit in the market.’ He didn’t
like to be cheated.
The dilapidated boat pulled up alongside, and the master
cut the engine and ordered one of the crew to lash the vessels
together.
‘Hey, get back to your own boat,’ Roger yelled, his jaw thrust
out as several members of the bare-chested crew scrambled over
the side and onto the launch.
Georges watched from the fly bridge as three other boats
circled the launch like a pod of killer whales around a sick dolphin. ‘Up here, mes amis. Vite!
The Frenchman was worried. They were thirty kilometres
from shore, alone and defenceless. A month ago a group of
armed pirates had killed a fisherman off Sabah and taken his
boat. Word was the pirates preyed on other fishermen but he
hadn’t thought they’d have the gall to target tourists. True, with
his powerful motor he could outrun the fishing boats, but they
had him surrounded.
‘I’m going to radio for help,’ Georges whispered to Roger and
Hank when they joined him on the bridge. ‘Don’t say anything
to the ladies. We don’t want them to panic.’
Mel had no idea there was any danger. When one of the fishermen sidled up to her, she smiled at him in her friendly fashion.
She handed her camera to Rubiah, who noticed the knives thrust
in their belts and hoped that Georges had guns on board.
‘Get a picture of me with this guy.’ Mel peeled off her towelling wrap, put an arm round the fisherman and grinned at the
camera.
Rubiah hissed an urgent warning. ‘You put this on. Not good
to show men your body.’
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The White Amah
Melanie just smiled and let the robe fall on the deck. The
Dayak called out something to his companion and they both
stared at the girl in her minuscule bikini, her eyes hidden behind
enormous, dark, wraparound sunglasses specially designed to cut
out all glare. Mel thought they were admiring her and she flicked
her hair back and smiled, but it was the sunglasses the fisherman
coveted. His hand snaked out and he snatched them off her face.
The next minute he was wearing them and pointing excitedly at
the fish in the crystal-clear water. He said something in his own
language to his son and tossed him the glasses.
‘Give those back before you drop them overboard,’ ordered
Mel shrilly. ‘They’re not replicas, you know.’
The fisherman looked at the brazen foreign woman posing
half naked like a whore and he spat at her. ‘You like we make
fuck,’ he said, and pinned her against the cabin with his body.
His erection was hard against her thigh and his hands lingered
over her soft, lush curves.
‘Let me go, you animal!’ yelled Mel, struggling futilely, his
spittle running down her cheek.
‘Hey, leave her alone!’ Grabbing a boat hook, Hank started
down the ladder.
The fisherman looked at the shameless white girl hungrily.
Soon, he promised himself. He strode toward Hank, the sharp
gutting knife in his hand.
‘No, Ijau, no,’ yelled Rubiah in Bahasa, and flung herself in
between the pirate and Hank. ‘It’s me, Rubiah, the daughter
of your kinswoman. My father Entri married Lada, your great
chief’s granddaughter. We may live in different longhouses but
we are the same people … and these are my friends. I beg you to
spare them for my mother’s sake and the special bond between
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our tribes.’ She dropped to her knees before him, head bent and
eyes lowered respectfully.
The tribe from the Indonesian side of the border had attacked
Rubiah’s people continually since they had first arrived at the
mouth of the great river. The two tribes had formed settlements
around the same time and there was much competition for land.
On both sides of the border the shrunken heads of the enemy
hung from the rafters of the rival longhouses until the dynastic
marriage between Entri and Lada had put an end to the warfare.
‘Why is the daughter of Lada consorting with Western filth?’
Ijau barked, looking at the party contemptuously.
‘Forgive me, uncle,’ she pleaded, reminding him of their distant relationship. ‘We are poor and there are many children to
feed. My family needs the money I earn from the foreigners.
Spare them. I ask you for my mother’s sake.’
Reluctantly, Ijau sheathed his knife. He understood about
poverty. Twenty-five years ago his father had sold his younger
sister to a brothel and he’d never seen her since. Rubiah was
more fortunate than many impoverished tribal girls.
‘Arise, niece.’ He hugged her. ‘Tell your companions they
were lucky this time. Back to the boats,’ he shouted to the other
fishermen and he sprang lightly over the side.
‘My sunglasses! They’re Gucci!’ Mel cried, outraged.
‘I’ll buy you another pair,’ Hank said, looking at Rubiah with
respect. ‘I think we’ve got this little lady to thank for saving our
lives.’
‘Is nothing. We go back now,’ she said as Georges ordered
Roger to winch up the anchor. ‘You want fish, plenty in market.’
She wondered why Roger was glaring at her.
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Chapter 11
‘Can’t you stop her crying?’ grumbled Heather. The power
was off for the third time in a week. ‘How long for this time? It’s
bad enough being stuck here with no air-conditioning without
putting up with a screaming baby.’
‘Her mouth sore, Missus,’ said Rubiah wearily. She’d been
up all night with Mei Li, who was teething. She picked up the
feverish baby and rocked her unenthusiastically.
‘Okay, let’s go to the GCM. Hopefully the power’s on at the
club and if not we can have a swim in the pool,’ said Heather
with a pained sigh.
The Gymkhana Club was one of Miri’s oldest clubs with
excellent facilities. Like most ex-pats, Roger and Heather had
joined the club when they first arrived in the oil town and
Heather spent most of her days there relaxing by the pool with
Leonie. Usually she left Millie home with Rubiah when they
went to the club, but Steve had leave and he and Leonie had
gone back home to Calgary. Heather hated walking in on her
own. Shy and insecure, the small-town girl was nervous around
the chic company wives who had lived all over the world and
talked knowledgeably about the latest novel, art and theatre. She
was too timid to participate in their clever, witty chatter and
they’d given up trying to include her. She was usually ignored
unless they were desperate for a fourth for bridge.
No sooner had she settled down and ordered two ice teas
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than Mary-Grace, who was sitting at the next table, turned round
and invited Heather to partner her in a game they were trying
to set up. ‘Joyce cried off at the last minute,’ she explained. ‘Oh,
you’ve brought your baby. She’s lovely, but isn’t she hot in that
big woolly hat?’
‘No doubt, but my amah believes evil spirits enter the heads
of babies through their soft spot. You know, where the skull
bones haven’t closed completely. Believe me, it’s easier to go
along with it.’
‘Hard to believe they still have such primitive ideas,’ replied
Mary-Grace.
‘Not if you see how they live,’ cut in Merle, who’d spent a
weekend at a longhouse over a month ago. ‘It was all right for
Dave, he had a great time: off with the men to cock fights, hunting and fishing trips, roaring drunk every night on jungle juice.
As for me, I was stuck for a whole weekend with a bunch of
illiterate women. They were nice enough, mind, but none of
them could speak English. All we could do was smile and nod at
each other. It was the longest two days of my life, and don’t even
mention the nights. It makes me shudder just thinking about the
rats and bugs. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch typhoid or something
worse. I told David never again.’
‘But it must have been interesting, seeing how they live.’
‘If you’re into that sort of thing. I’d rather go shopping in
Orchard Road, dine at a fine restaurant and sleep in a comfortable bed in an air-conditioned suite at the Hilton. That’s my idea
of a weekend break.’
‘If it’s as bad as you say no wonder so many of them are coming to live in the city,’ said Mary-Grace. ‘At least Heather’s giving
this little one a chance at a better life. How old is she now?’
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The White Amah
‘Six months.’
‘How are you getting on with the adoption? Is it finalised
yet?’
‘No. It’s much harder than we thought to adopt a Malaysian
baby. Next time Roger has leave we’ll go and talk to the authorities back home in person,’ said Heather gloomily.
Adopting Millie hadn’t been as straightforward as she had
imagined, and sometimes she thought the whole idea had been a
mistake. But she hadn’t told anyone how she felt, not even Roger,
who always seemed so distant and preoccupied lately.
Heather was soon immersed in the game. Rubiah rested her
head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, prepared
for a long wait. She didn’t mind. It was pleasant sitting here in
the cool now that Mei Li had finally stopped whining and gone
back to sleep. She sipped her tea and looked at her bare fingers
and wrist sadly. She had sold most of her bracelet and rings to
pay the bomoh, but she felt happier thinking about the ones she’d
buy when she was the missus.
‘Ruby! Is it really you?’ called out a strident Australian voice.
Most of the women sitting at the tables nearby looked up.
New arrivals were always scrutinised closely by the old hands.
‘Australian,’ whispered Mary-Grace, eyeing Melanie’s long
legs enviously. ‘I hope she plays bridge. Do you know her,
Heather? She seems to know your amah.’
Heather shook her head, puzzled, and tried to listen in on
their conversation.
‘Hank has to do a two-day training course in Miri and I
persuaded him to bring me along,’ Mel said to Rubiah with a
friendly smile. ‘Am I glad to see you. I never really thanked you
properly for what you did for us that time in Labuan. You saved
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Ann Massey
our lives.’ She sat down without being asked. ‘What fools you
must have thought we all were. I never realised how much danger we were in. Hank explained it all to me when we got home.
You know, I never knew pirates still existed.’
She noticed the baby for the first time. ‘Oh, is this your and
Roger’s little one? She’s sweet. What’s her name? Can I hold
her?’
‘She sleeping,’ said Rubiah, looking fearfully at Heather. ‘No
wake her.’
‘We’re staying at the Holiday Inn,’ said Mel slowly, sounding
out each syllable and speaking more loudly than normal. She’d
forgotten how little English Ruby spoke. ‘Why don’t you and
Roger come over tonight for dinner, our treat? Bring the baby
too if you can’t find a babysitter. Hank’s really soppy about
babies.’
‘Sorry, sorry, can’t come. Roger not here,’ Rubiah whispered.
‘What a shame, I’d love to catch up. Well, next time you and
Roger are in Labuan you stay with us and bring your darling
baby too. Got to run. I’m meeting a friend who moved here from
Labuan. She used to live across the road from me. Ah, there she
is,’ Mel said as a tall, athletic-looking woman came through the
door. ‘Now remember, don’t be a stranger and give my love to
Roger,’ she said and breezed over to meet her friend.
‘Well!’ said Mary-Grace. She was going to say more but one
of the other women kicked her shin under the table and shook
her head imperceptibly.
They played out the hand in silence, the rest of the party
carefully avoiding catching Heather’s eye.
‘Sorry, Mary-Grace,’ apologised Heather when their partnership didn’t make the undemanding contract. ‘You’d have been
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The White Amah
better off with Joyce. Do you mind if I cry off? I like to put Millie
down for an afternoon nap.’
‘No problem, Heather, I’ll walk to the car with you.’ MaryGrace was hoping to hear the details of the most intriguing
gossip to hit Miri in months.
‘No, it’s all right,’ mumbled Heather, fighting back tears. ‘Bye,’
she said quickly and turned away. ‘We’re leaving,’ she snapped,
without looking at her amah.
Heather didn’t trust herself to speak on the way home. As
soon as they arrived she yelled at Rubiah, ‘Get to your room and
take her with you. Get out of my sight before I …’
Rubiah took one look at the crazed woman and ran to her
tiny room off the kitchen, locked the door and lay on the bed
whimpering with Mei Li in her arms. Even with the pillow
over her head she could still hear the missus howling, and
though she finally slept she still heard that awful wailing in
her dreams.
Mei Li’s hungry cries woke her a long time later. The house was
in darkness and too quiet. Rubiah waited a long time, too scared
to leave her room. What if the missus was lying in wait for her?
With the infant squirming in her arms, she cautiously opened
the door to bedlam. The house was wrecked. The missus had
knocked over tables, broken most of the ornaments and smashed
the big ornate chandelier. The marble tiles were covered with
shards of porcelain and glass. Books had been swept off shelves
and tossed on the floor. Photos had been ripped from their
wedding album and torn in bits. The master bedroom was in
shambles. The framed photo the missus kept beside her bed had
been thrown at the mirror and her dressing table was covered
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Ann Massey
in broken glass. Wardrobe doors were wide open, drawers were
pulled out and clothes were flung on the bed and floor.
A stool stood in front of the wardrobe. The missus must have
stood on it to reach the top shelf where the luggage was kept.
Rubiah looked at the muddle of cases tumbled on the floor.
Thoughtfully she looked at the empty wardrobe. There was no
sign of the missus, not in the kitchen, not in the lounge and not
in the bedroom. With mounting excitement, she opened the
doors of the balcony overlooking the front garden. The missus’s
car was gone, as well as her red suitcase and most of her clothes.
Good, she thought, congratulating herself on the success of her
scheme. Jelian has driven her out. Now I’mthe missus.
› 93‹
Chapter 12
Put out when his wife wasn’t there to meet him at
the airportwith a six-pack when he flew in from the rig on
the company chopper, Roger was hanging out for a beer after
two weeks’ abstinence. One of the wire-line crew took pity on
him and drove him home. Heather’s car wasn’t in the drive.
Menopausal, he thought. She was probably just getting to Lutong
airport now. He’d have something to say to her when she got
home, the lazy cow.
He was surprised to see Ruby lying on the couch, painting
her toe nails red and watching a Malaysian movie, a half-eaten
box of chocolates beside her. While the cat’s away, he thought,
amused to see his amah indulging, clearly at ease. He looked
at her slender, shapely legs and wondered how long Heather
would be out.
‘Where’s my wife?’
‘Her gone, long time.’
‘Fan-bloody-tastic!’ exclaimed Roger, thinking he’d have her
before Heather returned. He’d been without a woman for two weeks
and he was feeling randy. ‘Do you want to go to bed with me?’
‘What you think?’ she replied and strutted up the staircase
that led to the master bedroom. Cheeky monkey, thought Roger.
They’d never done it in his bed. Apart from that time in Labuan,
their couplings had all taken place furtively in Ruby’s hard, narrow bed. All the same it would have to be a quickie. He didn’t
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Ann Massey
want Heather to catch him with Ruby in their bed or there would
be hell to pay.
‘What happened here?’ he asked, too stunned by the chaos to
pay attention to the sexy coquette posing provovcatively on the
matrimonial bed. Rubiah had cleaned up the mess downstairs
but she hadn’t touched the bedroom and it was just as Heather
had left it.
‘Missus done it,’ replied Rubiah with a shrug.
‘Where is she?’ Roger asked, perplexed, eyeing the heap of
suitcases and the smashed photo taken on their wedding day.
‘Missus not like you fuck with me.’
‘You didn’t tell her about us … You bitch, you stupid little
bitch!’ he raged. ‘Have you any idea what you’ve done?’
‘Me not tell,’ answered Rubiah, trembling.
‘Who then?’ he said, towering over her.
‘Lady on b-b-boat,’ she replied, frightened by his fierce expression.
The roughneck sat down heavily on the bed next to her, moon
face red and clammy, protuberant eyes like molten lava in the
glare from the sun blazing through the window. ‘You mean Mel,
Hank’s girlfriend?’ he asked in disbelief. Rubiah nodded. Son of
a bitch! What the hell was Mel doing in Miri? What a homecoming this was turning out to be. ‘Did she leave a letter for me or …
anything?’ Rubiah looked at him, puzzled. Ignorant savage, he
thought contemptuously.
‘This?’ asked Rubiah, and held out the scrawled note Heather
had left on Roger’s pillow.
Roger read the incoherent note and felt sick inside. ‘Did she
take Millie with her?’ he asked, finally remembering the baby.
‘No. Her sleeping.’
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The White Amah
‘Okay, tidy up this room.’
Rubiah’s eyes flashed.
‘It’s what we pay you for.’ He looked round the disordered
room in disgust.
It wasn’t fair. Why should she have to clean up the missus’s
mess? But she was too scared to talk back. She knew that if she
wanted to take the missus’s place she had to keep Roger happy.
‘Sorry, sorry! No my fault,’ she apologised. ‘You want fuck me?’
she asked, moving closer and putting her hand on his crotch.
Ah well, she’s good for one thing at least. He unzipped his fly
and pulled her head down roughly.

› 97‹
Chapter 13
The front door bell rang and drowsily Rubiah got to
her feet. She had fallen asleep in front of the television like
she did most afternoons since Roger had gone back to Canada.
She hoped it was Dedan and some of his friends. Now that she
had the place to herself, her cousin often came round. Mostly
they played cards. She loved the excitement of gambling, but she
lost too often. She needed to win some money soon.
It was almost two months since Roger had flown back home
to sort things out with his wife, and although at the time Rubiah
thought three thousand ringgit a fortune, there wasn’t much of
it left. She’d given up buying disposable nappies for Mei Li and
let her crawl around the house naked, like a Dayak baby. Roger
had explained that it would be too complicated to get a travel
visa for Mei Li because the adoption had not been finalised, and
he had pleaded with Rubiah to care for her until he could work
things out. Rubiah wished he’d taken Mei Li with him. Having
a baby to look after restricted her freedom.
‘If it wasn’t for you I could be out dancing,’ she told Mei
Li, but she smiled when the baby gurgled and reached up and
tugged her hair. ‘Let’s hope this is Dedan and we can win lots
of money off him.’
To her surprise, the missus’s friend was at the door, the mean
old fat one.
Leonie didn’t wait for Rubiah to invite her in and walked
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Ann Massey
straight past with an officious look on her face. ‘I’ve come to
advise you that you have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises, so you better make arrangements to stay elsewhere, my
girl.’
‘What you mean? Roger let me stay here.’
‘You’ve seen the last of Roger. He and his wife are back
together and they’re staying put in Canada. The movers will
be here on Thursday to pack their stuff and they’ve asked me to
oversee operations.’
Rubiah couldn’t believe the words coming out of Leonie’s
mouth. It was the end of her dream. After all her scheming, she’d
been dumped. It wasn’t as though she’d ever loved Roger. The
truth was she hated him, every bit of him – his big red bloated
face, his white fleshy body, the way he couldn’t pass by without
pinching her on the bum – but he had one big redeeming virtue:
he was rich. How could this be happening to her after she’d spent
all her money on a spell to drive Heather out. Jelian had cheated
her. She frowned at her bare wrist and fingers. She was as poor
as when she’d left the longhouse.
‘What I do with Mei Li? You take?’
‘You’re not foisting your kid on me,’ replied Leonie.
‘Mei Li not mine,’ she protested. ‘Her belong to Missus and
the boss.’
Leonie felt guilty. She’d enjoyed giving Rubiah her marching orders – after all, the woman had tried to break up her best
friend’s marriage – but Millie was something else. This was
what came of bucking the system. None of the paperwork was
in place and there was no way the baby could leave Malaysia.
Even if they could get through the protocol, Leonie doubted if
her friend would go ahead with the adoption. Heather wanted to
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The White Amah
forget she had ever been to Miri, and Millie would be a perpetual
reminder of Roger’s infidelity.
‘You better take her back to Dr Kong’s clinic until matters
can be arranged with the adoption agency,’ she said, washing
her hands of any further responsibility. ‘The packers will be here
on Thursday at nine o’clock. Make sure you’re both gone.’ She
looked at the messy house with distaste. I’ll have to get Noor
to come over and clean up before I give the keys back to the
landlord.’
‘You know a missus needs an amah?’ Rubiah asked.
Leonie looked at her and laughed. ‘After what you’ve done
you’ll get no work from any of the ex-pats. Roger wants you to
have this.’ She held out a thick envelope. She’d steamed it open
earlier and knew it contained two thousand ringgit. The wages
of sin, she thought disapprovingly. She’d wanted to donate the
money to a charity but Steve wouldn’t let her.
‘Give her a break. She’s little more than a kid. We all make
mistakes,’ Steve had said, avoiding his wife’s eye. Latifah, his
secretary, was a fetching little thing too, but after what had happened to Roger he resolved to keep his pecker in his pants.
After Leonie left, Rubiah phoned the drycleaners and asked to
speak to Dedan. He told her he’d be round when he finished
work but it wouldn’t be until after seven. He picked her up and
drove her straight to the clinic. It was closed and there was a sign
on the door. Neither Rubiah nor Dedan could read – nobody
in their village could – but a passing Chinese woman told them
that Dr Kong had relocated to a practice in Kuching, the state
capital.
‘What am I going to do?’ Rubiah wailed. With the two
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Ann Massey
thousand ringgit from Roger she could rent a place, buy some
pretty clothes and find a rich man to set her up in business, but
not if she was stuck with a baby.
‘Leave her with me. I’ll sell her for you. It’s a pity she’s not
older. She’d be worth more.’ Dedan knew that many poor parents sold their children to brothels when they were five or six.
Having to look after her until she was old enough to turn a trick
would bring down the price, but the child being light-skinned
would be worth extra.
‘No,’ said Rubiah angrily.
‘You think you can keep a baby?’ he jeered. ‘You gila!’
Rubiah didn’t think he was far wrong. It would be crazy to
ruin her whole life over someone else’s child. Just then Mei Li
woke, smiled and reached up to tug her mother’s hair.
You take us back to the village, the baby seemed to say. Longhouse best place for Mei Li.
› 101‹
Mei Li

› 103‹
Chapter 14
It was a hot day in the jungle, but not unbearably so.
The dappled sunlight sneaking its way through the forest canopy
made a welcome change from the rain and leaden, grey skies of
the past three days. Entri was lying on the boardwalk on a rattanmat. The gentle chatter of the women washed over him in a
relaxing way. Or maybe it’s just the rice wine my granddaughter
gave me, he thought drowsily.
Mei Li was sitting with the other Dayak maidens, weaving
mats from small flat strips of cane that Entri’s wife Lada had
prepared by splitting fat cane with a long narrow parang. Entri
watched Mei Li proudly as her deft fingers wove the intricate
pattern known only to his wife’s family, which was superior to
the commonplace designs of other families in their tribe.
Who could have imagined that his selfish daughter Rubiah
would have given birth to such a loving child. Neither he nor
Lada had believed Rubiah’s farfetched tale that Mei Li was the
daughter of a white witch. At the time they had both agreed that
she was Rubiah’s child by an orang puti. There could be no other
explanation for their self-centred daughter bringing Mei Li home
to her parents and begging them to care for her.
Her white lover must have been a giant, he mused. At seventeen Mei Li towered over the other girls and, more unfortunately,
the young men too. Although the sea Dayaks were tall in comparison to the Penans, the shy, diminutive people who lived
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Ann Massey
deep in the interior of Borneo, they were still a short race. By the
time she was ten years of age Mei Li was taller than Gelungan, a
giant by Dayak standards. And she still kept on growing. No man
wants to look up to his wife, Entri thought sadly. It had been hard
to find her a husband. None of the young men in the village had
offered for the lovely, gentle girl, though she was old enough to
be married and was known as a good and willing worker.
Entri knew he was lucky to get Langkup to take her along
with the boat. He cursed the wild boar that had gored his leg and
left him crippled despite the incantations of the village bomoh,
the sacrifice of a plump pullet and careful nursing from his
womenfolk. Lada had done everything possible to heal his leg.
She had sent Mei Li into the forest to search for special healing
leaves and herbs for the poultice she applied to the festering
wound. Both women had attended him tirelessly through the
raging fever that became increasingly intense. Delirious, he had
begged them to cut off the blackened, putrid limb, but Lada had
only yielded when he went into convulsions. Bravely, Mei Li had
assisted her grandmother in the grisly task. In the months that
followed, she had worked in the paddy fields to harvest the crop
and free Lada to nurse him.
Entri now got round the village on a simple wooden leg he’d
carved, but he’d never fish the South China Sea again. Despite
the efforts of his kin they were struggling to get by. He didn’t
even like to think about next season. The main harvest had taken
place a month ago, and now, as he watched his prematurely aged
wife wearily split the cane for the mats and baskets she hoped to
sell from a roadside barrow, he doubted there would be sufficient
profit from her dogged toil.
Langkup, a fisherman from one of the northern tribes, had
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The White Amah
offered to buy Entri’s boat. He was coming tonight to settle the
deal. Entri was very sad. Selling the boat, which he’d inherited
from his father and his father before him, was a downward
move, reducing him in rank and importance. But he had no
alternative. His children were dispersed and had forsaken their
roots.
According to his nephew Dedan, Rubiah was still in Miri
and living in luxury as the concubine of a rich Chinese timber
merchant. Dedan told Entri that his rich cousin thought she
was too important to acknowledge him nowadays. She seemed
to have forgotten how he’d helped her when she first arrived in
Miri, a green girl from the jungle.
‘Uncle, she wouldn’t loan me the deposit to buy a taxi,’ Dedan
had complained, ‘even though she’s loaded and I’d promised to
pay her back with interest. So here I am, still working for peanuts
in the drycleaners.’
Even so, unlike Rubiah, Dedan still came home to the
longhouse for Gawaiand gave his parents the traditional gift
of money while Entri hung his head in shame. Entri’s brother
had boasted that his son had presented him with one thousand
ringgit this harvest. Unhappily, Entri wondered what he’d done
to disserve such a disobedient, disrespectful daughter.
That night after supper Langkup arrived. All the families
came out to greet their guest and gathered in front of the longhouse, their communal home. The longhouse was like a medieval
castle providing sanctuary to the entire village, but instead of a
protective moat and drawbridge, the longhouse stood on tall
ironwood stilts. Entry was by a ladder that could be easily drawn
up if another tribe attacked. Mei Li had learned her numbers
by counting the doors. With sixty doors, their longhouse was
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Ann Massey
of average size. Grandma had told her that some houses had as
many as two hundred doors.
As a young warrior Entri had led raids against their enemy
before his marriage to Lada had ended hostilities. He still hankered after the good old days when young females captured
during the raids lived with the family as sex slaves.
Chief Dangu welcomed the wedding party into his family’s room
proudly. His room was in the middle of the longhouse and was
distinguished by the number of ancient human skulls tied with
rattan hanging in bunches from the roof to ward off evil spirits.
In days gone by a prospective bridegroom would present his
bride with at least three human heads, but headhunting had
been banned long ago.
Only monkey skulls hung from the ceiling of Entri’s dwelling.
Looking up at the chief’s roof gloomily, he wondered if this was
why he’d been dogged with misfortune.
As always, a visitor was an opportunity for rejoicing and a party
was soon underway in the communal gallery that ran the length
of the longhouse. Lada served their guest a spicy red wine made
from fermented rice, but the highlight of the evening was when
Mei Li danced for her suitor to the music of the sapeh, a traditional stringed instrument often called the ‘boat lute’ because
its carved, elongated body resembled a sampan. Lada had tied
hornbill feathers to the end of her granddaughter’s fingers, which
accentuated her slow, fluid movements. Followed by a retinue
of young women, she swayed up and down the communal room
while a group of her friends sang the time-honoured songs.
Since she had been a small child Mei Li had danced for visitors and she performed the traditional hornbill dance gracefully.
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The White Amah
Like her mother, she was born to dance. If her maternal grandfather had seen her, he would have sworn she was his daughter.
She was so like her mother at seventeen, before Crystal had
bleached her hair, joined the disgraced dance troupe and never
been seen again.
Lada assiduously filled Langkup’s jar, and after downing four
huge pots filled with the spicy rice wine he burst into raucous
song. This was the signal for Mei Li and the other single women
to leave. Although she wanted nothing more than to run from
the room, Mei Li knelt respectfully before her chief, grandfather
and suitor, and waited for her elders’ assent before leaving the
festivities.
With the maidens’ departure, the tempo of the music
changed as the young men enthusiastically performed the warrior dance of their ancestors. Langkup rose to his feet unsteadily
and joined the dancing. His drunken contribution to the festivities was greeted with noisy cheers. Wine flowed freely and by
the end of the evening the old fisherman’s head was spinning.
He and Entri had come to an agreement over the price of the
boat. He’d been generous to his future father-in-law, but why
not? He was gaining a sound, solid boat, with Entri’s virginal,
white-skinned granddaughter thrown in to warm his bones and
liven his nights.
‘Mei Li, are you awake?’ whispered Lada urgently.
‘Yes, Grandma,’ replied Mei Li, wiping her eyes surreptitiously
with the edge of her sarong.
The party had wound down and most of the women had
climbed up the steps to their rooms, but the men were still enjoying themselves and Lada knew there would be a lot of sore heads
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in the morning. Normally she would have pestered Entri until
he left the gathering and came to bed, but tonight she hoped
he would continue celebrating long into the night because she
needed to talk privately to her granddaughter.
‘You don’t want to wed this man … do you?’ asked Lada. She
didn’t believe that her granddaughter could possibly want to
marry Langkup. The wizened Indonesian fisherman was only
ten years younger than Mei Li’s grandfather. But you can’t always
tell with girls, she thought wisely. Maybe she wants to be a wife
at any price.
Mei Li had been weeping quietly out of respect for her grandparents, too polite to let them know how wretched she felt about
the marriage contract. But Lada’s soft words opened the floodgates and she began to sob noisily.
‘Hush,’ said Lada, lying down and putting her arms about her,
pressing the girl close to her breast, running her fingers through
her tangled, silky hair, whispering endearments, consoling her as
she had when Rubiah had deserted the howling baby seventeen
years ago.
After a while Mei Li ceased weeping. She raised her head
and smiled at her grandmother, her wet eyes swimming in tears.
‘I was just upset at leaving you and Granddad.’
‘Never lie to me,’ said Lada. ‘Tell me the truth. Do you want
to sleep with this man?’
Mei Li shook her head. ‘But I must. Granddad has given his
word and … you need my bride-price.’
‘Bah! You’re not to think of that. Mei Li, listen carefully to
what I’m about to tell you. Many girls from our tribe have married men from Langkup’s tribe and some have lived to regret it.
My own daughter, Bata, married a man from their village. You
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The White Amah
won’t remember her, Mei Li. You were barely walking when she
was married …’ Lada broke off, too upset to continue.
‘What happened to her?’ asked Mei Li. It was rare for her
formidable grandmother to be affected by emotion or talk about
the past.
‘She died,’ replied her grandmother starkly, ‘and her husband
sold her little girl – my granddaughter – to a brothel. You know
what that is, don’t you, Mei Li?’
Mei Li nodded. She’d learned about prostitutes from some
of the boys who liked to boast about their exploits in the city
after the market was over for the day and they had money in
their pockets.
‘Men call them whores but I call them slaves. The girls have
to go with six or seven men a day and the man who runs the
brothel keeps the money. They have nothing and live in squalor.’
‘What happened to the little girl, your granddaughter?’
‘I don’t know where she is. It’s better that I don’t know.’ Lada
wiped her eyes. ‘If your grandfather ever found her he would
kill her, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,’ she
said fiercely.
‘But Granddad loves me.’
‘Your grandfather is sick, old and desperate. He doesn’t want
to know too much. Maybe I am condemning Langkup unfairly,
but even if he is a good man I won’t have you tied to someone
you don’t love. Come on, get up, there’s no time to lose.’
‘But where can I go? I can’t hide forever.’
‘There’s only one thing to be done. You have to find your
mother.’
‘My mother?’ repeated Mei Li, stunned.
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‘Yes, Dedan says she still lives in Miri. You must go to her.
She’ll help you. She’s your mother, after all,’ said Lada firmly,
although she felt far from confident. But surely Rubiah wouldn’t
turn her back on her own daughter. No one was that hardhearted.
Lada urged Mei Li to get her things together. She watched
her for a moment and then crept silently down the steps. Pleased,
she saw that both Entri and Langkup were snoring noisily under
the longhouse, almost drowning out the sound of foraging pigs,
screeching monkeys and a stringed orchestra of insects. She
snatched up the remains of the roasted boar, wrapped it in a
banana leaf and placed it in her basket. Then calmly she made
her way behind the longhouse.
The leafy, flourishing garden stretched far in all directions.
Fruit and nut trees were growing on raised beds. Lada walked
between the rows, picking bananas, breadfruit, rambutans – her
granddaughter’s favourite – and coconuts for their milk. She
walked over to the swamp, filled now with the drooping, tawny
heads of dying paddy rice, to where lush clumps of vibrant green
tapioca grew wild. She stripped the plants of their youngest leaves
only; eaten raw, the young leaves made a good feed. While she
worked her sharp, quick brain never stopped thinking. By the
time she returned to her room she’d worked out how her granddaughter was going to get away. The village was situated close
to the mouth of the river. Rivers were the main arteries in this
mainly undeveloped state, and Lada knew that if Mei Li followed
the Pangup she would eventually find the main river that flowed
to Bandar Miri.
‘You must seek out Dedan and ask him to take you to your
mother’s house,’ she instructed Mei Li. ‘Show her this,’ she said,
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The White Amah
taking off the heavy beaded ornament, the ‘collar of the matriarch’ that guaranteed her the support of her people, a custom
even Rubiah was obliged to obey.
Mei Li couldn’t believe that Lada was giving her the one
valuable thing she owned. She knew the intricately carved neck
ornament would be treasured by collectors interested in early
native Sarawakian jewellery. It had been passed down the distaff
side of Lada’s family since their chief had led his followers into
Sarawak, and they’d settled at the mouth of the river, named
Pangup after their great chieftain.
‘Put it on, girl,’ Lada said impatiently.
Mei Li looked at the ebony necklace in disbelief. ‘I can’t wear
it. I’m not worthy.’
‘Foolish girl.’
The matriarch blinked away a rare tear. A complex, powerful
woman descended from an ancient chieftain, plain-looking Lada
had married the only man who’d asked for her. It had been an
unequal marriage. Entri was a good but simple man who was no
match for his clever wife. Lada had never expected to experience
passion – especially not now, when she was an old woman – but
that was how she felt about her granddaughter. She loved Mei
Li single-mindedly with an intensity she had never felt for either
her husband or her own children.
You’ll never know how dear you are to me, Little Lotus,
she thought, looking mistily at the treasure her daughter had
spurned. Lada had been captivated by Mei Li ever since she
was an infant. Used to her own babies, she found this alien
child intriguing, so different from her own daughters. She
could see little of Rubiah in the girl, except for the colour of
her hair. Mother and daughter were both exquisite, beautiful
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representatives of their cultures but as different as a vivid,
showy snapdragon and a pure white lotus. Lada found it hard
to understand why the young men of the village weren’t captivated by her granddaughter’s graceful, willowy beauty. Idiots,
she thought dismissively, to gulp down the common oyster and
pass up this lustrous pearl.
‘It’s beautiful.’ Mei Li marvelled at the beads, each of which
was carved with a tribal totem.
‘Wear it on your journey. Other travellers will respect you as
a head woman. Here, let me help you.’ She lifted up Mei Li’s
silky, fine hair, marvelling at its softness, so different in texture
to her own coarse grey strands.
‘It’s a long trip.’ She smoothed Mei Li’s hair and fussily
arranged the ornament just so. ‘I’ve packed some food for you,’
she said, handing her granddaughter the heavy basket. ‘Come
now, child, don’t dally. It’s time to say goodbye.’
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ said Mei Li, her voice breaking.
Lada drew the tall, slender girl to her and hugged her awkwardly. Mei Li bent her head and kissed the top of her tiny
grandmother’s head. They stood this way for a while, so silently
they could hear the beat of each other’s heart.
Lada whispered, ‘I’m glad I had you. I thank the spirits for
you every day, every single day. But now it’s time for you to leave
the longhouse.’
‘But where shall I go?’
‘You must find your uncle Dedan. He still works at the same
drycleaners in Miri. He is a good, generous man. He will help
you find your mother.’
‘I’ll find work and when I’ve saved enough I’ll give it to you
and then you won’t need to work so hard and you can pay one of
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The White Amah
the boys to work in the paddy fields. Or I could find us a place
and you and Granddad can come and live with me.’
‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Lada, but in her heart she knew she’d never
leave the village and never see this darling girl again. Her only
solace was in knowing she’d given Mei Li the chance to find
her own people and that lecherous old Lankup wouldn’t enjoy
her. Not ever.
‘I’ll miss you,’ said Mei Li.
‘Be careful,’ said Lada.
‘I will,’ Mei Li said, and tramped towards the forest, turning
to wave every fifty metres.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ Lada whispered and sank to the floor. All
the tears she hadn’t dare shed in Mei Li’s presence came pouring
out and she wept for the loss of the granddaughter she loved.

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Chapter 15
By morning Mei Li was miles away from her village.
Exhausted, she paddled the canoe into the shallows and dragged
it up the bank. Too tired to eat, she lay down beneath a tree on
the bank of the slow-moving river. She slept fitfully. Ever since
she’d been a child she’d been frightened by cautionary stories
of small children taken by man-eating crocodiles or enormous
pythons, and she’d always been scared of swimming in the river
or walking along lonely jungle tracks.
When she woke she sat on the edge of the bank and dipped
her feet in the cool water. Fat frogs croaked and iridescent dragonflies whirred, competing for the humming mosquitoes flitting
in the shallows. Overhead a hornbill screeched. Mei Li looked
up and smiled. She always found the large-headed bird, with
the long curved horn on top of its prominent bill, comical. As
she watched, it took off, disturbing thousands of sleeping butterflies, hanging in clusters, from the branches of the tree. Within
seconds the sky was filled with a dizzy mass of bright, twirling,
turquoise-like, storm-tossed teal. On the other bank a group of
naked children splashed playfully in the shallows. Mei Li waved
to them, then dragged her canoe into the water and set off once
more upstream.
When she looked back the butterflies had disappeared. The
hornbill, a joke in repose yet majestic in flight, was racing back
to its young, a newly hatched cobra wriggling from its horn-
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covered bill. The children had resumed their boisterous game,
the encounter with the stranger quickly forgotten.
Refreshed, Mei Li paddled strongly and easily along the river
for hour after hour, thinking how surprised her mother was going
to be to see her. But will she want me? she wondered. Will she
let me stay? Mei Li knew her mother hadn’t wanted her when
she was a baby so why would she want her now? Dedan said she
was stuck up and didn’t want her rich friends in the city to know
she was a native from a longhouse in the jungle. Well, if that was
how she felt about them, Mei Li didn’t want anything to do with
her either. She would seek her out because she had promised her
grandmother, but she wouldn’t beg. She would rather starve to
death than ask her mother for anything.
I’m not going to cry, she told herself, and blinked back her
tears. Why should she get upset over someone she had never met?
She would think of something else. At least she didn’t have to
marry Langkup. She knew he was old but she’d never thought
he’d be thatold. She shuddered at the thought of the wizened,
drunken old man putting his bony arms around her, his dry,
cracked lips pressed against hers, his fetid breath in her mouth.
Grandmother was right. She had to run away. There was no way
she could bring herself to sleep with Langkup, not even for her
grandfather’s sake.
When she recollected her surroundings, she had no idea of
how far she had come or for how long she had been travelling.
Staring at sky and river, she couldn’t fathom up from down, so
clear were the images in the reflective river mirror. Disorientated,
she felt as if she’d fallen into unbounded space and she had no
idea of herself in relation to the natural world. It seemed surreal
and she felt peculiar, as if she were alone in the universe.
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The White Amah
Mei Li’s life hitherto had been confined and structured. Like
a wasps’ nest, the village was an interdependent community. At
home in any room of the longhouse, she was a child of the tribe
as well as of her grandparents. But now her world had been
thrown into chaos. Distraught, she realised she’d put herself outside her tribe forever. She winced, imagining her grandfather’s
embarrassment at having to admit to Langkup that his bride had
fled from the marriage he’d arranged and celebrated so publicly
with all the families from their longhouse. Entri would have lost
face in front of the whole village. He was a proud man brought
low by the loss of his leg and his livelihood, and she knew her
defection would be a devastating blow to his pride. How can I
be so selfish, she thought, after everything he’s done for me ever
since I was a little girl?
Ashamed, she was tempted to turn back, beg his forgiveness
and agree to marry Langkup. But she remembered how her
grandmother had cried when she told her what had happened
to Bata and what she’d risked to help Mei Li escape. So she kept
on paddling. The world righted itself and the fugitive journeyed
further down the stream.
She rounded a bend and to her dismay saw there were two
channels. One flowed all the way to Miri and the other was the
headwater of the Pangup, which rose in a hidden valley deep in
the jungle. The Pangup was a branch of one of the many small
tributaries that flowed into the main river basin. With no way
of knowing which was which, she gambled on the wider of the
two and set off resolutely down the left-hand fork.
Neither Mei Li nor her grandmother had anticipated that Langkup would take off after his runaway bride. But then they’d only
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met him for the first time when he came to claim boat and bride,
unlike Entri, who’d known him for years. The two old fishermen
had been working the waters off Sabah and Sarawak since they
were boys, but it was just a casual acquaintanceship and Entri
had no concept of the type of man to whom he’d pledged his
granddaughter’s hand. Back in his own village, Langkup had a
bad reputation and was known as a man it was wise not to cross.
Right now Lankup was seething, picturing his enemies spreading the story and making him the laughing stock of the South
China Sea.
But Langkup had been crafty enough to conceal his rage
from Entri and persuaded him to ask the chief if he could borrow
the tribe’s fastboat. ‘I just want the chance to talk to her,’ he’d
said to Entri. ‘If she still doesn’t want me, at least I’ll know I tried
and there’ll be no hard feelings, old friend.’
The fastboat reached the point where the river divided barely
fifteen minutes after Mei Li. Langkup was better informed
because he travelled the river often, so he knew the narrower
stream on the right led to Miri. Half an hour later, when there
was still no sight of his quarry ahead, he realised she must have
taken the wrong branch. He moored the boat under an overhanging tree and settled down to wait for Mei Li to discover her error
and backtrack.
Two hours later Mei Li’s canoe rounded the bend and she saw
the boat by the riverbank. Apart from watching the children
playing in the river that morning, she hadn’t met another soul
and her spirits rose at the prospect of company. At least she’d be
able to find out if she was going the right way. She headed over
without any thought of danger, expecting to be invited back to
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The White Amah
the stranger’s longhouse in accordance with traditional Dayak
courtesy to travellers.
Langkup heard the splash of the paddle and crouched down
on the floor of his boat.
‘Anyone there?’ Mei Li called. When no one answered she
beached the canoe and clambered over the side. Instantly she
saw Lankup hiding in the stern and turned to flee, but he was
too quick for her and threw her roughly to the ground.
‘So you think you’re too good to marry with Langkup. You’d
rather be a burden to your family than marry a weak old man, eh.
Well, we’ll soon see if I’m so weak,’ he said with a fearsome smile,
exposing betel-blackened teeth filed to savage razor-sharp points,
an outdated custom still practised by the fierce interior tribes.
Tribesmen wore necklaces made of antique beads and pierced
the lobes of their ears; the ornament worn in their ears denoted
their standing as a warrior. Langkup was wearing ear- ornaments
made from the beak of the helmeted hornbill that were carved
like the canine tooth of the tiger-cat. Mei Li knew that only a
man who has taken a head with his own hands had the right to
wear them. In horror, she looked down at his hands and what she
saw made her blood run cold. On both hands his fingers were
covered with the dreaded tegulan, each tattoo corresponding
with the taking of a human head. She began to tremble, thinking he’d kill her too and hang her head from the rafters of his
longhouse.
Langkup would have been amused at her fears. Women were
too hard to come by to sacrifice. His wife had died some ten years
back, and although he was a successful fisherman with his own
boat, all the women he courted had refused him. He thought
it was because his wife had told tales about him, but she hadn’t
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needed to; her bruises and broken bones spoke for her. As he
grew older, the need for a wife had become less urgent. An old
widow – a dried-up, worn-out stick of woman – used to cook for
him. She’d lie with him too if he paid her extra. But since that
one time when he’d got a bit rough with her she’d stayed away.
She wouldn’t even cook for him now. He knew she’d told all the
women he couldn’t get it up any more by the way they stopped
talking and then started giggling when he passed by.
Langkup couldn’t believe his good fortune when Entri had
offered him his white-skinned granddaughter as an incentive
to buy his boat. All the locals on both sides of the border had
heard about her. Everyone knew she’d been fathered by an
orang puti. Langkup had seen her often on the deck of her
grandfather’s boat. He would never have guessed she was half
Dayak. It’d be like screwing a white woman, or as near as.
Improbably, the impotent old man felt himself harden, never
dreaming he’d ever get the chance to realise his fantasy. And
then when he’d boasted to friend and foe about his prize she’d
ridiculed him in front of the whole village. Soon all the tribes
along the shore would learn of his humiliation at the hands of
this bastard half-caste girl.
Well, she was going to pay. She was going to pay dearly, he
promised himself. He’d sell her to a brothel belonging to a relative, but it was a long way to Miri and Langkup was in no hurry.
She wouldn’t be able to stand up when he was through with her.
His gnarled hands trembled in anticipation as his arthritic fingers pulled impatiently at her knotted sarong. Then his hungry
hand clutched her immature breast, twisting and squeezing the
rosebud nipple painfully.
She whimpered, too scared to push him away, and he
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The White Amah
released her, but only to undo his heavy belt and the drawstring
of his hemp trousers. Then he rolled on top of her, wriggling
and squirming, breathing heavily through his mouth and emitting an unpleasant stench redolent of stale wine, tobacco and
dried sweat. He shifted, buried his face in her breasts, grasped
his penis and frenziedly rubbed the limp, flaccid flesh while
his other hand explored roughly: fingers poking; horny, ragged
nails drawing blood; groaning and panting feverishly, trying to
force life into his inert penis. Frustrated, he lashed out, punching her viciously, before staggering to the back of the boat
where he occupied himself securing the canoe to the longboat,
head down, fingers fumbling unaccountably with the routine
knots.
Shamed, Me Li closed her eyes and tried not to think of the
horror of her first sexual encounter. But it was hard not to as she
compared Langkup frantically thrashing about on top of her with
her girlish, romantic dreams. Her friends knew she was still a
virgin and they’d teased her, boasting in low whispers so their
elders couldn’t hear while they wove baskets or threaded beads,
about the joy a woman finds with a man: how good it was to feel
skin on skin, the tingle when you embrace, the urge when he
kisses you passionately, to have him deep inside you thrusting
wildly, out of control …
What if he tried again? She stood up, determined to make a
run for it, but Langkup seemed to read her mind.
‘A four-metre croc was spotted round here just a few weeks ago.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t have a nest in those reeds. A
man-eater too! I should leave you to him, that’s all you’re good
for. I would too, but I’ve got other plans for you, my girl.’
Mei Li sat back down. Langkup had taken her canoe. She
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knew she’d have no chance alone and unarmed in the jungle.
The motor puttered into life and she waited for him to turn
the fastboat around. Instead they motored on in hostile silence
toward Miri.
› 123‹
Chapter 16
The fierce, tattooed tribesmanwearing the traditional
rattan headdress decorated with black and white hornbill feathers, bark cloth vest and beaded necklace woven out of human
hair, and the tall, slender, barefoot girl in the simple batiksarong
stood out like sore thumbs, despite the eclectic mix of Western
and ethnic dress worn by the Malay, Chinese, Dayak and ex-pat
population that lived in Miri.
Mei Li walked behind Langkup along the noisy, crowded
pavements amid a steady stream of pedestrians who stared openly
at the primitive Dayaks from the backcountry. In return, Mei Li
stared in amazement at the Malay men and their sons dressed
for Friday prayer in long white satin jackets and trousers, cloths
wrapped around their waists that reached down to their knees
and black oval hats perched atop their heads. Their wives were
dressed like exotic parrots in brightly patterned, colourful skirts
that reached past their ankles, long-sleeved tops and bright headscarves.
She stopped to stare enviously at teenage girls, employed by
the council as cleaners, in their smart, sky-blue tunics and black
trousers dreamily sweeping the pavement with their flimsy straw
brooms. But Langkup didn’t allow her time to marvel at the
wonders around her. He hurried her past the open-air markets
where the tribal communities sold their wild fruits, vegetables,
rattan mats and hand-woven baskets. A friendly vendor shouted
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out a greeting but Langkup hissed at Mei Li to ignore him. He
figured it was too risky allowing her to come into close contact
with her own people, and he set off across the busy intersection
toward the bus terminal, looking back over his shoulder to make
sure she was following.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the bus that
seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Petrified, he stood
stock-still and he would surely have been hit if Mei Li hadn’t let
out a shriek, run forward and shoved him aside. The bus driver
swerved, slammed on his brakes and collided with a parked
motorcycle belonging to one of the stallholders. Passersby hurried to help the dazed old man to his feet. Cursing, the bus driver
climbed out of the cab and was soon involved in an angry altercation with the owner of the motorcycle. Both of them started
yelling at the bewildered old Dayak and no one noticed as his
companion crept away.
Mei Li didn’t stop running for several blocks. Finally she
slowed down. In front of her was the most magnificent building she had ever seen. Huge turquoise and lilac dragons were
mounted on the emerald-green shingle roof of a Chinese temple
while an elaborate gilt dragon was intricately coiled around a
red pillar near the entrance. An old Chinese man with a yellow
leathery face was watering an ornamental tree. He had a kindly
expression and so, after watching him for a while as he tended
the plants and swept the courtyard, she worked up the courage
to ask him if he knew where the drycleaners was located.
Most of the population of Miri was multi-lingual and Mr Yeh,
the elderly custodian, had no trouble understanding her. ‘You’re
not from Miri, are you? This is a big place and there are many
drycleaners in town.’
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The White Amah
‘Oh no,’ she said, close to tears.
‘Are you alone?’ he asked, wondering why a girl from one of
the rural tribal communities was on her own in the city.
‘Yes,’ she said, her heart beating with fear in case the old headhunter should catch up with her before she found her mother.
The old man looked at the agitated girl, taking in her dishevelled state and the fearful way she kept looking over her shoulder.
She was obviously in trouble. He poured water from a jug and
handed her a glass, which she drank thirstily.
‘I was going to have a meal. You will join me and then we
shall visit all the drycleaning premises until we find your uncle,’
he said with a reassuring smile. ‘Come inside,’ he said, and he
led her into the temple.
Mei Li had never been in a car before and she didn’t know how
to open the door. Mr Yeh, seeing her difficulty, helped her with
it and then showed her how to fasten her seat belt. Once she was
settled he pulled out and drove slowly along the crowded streets,
watching the girl surreptitiously, pleased that she seemed to have
calmed down and was looking about her in awed amazement.
Mei Li stared out the window, watching the passersby hurrying
along the tree-lined footpaths, unable to understand how they
could be so unimpressed by the wonders around them.
Watching her astonishment at the strange spectacles brought
back memories for Mr Yeh of how excited he felt as a small boy
when his desperately poor parents had first come to Miri from
the Chinese Mainland. What an experience it must be to come
out of the jungle and find yourself in a modern cosmopolitan
city.
‘This is Brooke Street, one of the oldest parts of town,’ he said,
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Ann Massey
pulling into a parking space outside the drycleaners. ‘You wait
here while I make enquiries.’
Mei Li waited in eager anticipation. Her heart was pounding
with excitement. She wished Mr Yeh would hurry. For the first
time since Langkup had got hold of her she allowed herself to
dream, imagining starting a new life in this magnificent city with
her mother. I’ll makeher love me, she thought determinedly.
He returned quickly. ‘You’re very lucky. This is the right
place,’ he said, opening the door for her with a smile of
encouragement. He watched her enter the shop and drove off
reluctantly, saying a silent prayer for her safety. He hoped the
innocent girl from the jungle longhouse wouldn’t fall victim
to the lures of the city.
Dedan was waiting for her just inside the door.
‘Oh, Uncle,’ cried Mei Li and ran into his arms. Ever since
Langkup had attempted to rape her she had held back her tears,
but now safe in her uncle’s embrace she cried tears of shame.
‘Come, come, girl,’ said Dedan in embarrassment, conscious
of the shop girls’ curious looks. He guided her to the cafe next
door and bought her an iced tea.
It was the first time Mei Li had ever tasted ice and she sucked
the frozen cubes, rolling them around her mouth, intrigued by
the pleasantly cold sensation.
Dedan eyed her warily, pleased that she’d stopped crying. He wondered what she was doing here. Straightaway he
had noticed she was wearing the collar of the matriarch and
that didn’t bode well. Never had he seen his aunt without the
necklace. Something dreadful must have happened at the longhouse. He could hardly contain himself, waiting for Mei Li to
tell her story.
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The White Amah
‘He did what?’
She described again how Langkup had tried to rape her, too
embarrassed to look Dedan in the face. He clenched his teeth
and muttered a threat under his breath, promising himself that
the Indonesian would pay with his head for this insult to the
family. Headhunting might be outlawed in theory but practice
was something else!
‘Don’t cry. It’s not your fault. You can come home with me
now. Tomorrow I’ll talk to my boss. I’ll ask him to find for a job
for you.’
‘Thank you, Uncle, but first I want to see my mother. That’s
why I’ve come all this way.’
A perplexed look crossed Dedan’s face. Of course, he thought,
she doesn’t know the truth about her origins. He thought back,
recalling the night when Rubiah had been thrown out of the
house with the unwanted baby; when, instead of abandoning
it, she had unexpectedly begged him to take her home to her
parents. Neither Entri nor Lada had believed their daughter’s
story and had cared for the baby as if she were their own granddaughter.
Every year at harvest Dedan returned to the longhouse. Over
the years he had watched Mei Li grow up and gradually he had
forgotten the true story of her birth and treated her as if she were
part of the family. But now she would have to be told the truth
about her mother. He wondered where to begin. To hell with it.
Rubiah could tell Mei Li herself.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘it’s getting dark. Rubiah has a business a
few doors down. She’s usually there at this time.’ Counting the
day’s takings no doubt, he thought enviously.
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Ann Massey
It was closing time and the last client had left twenty minutes
ago. Rubiah was expecting her partner and lover, Joseph Ling,
to visit her later in the evening and she’d ordered her chief stylist, Linda, to stay back to tint and blowdry her hair. At thirty-five
her hair was still thick and luxurious, but it was greying around
the temples and she couldn’t afford to have Joe think she was
losing her youthful beauty. She relaxed while Linda massaged
her neck and shoulders and thought about the way her life had
turned out.
After Roger dumped her she had partied hard. Dedan knew
where there was action and had been more than willing to take
his pretty cousin with him. Having the exquisite, doll-like beauty
in the tight-fitting red cheongsamon his arm added to his status
and he had been admitted for the first time into 888, the exclusive club for high rollers. He had heard rumours that an illegal
casino operated in a back room of the White Rajah Hotel but
he had never expected to be allowed inside. After a quick look
round, he had known there was no way he could get into a game.
The patrons were all seriously wealthy and the stakes were way
too high for him.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he’d said to Rubiah.’ Dennis is getting
a game up at his place. It’s too rich for us here.’
‘You go,’ she said, and accepted another flute of champagne
that the club served gratis to its rich patrons. ‘Joe said he’d take
me home and he’s staking me, too.’ She smiled at the suave
Chinese businessman standing behind her chair, a proprietary
hand on her shoulder.
The arrow-thin businessman dressed in black Armani stared
at the wannabe in the shiny suit insolently. ‘I know you. Don’t
you work at Jimmy Chan’s?’
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The White Amah
‘Yeah,’ replied Dedan.
‘Well, tell your boss I’ll be sending a new man round on
Friday, and I’ll be raising the ante,’ said Joe.
‘Yeah, right,’ Dedan said, getting to his feet. ‘I better get
going.’
Dedan didn’t like the familiar way the well-known racketeer’s
hands were straying over Rubiah, but he wasn’t about to say
anything; Joe Ling was known to be a dangerous enemy. There
wasn’t a proprietor in the town that didn’t fear Joe Ling and
his gang of thugs. A heavy turned up regularly every Friday at
the drycleaners and Dedan saw his boss hand over big wads
of money. Gambling was Dedan’s addiction and he wondered
if the bagman had been tempted to help himself. After all, he
could always put it back from his winnings. Dedan didn’t know
how fortunate he was not to be put to the test. Joe always said
‘one look is worth a thousand words’ and he’d personally shown
his new man what he’d done to his crooked predecessor before
throwing the body over the side of his launch.
‘Well, see you around, Rubiah.’
‘Okay,’ she replied, avoiding his eye. She turned her head and
whispered something in Joe’s ear.
‘Taxi fare,’ said Joe, scooping some notes up off the table and
enjoying the young man’s discomfort. He hasn’t got the guts to
refuse, he thought scornfully as Dedan fumbled for his wallet.
‘Thank you, Mr Ling, I won’t forget to give Mr Chan your
message,’ Dedan said without meeting the gangster’s eyes.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Rubiah had said as the room-service waiter
placed a steaming bowl of shark-fin soup before her.
‘This is a special occasion,’ said Joe, noisily slurping the
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Ann Massey
expensive delicacy and smirking with satisfaction at how easy it
had been to get her up to the suite that he permanently reserved
for situations like this.
‘It’s delicious,’ she said after her first tentative taste. ‘I’ve never
had it before.’
‘Stick with me, baby, and it’ll be first class all the way.’
Joe had kept his word. For an illiterate girl from a jungle longhouse, she’d done well. She owned the most successful beauty
salon in town, lived in a fancy apartment and bought her clothes
in Hong Kong, but she knew that the people who counted looked
down on her; after all, she was just Joe Ling’s concubine. It was
his wife – plain, meek Xiang – who lived in the mansion overlooking Luak Bay and was waited on by five maids, a cook, a
chauffeur, two gardeners and three armed security guards.
None of this had mattered when she and Joe had first got
together. Anyone could see Joe was passionately in love with her.
Hadn’t he told her over and over that he’d have married her if
he hadn’t already got a wife?
‘Xiang is my wife,’ he’d say, his eyes of flint softening, ‘but
you are my woman. She has my name but you have my heart,
babe.’
He always introduced her to his business associates as his
emai, his second wife, and preferred to be seen with his beautiful
native concubine rather than his old Chinese wife who spent her
life in the mansion at Luak Bay bringing up their three children.
Not that Joe regretted the arranged marriage to the old spinster
daughter of the richest timber merchant in Sarawak. His fatherin-law appointed him to the board of the Baram Hardwood
Timber Company as soon as the marriage was announced.
‘Xiang will continue to put you first,’ Joe had promised her
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The White Amah
father, ‘even though we are married. Nothing will change. She
will still be on hand to serve you as she did in childhood, all the
days of your life.’
Overjoyed that his son-in-law respected traditional family life,
the patriarch had an architect draw up plans for a complete new
wing to the mansion, solely for the use of the newly married
couple.
Joe was brokenhearted when the old man died unexpectedly
soon after the wedding. No one, not even his doctor, had realised
he had such a bad heart. It had been the old man’s dearest wish
to have a grandson, but he didn’t even live long enough to learn
that his daughter had conceived.
Assuming chairmanship of the company immediately after
his father-in-law’s lavish funeral, Joe put his plans for expansion
into gear. Shortly after he took over his father-in –law’s business,
a rival timber yard mysteriously caught fire; his father-in-law’s
long-time friend had turned down Joe’s offer to buy him out.
By the time the fire department arrived, the fire, fuelled by the
stockpiled logs, had spread to three buildings, two stores and a
cafe. Days later the firemen found the charred body of the owner
among the rumble. His sick, elderly wife didn’t have the money
to rebuild and she sold the property to Joe’s company for half the
amount he had originally offered her.
One fire and the neighbouring mill owners were clammering to sell. Joe negotiated a series of successful takeovers that
delighted board members. Even his brother-in-law who should
have inherited, had to concede that his father’s cruel and inexplicable decision to leave the company to his new son-in-law had
proved fortunate. As director of marketing, he was earning a sixfigure salary, mainly for playing golf with business associates.
› 132‹
Ann Massey
‘You have to hand it to Joe,’ he was heard to slur at the nineteenth hole, ‘he’s a real gun.’
But Rubiah didn’t feel so confident these days. Even though
Joe had been generous to her – setting her up in business and
paying the rent on her penthouse suite – she knew her position
was tenuous. She used to feel superior to dull Xiang, who stayed
at home while they regularly hit the hot spots – not only in Miri
but in Singapore, the Genting Highlands and Hong Kong – but
Rubiah was a realist and she understood that her rich lifestyle
depended solely on her beauty and ability to charm her generous protector.
When she looked in the mirror nowadays she knew she looked
her age and she was frightened. She had actually slapped Linda
when she’d jokingly pointed out that her boss was going grey.
She didn’t know what she’d do if Joe found someone younger
and threw her out. Even the success of her business was down to
Joe. All his business associates made sure their wives patronised
his mistress’s salon. Over the years Rubiah had failed to make
friends with her resentful clients, but she’d made a lot of enemies
and she had no doubt they’d leave in droves if Joe withdrew his
protection.
They were meant to go out for dinner last Friday and Joe had
cancelled at the last minute. Years ago she wouldn’t have given
it a thought, but lately she had started to feel anxious whenever
he broke a date. One of her clients, glad of the opportunity to get
back at the woman whose lover had been extorting money from
her husband’s business for years, had told her she’d seen Joe at
the Holiday Inn dining with a female companion.
‘I thought it was you from a distance,’ the woman said snippily,
‘but when I got close I could see she was half your age.’
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The White Amah
Rubiah had been seething ever since, wondering if Joe was
conducting an affair under her nose. As a result, she was in no
mood to see her poor relation.
Linda went to reception to see who the visitors were, then
came back to Rubiah and announced that her cousin Dedan
and a young girl were in reception wanting to see her.
‘Tell him I’m not in,’ she said, but Linda didn’t get the
chance.
Dedan strolled into the salon. ‘Hello, Rubiah, it’s been a long
time.’ He was used to her denying him and he wasn’t going to be
fobbed off this time. ‘There’s someone back in town that might
interest you,’ he said, milking the moment.
Rubiah sighed, sure he’d come to hit her up for another loan.
Dedan was still a compulsive gambler and long ago she’d tired
of paying his debts.
‘You better come upstairs if we’re going to talk. There’s not
enough privacy here,’ she said, looking pointedly at Linda, who
was hovering.
‘You’ll have to make it quick, Joe’s taking me to dinner,’ she
said when they walked into her office. She sat down at her desk
and took a Gitanes from the antique silver-and-tortoiseshell box.
‘Okay, how much do you want this time?’
‘I haven’t come to ask you for money,’ he said, stung. ‘That girl
in reception is Mei Li. You remember Mei Li, don’t you?’
Rubiah looked at her cousin in amazement. This was the
last thing she had expected. She hadn’t seen Mei Li since she
had handed her over as a baby to her parents. Looking back, she
couldn’t remember why she’d taken the trouble and put it down
to the fact that she was young and foolish.
‘What have you brought her here for?’ she said, flustered.
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Ann Massey
‘She thinks you’re her mother,’ said Dedan.
‘Well, I’ll soon set her straight on that score.’ Rubiah drew
in deeply and exhaled a pungent cloud. ‘What’s she doing in
Miri anyway? I suppose she’s got tired of life in the jungle.’ She
remembered how she couldn’t wait to escape to the city herself.
‘It’s a long story and I think you better ask her yourself,’ replied
Dedan, deciding that he’d get away before he found himself
landed with the unwanted waif. He’d learned a lesson from a
good teacher. Helping Rubiah to settle into city life had brought
him no joy and he wasn’t going make the same mistake twice.
Mei Li wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, she wasn’t even a Dayak.
He got to his feet and stubbed out the bitter cigarette in the
Waterford crystal ashtray.
‘Here.’ Rubiah carelessly tossed some notes to him. One delicate arched eyebrow raised in ironic amusement, she watched
him grab the money and stuff it into his cheap plastic wallet,
scared she’d regret her uncharacteristic generosity.
‘Thanks,’ he said, the reason for the visit forgotten at the prospects his cousin’s gift had opened up. Hopefully he could win
enough to get back on his feet. His spirits were rising at the possibility of winning big time.
‘Tell Mei Li to come up to my office on your way out.’
He nodded absently, his mind already focused on the game
ahead.
It would be interesting to see how Mei Li had turned out.
Rubiah thought back to the time when she’d cared for the baby
and schemed to get rid of her foster mother. How naive she
was to think Roger would marry her. But what did I learn? she
thought. Nothing. I got involved with another married man. She
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The White Amah
closed her eyes and dragged back deeply, her thoughts as bitter
as the cigarette smoke in her throat.
The girl and woman looked at each other curiously. Mei Li
was tall, too tall. She’s almost a giant, thought Rubiah contemptuously. Still, she was slender and curvaceous and Rubiah knew
men would find her alluring in the tight-fitting sarong. And Mei
Li’s hair … What Rubiah wouldn’t give for hair like that again.
She could remember when her own hair was long enough to sit
on. The fair skin Mei Li inherited from her mother had been
bronzed by years of exposure to permanent sunshine. She’s no
fairer than me and not half as pretty. Rubiah smiled at her own
reflection in the wall mirror and patted a stray curl into place
in her elaborately arranged hair.
Mei Li thought her mother was the most beautiful woman
she’d ever seen. Tiny Rubiah was a perfect pocket Venus. Her
large ebony eyes were enormous and fringed with long thick
lashes, her full lips were a vivid scarlet, and her complexion
was smooth and unblemished. Unlike Lada, her luxurious
wavy hair was as dark as a hornbill’s plumage, not streaked
all through with strands of grey. She was heavily made-up
and the perfection of her face and hair was testament to
the expensive French cosmetics and whitening creams she
applied lavishly.
‘Sit down,’ Rubiah said, indicating the chair Dedan had
vacated.
‘Thank you … Mother,’ answered Mei Li shyly, overwhelmed
to discover that her mother was a beauty. What must she think
of me? Who would have thought someone so lovely would have
a clumsy big oaf of a daughter like me?
Rubiah was about to snap ‘I’m not your mother’ and send
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Ann Massey
Mei Li on her way when she noticed her necklace. ‘Why are you
wearing my mother’s collar? Has something happened to her?’
‘Grandmother gave it to me before she helped me escape.
She told me to show it to you so you’d know I’m here with her
blessing.’
Rubiah thought back to when she was a small girl and had
coveted the spectacular ornament. ‘Take it off. Mother must
have wanted me to have it.’
Conditioned to respect her elders, Mei Li took off the necklace and handed it to Rubiah, who immediately placed it round
her own neck. The heavy, ornate ebony beads were a far cry from
the diamonds and pearls that Joe bought for her, but all the same,
it was striking. She would wear it tonight with a simple sarong,
barefoot and with her hair loose like a Dayak maiden. Joe would
get a kick out of seeing her in traditional dress. She reached up
and took the pins out of her elaborate coiffure. They wouldn’t
go out. She would have dinner sent to her suite and then she
would fuck him senseless. He wouldn’t think of standing her up
again after she got through with him. The anxious young girl was
forgotten as Rubiah planned and dreamed about the pleasures
to come, but the ringing phone broke her reverie.
‘Joe!’ she said in delight, unconcerned that Mei Li was listening. She and Joe always conversed in Cantonese and she was sure
Mei Li could only speak their native dialect.
‘I was going to phone you. How about we stay in tonight? …
Oh no! Can’t you put them off? I was so looking forward to being
alone with you … Tomorrow night … I suppose, but you’ll have
to make it up to me … A girl never has too much perfume, but
there’s something else you could do if you really want to please
me. A young girl from our village has turned up and she’s got
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The White Amah
nowhere to go. Could you give her a job as a maid? I promised
my mother I’d look out for her … You’ll send a driver over to
collect her after he’s taken the children to school? Joe, you won’t
let me down tomorrow night, will you?’
After Rubiah replaced the phone she sat motionless, tension
evident in her stillness, her face a mask of displeasure.

› 139‹
Chapter 17
‘What do you think of my place? Pretty nice, lah? You must
think you’ve died and gone to heaven.’
An answer wasn’t necessary; the dumbfounded look on Mei
Li’s face expressed her feelings more eloquently than words.
Rubiah’s bathroom was the last word in luxury. Glass had been
used extensively: glass floor, glass walls, glass sink. A striped
cherry-and-cream chaise longue from a legendary Parisian
whore’s boudoir lolled next to a sunken tub, also made of expensive opaque glass. Matching fluffy towels were draped over a
towel warmer. A large pink conch shell had been drilled and
made into a lamp. It stood next to an ancient Satsuma vase filled
with fuchsia orchids of banquet hall dimensions.
Mei Li’s eyes roamed over the deluxe accessories: the long
shagpile rug in shades of cream and butterscotch, the vanillascented candles, the built-in hair dryer, the rainbow of bottles
and jars massed on the vanity … Not only were the objects
outside her scope of understanding, but so too was the palette of
vibrant colour, hues never seen in the natural world she inhabited. She reached out and ran her hand over the glass wall. The
surface felt cool, smooth and hard, unlike the texture of anything
she’d ever experienced. Trees, plants, and forest animals were
the raw materials she recognised; even the sarong she wore had
been woven from tree bark. Steel, glass, tile and plastic were as
alien to her as a Lamborghini to Ben Hur.
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Ann Massey
‘I’ll run you a bath,’ said Rubiah, turning on the gold-plated
taps. She couldn’t help smiling at the expression on Mei Li’s face
when she saw the hot water gush from the faucet.
There was no plumbing or power laid on in the jungle village,
where every drop of water for drinking or cooking was drawn
from the river. Like Mei Li, it had been Rubiah’s task to carry
the heavy water pots along the jungle tracks and up the steep,
homemade ladder to the house on stilts. When Rubiah had first
arrived in Miri and moved into the staff quarters, a cramped
room above the drycleaners, the only water for drinking and
washing had been scooped from the toilet cistern. At the time
she had thought just having water permanently available was
the height of luxury. Now she shuddered at the memory, which
is why she’d sweet-talked Joe into paying for a bathroom even
Cleopatra would have envied.
‘I wish Grandma could try this,’ Mei Li said, lying back in the
scented hot water, bubbles teasing her nose and a blissful expression on her face as she listened to the music from the stereo
system. She was able to close her eyes for the first time when she
bathed; there was no need to keep a lookout for predators.
‘Your hair could do with a wash.’ Rubiah unhooked the
hand-held shower nozzle with the imported massage head and
shampooed Mei Li’s hair, like she had when the young girl was
an adorable baby.
Forgotten memories of her early days in Miri came flooding back: turning on taps for the first time and gaping at the
perpetual torrent of water; switching the lights on and off, like
a goddess with the power to turn gloomy night into glorious,
fabulous day. As she watched Mei Li soaking in the steaming,
scented water, she recalled the vow she’d made when she too
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The White Amah
had had her first bath in a tub instead of the muddy river: never
again to sleep on a reed mat or pee in the river. She smiled at
her reflection in her fog-free mirror. For an ignorant girl from
the jungle, she hadn’t done too badly.
Later, Rubiah noticed that Mei Li was shivering and she fetched
a warm robe from her bedroom, turned up the thermostat and
led her out to the sunny balcony. She knew the girl had only
ever known temperatures over thirty degrees. The hot humid
weather hadn’t worried Rubiah when she was a girl but now she
couldn’t live without air-conditioning. She knew it wouldn’t be
long before Mei Li felt the same.
Mei Li lay on the balcony on a sun lounge wrapped in Rubiah’s bathrobe and slowly began to thaw out. Finally her teeth
stopped chattering. She had a one-eighty-degree view of the sea.
It was dusk and the estuary was bustling with tugboats towing
barges filled with logs through the narrow channel, and fishing
boats setting off to sea for a night’s fishing, their lights brave beacons in the darkened sky. She shivered. Was Langkup out there,
fishing from her grandfather’s boat, or was he stalking her?
‘Still cold? This will warm you up.’ Rubiah poured them both
a generous measure of cognac and lit up another Gitanes.
While Mei Li had been experimenting with her expensive
French toiletries, Rubiah had been thinking. What she needed
was a spy, someone to keep tabs on her lover, someone she could
trust. Someone like a daughter.
‘I like listening to the chugging of the engines and the honking of horns and sirens,’ Rubiah said. ‘Sometimes in the still
of the night I come out here. It reminds me of home. Tell me,
Daughter, do you ever go fishing with your … grandfather?’
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Ann Massey
‘Yes, right up until his accident.’
‘What accident?’ Rubiah looked at her searchingly.
Mei Li took a deep breath and told Rubiah everything leading
up to her flight from the longhouse.
‘… and Grandma doesn’t know how they’re going to manage. It’s
getting harder to find food. There aren’t as many animals in the
forest and the fish in the rivers have become scarce. Granddad
says it’s because they’ve cut down too many trees and clogged
up the river floating them to the sawmills downstream. It didn’t
matter that much when he could fish out at sea but now he’s sold
his boat they have to rely on the river for prawns and fish.’
‘I don’t understand. What’s happened to all the money I’ve
sent them over the years?’
‘What are you talking about? You never gave them anything,
not a cent,’ Mei Li blurted out, her cheeks blazing. For years,
ever since she was old enough to understand, she’d heard her
grandparents complaining about her selfish mother and her lack
of respect in not providing for her elders. Over time their resentment had increased, particularly as Dedan was always harping
on about how rich their daughter was.
‘It’s no good lying to me,’ she told Rubiah. ‘I saw how hurt
they were every year when you never came back to see us. Uncle
Dedan came every year for Gawaiand gave his parents a gift.
Even though he doesn’t earn much, he always put something
aside for his parents. Great-uncle was always boasting about his
son’s generosity. How do you think Granddad felt? He lost face
in front of his brother every harvest.’ She got to her feet, fists
clenched, and glared at her mother.
Rubiah stood up too, with such a look of anger on her face
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The White Amah
that Mei Li stepped back. ‘Dedan … that bastard,’ she shouted.
‘What a fool I was to trust him. What an idiot! I knew he was a
compulsive gambler but I never thought he’d gamble away the
money I gave him for my parents.’
‘I don’t believe you. Dedan’s not a thief. He’s always been
good to us.’
‘I’m telling the truth.’ Rubiah was so angry she was shaking.
‘Every Gawai I gave him two envelopes, one for my parents and
another with something for Uncle and Aunt. I knew he was hard
up and I didn’t want him to be shamed when he saw the gift I
gave my parents. I can’t believe he kept the money meant for my
parents and then made out he was a dutiful, generous son. How
he must hate me! Well, he won’t get away with it. I’ll make sure
he suffers for this. Wait till I tell Joe,’ she said. In her fury she
looked as savage as a Dayak warrior queen.
‘Why didn’t you check on him?’ asked Mei Li, determined
to have everything out with her mother. ‘I don’t understand. It’s
not just the money – why did you never come to see them … or
me?’ Tears started down her cheeks. ‘I’m your daughter and you
never came to see me, not even once in seventeen years! How
do you think I felt?’
Rubiah felt indignant. Mei Li should be down on her knees
thanking her. Mei Li had had a good life with Rubiah’s parents,
a lot better than if she had given the girl to Dedan when she was
a baby. If it wasn’t for the fact that Rubiah needed her help she
would have told Mei Li the plain truth and washed her hands
of her.
‘I’d have come if I could, but I’m Joe Ling’s concubine. That’s
like a second wife,’ she explained when she saw Mei Li’s puzzled
expression. ‘Joe’s very generous to me. Well, you see how I live.
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Ann Massey
But I haven’t dared tell him about you. I don’t know what he’d
do if he found out I’ve got a child by another man. He can be
very vindictive if he’s crossed. That’s why you must keep our
relationship secret when you go to work for him. I told him you
were just a girl from my village. Promise me you won’t tell him,
or any of his family, that I’m your … mother.’
‘All right, but I don’t see why I have to live with strangers. I
want to stay with you.’
‘I’d like that too, but it’s impossible,’ said Rubiah, trying to
stay calm. ‘Right now you’re going to have to work at the Ling’s
place; otherwise you’ll have to go back to the longhouse. You’ve
put me in an incredibly awkward position turning up like this,
Mei Li. I’m trying to work things out so we can be together, not
just you and me but Mother and Father too. But it’ll take a while
to organise. You’ll like it at Joe’s. He lives in a big mansion right
on the beach at Luak Bay. It’s a great opportunity for you. Who
knows, it might be fun. What do you say? Will you do it?’
‘I’ll go on one condition.’
‘Yes?’ Rubiah was barely managing to keep her temper.
‘I want you tell me about my father.’
Rubiah’s heart sank. It was all getting so complicated. She
really didn’t want to lie to the girl but she didn’t have much
choice. ‘Let’s have another drink. It’s a long story.’ She poured
herself another cognac and juiced a pineapple for Mei Li. She’d
seen the girl grimace when she’d taken her first sip of the expensive brandy.
‘Your father’s name is Roger and he lives in Canada. He could
be dead for all I know.’ she said, unmoved by Mei Li’s look of
distress. ‘I haven’t seen him for, oh, seventeen years. When I first
came to Miri I worked for him and his wife as an amah. I was an
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The White Amah
innocent girl just like you, straight from the jungle. One night
he came to my room and forced himself on me. I tried to fight
him off but he was a big strong man.’ She shrugged. ‘After that
he came to my room every night when his wife had gone to sleep.
What could I do? He said he’d beat me if his wife found out
about us. I couldn’t go back to our longhouse. I’d run away. My
parents were trying to force me to marry a man I didn’t love.’
‘Just like me,’ said Mei Li, amazed by the coincidence.
‘That’s why I don’t blame you for running away from home.
Sometimes there’s no other way. Soon after you were born I
heard him talking to his wife about taking you back to their
country. I was frightened. I thought I’d never see you again. I
begged Dedan to take me back to our longhouse. I knew my
parents would care for you. I would’ve stayed but Gelungan still
wanted to marry me and I was frightened of him. He’d been
married before and Dedan told me he beat his first wife.’
Poor mother, thought Mei Li, remembering her own ordeal
at the hands of Langkup. She could have ended up pregnant and
then what would she have done? How could she support a baby
on her own? She gave Rubiah a watery smile of understanding
and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘You did the only thing you could and I’m sorry I doubted you.
It must’ve been hard on you, having to give me up.’
‘Of course, lah. So you’re okay about going to work for Joe?’
Rubiah tried to conceal her jubilation.
Mei Li could only nod. She still felt too emotional to speak.
‘You don’t look it. Come on, give me a smile.’
‘Sorry, Mother. It’s hard to leave just when we’re getting to
know one another. There’s such a lot I want to ask you. When
can I see you again?’
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‘I’ll let you know when it’s safe. But you’ll be able to get a message to me any time.’ She handed Mei Li a mobile phone. ‘Don’t
look so worried. It’s only a phone. This is how it works …’
› 147‹
Chapter 18
The limousine climbed up the lime-edged private
gravel roadbefore Mei Li got her first glimpse of the mansion.
Armed guards waved them on, the elegant wrought iron gates
swung open and the magnificent estate owned by her mother’s
lover was revealed in its breathtaking beauty. The stately home
had been built by Madam Ling’s father. He had consulted a
Chinese geomancer and the park had been laid out according
to ancient oriental principles. The south-facing mansion was set
halfway up a slope, protected by higher hills on the north side
and with a stream flowing from the valley to the bay. Mei Li
had never heard of feng shui, but instinctively she knew this was
a place where she could live happily.
The staff quarters were tucked away at the back of the compound and screened from the house by a high hedge. The elderly
housekeeper was tall, almost as tall as Mei Li. She wore black silk
trousers and a matching jacket. Her hair was combed into a neat
bun. She looked coldly at the barefoot girl in the tattered sarong
through the thick lenses of her horn-rimmed glasses.
‘What’s your name, girl?’ asked Madam Huang sharply in
Cantonese.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’
‘She’s a Dayak,’ the driver said helpfully. ‘Come straight from
the longhouse. She only speaks the native lingo.’
‘She doesn’t look like a native to me. Some bargirl’s fling with
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Ann Massey
a Westerner, no doubt. It’s a disgrace. Girls like this, they bring
shame on all of us.’
‘Well, you can’t blame the girl. It’s not her fault. She seems
nice enough.’ He smiled at Mei Li sympathetically.
The housekeeper frowned when she saw the driver staring
at Mei Li in her tight sarong. A girl like this was a bad influence. She sighed. ‘I’m run off my feet. I’ve got a dinner party for
thirty-six tonight. I’m understaffed and they send me an ignorant
savage straight out of the jungle. What good is she to me if she
can’t follow orders?’
‘Why don’t you get her to help Old Gong in the garden? He’s
a Dayak, isn’t he?’
‘He’s draining the fishpond this morning. Get him to come
here and when you come back you can join me in a cup of tea,’
she said in a friendlier tone. ‘Hurry, hurry! I can’t waste any more
of my morning on this useless slut.’
David was sitting in the garden, which was where he spent most
afternoons after he’d finished tutoring the children. Sometimes
he would take a book to read in the pavilion that overlooked the
lakeside garden, or join his pupils in a game of tennis. David
fitted right in with his host family and he was fascinated by the
far-off Asian city. Everything about Miri intrigued the young
English lawyer: the Niah Caves, where he stared in awe at the
fragments of a 40,000-year-old skull; Loagan Bunut, the legendary disappearing lake; the mysterious mist-shrouded Bario
Highlands. He would miss the luscious paradise when he went
home next month, but he supposed it was time he got his head
down.
David’s father, Sir Roland Entwistle of Entwistle and
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The White Amah
Murthwaite, the legal firm that handled the Baram Hardwood
Timber Company’s affairs in Europe, had encouraged David
to take up Joseph’s Ling’s proposition to tutor his two younger
children in English. It meant David could improve his own
Cantonese and Mandarin before returning to Britain to work in
their expanding Asian division, and the experience had worked
out well for everyone. David was pleased with his pupils’ progress: little Adele’s English was improving, and he hoped that
Clarence’s application for a place at Oxford University would
be successful.
Their elder brother Pau, named after his maternal grandfather, was currently sitting his final examinations in economics
at Oxford and on graduation was expected to return to Miri.
One day Pau would take over from his father as chairman of the
company, and David would be taking instructions from him in
the same way that his own father took instructions from Joseph
Ling. Pau had an open invitation to stay with the Entwistles at
their large country estate. He had taken up the offer once and
had brought along three companions that David’s mother had
found brash and ill mannered.
‘Isn’t it always the way with the children of the nouveau riche?’
Lady Entwistle had said to her husband disapprovingly. ‘They
live these lives of decadence, driving expensive cars, wearing
flashy clothes and dating dim-witted models and starlets.’
‘The acorn doesn’t fall too far from the tree, my dear,’ Sir
Entwistle had replied.
Neither of them approved of Joseph Ling, even though he
was a major client. They were pleased that their only son was
more interested in fly-fishing and playing cricket for the village
team than running around like a rich brat-playboy.
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Ann Massey
David often saw the gardener and his assistant and thought
they made an odd couple: the stooped old native and the tall,
slender, beautiful girl. He would look at her admiringly when
she reached up to prune the white magnolia, thinking that she
could be an international model. At first he had mistaken her
for a friend of the family, holidaying like him in the luxurious
mansion, but Clarence had put him straight on that score.
‘She’s just one of our maids, a half-caste,’ Clarence said dismissively. ‘There are hundreds of girls like her on account of so
many single men coming over to work.’
‘And they just leave their kids behind?’ asked David.
‘Not necessarily. Loads of ex-pats fall in love with local girls
and take them back to their own countries, but there are others
who just use them as playthings.’
‘It’s a pity they don’t see how their children are forced to live
when they go back to their own countries.’ David looked over at
the gardener, who was waving a stick and yelling at the young
girl. He hoped the man wasn’t going to hit her.
The bad-tempered old gardener often shouted irritably at the
girl and cuffed her across the head. Now he shuffled off to the
staff quarters for the midday meal, and Mei Li hurriedly finished
loading the wheelbarrow with branches and wheeled it over the
bridge. She had to clean out all the animal cages before she
could think about having a break.
Joseph Ling paid native trappers to capture the endangered
wildlife to put on display in his home as a status symbol. David
thought it ironic that the timber tycoons that were responsible
for the destruction of the creatures’ habitat were the very ones
setting up private zoos, but he didn’t voice his disapproval. The
Baram Hardwood Timber Company was a very lucrative client.
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The White Amah
One of the reasons for his current employment was to get to know
Mr Ling on a personal level, and his father wouldn’t be pleased
if he offended the firm’s wealthy client.
When it was evident that Mei Li wasn’t coming back, David
picked up his book and headed back to the house, passing plump,
doll-like Adele dressed in delicate, pink satin pants and tunic
with matching ribbons in her shiny plaited hair.
‘I’m going to look at the monkeys,’ Adele called out. She
scooted across the wooden bridge and disappeared through the
Chinese archway towards the menagerie.
A pair of aviaries, of commercial zoo proportions and shaped
like ornate Victorian birdcages, housed the family’s collection of
rare eagles and parrots. Mei Li had dumped her load on the compost heap and was now busily raking the bottom of the eagles’
cage. Off to look at the monkeys again, she thought, smiling as
the chubby little girl ran past. Caring for the menagerie was one
of the gardener’s duties, with the exception of the dogs, which
had their own handler. It was work that Mei Li enjoyed best.
Some of the animals – like the sun bear and gibbons – she hadn’t
set eyes on since she was a young child; they had disappeared
from her valley when the surrounding jungle was logged.
The guard dogs threw themselves frenziedly against the steel
mesh of their cage and began to bark excitedly as the young girl
rushed by. Adele was frightened of the pack of mastiffs, and
so was Mei Li. There were many criminal gangs that targeted
rich families, and while it was unlikely they’d raid the notorious
gangland leader’s estate, Joe employed armed security guards
and had four specially trained attack dogs to guarantee the safety
of his family and property. The dogs were penned up for the
greater part of the day and evening, but as soon as the family
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retired for the night they were turned loose and left free to roam
the grounds.
‘Nevergo into the compound when the dogs are out of their
cages,’ Gong had warned Mei Li. ‘They’re trained to kill.’
Today, for some reason, the eagles were agitated. Perhaps
they’ve been stirred up by the barking dogs, Mei Li thought.
She had to duck as the female swooped at her and she hurriedly
backed out of the cage. She was about to padlock it when she
heard Adele screaming in terror. Grabbing the rake, she ran
towards the dogs’ pens. Alpha, the largest dog, too savage to be
housed with the others, had found a weak spot at the back of his
cage and ripped his way out. The savage mastiff was tugging at
the child’s tunic, trying to drag her down on the ground. Without
thinking of her own safety, Mei Li ran to Adele’s aid and swung
the rake at the dog with all her strength. The protruding iron
teeth buried themselves into the dog’s heavy shoulder and he
yelped in surprise, raised his massive head and, fiery-eyed, stared
at the intruder, sizing up both her and the weapon. He turned his
back on Adele and circled Mei Li, growling menacingly, hackles
up, while the other dogs jumped and threw themselves at the
mesh, barking wild encouragement to the leader of the pack.
Mei Li acted instantly. She swung the rake, hard and fast.
The heavy metal head smashed into the side of the dog’s head.
Enraged, the dog lunged at the handle of the rake, close to the
head. Enormous jaws locked powerfully and he yanked the
weapon out of her hands. An aggressive low-pitched growl came
from Alpha’s throat as he rushed at her, foaming jaws wide open,
wolf-like teeth ready to rip and tear. The weight of his heavy
body slammed into her and she went flying. The dog was on
her before she hit the ground and she was fighting for her life.
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The White Amah
Instinctively she raised her arms and the snapping teeth clamped
round her upper arm, just missing her throat.
For a moment Adele watched Mei Li wrestling with the savage beast, and then she turned and ran shrieking towards the
bridge. It was a mistake. Alpha raised his huge head. Excited
by the terrified screams, his attention was now focused on the
fleeing girl and he took off in pursuit.
With a groan Mei Li got to her feet, blood streaming from the
vicious bites, and limped after them. Her terror increased with
every step. Feeling like she could run no more, she cried out for
help, but her weak cry was lost, absorbed by the tumult of wild
noise coming from the direction of the aviaries.
Adele took refuge in the eagles’ cage and stood behind the
door, desperately trying to hold it shut. Alarmed by the wild barking, the great birds flew dementedly round their prison as the dog
used his bulk as a battering ram, slamming into the wire bars
so hard that the metal twisted and buckled. From her vantage
point on the bridge, Mei Li saw there was no way the door could
withstand such punishment. And if it should give way, there was
no escape for the young child.
‘Here, dog,’ she cried woozily, waving her arms over her head
despite a pain so intense she felt as though she would pass out.
‘Come and get me. I’m over here, yahoo.’
But the demented animal ignored the annoying voice; he
was totally focused on reaching the quaking girl behind the door.
Rearing up on his hind legs, he clawed at the door, banging it
with his head. The cage gave way and like a monstrous dragon
from Adele’s worst dream, Alpha charged through the shattered
door, scaring the birds, which flew up to their highest perch.
The dominant male screeched and dived like a bomber, talons
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Ann Massey
extended, at the dog’s head. Alpha whirled round, agilely for a
mastiff that weighed more than seventy kilos, and snapped furiously at the eagle, which fluttered out of reach. From the lofty
perch at the top of the aviary, its mate screeched, taunting the
maddened dog, the high-pitched shrieks obliterating rifle fire, a
death cry and the heavy thud as the body fell on the concrete
floor.
Panting from exertion, the alarmed guard had sprinted to the
aviary, overtaking Mei Li, who was still staggering down the path.
Now he squatted beside the dog, the high-powered rifle in his
right hand. He turned the dog over and grunted with satisfaction
when he found the entry wound. A perfect shot: the bullet had
smashed the dog’s skull, ploughed through his brain and shot
out the side of his head behind his right ear.
Damn it, the marksman thought, getting to his feet and aiming a vicious kick at the body. How did the bastard get out?
Talib must not have checked that the dog was securely locked in.
Thanks be to Allah I came out to see what was causing the racket,
he thought. He wouldn’t like to be in Talib’s shoes when the
boss got home. The guard backed out of the cage, dragging the
animal with him and dumped the body on the compost heap.
‘He’s dead,’ he said to Mei Li, his voice rising with pride. ‘I
got the bastard with the first shot.’
Trembling, hardly able to believe the nightmare was over,
Mei Li looked right past him. Adele was sitting in the far corner
against the bars, short legs stretched out on the dirty floor of
the cage, face shrouded by her bloodstained hands. She was
talking to herself and didn’t respond when Mei Li knelt down
beside her.
‘Hush.’ and she put her arms around the frightened child and
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The White Amah
clasped her tightly. ‘It’s all right. You can open your eyes. He
can’t hurt you anymore,’ she whispered, tenderly rocking the ten
year old like a baby, the blood from their wounds mingling and
turning Adele’s pink satin tunic bright scarlet.

› 157‹
Chapter 19
The room was intensely hot and not a breath of airwas
moving. The combination of heat and humidity was stifling
and the patients in the hospital ward slumped on the hard,
narrow hospital beds, drained of energy. In the hushed ward
the raised voice was amplified, drawing an angry look from
the ward sister.
‘But whycan’t you come and see me?’ Mei Li asked, hot tears
of frustration on her burning cheeks, mobile phone pressed up
against her painful infected ear. She was lying, soaked from her
fever, on a wet sheet; the moisture had gone right through to
the mattress.
‘How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want Joe to
find out you’re my daughter,’ snapped Rubiah.
‘But I never see you … and I don’t like living at his place.
Can’t I stay with you?’
‘You ungrateful girl! You don’t know how lucky you are to live
in that great mansion. How do you think you’d support yourself if
I hadn’t persuaded Joe to give you a job? Well, if you leave don’t
expect any more help from me.’ Without waiting for a reply, she
slammed down the phone.
Mei Li lay back forlornly on the narrow stretcher, her face
pale as death, her tangled hair lying limply across the brick-like
pillow. For two days she’d tossed and turned on the thin mattress,
drenched in sweat, calling out for her grandmother. The busy
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Ann Massey
nurses barely spoke to her except to scold when her nightmares
disturbed the quiet ward.
Hot and feverish, she reached for the water jug and knocked
it over.
‘You’ll catch it,’ croaked the sickly old woman in the next
bed.
Mei Li looked at the pool of water in despair, but her depression faded like morning mist when she saw her grandmother’s
familiar figure shuffling down the ward, back bent double under
the weight of her overladen basket.
‘Place these leaves on your wounds twice a day,’ said Lada,
undoing the tight bandage around Mei Li’s arm and gently laying
a leaf on the gash.
‘Who told you I was sick? How did you know where to find
me?’
‘I dream-sang my way to you.’
Throwing back the wet sheet, Mei Li sat up, her heart pounding wildly. She knew about the dream-song, the trance-inducing
ritual chant that freed the soul from the body. Intuitively, she
understood that the figure before her was only her grandmother’s
shade: a wandering wraith, ethereal and otherworldly. But supernatural forces were at work that she didn’t properly understand.
Had her grandmother projected her spirit while her body lay
motionless, waiting, or had she passed over? Was this apparition
her ghost, come to bid farewell before joining the spirits of her
ancestors? It was too much too bear. She loved her grandmother
so much.
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Lada, and the bright
eyes in the wrinkled face shone with laughter. ‘I hope to see many
more years before I cross the log bridge over the River of the Dead.
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The White Amah
Do not be afraid, Little Lotus. I come from a long line of wise
women on whom the spirits have bestowed the gift to break through
the dimensions of time and space. Long ago I learnt the secret from
my mother, as she learnt it from her mother. Throughout history,
the women of our family have possessed the knowledge.’
‘Does Mother know the secret too?’
A shadow darkened Lada’s face. ‘She’d like to, but the power to
defy the bounds of this mortal world is dependent on consent from
the realm of the spirits. It grieves me to admit my daughter was
found unworthy and that is why I gave the collar of the matriarch
to you; you are the chosen one.’
Mei Li’s heart soared at her grandmother’s words, but it plummeted just as quickly when she remembered that she no longer
had the precious amulet.
Her grandmother saw the look of shame on her face. ‘She took
it from you, didn’t she?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, looking down, too ashamed to look her
grandmother in the eye.
‘My daughter is the one who should be sorry. She has transgressed the order of succession sanctioned by the spirits of our
ancestors and she will be punished.’ Lada spoke the words flatly.
Her eyes were blank and not a muscle moved in her face.
Every woman in her tribe feared and dreaded antagonising the
spirits. Mei Li knew that all who did fell into a state of lifelessness,
and the only release was death. She swung her legs over the side
of the bed and tried to stand.
‘Oh, Grandma, my poor mother, you’ve got to save her, you’ve
got to.’
Lada put her arms around her granddaughter and held her
close. ‘I will try to intercede on her behalf,’ she said, disguising her
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Ann Massey
own fear with an assumed air of confidence. Prayers and sacrifice
might not be enough to save her ambitious daughter from the
wrath of the spirits.
Mei Li’s lips formed a shaky smile. ‘Thank you, Grandma.
They’ll listen to you. I know they will. I’m so glad you came. How
long can you stay with me?’
‘For a little while only. I have to go back before your grandfather awakes.’ Tenderly she smoothed the damp hair off Mei Li’s
forehead.
‘Mother hasn’t been to see me. I don’t think she loves me.’
‘Your mother doesn’t love anyone. She’s an expert at feigning
affection. Don’t trust her; she has the power to harm you.’
‘I wish I could go home with you and Granddad. Just the three
of us, together, like before.’
‘You weren’t born to bloom unseen in the jungle, Little Lotus.
No, don’t argue with me. Close your eyes and rest. These are the
words of my dream song. When your time comes, you will sing
your own song.’
And Lada sang:
‘Release me from the grasp of clutching earth
To wheel and soar betwixt the sky and sea,
Free from carnal cell, to girth
The never-ending void, to seek and search for thee.’
David instructed the driver to wait outside in the limousine while
he walked into the hospital and asked to speak to the duty nurse.
‘How’s our patient doing today, sister?’
‘She had a very restless night, feverish and confused,’ the
Malaysian nurse complained. ‘She kept the whole ward awake
with her unintelligible ramblings. I’ll be glad when she’s released.
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The White Amah
These uncivilised natives don’t know how to behave in hospitals.
She’ll get better sooner with her own kind.’
David glared at her. From the first moment he’d set eyes on
Mei Li he’d been fascinated, both by her enchanting beauty and
her natural charm. He was appalled by the meanness of her existence and infuriated by the way everyone looked down on her.
‘Has the doctor seen her yet?’ he asked curtly.
‘Indeed.’
‘In that case I shall take her home with me if you’d be so good
as to find me a wheelchair.’
The general ward reminded him of a picture of an army hospital he’d seen in a history book. Florence Nightingale wouldn’t
look out of place here, he thought. There were a dozen stretcherlike beds in rows facing each other. Both men and women in the
unisex ward were dressed in nightgowns that looked suspiciously
like cheap cotton shrouds. Most of the old, sickly patients were
being looked after by relatives who brought in food for their
meals. He wondered what happened to those who didn’t have
any relatives, and was concerned that friendless Mei Li was going
hungry.
He found her lying on top of the last bed with her face turned
to the wall, shivering despite the heat, the greyish shroud plastered to her damp body. He felt the sheet under her. It was wet
through and cold. David clenched his teeth and muttered under
his breath. He crossed the ward and yanked a blanket off an
empty bed, then he gently helped the sick girl sit up and wrapped
the thin rug around her shoulders.
‘Damn,’ he said impatiently, looking for the nurse with the
wheelchair.
Stunned, Mei Li stared at the ivory-skinned Goliath leaning
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Ann Massey
over her. Tawny, sun-streaked hair flopped across his forehead
as he bent down and picked her up, and she gasped when she
looked into the first blue eyes she’d ever seen. They’re like a
jungle sky when the sun has chased the mists away, she thought,
unable to look away.
Tourists were welcomed into longhouses and most Dayak
girls had seen Westerners, but Mei Li’s village was on the banks
of the Pangup, isolated and remote, far from the tourist routes.
All she knew of orang putishe’d learned from the outlandish
tales spread by the young men who worked on the oil rigs
and returned to the jungle village for Gawai. Of course she’d
noticed the young white man – he was often in the garden playing with the children or simply reading – but she’d only ever
seen him from a distance. Up close he was a giant. Till now the
willowy girl had believed she was a freak, a gawky giantess in
a world of dainty Lilliputians. Now fate had brought Gulliver
to her bedside.
‘Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared of. I’m taking you
home,’ he said, and he strode out of the ward with the sick girl
cradled in his arms.
‘Is everything all right, sir?’ asked the Sikh doctor, running
to catch up with him.
David didn’t stop. ‘I’m taking this young lady home.’
‘If I may say so, sir, it is unwise of you to take her out of the
hospital before she has been formally discharged.’
‘I’ll take full responsibility.’
The doctor shrugged and watched as the fair-haired giant
stormed down the steps and across the carpark to the waiting
limousine.
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The White Amah
The houseboy opened the front door of the elegant villa. Inside
it was quiet and cool.
‘Where is everyone, Sun?’ David asked, lowering Mei Li onto
the oyster-coloured silk couch and placing a soft cushion under
her head.
‘Madam and Second Son are upstairs with Little Daughter.’
Sun replied, pursing his lips and barely concealing his disapproval at such effrontery.
‘If you’d be kind enough to bring Mei Li some iced tea, I’ll
let Madam Ling know I’m back.’ David charged up the marble
staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
Madam Ling and Clarence were standing in the hall outside
Adele’s room, talking softly, anxious looks on their faces. Madam
Ling looked exhausted but she gave David a brave smile.
‘So, you’re back. Tell me, how is the amah? Improving, I
hope.’
‘Not good. She’s downstairs on the couch. I brought her home.
I couldn’t just leave her there. Nobody seemed to care …’ he
trailed off.
Clarence stared at his tutor with a look of incredulity. He
couldn’t believe David was making so much fuss over a mere
maid. He’d noticed most Westerners didn’t understand how to
treat servants, but he thought David would know better. After
all, David’s father was a baronet.
‘Under the circumstances I expect you did exactly the right
thing,’ said Madam Ling gently. ‘Shall we go downstairs? I don’t
want to disturb Adele. The nurse has instructions to let me know
when she wakes. The doctor gave her a sleeping draught earlier
this afternoon and fortunately it’s finally taken effect.’
Madam Ling closed the door quietly behind them and stood
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Ann Massey
for several moments regarding the servant lying on her Italian
brocade couch. She placed her hand on the girl’s forehead.
‘She’s burning up,’ she exclaimed. ‘She should still be in hospital.’
‘Can’t we look after her here?’ asked David.
Clarence was obviously having difficulty hiding his disapproval at seeing a lowly maid lying on the couch in the formal
reception room, where just days before they had entertained the
chief minister and his family.
‘Clarence, could you ask Sun to bring us some tea?’ Madam
Ling said, dismissing her son. She sat down and patted the seat
beside her. ‘I know you feel sorry for her, David, but your pity
is misplaced. Your protégé’s future is looking very bright. Gong,
our gardener, has asked for her. He has his own cottage in the
grounds and a permanent job here, so he’ll be able to provide
for her. My husband and I are very grateful to her for saving our
daughter and we intend to give her a gift so she won’t go to him
penniless when they marry.’
‘But he’s old!’ protested David.
‘That’s true, but many girls wed older men. Gong is willing
to marry her and he has a home and a job for life.’
‘Doesn’t she have a say?’
‘Of course, but she may not get another opportunity to have
a home and children of her own. Isn’t that better than spending
the rest of her life as a servant?’
David pictured lovely Mei Li living with the mean old gardener and shuddered at the picture he conjured up. ‘It’s not fair,’
he muttered.
‘Why, because he’s a native? So is she! No, don’t look like that.
You must to try to understand. Things are different here, David.
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The White Amah
When you look at her you see a Western girl, but she is a Dayak,
no matter how she looks. That’s the way she’s been brought up.
That’s the only way of life she understands. It would be cruel to
raise her expectations and make her dissatisfied with her lot in
life. You’ll go back to England, but this girl has to live here. You
mustn’t get too fond of her. You have a big future to look forward
to. As for this untutored girl, the best she can hope for is to make
a good marriage.’
‘What if she says no?’
‘Of course no one is going to force the girl. If she won’t have
Gong, Adele needs someone to look after her. It’s so unfortunate
that the girl only speaks her local dialect.’
‘I could teach her English.’
‘We’ll see what she wants to do when she’s feeling better. Ah,
here’s Sun with the tea. Lemon or milk, David?’
Madam Ling’s mind was working furiously behind her placid
mask. The poor boy was obviously smitten. He couldn’t take his
eyes off Mei Li. She would have to write to his mother and suggest he returned home earlier. Lady Entwistle wouldn’t thank
her if he made a misalliance with the unfortunate girl. Hopefully
Mei Li would be sensible and accept Gong’s proposal, but there
wasn’t much chance of that when a handsome young man was
looking at her like she was the girl of his dreams.

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Chapter 20
Adele’s piercing laughter rang outacross the garden.
Adele and her amah were playing Clarence and David in a
knockabout tournament that had the two notoriously lazy children darting for the ball. Gong, who was rolling the lawn with
the heavy roller, paused to scowl in the direction of the tennis
courts. His hopes of finding a young wife to wait on him in his
old age had been dashed.
Madam Ling, playing mah-jongg on the veranda with three
of her oldest friends, all wealthy Chinese matrons, also looked
towards the courts and smiled indulgently. Her reservations about
throwing David into Mei Li’s company had proven unfounded.
He always treated the native girl courteously but seemed more
interested in her education than the romantic entanglement
she’d been worried about. He’d taken on an ambitious project
in trying to teach her to speak English, but he had involved both
children in tutoring her and Mei Li was beginning to speak
hesitantly.
The beneficial effect on Madam Ling’s own children’s grasp
of English was particularly pleasing, as Clarence had just learnt
that he had gained a place at Oxford, like his brother before him.
And even Adele, a dear, sweet child but in truth the dullest of her
children, was showing an interest in her language studies.
‘When are you leaving for England, Xiang?’ asked Wen,
taking a tile from the wall.
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Ann Massey
‘The children and I are flying out next month. David’s parents, Sir Roland and Lady Entwistle, have invited us to stay with
them until I find somewhere suitable to lease. Joseph’s tied up in
negotiating rights to log a further eighty hectares of forest, but
he’ll be joining us for Pau’s graduation.’
‘I’m going mah-jongg!’ screeched Chan.
The three ladies looked at Chan’s winning hand suspiciously
and concentrated once more on their game.
Over on the tennis court, the doubles match had disintegrated
into a heated quarrel as brother and sister hotly accused each
other of cheating.
David smiled across at Mei Li. ‘Do you want to play singles?’
he asked slowly, enunciating each word carefully.
She shook her head shyly. ‘Not play good. Arm still sore.’
Adele’s superficial injuries had completely healed but Mei Li
would always carry the scar from the deep bite on her shoulder.
‘I keep forgetting you’re still recuperating. You should rest up.
I’ll get you a chair.’
‘Mei Li, go fetch my other racket. It’s under the bed in my
room. I’ve broken a string,’ ordered Adele.
With difficulty, David held his tongue, fighting back the urge
to tell her to get it herself. Mei Li’s elevation to amah was due to
Adele’s intervention and he didn’t want to do anything to upset
the applecart. One complaint to Madame Ling would be all it
would take and the lovely girl would be back labouring in the
garden.
‘I’ll play you,’ offered the plump ten year old, smiling shyly
at her tall handsome tutor, hoping he’d noticed her new chic
tennis frock.
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The White Amah
David wrenched his eyes from the long-legged girl in the
cheap black cotton pants and simple white tunic jogging across
the lawn. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pack it in for today. I
want to prepare a translation for Clarence and I have to consult
my English-Chinese dictionary.’
Adele was crestfallen. She had a crush on David. It was a
secret. She hadn’t told anyone, not even her amah. She’d have
been surprised and shocked to learn that both the family and
servants had all guessed and were amused or sympathetic according to their natures.
‘What about you and I take your brother and Mei Li on tomorrow?’
‘Okay,’ she said sulkily, but she brightened up when she saw
Sun wheeling a trolley toward the court. Her disappointment
was forgotten as she helped herself to a generous slice of sticky
steamed fruitcake.
David walked slowly back to the house. He wanted to catch
up with Mei Li but he was conscious of being watched, not only
by Madam Ling but by the servants too, and he didn’t want to
do anything that might make her life more difficult. Mei Li had
shown spunk in turning down the old gardener’s marriage proposal, but she had earned his hatred. But it wasn’t just Gong: the
other servants were clearly jealous of her privileged position in
the household. They called her ‘the white amah and he’d heard
them taunting her when they thought no one was around.
Only yesterday he’d hidden behind the shelves, pretending to
look for a book, while he secretly watched Mei Li puzzling over
the words and pictures in a beginner’s reading book. Two of the
servants had come into the library carrying mops and buckets.
‘Wah, monkey think it can learn to read, lah!’ The houseboy
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Ann Massey
sniggered, snatched up the primer and waved it in front of her
face.
‘Give it back, you’ll tear it,’ Mei Li said. She knew she wasn’t
supposed to touch the books, except to dust them.
‘Hoho,’ laughed Sun, holding the book out of reach. ‘Just
because they’ve cut your tail off and put you in a uniform doesn’t
mean you’re house trained.’
‘Let’s see how long you last when Mister David goes home,’
the maid gloated, her eyes shining with malice. ‘You’ll be back
raking bird shit or selling coconuts at the side of the road, where
you belong.’
David had taken a step toward them, his face red and angry,
his blue eyes so dark they looked black. ‘How dareyou speak to
her like that,’ he yelled.
The servants’ jaws dropped. They took one look at Mei Li’s
furious champion and without stopping to pick up their buckets
they scurried off. But he knew they were just biding their time.
While they didn’t dare confront her now while she was the heroine of the hour, he had no doubt they were playing a waiting
game. He dreaded to think what her life would be like if she ever
lost Adele’s favour. David had already extended his holiday by
more than a month. He knew he should leave. He was letting
down his father and taking advantage of the Lings’ hospitality,
but he was worried about leaving Mei Li on her own.
His father had phoned him only last night and in his tactful
way suggested it was time he came home.
‘I’d like to stay on a bit longer and come back with the Lings,
if that’s all right with you Pa. They haven’t set a date yet, but I
imagine they’ll be flying over fairly soon. Pau is graduating next
month.’
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The White Amah
It’s a rum thing, thought Sir Roland. Anyone would think
David had met a girl over there. But he didn’t say anything to his
wife. He was always a firm believer in the saying, ‘Don’t trouble
trouble until trouble troubles you.’
David caught up with Clarence and fell in step with him. ‘When
you go to England will you be taking many of the servants?’ He
asked the question casually, as if he was making conversation
and didn’t have any special interest.
‘Of course, we’re taking a house for the season. You can’t
expect Mother to run the household singlehandedly and you
can’t get good servants in England.’
David tried not to smile. He didn’t want to show his hand but
he couldn’t help himself. He was sure Adele wouldn’t want to
be separated from her amah and no one in the family ever said
no to the spoilt little madam. Once he got Mei Li to England
he would talk to his father. He would know how to help her.
He smiled brightly at his hostess, pausing to enquire who was
winning. The four matrons on the veranda smiled indulgently
at the gentle giant.
‘He’s a very nicely brought up young man,’ said Wen approvingly.
‘Yes, we’re fortunate to have him,’ Xiang answered, picking
up the tile from Wen’s discards to complete her hand. ‘I win,’ she
crowed, scooping up her winnings.

› 173‹
Rubiah

› 175‹
Chapter 21
‘You can’t go in there,’ exclaimed the secretary, barring the
boardroom door. ‘The chairman’s in a meeting.’
‘Get out of my way, you stupid bitch. I won’t forget this. I’ll
make sure he fires you.’
Rubiah glared malevolently at her lover’s frightened secretary
and burst into the boardroom with the unhappy secretary in her
wake, just as Joseph Ling raised his glass of Chivas Regal Royal
Salute to toast the chief. The tribal elder had just agreed to sell
eighty hectares of rainforest to the Baram Hardwood Timber
Company at well below its true value and without going through
an intermediary. There was no need for Joe to bribe greedy politicians who could sign away the natives’ land with the stroke of
a pen. As expected, the deal was struck on his terms. After all,
the destruction of a rebellious village was still fresh in the headman’s mind.
The entire village had been caught up in the preparations for
the wedding. The resonant sound of brass gongs and the thud
of drums had echoed across the pineapple plantation, drowning
out the squeals of the fatted pig the excited children were poking
with sharpened sticks. When the groom and his family arrived
the tormented beast would be butchered outside the longhouse,
in front of the bride’s door.
The bride’s mother was putting the finishing touches to the
feast when she heard a lorry coming up the jungle track. She
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frowned. The guests were early and there was still much to do.
Laughing happily, the children abandoned their victim and,
anticipating lollies, raced off to welcome the guests from the
groom’s longhouse. Without warning armed men had erupted
from the vehicle, shooting their rifles wildly, trampling the bridal
feast spread out on mats in front of each longhouse door and
driving the frightened families into the jungle. The men’s orders
were to burn down the longhouse, but the gasoline-fed flames
spread to the adjacent jungle.
The fire burned for three days and destroyed all the valuable
old-growth forest the villagers had refused to sell. Along with the
precious timber, thirty-three lives were lost, including that of the
teenage bride who’d run barefoot into the jungle to escape the
men intent on raping every girl they could catch. It was an open
secret that the arsonists worked for Joseph Ling.
‘Rubiah, I’m so glad you could make it after all,’ Joseph said
silkily, his arm heavy on her shoulders, his eyes steely as he propelled her into the room. ‘That will be all,’ he said, dismissing
his secretary.
He smiled at the chief. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Rubiah,
my second wife. Her family has a longhouse on the upper Pangup, close to the Indonesian border.’ He pressed his unwelcome
visitor down into a rosewood chair with a grip of iron. ‘As you
can see, I chose my beloved second wife from your people
and she has taught me to value the Dayak culture. I invited
you here today to meet her so you can understand why I’m so
interested in forming partnerships with the indigenous tribes.’
His fingernails dug brutally into the flesh of Rubiah’s upper
arm, a warning not to countermand his words and not to cause
a scene.
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The White Amah
Rubiah put on an amazing performance and the old chief
never guessed that she hadn’t been invited to the meeting. You
have to hand it to her, Joe thought as she flattered the tribal
elder, winning him over completely. As it happened, her unexpected arrival had been a masterstroke, more effective than a
ten-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch, but it could have turned out
differently, and he seethed inwardly while he smiled effusively
at his wilful mistress and his gullible guest.
It was late when the contract was finally signed and the driver
had taken the befuddled chief back to his hotel. Tipsy, Joe and
Rubiah retired to the small company apartment he used when
he worked late.
‘What’s got you so riled up?’ he snarled as he took off his
jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘You nearly queered my
deal.’
‘I’ve just found out you’re going to England without me, what
do you expect?’ she spat.
Joe couldn’t believe she’d found out about the trip so soon.
He’d only confirmed the arrangements with Xiang that morning. He didn’t know that Mei Li had phoned Rubiah as soon as
she’d heard that she was to accompany the family to England,
ignorant of the storm she’d stirred up. Rubiah had stewed over
the news all morning and had worked herself into a rage. I hate
the bastard, she thought. I wish he were dead. He always said she
was the one he loved yet she would be the only one left behind.
Even that useless Mei Li got to go. When Mei Li told her, she
had been too angry to cry. By the time she had marched into
Joseph’s office she’d been totally out of control. With difficulty,
she’d kept her temper in check in front of the chieftain, but now
her anger came back, twice as strong.
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Ann Massey
‘When the hell were you going to tell me?’ She let fly at him
with sharp red talons.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Joe said, looking at the droplets beading on his shoulder. He slapped her with the palm of
his hand, hard enough to leave an imprint on her cheek. He
meant to let her off easily, but she flew straight back at him and
grabbed him by the throat. He prised her fingers from his neck,
captured both hands and pinned her down on the bed. She spat
and scratched in her fury. He released her, only to tear his belt
out of his trousers and wind it round his hand.
‘No, Joe!’ she screamed.
Later, he raised his head to look at her. Why did the grasping
bitch have such power over him? It wasn’t just her pretty face
and lush body that stirred his desire; it was the odd combination of violence and vulnerability, naivety and depravity that
intrigued and bound him to her as tightly as a wedding band.
Rubiah turned away, embarrassed that he knew she’d felt desire
mingled with the pain. They lay beside each other on the bare
boards, spent by the fury of their passion.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rubiah finally. “I don’t know what gets into me.
You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone to your office. But you’re all I
have, and sometimes … I feel like I mean nothing to you.’
‘I look after you, don’t I?’
‘Leave Xiang.’
‘Xiang’s my wife,’ Joe said impatiently.
Rubiah searched his face. There was no indecision, only
steely resolve. ‘I want to go to England with you.’
‘We’d have to travel separately and stay in different hotels, and
I wouldn’t be with you for most of the time.’
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The White Amah
‘Just as long as we can be together sometimes.’
‘Come to bed.’ Joe was watching her, his eyes like slits of
granite, his lips compressed into a hard straight line.
As she struggled to remove the wooden beads she always wore
they got caught up in her hair. We’ll be here all night at this rate,
he thought, and he grabbed hold and yanked them free, pulling
out a hank of her long flowing hair.
‘Owww, you just about scalped me.’
‘Be nice to me, babe, and I’ll get you something nicer to wear
than this old thing.’ With a snort of derision he dropped the
sacred Dayak icon on the floor.

› 181‹
Tuff

› 183‹
Chapter 22
Tuff answered the door in underwear from her newly
released Bondage range, clutching a Bloody Mary. She seemed
tipsy, and the young reporter from Vanity Fairraised her eyebrows at her colleague as they followed the stumbling rock queen
through the magnificent great hall and into the baroque courtyard. The photographer was impressed by the setup. He thought
the courtyard wouldn’t have looked out of place in a palazzo in
Rome and immediately started to snap establishment shots of
the Olympic-sized pool and formal gardens.
‘Floyd, bring us another jug and some more glasses, and don’t
forget the Tabasco sauce this time,’ snapped Tuff.
A powerfully built youth in a fluorescent green g-string and
cut-off T-shirt who was diffidently vacuuming the pool obediently loped off to the house. The young female reporter tried
not to gape.
‘Buns of steel,’ commented Tuff with a knowing smile.
‘This is all so grand and opulent. Quite a change from your
tour of Somalia.’
‘The plight of children in that war-ravaged country keeps
me awake at night, but I was willing to put up with hardship
and danger for their sake. It was very hard for me to leave them
behind, but I couldn’t adopt them all.’ Inexplicably, Tuff had
turned down the first child her agent had shown her, an enchanting baby girl, in favour of twin brothers Hari and Rashni. ‘I’ve
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Ann Massey
connected with them,’ she had told her astounded agent, who
thought the little girl was more appealing than the unremarkable, gangly boys. ‘I feel I can do more to help the others with
my Tuff on Poverty world tour.’
‘Over two-point-five billion people watched your television
special Tuff Love,’ said the journalist. ‘How does that make you
feel?’
‘Awed. It’s been quite a journey.’ Where’s Floyd got to, Tuff
wondered idly as she adroitly fielded the reporter’s questions.
‘It’s quite a change from rock icon to crusader for children’s
rights.’
‘Not really. Who wouldn’t be concerned about starving children? As an idol to millions of people all over the world, I’m
fortunate to be in a position to use my celebrity to publicise their
plight.’ Tuff swirled the melting ice cubes in her empty glass and
looked around for the tardy pool boy. It wasn’t fair that a superstar
like her couldn’t get decent help.
‘You seem so different in the special from the rebellious chick
that shocked the establishment when you burst on the scene
seventeen years ago.’
‘Times change, and I’ve changed and grown with them,
obviously. I’m a still a wild, aggressive rock chick when I’m performing, but at heart I’m a soft sell, especially when it comes
to babies and children. Excuse me.’ She picked up her mobile
phone.
The reporter got up politely and walked over to talk to the
photographer, then returned to the table after Tuff had put the
phone down.
‘That was a reporter from the Sunasking me if I’d like to
comment on Josh Chadwick’s knighthood.’
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The White Amah
‘And? ’
‘I told him I was so delighted. Sir Josh, da bomb!’ she said,
hamming it up to hide her bitterness from the reporter.
‘Weren’t you a member of his group Speed in the early days?’
The reporter was grateful to have been given an opportunity to
direct the conversation to the rivalry between the country’s two
greatest male and female performers. Neither of them had ever
been drawn into revealing the facts behind the feud and it would
be a real coup for her if she could get Tuff to open up.
‘Only briefly. He’s a great artist and I couldn’t be more pleased
that he’s been honoured in this way. How much longer is this
going to take?’ She tapped her fingers on the glass table impatiently and looked at her watch. ‘Cartier,’ she said, catching the
reporter’s envious look. ‘My agent has prepared this release. It’s
got all the dates and venues for the Tuff on Poverty concerts.’ She
stood up to indicate the interview was at an end.
‘My colleague would like to get some photographs of you with
your two adopted children,’ the reporter responded, realising
Tuff was not going to be drawn into talking about her relationship with ‘the nice guy of rock’. Josh Chadwick was the nation’s
favourite musician, and the sobriquet, first used by a reporter
from Rolling Stone, had entered into the British public’s collective consciousness.
‘They’re both at boarding school. Naturally I’d like nothing
more than have them live here with me all the time, but it just
doesn’t work with me being on tour for most of the year.’ She
shrugged. ‘There are some pics of me with Hari and Rashni in
the press kit, but I think my fans would rather see me in my new
lingerie line. Don’t you agree? I’ll just go and round up the hired
help. It can’t hurt to have some eye candy in the pictures.’
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Ann Massey
She really is incredible, thought the reporter as the muscled
beauty, looking erotic in a black leather steel-boned corset and
thigh-high, metal-studded suede boots, posed beside the pool
with a near-naked trio of brooding male models that doubled as
her handymen.
Stupid cow, thought Tuff after they’d left. She had no liking
for the media and thought of them as ravaging jackals waiting
to pounce if ever she let down her guard.
It had been seventeen years since Tom and Willie had taken
the Kongs’ money and run out on her without any explanation.
She had loved Tom. When she realised she’d been used something had died inside her, and she resolved never to let anyone
get close to her again. Salvation had come in the form of the
elderly chief executive of a minor British recording company
who discovered her singing at a sleazy nightclub in Miri. He
bought her a ticket to London, put her up in his apartment, paid
for a sexy new wardrobe and helped launch her career, even
coming up with the name that defined her image. She moved
out of the randy old goat’s bed when her very first single went
platinum, signing a contract with his biggest rival.
Not long after, Josh Chadwick burst on the scene and landed
a contract with the same recording company. His compositions
were a daring mix of vitality, speed and youthful impetuosity, but
it wasn’t just his talent that propelled him to the top: his cleancut, nice-guy personality made him a hit with male and female
fans, both young and old. Over the last decade he had changed
gear and his music was now more mainstream. Just about every
singer in the business had had a big hit with one of his songs,
with Tuff the one glaring exception.
Seventeen years on, Josh’s feeling of contempt for the girl he
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The White Amah
had once loved was just as strong, even though he was now a
happily married family man. No amount of pressure from the
record company could persuade him to do an album with her. It
didn’t make sense to his agent – an album from the two biggest
rock stars was a guaranteed money-spinner – but Josh wouldn’t
even consider it. It was rumoured that he had even turned down
an offer of a million dollars and a share of the profits to appear
on her forthcoming concert tour.
At first Tuff had been scared that the media would find out
about her sordid past, but they never had and she’d stopped worrying long ago that Josh would talk. He’d returned to England
before she found out about the baby and he never knew she’d had
his child. Now she felt uneasy and she wondered if it had been
wise to adopt the twins from Somalia. It had been her publicity
manager’s suggestion to sponsor a charity to improve her image
and boost ticket sales. The syrupy television special that had
Tuff tenderly weeping over abandoned babies, and ended with a
surprise announcement she was adopting the boys, had also been
a bonanza for the charity. Donations to the fund went through
the roof and Tuff’s flagging career was revived.
The Tuff on Poverty concert tour was already sold out in
Britain. It was reported that scalpers were getting three hundred
pounds for a ticket to her opening concert at Wembley, and
tickets for the charity dinner, where guests got the opportunity
to talk to Tuff in person, were heavily subscribed despite costing
two thousand pounds apiece.
Marisa, her industrious agent, had come up with the idea
so she could also find them a boarding school, Tuff decided.
What did she pay her for anyway? Marisa had located a prestigious boarding school in the Highlands of Scotland that had a
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Ann Massey
history of taking foreign students, particularly from Africa, and
would keep them during the holidays so Tuff would never be
inconvenienced.
‘I travel so much. It wouldn’t be fair to leave them in that
lonely big barn with just the hired help,’ she had told the headmaster, disparaging the Elizabethan mansion house she’d
bought for a reported £3.25 million, and she dabbed her eyes
with a corner of her Swiss cotton handkerchief as she handed
over the non-English-speaking seven year olds into the care of
the formidable matron.
Tuff sighed. Meeting with the media always made her tense.
It wasn’t fair that she had to work so hard. She poured herself
another drink. The fact that Floyd was still idling by the pool
irritated her.
‘What am I paying you for? Bring over the massage oil,’ she
snapped and began undoing the leather thongs on her skin-tight
corset.
› 189‹
Chapter 23
Joseph Ling, his three children and Rubiah arrived for
the cocktail reception in the London Living Room at City Hall
at four-thirty pm. Ever since Adele had watched the Tu f f L o ve
special on TV she’d badgered her mother to let her go to the concert at Wembley. Lady Entwistle agreed with Madame Ling that
it wasn’t a suitable event for a young lady. To pacify Adele, Lady
Entwistle had asked her husband to use his contacts in the City
to obtain tickets to Tuff’s gala charity dinner. The dinner had
been sold out for weeks and it had taken all Sir Roland’s charm
to obtain five tickets. At the last minute Madame Ling had had
one of her migraines and Joe, already bored by long days in his
ageing wife’s company, thought it would be amusing to take his
sexy mistress in her place.
The holiday hadn’t turned out to be as much fun as Rubiah
had hoped. For over a fortnight she’d been sulking in her suite
at the Dorchester while Joe spent all his time with his family,
attending all the parties and social events the Entwistles had
organised for their important client, culminating in a cocktail
party to celebrate Pau’s graduation. So she was ecstatic when
Joe told her to get dolled up because he was taking her to Tuff’s
charity dinner and her mind started working overtime. Why was
he taking her to a fancy dinner if he wasn’t ready to show her off
to the world? Why was he introducing her to his children if he
hadn’t finally decided to divorce their mother?
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Ann Massey
She’d pulled out all the stops getting dressed and Joe thought
she’d never looked more alluring. Even though the cream of
the fashion and music world had turned out in Dolce and
Gabbana, Versace and Dior, the eyes of the male celebrities
were drawn irresistibly to the pocket Venus in the skin-tight red
satin dress, run up on a trestle sewing machine in a sweatshop
in Miri.
Their table was the centre of attention and Joe was proud to
be seen sitting beside his beautiful concubine. The elegance and
sophistication of his surroundings infected his mood. The air
was rich with insider gossip, their table was excellent, the food
was superb and below him the Pool of London sparkled enticingly. The big time beckoned. He felt powerful, ready to jump
right in. It was a perfect evening, apart from the behaviour of his
sons. Both of them were scowling at their plates, as if they’d been
served rotten fish instead of lobster thermidor. Joe was angry that
they were spoiling the evening.
Although Joe kept his two lives separate, Rubiah had caught
glimpses of Joe’s children over the years. Pau had really grown
up since he left Miri, and Rubiah admired his startling movie
star looks and sharp, high-cheek-boned profile. He was so different from his moon-faced brother. That’s how Joe would have
looked at the same age, she thought. How she wished she’d met
her lover before he’d married his wealthy older wife.
Joe was proud of his eldest son, who had graduated from
Oxford with a first in economics. Unlike Clarence and Adele,
who took after his dull wife, Pau was clever and ambitious. Now
that Pau had his degree Joe was looking forward to educating his
son in life’s realities. After dinner wound up, he had planned to
drop off Clarence and Adele at the apartment in Belgravia and
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The White Amah
then kick on with Rubiah and Pau. It was about time his heir and
mistress got to know each other. Some of his gangland associates
had told him about Lysander’s, a casino where London’s Triad
mafia liked to play, and he had been looking forward to cutting
loose. But there was no way he was going to allow his moody
son to spoil his fun and he abandoned the idea. Pau could stay
in the apartment and look after his brother and sister while he
enjoyed a night at the Dorchester.
His desire flared as he looked at Rubiah in her tight red cheongsam, so much like the one she had been wearing the night they
met. His sons might be sulking, but there was no doubt that his
mistress was as dazzled by the lavish surroundings as his daughter. Rubiah and Adele gaped in open-mouthed admiration as a
bevy of long-legged models danced down the catwalk in Tuff’s
sexy lingerie, but that was only the appetiser to the main course.
Wearing S&M-style riding gear and cracking a stock whip, Tuff
belted out her new single ‘Fierce Love’ from a massive cage. Six
powerful bodybuilders, tanned and oiled, strutted their stuff,
defiant as half-trained tigers. The climax of the Vegas-style routine was an action-packed martial arts fight. High flying, fast and
furious, Tuff was like an energised Jackie Chan. Using acrobatic
kicks and stylised karate moves, she spectacularly despatched all
her ‘opponents’.
Joseph Ling was not impressed. A seasoned street fighter, he
thought the choreographed fight was absurd. ‘She’d be the one
on her back if she ever tangled with me,’ he whispered to Rubiah,
his hand possessively caressing the warm golden thigh exposed
by the deeply slitted cheongsam. His fingers forced their way
beneath the skin-tight satin; underneath she was naked.
‘Just as long as you aren’t on top of her,’ Rubiah said, too
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Ann Massey
aroused to get mad, and with an expert hand she unzipped his
fly.
The brothers glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.
‘What a nerve to flaunt his whore in front of his own children,’
hissed Pau, so low that only Clarence heard. He stalked out to
the external walkway and stood brooding, the magnificent view
of the London evening skyline ignored.
At the end of her performance Tuff stripped down to a crystalbeaded corset and unfastened her dazzling necklace, its facets
dazzling in the reflected light from a giant mirror ball. ‘Be generous. Think about the orphans,’ she said, dimpling at the lord
mayor and his A-list guests.
‘Oh, Joe, isn’t it lovely?’
‘If you want it, just say the word, babe,’ said Joe.
The bidding started off briskly, but when the bids reached
twenty-five thousand pounds everyone else but Joe dropped
out.
‘Nothing’s too good for my lady,’ he boasted when Tuff came
over to the table to collect the cheque, fluttering her false
eyelashes at Joe and Clarence and ignoring Rubiah. But her
beguiling performance was lost on the gangster, who thought
the macho singer was repulsive. Dainty, feminine women like
Rubiah were more to his taste.
‘Enjoy,’ said Tuff, excusing herself as soon as photographs with
the Lings had been taken for the social pages. She didn’t want to
waste any more of her time on an Asian nobody. A few minutes
later she was laughing and joking with a long-forgotten pop star
and his Botoxed bride, unaware that Rubiah had recognised her
by her tattoo.
Coming straight to the city from a Dayak longhouse, Rubiah
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The White Amah
had been scared out of her wits the first time she’d seen the
hooded cobra tattooed on Tuff’s upper body, believing the
woman possessed demonic power. She had never forgotten and
yet she no longer feared her. She had learned that for Westerners
a tattoo was just a fashion statement.
‘This calls for champagne,’ said Joe, thinking Rubiah was
dazed by the magnificence of his gift. ‘The Krug, a magnum,’
he told the wine waiter.
‘I feel a little dizzy, Joe,’ said Rubiah. ‘I’ll just go outside and
get a little fresh air.’
There was no one else on the walkway except for herself and
Pau. ‘Look what your father just bought me. You should have
stayed for the auction. It was so exciting. I thought Joe would pull
out when that rapper in the big clothes dripping gold bid twenty
thousand pounds, but he was determined to get it for me.’
Like his brother, Pau was appalled by his father’s generous
gift. Did it mean his father was planning to divorce their mother
and put this whore in her place? Pau wouldn’t put anything past
him. Still brooding over the insult to his adored mother, he felt
like ripping the sparkling choker from the slender neck of his
father’s expensive whore. Glowering, he elbowed her aside, too
angry to answer.
Jealous, thought Rubiah fleetingly, not giving the insult much
attention. She had more important things on her mind than a
slight from an ill-mannered youth. Who would have thought it
– Tuff, the most famous recording star in Britain, was Mei Li’s
mother. Rubiah was certain the singer would pay a lot to keep
that piece of information quiet, a lot more than Joe had shelled
out for the necklace. She made up her mind to confront the star
at the first opportunity.
› 194‹
Ann Massey
Like a crystal butterfly in her sequined corset, Tuff was flitting
from table to table, alighting for a moment beside the most illustrious star but only until she scented a more successful celebrity.
But eventually she tired of table hopping and made her way to
the ladies’ room. Rubiah excused herself and followed her in.
‘What a surprise bumping into you in here,’ Tuff said, realising she could hardly pretend she hadn’t recognised the Chinese
businessman’s tart.
‘It was no accident. I saw you come in here and I followed
you. We’ve met before.’
‘One meets so many people,’ sighed Tuff, turning away and
searching for her lipgloss.
‘I think you’ll remember when I remind you of the circumstances.’
As if, thought Tuff dismissively. ‘I have to return to my table
now. Final speeches, so boring. The necklace looks good on you,
by the way.’ She edged towards the door and escape from this
persistent nonentity.
‘You caused me a lot of trouble,’ said Rubiah, barring her
way. ‘A lotof trouble. And now you’re going to have to pay me
back, big time.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Tuff fantasised about
kicking the woman in the crotch and then dismissed the idea;
another court appearance wouldn’t improve her image.
‘Do you know where we come from?’
Tuff shook her head and shrugged.
‘I thought not.’
‘Okay, for christ’s sake where do you live then?’
‘Does Miri mean anything to you?’
‘Miri!’ Tuff was so startled she dropped the lipgloss.
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The White Amah
‘I thought that would get your attention. You gave birth to a
baby girl in Doctor Kong’s clinic and you sold her, didn’t you?’
‘No, no I never did that. You can get yourself into a lot of
trouble making wild accusations.’
‘Didn’t you ever wonder what had happened to her? Did you
think about her on her birthday, wonder if she had enough to
eat or if people were being kind to her? Didyou?’ hissed Rubiah.
‘You’re going out there now to make a speech about orphaned
children in Africa. What about poor Mei Li?’
‘Mei Li?’
‘Your daughter!’ said Rubiah fiercely. ‘Here.’ She hunted
through her bag for her mobile phone. ‘Look,’ she said, bringing up a photo of Mei Li.
Under David’s tutelage, Mei Li was becoming competent
with technology and she’d sent the photo to Rubiah’s mobile in
the belief the woman she thought of as her mother was still in
Miri. David had taken the photo of Mei Li feeding the pigeons in
Trafalgar Square. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail
and her face, which could have been Tuff’s own at the same age,
was smiling joyfully into the camera.
‘She looks like me.’
‘Daughters usually look like their mothers,’ said Rubiah. Privately she didn’t think sweet-faced Mei Li looked anything like
her hag of a mother, but she hadn’t known Crystal at seventeen,
before she reinvented herself.
Tuff handed back the mobile. ‘Does she know about me?’
‘Not, yet,’ replied Rubiah, the threat implicit.
‘What do you want?’
‘What do you think? Either you pay me to keep quiet or I’ll sell
the story to the highest bidder. I read a story about you and those
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Ann Massey
orphaned twins you adopted in the Sun. What a follow-up this
would be. I only have to make one call and you’re finished.’
‘Don’t do that. I’m a very rich woman. I’ll give you anything
you want.’
‘Good, you’re very wise. I’m staying at the Dorchester in suite
twenty-three. Be there tomorrow at three pm and bring your
cheque book.’
When she’d gone Tuff locked herself in a stall and sat with
her head in her hands, moaning softly in case someone heard.
She was finished if this came out, especially now when she had
made such a display over adopting the twins. She wondered how
much the Sunwould pay that mercenary cow for a tell-all story.
It wasn’t fair. She allowed herself to cry even though she knew
it meant panda eyes.
› 197‹
Chapter 24
Tuff dressed conservatively for her assignation with
Rubiahin a tailored navy Chanel suit, a hand-painted silk scarf
round her neck to hide her famous tattoo. She had several wigs
she regularly wore when she craved anonymity and now she put
on a mid-length black one. The transformation was amazing.
Tuff felt confident that any photographers lurking outside the
Dorchester wouldn’t recognise her. Still, she couldn’t disguise
her striking beauty and she caught the eye of a number of guests
milling round the hotel’s foyer, but none of them identified the
tall, elegant woman behind the dark glasses as the queen of rock
and roll.
Rubiah had left her door ajar. Anticipating the pay-off, Tuff
thought sourly. She had agonised over the situation and made
up her mind to give the unscrupulous blackmailer whatever she
asked as long as she kept her mouth shut. She rapped on the
door sharply, and without bothering to wait for an invitation
walked in.
Rubiah lay on the tumbled bed in a crumpled heap like a
discarded doll, white satin robe stained crimson and with the
long sash bound tightly round her throat. Tuff backed away
from the bruised and bloodstained body in horror, shaking
with fear. She had to get out of there. Just then Rubiah moaned
feebly. She’s not dead, thought Tuff with relief, and rushed to
help her.
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Ann Massey
After she removed the sash she tried to sit Rubiah up, but she
had lost consciousness again. Tuff knew she had to call for help,
but her instinct for self-preservation was quickly coming to the
fore and she decided to call from a lobby phone. She looked
at her bloodstained hands in horror. She’d have to wash them
first. She was drying her hands when the Filipino housemaid
came into the bedroom and screamed loudly enough to wake
the dead. Tuff looked around for somewhere to hide. Drawing
the curtain of the shower stall, she huddled in the corner, praying she wouldn’t be discovered. Go for help! she willed the maid.
Don’t just stand there screaming, you stupid cow.Tuff hoped she
might still have a chance to slip away unnoticed, but her prayer
went unanswered.
In no time the room was full of hotel staff and fifteen minutes
later the police arrived. The sergeant found Tuff cowering in the
shower, too frightened to show herself.
‘I’m Chief Inspector Marwick and this is Detective Sergeant
Berry,’ said a burly, middle- aged man. He looked self-satisfied.
He hadn’t expected to find the assailant so easily. ‘Could you tell
us your name, madam?’
Tuff shook her head. She was trembling violently. Berry
pulled out a chair and she sank into it.
‘We’d like to ask you some questions about what took place.
Could you explain what you were doing here, madam?’
‘I have nothing to say until I’ve talked to my lawyer.’
‘You can phone him from the station. We’re quite happy for
him to be present when we charge you.’
‘Charge me … What with, for christ’s sake?’
‘Murder.’
‘Murder? That’s impossible. She was alive when I found her.
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The White Amah
Surely you can’t think I had anything to do with her death. This
is outrageous. Do I look like a murderer?’
Both officers looked coldly at the wild-eyed woman in the
bloodstained suit; neither had the slightest doubt of her guilt.
‘We would like to ask you some more questions at the station,’
said Marwick, grasping her firmly by the upper arm, surprised to
feel iron-hard muscles under her fine cashmere jacket. She was
certainly strong enough to have beaten up and strangled such a
tiny woman, he judged.
‘Don’t touch me,’ warned Tuff, pulling away and lashing out
furiously. In the short scuffle before she was overpowered, her
wig fell off and her dark glasses were broken.
‘Well, just look who’ve we’ve got here,’ said Marwick as he
placed the wig and sunglasses in a plastic evidence bag, thinking
what a tale he’d have to tell his wife.
‘Give that back to me,’ she hissed.
‘Are you going to come quietly or are you going to make
things … tough on yourself.’ Marwick smirked, his beady eyes
agleam.
Berry grinned. He couldn’t wait to see his mates’ faces when
they brought in the most well-known celebrity in Britain. It was
worth a cut lip, he thought.
The media pack was assembled outside, eager to get pictures and
a statement for the six o’clock news.
‘My God, that’s Tuff,’ exclaimed the astonished reporter from
the Telegraphto his rival on the Sun, thrown by such an unexpected scoop.
There was a momentary hiatus as the newshounds took in
the startling revelation, then cameras flashed endlessly as a
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Ann Massey
demented Tuff was half dragged and half carried to the waiting
police car by two stern-faced detectives. She was charged with
the murder of Rubiah.
‘But I’m innocent,’ she sobbed as she was led away to a cell.
After the police officers left, Tuff stalked backwards and forwards like a caged tigress. Her heart was pounding furiously
and she was too hyped up to stop her endless circuits of the
tiny cell. She couldn’t understand why everyone was so ready to
believe she was guilty, not only the detectives but her solicitor
too. She’d spent over two hours with him and she could tell he
hadn’t believed a word of her story, although he had agreed to
represent her.
‘The police seem confident that the blood on your suit will
match up with the victim’s,’ Bailey, the poker-faced solicitor had
pointed out.
‘I’ve already told you how that happened. I was trying to resuscitate her.’
‘And it hasn’t helped your case that you were discovered hiding in the bathroom in disguise.’
‘I didn’t kill her. I was trying to save her. Why won’t anyone
believe me?’
‘I’m afraid the fact that you admitted the victim was blackmailing you has provided a motive for the crime.’
‘But I didn’t touch her. She was dying when I arrived. You’ve
got to believe me. It’s not fair that a woman in my position should
be treated like a common criminal. Why don’t the police look
for the real killer instead of picking on me just because I’m rich
and famous?’
‘If someone else is responsible the police will find him or her.
If you’re innocent you have no need to fear.’
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The White Amah
‘But what happens in the meantime? When am I going to get
out of here?’ she screeched.
‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay in custody until the police
have provided all their evidence to the Department of Public
Prosecutions and –’
‘I’m not staying here,’ she said in horror. ‘Get me out, now.
Do you hear me, Bailey? They can’t keep me in this place.’ She
wrinkled her nose and looked around the bare cell. ‘It’s not
hygienic. I won’t stay.’
‘Calm down, Ms Brooke,’ Bailey said, removing her frantic
hands from the lapels of his bespoke pinstriped suit. ‘I’m doing
all that’s possible to have you released on bail.’
‘Bail … oh, thank god. How long will that take?’ She gave
him a half-smile.
‘Tomorrow morning at the earliest.’
‘You mean I have to stay in here tonight? No way. Let me out,’
she yelled and began pounding on the cell door.
‘You mustn’t upset yourself like this, my dear,’ he said, drawing her back to the hard narrow bunk. ‘Try to rest. You have to
appear before the magistrate tomorrow and you want to make a
good impression, don’t you?’
Bailey knew Sir Alaric Eddy had an eye for the ladies. It was
well known that he was predisposed to show leniency when his
sexual interest was piqued, but it was unlikely he’d be attracted
by this client’s bizarre appearance. The solicitor sighed. It had
been a long day and he needed to put in a hard night’s work if
he was to convince the old goat to grant bail.
He stood up and rapped on the cell door. ‘I’ll ask the warden
if your doctor can visit you. Perhaps he can prescribe a sedative
to help you get through the night.’
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Ann Massey
The door opened and he went out quickly without a backward
glance at his traumatised client, who was standing in the middle
of the cell trying to avoid touching any surface. There was no
way she was going to lie down on the bunk, even if it meant she
had to stand up the entire night.
As expected, the court was packed. The media turned up in full
force to hear Sir Alaric Eddy remand Crystal Brooke, also known
as Tuff, to trial without bail.
‘Not So Tuff!’ screamed the Sun’s headline above a picture
of the hysterical rock star being bundled into the paddy wagon
along with prostitutes, drug dealers, muggers and shoplifters,
bound for Holloway Prison.
› 203‹
Chapter 25
The crowded prison was experiencing massive staff
shortages and overworked prison officers were fighting a losing battle when it came to hygiene. The double cell allocated to
Tuff hadn’t been cleaned after the previous inmate was moved
to a bail hostel. The old woman who shared Tuff’s cell didn’t
give a monkey’s but the millionaire rock star was used to fivestar service. When she complained, the prison officer told her
to hurry up and make her bed and then she’d show her where
the mops were kept.
Tuff stared at the prison-issue bedding in disbelief. Her
own seven-hundred-thread-count embroidered sheets were
woven from Italian linen and coordinated perfectly with her
handcrafted Egyptian cotton duvet. Tuff loved the feel of clean,
pressed sheets every night, and her housekeeper changed them
twice a day, in the morning and after her afternoon nap. Clumsily, she made up the bunk with the greyed sheets and spread
the thin blanket on top. When she finished she curled up on the
rough blanket and tried to sleep.
How had it come to this? There wasn’t a single person who
really cared what happened to her. They’re all jealous, she told
herself, forcing back a sob. It was just because she was a tall
poppy. She remembered how, when she first started to make a
name for herself, she’d thought about contacting her father but
there were too many secrets in the way. Now she was glad she’d
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Ann Massey
resisted the urge. She hoped he’d never find out she was rotting
in prison, accused of murder. She felt tears start in her eyes.
The other occupant smiled to herself. She knew Tuff’s mattress was infested with bedbugs. Their itchy bites had driven the
previous occupant mad and covered her completely in swollen,
infected sores. The old woman would have warned anyone else
but she wasn’t having any truck with a heartless monster who had
sold her newborn baby to headhunters. ‘It’s a wonder they didn’t
eat the poor thing,’ she said to anyone who’d listen. ‘They’re
cannibals, yer know.’
The first wretched day dragged on and the prisoners were
locked in their cells at three-thirty in the afternoon.
‘Get used to it,’ the old lag told Tuff when she complained.
‘This is nothing. In the old days we could be banged up for
twenty-four hours a day.’
‘They’ll have to let us out to go to the bathroom,’ Tuff said
when she found out their toilet was blocked.
‘Not on your nelly.’ She pointed to a bucket beside the hand
basin. ‘In case you get caught short.’
Tuff couldn’t believe it when the shrivelled-up old woman
lifted up her skirt, pulled down her knickers and squatted over
a plastic bucket. A sour gaseous smell like rotten eggs spread
through the cell, saturating the air and overlaying the institutional odour of carbolic and urine that infused the entire prison
and seeped into the pores of the inmates.
‘When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,’ she said.
‘You can’t expect me to eat in here,’ Tuff screeched at the
prison officer when she brought the evening meal. ‘It’s unhygienic.’
‘Tough. You’re in prison.’
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The White Amah
It was the smirk accompanying the words that infuriated Tuff,
and she picked up the brimming chamber pot and threw its
contents at the unprepared officer.
‘You … animal! I’ll have you up on a charge.’
‘I don’t give a damn,’ yelled Tuff. ‘What are you going to do
about it? Put me in jail?’
‘Clean this place up.’
‘Make me.’ Tuff turned her back and gingerly picked her way
over the flooded floor to her bunk. She sat down and stared at
the officer defiantly.
‘Clean it up,’ the officer ordered Tuff’s cell mate, and with
an angry glare at both prisoners she locked the door behind her.
Fuming, she charged off to the shower, leaving the other prisoners’ meals to go cold on the trolley.
When Tuff woke next morning she itched all over. She lifted
her T-shirt and looked at her torso. Her chest and stomach were
covered in bright-red welts where she’d scratched in her sleep.
Even her head itched. As soon as the cell doors were unlocked
the prisoners headed for the dining room. Tuff hung back and
sneaked off to the bathroom.
The prison was divided into four units, each with its own
dining room and ablution blocks. There were only two showers
and four baths provided for the thirty-plus women in each unit.
To Tuff’s relief the block was clean, but she was still taking no
chances. She’d only been in prison one day and she’d picked up
fleas; she didn’t want to catch crabs as well. She carefully covered
the toilet seat with layers of toilet paper, using up the remainder
of the roll. Every chick for herself had always been her motto.
By order, showers were limited to five minutes. Tuff smirked
› 206‹
Ann Massey
when she read the notice … as if, and she stepped out of her
panties. The stream of hot water was bliss and Tuff closed her
eyes. Luxury! She had half expected the water to be stone cold.
She didn’t care about missing breakfast if it meant she could
have a shower before all the hot water was used up. She groaned
inwardly. How was she going to cope without her caffeine fix if
she had to go without breakfast every day? She was used to being
handed a double-shot soy latte when she woke, and heaven help
the unfortunate minion who forgot the marshmallows. It wasn’t
fair, being tortured like this. Wait until the authorities discovered
their mistake. Heads would roll, she’d make sure of that.
Tuff was deep in thoughts of vengeance when her sixth sense
told her something was wrong. She wiped the water from her eyes.
Two women, obviously identical twins, stood staring at her, their
eyes glazed and empty. The ‘agony aunts’ – the prisoners’ nickname for the sadistic sociopaths who terrorised the prison – had
been named Jayne and Marilyn by their mother after two glamorous movie stars she’d hoped they’d grow up to be like. There could
not have been two more unlikely Hollywood starlets. Everything
about the twins was chilling and menacing. The heavily built
women looked powerful. Denim overalls strained across shoulders
as broad as grid-iron football forwards; size-ten feet were encased
in prison issue boots, the type worn by football hooligans.
Tuff was terrified; wide-eyed, she looked at the two stonyfaced women.
‘Well, look who we’ve got here,’ said Marilyn. ‘The baby pedlar, alone and helpless …’
‘… like that poor kid she ditched,’ said Jayne, completing her
twin’s sentence. ‘You’re gonna pay for what you done, bitch. Me
and my sister are gonna beat the shit out of yer, and that’s just
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The White Amah
for starters,’ She drew a sharpened spoon from her pocket, fierce
piggy eyes shining with excitement.
Tuff looked from the homemade blade to the mean faces
of the twins and back again. She screamed. Her voice was so
strong she could entertain a packed audience without using a
microphone, and she was confident that prison staff would hear
and come running.
‘Scream as loud as you like, slag. Even the screws think you’ve
got it coming,’ said Marilyn.
‘I’ve got a black belt in judo,’ Tuff yelled, hoping she sounded
more confident than she felt. No one had come to help her. She
was about to find out if she’d wasted the thousands of dollars
she’d spent on martial arts classes.
The twins looked at the naked woman cowering in the shower
and laughed. ‘Me first,’ squealed Jayne and her sister grunted
assent. ‘Right slag, come to Ma-ma,’ yelled Jayne, the sharpened
spoon held high in her hand.
An idea flashed through Tuff’s head. As the woman charged
into the stall she turned the cold tap full on. A torrent of icy
water poured down, soaking Jayne as thoroughly as if she’d been
sprayed with a garden hose. Freezing and furious, it took several
seconds for the drenched woman to stop cursing. While she was
still spluttering, Tuff grabbed the bully’s beefy arm, got a good
grip on the bib of her soaked overall and yanked hard, forcing her
forward and onto her toes. Twisting to the left, Tuff slammed her
hip into Jayne’s upper thigh and flung the dumbfounded bully
over her right shoulder. It was a classic hip throw, executed flawlessly just like her trainer had taught her. Ninety kilos of flesh
and bone hit the floor with a sickening thud. Jayne groaned
once and passed out.
› 208‹
Ann Massey
Marilyn looked down at her motionless sister in disbelief.
‘I warned you,’ yelled Tuff, assuming a judo stance and biting down on her bottom lip to stop it trembling. She knew she
couldn’t play the same trick twice. It would take a tank to stop
this crazy woman in her tracks.
‘You skanky ho! You’ll wish you were never born when I get
through with you,’ Marilyn screeched and launched herself at
Tuff like a wrecking ball.
This time Tuff went down under the onslaught but she
dragged Marilyn down with her and they both ended up
sprawled on top of Jayne in a tangled heap. Jayne opened her
eyes and moaned weakly. Her leg was lying at an angle and bone
was protruding through the skin below her knee.
‘Ger’off her,’ shrieked Marilyn, struggling to her feet, concern
for her sister at war with the compulsion to kick Tuff’s brains in.
‘Stay back,’ ordered Tuff, fighting back the sob that was rising
in her throat. She grabbed hold of Jayne’s broken leg with both
hands and twisted it sharply. The injured woman screamed.
Stop it! Leave her alone,’ begged Marilyn, rendered impotent
by her sister’s agonised shrieks.
‘Go and get a prison officer or she’ll never walk again,’ threatened Tuff, holding her breath, hoping sibling love was greater
than the crazy’s desire for revenge.
Within moments the room was crowded and Tuff handed the
razor-sharp spoon to a stunned officer. ‘Her leg’s broken. You’ll
need a stretcher. What sort of a place are you running here? I
could’ve been killed.’
Ellen Dodd stopped to chat at the bedside of all the patients
in the prison hospital as she made her way to the screened-off
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The White Amah
bed at the end of the ward. The guard stood up as the governor
approached.
‘She’s shamming, ma’am,’ she said with a sniff of disapproval.
The governor didn’t rebuke the officer. Like the jeering
crowds that lined the streets as the prisoner was driven to and
from court to appeal the decision not to grant bail, she was
revolted by Tuff’s hypocrisy, but she was more incensed by
Tuff’s pretence of campaigning for orphaned children than by
her alleged crime.
Tuff opened her eyes when she recognised the governor’s
toffee accent. Her eye was bruised and her lip was cut, but her
tongue was as sharp as ever. ‘Look what those bitches did to me.
Wait till the media finds out what sort of place you’re running
here.’
Privately, the governor thought the British public would be
pleased that the prisoners had dealt out rough justice. Young and
old, upstanding citizen or corrupt inmate, everyone despised the
schemer who’d abandoned her own child and then shamelessly
used a children’s charity to further her career.
‘Adjusting to life inside jail can be very difficult,’ Dodd told Tuff,
‘ but you must make an attempt to get on with the other inmates.
Your attitude makes it very difficult for my officers to protect you.’
‘Protectme? Get real! I’m lucky to be alive. Those two psychos
tried to kill me and no one lifted a finger.’
‘If you’d been in the dining room with your fellow inmates
this would never have happened. There are protocols in place
that apply equally to all inmates. My officers are mindful of their
duty of care. You are the one who put yourself at risk by flouting authority. While you’re under my jurisdiction you will obey
instructions, is that understood?’
› 210‹
Ann Massey
‘Hello. I’m the victim here. This is so not fair. Why don’t you
pick on those two crazies?’
‘We will investigate the incident,’ replied the governor, with
a sinking feeling, She hoped Tuff wouldn’t go public. A complaint from such a high-profile prisoner would be impossible
to cover up. ‘And we will do our utmost to ensure that something like this never happens again. However, public feeling
is so strong that I’ve decided to segregate you for your own
protection.’
‘What does that mean? Where am I going?’
‘To a one-person cell in the protective custody wing, which
means you won’t be allowed to mix with other prisoners. I realise this may seem harsh but it’s the only way we can guarantee
your safety.’
‘As if I’d want to associate with those freaks.’
‘You won’t have any choice if you’re convicted. This could be
your home for a long time.’
‘Convicted! That’s impossible. I’m innocent. Why don’t the
police look for the realkiller?’
‘Calm down. There are genuinely sick people on the ward.’
‘Calm down? You’re asking me to calm down when I’ve been
locked up for something I haven’t done, you incompetent bitch.’
Tuff picked up her tray and threw it at the governor.
‘Call the medical officer ASAP,’ Dodd said to the doctor
beside her. ‘Explain that it might be necessary to put her
on medication.’ Dodd glared at the hysterical prisoner and
stalked off to the bathroom to wipe off the clinging, glutinous
stew.
› 211‹
The White Amah
Dr Valerie Taylor presented herself in the governor’s office later
that afternoon.
‘Do you think it’s necessary to put her on suicide watch?’
Dodd asked her. The governor’s appointment was recent and she
knew how important it was to cover her back.
‘Frankly, Ellen, I’ve never met anyone less likely to end her
life,’ replied the doctor.
‘Can you imagine what a nightmare it’s going to be having
her here, Val? I could almost hope she gets off.’
‘No chance of that.’
‘Unless the judge calls off the trial.’
‘Why should he?’ asked the puzzled doctor.
‘He might decide to dismiss the charges because there’s no
way she’ll get a fair hearing in this country. If I was her lawyer,
that’s the angle I’d be pushing.’
‘I don’t know how he can live with himself,’ Taylor said, bristling indignantly as she helped herself to coffee.
‘It takes a certain type to defend the guilty. All the same she’s
entitled to a fair trial. But how the hell can she get that with the
hate the press has incited against her?’
‘My heart goes out to her daughter. You know they’re saying
Sir Joshua Chadwick’s the father.’
‘Well, a DNA test will sort that out one way or another, but
you see how difficult it’ll be for a jury to be objective, especially
if they’re mothers.’
‘I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes,’ said Taylor with a wry
smile.
‘Not even if they’re Jimmy Choos,’ agreed the governor and
for the first time that afternoon she smiled.
› 212‹
Ann Massey
‘Visitors,’ said the prison officer, unlocking the cell. Depressed,
Tuff was lying on her bunk with her face to the wall. She couldn’t
be bothered turning around. She knew it would just be old Bailey
again. The daily meeting with her starchy solicitor was as predictable and uninspiring as the stodgy, lumpy porridge they served
every morning for breakfast.
‘Jesus, we’ve got to get you out of here,’ said the burly stranger,
frowning at the bare brick walls, the narrow bunk bed, the metal
door with the observation window and the stainless steel toilet
and washbasin in full view.
‘Who the hell are you?
‘I’m Benny Allan, senior partner with Bradford’s. No doubt
you’ve heard of us. We’re the most successful PR company in
Britain,’ replied the confident dynamo in faded blue jeans and
a tight T-shirt covered by a postbox-red leather jacket.
She stared at him in astonishment. He looked like he worked
on a building site. She couldn’t imagine him in a boardroom, but
she could see him in cement-splattered shorts, his biceps bulging
in a tight singlet, whistling at the smart, snazzy office chicks. ‘I’m
not giving any interviews. You know that, Bailey.’
‘Mr Bailey here thought I could help you,’ said Benny with
a Cockney accent that didn’t seem to go with his LA tan and
designer-label threads. He placed a voice recorder on the table.
‘In case I need to remind myself of any crucial points later.’
‘Turn that thing off. You’ve got one minute to explain why
you’re here or you’re out of here.’
‘Calm down, my dear,’ said her flustered solicitor.
‘It’s like this, Ducky.’ The experienced spin-doctor had taken
Tuff’s measure and there was no way he’d let her get the better
of him. Poor old Bailey could duck and dive trying to please her,
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The White Amah
but Benny wasn’t going to allow her to treat him like a lackey.
‘At the moment you couldn’t find twelve people in the whole of
England who don’t think you’re as guilty as sin. That’s why you
need me. I’m the invisible man behind the news and I stop at
nothing to rescue the reputation of my clients.’
‘It’s too late.’ Tears were brimming in Tuff’s sunken eyes, the
dark circles contrasting starkly with her washed-out face.
Benny knew it was never too late. He had his strategy down
pat. His research team had stayed up until midnight developing
a plan that involved paying his friends in the press to flood the
tabloids with sympathetic stories, creating a supportive blog and
unearthing an alternative scapegoat.
‘Weren’t you just a kid when Sir Joshua Chadwick ran out
on you?’ he said quietly, dropping the brash manner and sitting
down beside her on the bunk. The springs groaned under his
bulk.
‘Seventeen, but Josh never knew about –’
‘You were left penniless and pregnant.’
‘Yes, but it was more complicated –’
‘Don’t concern yourself with the details. If you’re willing to
put yourself in my hands I’ll guarantee that by the time you go
to court there’ll have been a shift in public opinion. Everyone
will feel sorry for you and Josh Chadwick’s reputation will be in
tatters. You can bet your shirt on it.’
Josh has been mean to me, Tuff told herself, looking for justification for throwing him to the wolves. She remembered all the
insults she had suffered over the years. As recently as a month
ago he had deliberately turned his back on her at the BRIT
Awards. Everyone had noticed and she had felt small and dirty.
‘Josh is the baby’s father,’ she confirmed.
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Ann Massey
‘There you are then, Ducky. We’re home and hosed. There’s
only one other small problem. We need to get you and your
daughter together. The public will lap it up.’
Tuff couldn’t look him in the eye. ‘She won’t come, I know
she won’t.’
‘She will after she gets your letter.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to begin –’
‘That’s why you need me.’ Benny opened his man-bag and
handed her the contract.
She sighed. Benny thought she was flinching at his fee, but
Tuff hadn’t even raised an eyebrow at the cost. She’d spent more
than that just on shoes this year already. Why were the good ones
always gay? It was enough to drive a girl mad. She looked across
at her solicitor. ‘Sort it out, Bailey,’ she snapped. ‘That’s why I
pay you, for christ’s sake.’
› 215‹
Mei Li

› 217‹
Chapter 26
For the time of year, the weather was gloriously hot.
Summer was staunchly entrenched, standing its ground, defying
the date on the calendar. It was perfect weather to be outdoors
and even those who were obliged to be inside from nine to five
were making the most of the sunshine. Come midday, office
workers in cotton frocks or rolled-up shirtsleeves competed with
tourists for the best picnic spots in London’s leafy parks and gardens. When David asked for a day off to take Adele sightseeing,
his father, whose sharp intelligence went unrecognised behind
a reserved, kindly manner, smiled to himself and told his son to
take the rest of the week off.
Although they’d been in England for several weeks, neither
Adele nor her amah had spent much time in London. Madam
Ling preferred the countryside to the London flat her husband
leased for the season and she had taken full advantage of the
Entwistles’ invitation to stay with them as long as she liked – to
both her husband’s and David’s delight. Both men relished the
opportunity to spend time with the women they loved.
But while Joe Ling used pressing business as a manoeuvre to
get together with Rubiah, David wasn’t so lucky. Although he
was living in the same house as Mei Li, he hardly got to spend
any time with her. Between them, his mother and Madam Ling
kept her hopping, either dancing attendance on Adele or assisting the housekeeper, Mrs Smith, who complained forcefully to
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Ann Massey
anyone who’d listen about the extra work created by the Lings.
Taking Adele out for the day had been a brainwave. Madam
Ling never allowed her daughter to go anywhere without her
amah in tow.
Guessing Adele wouldn’t be interested in the history and
pageantry of the city, David had suggested they spend the day
at the zoo. At seven o’clock he was waiting in the hall, checking
his watch against the seventeenth-century grandfather clock in
the polished fruitwood case. He couldn’t bear to lose a moment
of Mei Li’s company.
The zoo was home to the stars of the animal kingdom: lions,
elephants, gorillas and giraffes. Adele had never seen so many
different kinds of animals. She ran excitedly from exhibit to
exhibit, determined to see everything.
‘This is better than our menagerie back home,’ she exclaimed,
finishing her ice cream and wishing it had been a double. Her
eyes lit up when she saw the cafe. Pausing to wipe her sticky fingers on her skirt, she ran up to David and tugged at his sleeve.
‘Let’s all have one,’ he said, grinning boyishly, and when Adele
hesitantly placed her hand in his he squeezed it and slipped his
free arm round Mei Li’s waist.
At the end of the day, instead of driving all the way back to
his parents’ home in Wiltshire, David had teed it up for them to
stay the night in the firm’s flat.
When Mei Li came downstairs after putting Adele to bed,
he’d already laid out the traditional Dayak betrothal gifts: three
bamboo boxes, a ring and a length of black satin just the right
length for a sarong. When Mei LI saw them she choked, too
overcome to speak. She had to swallow hard to push back the
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The White Amah
tears. Never had she expected to see the symbols of love spread
out for her approval. Long ago she had given up hope of ever
being courted and now suddenly here was David, so far above
her that she hadn’t dared to let herself dream, apologising to her
because he couldn’t find sirihleaves in London. The resourceful
lawyer had googled Dayak courting rituals and found out it was
customary for the suitor to climb to the top of the tallest tree to
handpick the best leaves to present to his fiancée.
When David saw the tears in her eyes he was dismayed. ‘I’ll
get you an enormous bunch when we go back to Borneo for the
wedding. If you’ll have me, that is,’ he added, sounding worried.
He hadn’t thought leaving out the leaves was such a big deal.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ answered Mei Li with such a radiant smile that
it took his breath away.
Leaves, she thought. What do they matter? She’d been his
from the moment he’d taken her in his arms and strode from
the hospital like a warrior claiming his woman. But she’d kept
the secret to herself. She’d learned to hide her feelings as a child
when she realised she was the ugly duckling of the village. By the
time she was ten, she was taller and skinnier than anyone else
in the tribe. The young men were embarrassed at being shorter
than a girl and made her the butt of their jokes. Even Granddad
teasingly called her Chopsticks. It was all very well for Grandma
to call her Little Lotus, but she’d seen the pity in her friends’ eyes
when she was the only girl in the longhouse without a suitor.
Lada had told her to keep practising on the loom. ‘Every
young man wants a wife who’s skilled at weaving.’
But Mei Li knew her mastery of the intricate traditional patterns didn’t matter a jot. Girls had to be pretty and petite to catch
a young man’s eye, and she was tall and gawky. Only repulsive
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Ann Massey
old Langkup was willing to marry her and then only because he
was getting Granddad’s boat cheap.
Engagement parties were torture. The worst part was when
her grandfather would teasingly say, ‘Young man come knocking
on our door soon. Make me proud man.’
Embarrassed, she would exclaim over her friend’s betrothal
gifts.
David would have been dumbfounded if he’d known that
Mei Li thought she wasn’t good enough to marry him. He had
been swept off his feet, crazy in love since the first time he’d seen
her working in the lovely garden in Luak Bay. He could scarcely
believe she hadn’t guessed. Now that she’d agree to marry him
he wanted to shout it from the roof tops or at least phone his
parents, but Mei Li persuaded him to wait until they had a
chance to know her better. ‘You have much, me just amah,’ she
exclaimed, ashamed by the inequality of their situations and the
instinctive knowledge that she wasn’t the bride Lady Entwistle
had in mind for her only son.
‘You little goose. Without you I have nothing. I’m going to
have to work out how to stop you saying such foolish things,’ he
said with a teasing smile before he covered her mouth with his
own.
Their happiness was short lived. Two days later the news of
Tuff’s arrest pushed an unruly minister’s peccadillo with his secretary off the front page of the Telegraph, to the prime minister’s
profound relief.
Mei Li had come into the room on the tail end of the Entwistles’ conversation.
‘It’s the most repugnant thing I’ve ever heard,’ said Lady
Entwistle. ‘Poor Xiang … I wonder if she’s seen the papers yet.’
› 221‹
The White Amah
‘That little maid,’ said Sir Roland, ‘the one that David’s so
fond of, she’s the one I feel sorry for. How do you think she’s
going to feel when she finds out?’
‘Finds out what?’ said Mei Li.
‘Oh, my dear,’ said Lady Entwistle, apprehensively eyeing the
tray of cut-crystal glasses Mei Li was carrying. ‘You better sit
down.’
Those first days, and then weeks, after Rubiah’s murder, Mei
Li felt like she was lost in a dense mist. Confused about her feelings towards the dead woman, she couldn’t fathom why Rubiah
had pretended to be her mother and why she’d let her go on
believing a lie. Nothing was clear. Her mind felt blurred and
hazy. Tears were her only release. She would cry for hours, every
day. When she remembered Tuff, the tears would turn to anger.
Never would she accept that monster as her mother.
With the exception of David, everyone left her alone. Day
after day he would knock on her door, intruding on her misery.
She wished he’d forget about her. There was no way she could
marry him now. She’d made her decision. Her place was with
her grandparents, but how could she stand to leave him? She
choked down a sob but it was no use. The tears welled up and ran
unchecked down her cheeks and she cried herself to sleep again.
A persistent and familiar voice in her ear had finally woken her.
‘Mei Li, get up.’ Grandma’s voice was soft but firm. ‘Wash
yourself and do your hair. Come on, get dressed, you’ve grieved
enough.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You never loved Rubiah. Not like I
did.’ She looked at her grandmother bitterly and turned her back
and her face to the wall.
The slap shocked her. Grandma had never hit her before. She
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Ann Massey
put her hand to her stinging cheek and the tears she’d been holding back flowed unchecked. ‘Grandma, what am I going to do?’
she sobbed.
A gnarled hand was placed against her burning cheek, cool
and comforting. ‘Get on with life, Little Lotus. That’s all I can do,
that’s all any of us can do.’ Grandma had such a look of sorrow on
her face that Mei Li knew her accusation had been unjust. How
could she compare her grief to that of Rubiah’s mother?
Ashamed, she washed and braided her hair, put on her uniform and went downstairs. It was three whole weeks since she’d
spoken a word to anyone.
David had been trying to read a book. He looked pale, with
dark shadows under his eyes. His hair was standing on end, and
his shirt and trousers were crumpled as if he’d been sleeping in
them. He looked up when he heard the door open.
‘Darling, thank god.’ He stood up and opened his arms. ‘Do
you want to talk about it?’
‘No, not ready.’
‘Don’t shut me out, Mei,’ he said, disappointed because he
wanted to hold and comfort her more than anything. ‘You have
to talk about it sometime. You can’t keep it all bottled up inside.
I want to help. I love you and I think … I hope … you still love
me.’
‘Me see if Mrs Smith needs me.’
Not to be put off, David followed her into the kitchen. In
the midst of so much misery there had been one piece of good
news. He told Mei Li that his father had rung an old friend who
worked in the Home Office about obtaining a British visa for
Mei Li. Approval had been granted.
‘It’s an ill wind that blows no good. It’s going to be much easier
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The White Amah
for you to stay in the country now. There won’t be any trouble
getting you a visa because your mother took out British citizenship when she launched her career in Britain.’
‘What? You think me pleased to be daughter of murderer?’
she said indignantly.
‘That’s I, not me,’ David corrected and hastily ducked when
Mei Li aimed one of the onions she was peeling at him. ‘Don’t
be so touchy. I’m only trying to help. I don’t want my friends
laughing at you when we marry.’
‘You better marry an English girl then, one who knows the
right thing to say. Like that Rosemary your mother invited to
your welcome-home party,’ she spat out, then wiped her angry
tears with the hem of the copious apron she’d borrowed from
Mrs Smith.
‘Them brown onions are killers. I allus peels ’em in water in
the sink. Oh lordy, it’s coming on raining,’ said the housekeeper,
sensing a row brewing, and she scurried out to the clothesline.
As soon as she left David gently took the knife out of Mei Li’s
hand. ‘We’ve got to talk. Pa is handing over the Baram Harwood
Timber portfolio to me and I’ll be travelling to Miri regularly to
run my eye over logging contracts. You’ll be able to come with
me once we’re married so it won’t be like you’re losing all links
with your past, and hopefully all the media interest will have
died down by the time we come back.’ It was the perfect solution,
so he was stunned by her response.
‘Why you help bad people take our land?’ she asked, incensed
that he was working for the company responsible for destroying
her people’s traditional way of life.
‘Lumber is required throughout the world and Borneo has
vast tracts of forest. The demand for wood and wood products
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Ann Massey
such as paper is expected to double in the next fifty years. The
timber industry is vital to Malaysia’s economy,’ he explained,
rolling out the statistics confidently.
‘Land belongs to Dayaks,’ she said stubbornly. ‘When trees
go, animals go, fish go and then the people go.’
‘We’re working strictly within the law, Mei.’
‘In your world only one law: strong takes from weak.’
‘Mei, I understand how you feel about the people who looked
after you. I don’t expect you to forget about them, and you must
know I’ll look after them financially, for your sake. So there’s
no need to worry your head on that score, but you’ve got to stop
acting like some female version of Tarzan. You’re not a Dayak.
You’re white, for god’s sake!’ he said impatiently.
Mei Li had never heard of the Edgar Rice Burroughs hero,
Tarzan, the lost child brought up in the jungle by apes, but she
knew the tone of an insult when she heard one and her heart
grew cold and hard. She was a proud Dayak and she resented
his dismissal of her people and their traditional rights. Hadn’t
their great chief Pang and his followers fought their way up the
river and laid claim to the delta years ago, long before the White
Rajahs had ruled over Sarawak? And in a revelation she realised
the things that mattered to her didn’t matter to him. How could
she marry someone who wouldn’t even try to understand how
she felt about Rubiah and her grandparents? Was she supposed
to bury those feelings, dismiss those loyalties, write off what went
before and forget who she was?
She tore off the ring she’d threaded on a fine ribbon around
her neck. ‘Not want ring. Not want you.’
‘Don’t be like that. You’re upset. You don’t mean it.’
In answer she threw the ring at him. It was the last straw.
› 225‹
The White Amah
‘Be like that then,’ snapped David. ‘I’m going to chambers.’
He stormed out of the room and slammed the door.
Ten minutes later Lady Entwistle found Mei Li, suspiciously
bright-eyed, chopping vegetables for a spicy Malay chicken
soup.
‘Onions,’ Mei Li said, wiping her eyes with the edge of Cook’s
apron.
Lady Entwistle wasn’t fooled. She’d heard the raised voices
before David had roared off down the drive, scattering the
paparazzi pack that was hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive
girl at the centre of the celebratory murder trial.
‘You don’t have to do that, my dear. You’re our guest.’
‘Madam Ling like soup. I cook for her, Dayak way.’
Lady Entwistle raised her eyebrows with a look of incredulity.
She couldn’t imagine Xiang wanting to eat anything made by
this devious little schemer, but she kept her private thoughts to
herself.
‘It smells delicious, but Cook can take over. I’d like to have a
little chat. Mrs Smith, please serve tea for two in my sitting room
with some of your delicious scones. Take off the apron, my dear.’
She handed Mei Li a delicate square of embroidered white muslin.
‘Mop up your tears and then you can tell me all about it.’
Once they were seated on the pretty, chintz-patterned couch
in her private sitting room, Lady Entwistle said in her forthright manner, ‘I heard you squabbling with David earlier.’ She
looked out at the walled garden. That’s where I’d like to be, she
thought. Out in the sunny courtyard deadheading her prized
old-fashioned tea roses instead of closeted with another of her
soft-hearted son’s lame ducks.
Over the years David had brought home a series of stray
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Ann Massey
animals, from a bloody, dying rabbit with a broken leg he’d freed
from a snare and insisted she make better, to the box of abandoned puppies tossed from the back of a Range Rover. He’d run
their antiquated Rolls into a fence to avoid hitting them and
then he’d insisted on rearing them until he could find them
good homes. Two of the ugly brutes were even now rampaging
through her herbaceous borders in revenge for being turned off
the couch.
She knew she had been weak in the past and should have
put her foot down. The trouble was, her mild-mannered son
was stubborn and fiercely loyal. Trying to dissuade him was like
trying to stop an avalanche with a stop sign. But championing
this devious girl was another matter. She’d hoped David would
see how unsuitable Mei Li was when he saw her in his home
alongside young people of his own station. Instead he had grown
more protective towards her and she feared that Mei Li was more
than just his current crusade.
Roland hadn’t been much help. ‘When that son of yours
makes up his mind there’s no stopping him, is there?’ her husband had replied cheerfully when she complained to him. Rather
than discourage a relationship with a girl who was little more
than a savage, he appeared to be as bewitched by her as David.
Men could be such chumps at times. Why this girl, when he
could have his pick of the county? It was so like David. All the
same, Mei Li was a guest in her home and she prided herself on
being a good hostess.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ she asked, her tone consciously kind.
‘I want to go home,’ Mei Li blurted out.
‘Ah,’ said Lady Entwistle, pleased. She had nothing against
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The White Amah
the girl personally, but Mei Li was wrong for David. Of course he
couldn’t see it but he was only twenty-four, much too young to be
considering marriage, especially to the daughter of a notorious
murderer. But it was easy to see how the little hussy had ensnared
David. Even her uniform of plain white tunic over black shapeless pants couldn’t hide her graceful shape. Her shiny dark hair
was loose and fell to her waist. In the sunlight streaming through
the French windows, it shone with dark-red lights. In spite of
the dark smudges under her eyes, her face was as exquisite as
the miniature of a lovely eighteenth-century young lady she’d
admired in the local antique shop. It was such a pity about her
background, because their children would be gorgeous.
‘We’ve enjoyed having you,’ Lady Entwistle said graciously.
The truth was, she couldn’t wait to be rid of Xiang, her children and Mei Li. It was her dearest wish that she never see any
of them ever again and she intended to tell Roland he’d be wise
to discontinue his business dealings with Joseph Ling. That way
there’d be no opportunity for the little gold-digger to get her
claws into her son again.
At least Joe had had the consideration to take himself off
to London. The brazen adulterer had decamped to the flat he
leased in Belgravia when the story broke. Lady Entwistle couldn’t
bear to have him in the house after the way he’d treated poor
Xiang, carrying on with that unfortunate young woman right in
front of her children. But that’s what happens when you marry
a younger man, she thought uncharitably. In no way had Joe’s
departure compensated for having his family in her home and
the media on the doorstep. For three weeks the paparazzi had
been camped outside the gates and she felt like a prisoner in
her own home. Sometimes she wished she were living back in
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Ann Massey
the Middle Ages, when it was acceptable to pour boiling oil on
an invading army. That’s how it felt: like living through a siege.
Hopefully, life would settle back to normal once this wretched
girl had gone back to the jungle where she belonged.
Mei Li was debating whether she should confide in the
woman who might have been her mother-in-law if things had
worked out differently. Should she take the risk and tell Lady
Entwistle she was in love with her son? She needed to talk to
someone about her feelings for David so much that it hurt. For
days she’d been struggling, trying to reconcile her sense of duty
with her natural desire to be with the man she loved. Clearly
her responsibility was to her grandparents, the only family she
had ever known, but she loved David so much. How could she
expect him to give up this – and her eyes roamed round Lady
Entwistle’s country-house sitting room – to sleep on a mat in a
ramshackle longhouse?
Mei Li thought that if there was one member of the family
who might understand about putting duty before desire, it was
David’s mother. ‘Noblesse oblige’was one of Lady Entwistle’s pet
phrases, usually accompanied by a bray of laughter as she sailed
out the door in a tulle-swathed straw boater, with Mrs Smith in
her wake carrying a box of discards for the jumble sale.
When Mei Li had asked David what his mother had meant by
the words, he explained that the privileged had a responsibility
to help the less fortunate. ‘Ma sees herself as Lady Bountiful,’
he’d said and grinned.
Now Mei Li looked into Lady Entwistle’s face searchingly.
The older woman’s eyes were gleaming and her stern expression had been replaced by a smile of satisfaction. She’s happy
because I’m leaving, Mei Li thought, and she closed up, hoping
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The White Amah
she wouldn’t break down in front of David’s formidable mother.
I’d be a fool to give her another chance to say something hurtful, she thought. Mei Li remembered how Lady Entwistle had
raised an arched eyebrow when she had used the wrong fork at
one of her elaborate dinner parties, and made sure everyone at
the table noticed.
‘I was just telling Colonel Pemberton that you’ve come to us
straight from the jungle of Borneo, my dear,’ Lady Entwistle
had said and turned to the man seated next to her. ‘It’s simply
marvellous how she’s adapted, Colonel. Only weeks ago she was
probably eating rice with her bare hands and slurping soup from
a wooden bowl. That’s right, isn’t it, Mei Li?’ She had laughed
conspiratorially as if she and Mei Li were friends.
But Mei Li hadn’t been fooled. She had glimpsed the
enmity behind the smile. But she had felt reassured when David
squeezed her hand under the table.
Later that evening Lady Entwistle had told Mei Li to ask
Cook to replenish the sherry.
‘She’s just the Lings’ maid, Rosemary,’ Mei Li heard her say
to the blond girl with the prominent front teeth and the pale,
well-manicured hand resting on David’s arm. ‘The poor girl’s
practically mute. I’ve given her a little job, David,’ she explained
when she saw him frown, ‘so she doesn’t feel out of things. One
must do one’s part to make her feel at home.’
In the sitting room, the silence had gone on too long. When
Mei Li finally spoke, it was so quietly that Lady Entwistle had
to strain to hear her.
‘Now that mother is with the spirits, it is my responsibility to
care for my grandparents.’
For once Lady Entwistle was at a loss. She picked up her
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Ann Massey
cross-stitch and put it down again. ‘That woman … wasn’t your
mother. Your real mother’s in prison charged with her murder.’
She shuddered at the thought of how maliciously the county
would talk if her son married this tainted girl. ‘But I do understand, my dear. One must act according to one’s principles,
noblesse obligeand all that.’ She looked at the clock and frowned.
Where was the housekeeper with the tea? ‘Mrs Smith is taking a
long time with the tea tray. I’ll just see what’s holding her up.’
When Lady Entwistle left the room Mei Li got off the couch,
drawn to the sunshine streaming through the open French doors.
The view of the garden swam before her brimming eyes and
she fought to stop them from welling over. She’d been in shock
since she’d been told that Rubiah had been brutally murdered by
Tuff, her birth mother. The horror of her quarrel with David had
been too much, coming on top of the trauma of the last dreadful
weeks, and she was holding back her emotions with difficulty.
She knew if she started crying again she’d never stop. Not only
had she lost the only mother she’d ever known, but now she also
had to give up David, the only man she would ever love.
Lady Entwistle came back carrying the tea tray herself. She
was pleased with the outcome of her talk and she searched her
mind for an errand to keep Mei Li busy after she’d finished her
tea. She didn’t want her troubling poor Xiang. Looking at Mei
Li’s innocent face, it was hard to believe such a lovely girl could
be so deceitful, inveigling herself into a position of trust in the
home of her mother’s lover. But like her husband often said when
he was talking about their friends’ children, the acorn never
fell too far from the tree. Obviously Mei Li had taken after her
unspeakable mother.
She sighed when Adele opened the door and handed her the
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The White Amah
post, eyeing the uneaten scones and gooseberry jam greedily
‘Tea?’ she asked resignedly.
‘Yes, please,’ replied Adele, and she sat down, unaware of
the strained atmosphere, and helped herself to a scone. ‘There’s
a letter for you, Mei Li,’ she said, dropping crumbs from her
overstuffed mouth.
‘So there is,’ said Lady Entwistle, looking at the prison envelope, and she shuddered theatrically. The chatty postman would
have spread the story all over the village by now. It was mortifying. Was there no end to the shame this girl was inflicting on
the family? All the same she was curious. ‘Shall I read it to you,
my dear?’ She picked up her paper knife.
‘No, no, I read it later. ’Scuse me, please.’
‘I’d be amazed if she can read,’ Mei Li heard Lady Entwistle
say to Adele as she closed the door behind her.
Safely in her room, Mei Li looked at the envelope crumpled
in her hand and smoothed out the creases. She would have to
wait until David came home this evening and ask him to read
it to her. It would provide her with an excuse to apologise. She
had cooled down and realised it wasn’t fair of her to get mad
at David because he was the timber company’s lawyer. I’m just
as guilty. Am I not working for a man who’s getting rich at the
expense of my people? Her brow furrowed as she struggled to
understand how Joseph Ling, a Chinese man, could own the
trees on her people’s ancestral land. Maybe David and she could
still be friends if she could make him understand how much
she owed to her grandparents and why it was her duty to stand
by them. He must see that it wasn’t a matter of what she herself
wanted. Her responsibility was to those two good, kind people,
even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. Somehow she
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had to find the right words to make him understand that her
obligation to her family came before all else. She couldn’t stand
it if he ended up hating her. Oh, it isn’t easy to do the right thing,
she thought tearfully.
When she finally heard the front door open, she flew down the
stairs.
‘You’re looking uncommonly lovely tonight, my dear,’ said
Sir Roland. It’ll be a lucky man who weds this little girl. David
wants to look to his laurels.
In anticipation of reconciliation, Mei Li was wearing an
intricately arranged sarong made from the material David had
given her as a betrothal gift, and it revealed the perfection of
her shapely form.
‘Where’s David?’ she asked, trying to look past him.
‘He’s decided to stay in town tonight,’ Sir Roland replied. So
that’s what’s up, he thought as he saw the excitement fade from
her eyes. A lovers’ tiff. ‘He wanted to complete some research for
a project he’s working on. He’s been at it all day,’ he explained
in a kindly tone. ‘What’s for dinner? I hope you’ve been teaching Mrs Smith some of your delicious native dishes,’ he added
jovially, hoping to cheer her up.
‘Why the best bib and tucker?’ he asked his wife as she came
into the hall in a long skirt and sequined top and dutifully pecked
him on the cheek.
‘Surely you haven’t forgotten we’re promised to the Petersons’
tonight, Rolly,’ she said in exasperation.
‘Do we have to go, old girl? All I feel like is supper on a tray
and an early night.’
‘We can’t cry off. You know what Mavis is like. She’ll have
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The White Amah
pulled out all the stops, and it was kind of her to invite Xiang
and the children. And you, my dear, of course,’ she said to Mei
Li. She frowned at Roland when she caught him rolling his eyes
at Mei Li.
‘Doubtless she wants to pump you for information she can’t
get from the gutter press,’ he said with a snort.
‘She’s only human. Where’s David? ’
‘Staying in town. Snowed under,’ he added for Mei Li’s benefit.
‘Oh dear, we’ll be an odd number for dinner. I better ring
Mavis.’
‘No need,’ said Mei Li. ‘I stay … head hurts.’
‘Very wise if you’re feeling off colour,’ said Lady Entwistle,
hiding her relief at being absolved from making conversation
with the ignorant girl, and she smiled in anticipation of a delicious night of gossip.

› 235‹
Chapter 27
Pau roared up the gravel driveway and hit the brakes,
barely avoiding running into Lady Entwistle’s old Rolls. Mei Li
opened the door but her look of eager anticipation quickly disappeared when she saw it was only Pau.
Obviously it’s not me that she’s dressed up for, Pau thought,
and his gaze lingered over slender shoulders and bare arms
that gleamed golden in the light of the crystal chandelier in
the entrance hall. This was the first time Pau had seen his sister’s amah in anything other than the modest, long-sleeved,
high-throated tunic she habitually wore over shapeless Chinese
pyjamas. She’s stunning, he thought, staring admiringly at the
curves of her slender body revealed enticingly in the tightly
sheathed sarong. What a pity David got there first. Like everyone else, he’d seen the sparks that flew like a burst of electricity
when she and David were together.
‘Where is everyone?’ he asked.
‘Out,’ she replied dispiritedly.
‘Where’s lover boy tonight then?’
‘David’s working late.’
‘What, with a hot babe like you all dressed up and waiting?
How boring is that? What say I take you down to the local for
a drink?’
Mei Li shook her head and stood aside to let him in.
‘It’ll make him keener if he knows he’s got competition.’
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Ann Massey
She stared at him, wavering with indecision. Why not? She
might feel better if she got out of the house. She couldn’t take
any more of this uncertainty. For the last hour she’d been pacing
the room, glancing at her mobile every few minutes, brooding
and thinking mean, angry thoughts.
Pau read her open face, taking in her agitation and frustration.
‘C’mon, show him he can’t take you for granted,’ he said with a
coaxing smile, his voice innocent of guile.
‘Okay,’ she said, and instantly she felt the tension leave her
body and she began to breath normally again. She’d go to the
pub with Pau and she wouldn’t take her mobile. Let David find
out what it was like to worry.
Well, well, Pau thought. Isn’t this interesting? He was going
to take it slowly. He didn’t want to scare her off.
Tuesday was a quiet day at the White Horse. There were only a
couple of farmers swapping stories in the oak-panelled public
bar. All the same Pau led Mei Li through to the cosy, private
snug.
‘Wait right here and I’ll get us a drink,’ he said when he’d
settled her in a comfortable chair set inside the Inglenook fireplace. ‘Cocktail, I think.’
Mei Li accepted the strawberry daiquiri and toyed absently
with the umbrella. Already she wished she hadn’t given in to the
impulse to teach David a lesson. What would he do if he came
home and discovered she’d gone out with Pau?
She drank the tangy, syrupy, rum-based concoction as if it
was as innocuous as lemonade, fighting the compulsion to get
up from her chair and head for home. If she hurried she could
get back before the Entwistles, and David need never find out.
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The White Amah
But how could she walk out on Pau when he was being so kind
and considerate.
‘Tastes good,’ she said, trying her best to sound cheerful.
‘Why don’t I get us both another?’ Pau said with a charming
smile. ‘And then you can tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can
help.’
After the terrible day she’d endured it was good to find a
sympathetic listener. ‘I’ve been thinking about my family,’ she
said when he returned with their drinks. ‘I don’t see how my
grandparents are going to be able to stay on in the village now
Granddad can’t earn a living from fishing. I thought I’d find
the three of us a place in Miri and I could work as a maid or
something.’
‘It’s a shame the jungle and the Dayaks’ traditional way of
life is being threatened by world demand for timber,’ Pau said,
leaning forward to give her his full attention. ‘You know, I’ve
wanted to do something about excessive logging for a long time.
How guilty do you think I feel when my grandfather and father
have made a squillion out of timber and I hear about natives like
your grandparents living in poverty?’ He reached for her hand
and looked earnestly into her eyes. ‘It’s not going to be easy to
talk Father around. He’s been influenced by greedy lawyers like
David Entwistle, but what the hell, I’ll give it a try.’
‘David not greedy,’ she said, snatching her hand away. ‘He
never meet Dayak people, never see jungle.’
‘Maybe,’ Pau replied, doubt written all over his face, ‘but
Entwistle and Murthwaite have always been the company’s corporate lawyers and David’s being groomed to take over from his
father. That’s why he was living with my parents – to get to know
the stakeholders and local conditions.’
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Ann Massey
‘Couldn’t you make him see spoiling the forest is a bad thing?’
She put down her empty glass and gazed at him, big-eyed and
trusting.
‘I’ll try, but do you know the difference between a lawyer and
a terrorist?’ He sniggered. ‘You can negotiate with a terrorist.’
Mei Li was puzzled. She couldn’t follow his argument and
she felt too dizzy to figure it out. She stared at him hard, trying
to focus. There seemed to be three, no, four of him.
‘For goodness sake, Mei Li, it’s a joke.’ Talking to a girl
shouldn’t be this hard, Pau thought impatiently. Still, he liked
the bodywork, a snappy model built for speed with those long
legs. What did it matter if there wasn’t much happening under
the bonnet? Another drink and she’d be a pushover. He could
hardly wait to get her on her own. He might just have her in the
carpark, on the hood of the Lotus.
‘I’ll get us another one,’ he said, picking up the empty
glasses.
But Mei Li shook her head, ‘Go now … not feel good,’ and
she got to her feet, gazed at him woozily and passed out.
David had intended to stay in the company’s flat overnight but
he was impatient to see Mei Li and put things right between
them. He’d spent all day and half the night googling everything
he could find about logging in Malaysia, its effects on the environment and the local indigenous inhabitants. Mei Li was right,
he concluded. It wasn’t something their firm should endorse
and he was going to tell his father to have nothing more to do
with Baram Hardwood Timber Company. Before he set off he
printed the report that described the company’s forestry practices
as the worst in the world. As he sped along the A3 he rehearsed
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The White Amah
his arguments. Pa would agree with him once he read about the
atrocities. No decent man could do otherwise.
The house was in darkness when he arrived home. Disappointed, he poured himself a drink, took out the report and
began to read it again. He was busily making annotations when
he heard a car roar up the drive. Great, they were home. He
bounded into the hall to let them in.
Pau was panting as he climbed unsteadily up the steps with
Mei Li slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He looked
surprised when David opened the door. Pushing past, he staggered into the hall and dumped Mei Li unceremoniously on the
bare tiles. She moaned but didn’t get up.
‘What’s happened? Has there been an accident? What’s
wrong with her.’ Stooping down so that his face was on level
with hers, David breathed in the unmistakeable smell of alcohol
and vomit.
‘She’s dead drunk,’ replied Pau. ‘She threw up in my car.
Phew!’ He held his nose and made a face. ‘She’s all yours. I’m
going to bed.’
‘Not so fast,’ said David, getting heavily to his feet. Madam
Ling used to call the handsome, broad-shouldered Englishman
her gentle giant but she had never seen him angry. ‘You’ve got
some explaining to do. How did she get in this state? And what’s
she doing out with you anyway?’
‘While the cat’s away the mice will play. Isn’t that an old
English proverb? Well, we have a saying in my country too, pal:
The man who plants the tree isn’t the one who enjoys its shade.
Figure it out,’ he sneered.
‘You bastard, you slimy bastard,’ said David and he took a step
toward Pau, fists up.
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Ann Massey
‘What you gonna do about it?’ Pau’s hand curved round the
handle of the switchblade in his pocket, but before he could draw
the knife they heard their tipsy parents’ laughter.
‘This isn’t over,’ said David angrily.
‘You can be damn sure of that,’ replied Pau, hatred shining in
his eyes. He spat on the tiles close to Mei Li’s head.
‘Why, you –’
The door opened and Lady Entwistle fluttered in. ‘Pau,
David! We weren’t expecting either of you to be home tonight.
‘Look who’s here, Xiang … it’s Pau. What a lovely surprise,’ she
said, with a trill of laughter that faded when she saw Mei Li
sprawled on the floor.
‘It’s all right, Ma,’ said David, staring hard at Pau and daring him to say anything. ‘I’ll look after her. Come on, Mei,’ he
whispered, helping her to her feet.
‘That girl’s drunk,’ sniffed Lady Entwistle as Mei Li wavered
and stared in dizzy confusion.
‘We’ve all felt like that at one time or another,’ said Sir Roland
in his kind, diplomatic manner, and he put his arm round his
wife and Madame Ling and drew them into the drawing room.
‘Anyone for a nightcap? You’ll join me in a Jameson’s, Clarence?’
He shut the door determinedly on the young people.
‘Oh, David,’ Mei Li whimpered, and she began to dry retch.
David supported her head and finally she collapsed sobbing in
his arms.
‘You’ll feel better once you’re lying down.’ Cradling the limp,
drooping girl, David carried her up the stairs.
Pau stood in the hall looking up at them, his eyes blazing and
his mouth hard. Then he composed his features and joined the
others in the drawing room.
› 241‹
Chapter 28
It was after midday when Mei Li finally woke with a
thumping headache and a dry mouth, and she gulped down the
orange juice on her breakfast tray. She couldn’t remember much
about the night before except for Lady Entwistle’s disapproving
comment. She squirmed at the memory. The sounds of earlymorning clatter reverberated through the house and she huddled
in bed, too embarrassed to get up and face David and his family.
How he must despise her. Flashes of the evening came back to
haunt her. She pulled the covers up over her head but couldn’t
blank out the unpleasant memory. Pau should have warned her.
The colourful cocktail had looked so pretty and tasted so sweet
that she’d never suspected it was intoxicating. She moaned as she
remembered throwing up in his car. No wonder Pau had sworn
at her. But how was she to know? It didn’t taste anything like the
liquor her family made for festivals and celebrations.
Lada was famous for the wine she made by soaking raw glutinous rice in hot water and she had made sure her granddaughter
learned the process, warning her about its potency. Mei Li often
helped her blend yeast and rice before storing the mixture to
ferment. Just once, she and some friends had sneaked a taste.
Revolted, she had resolved to stick to cocoa-nut milk.
But the acrid taste of rice wine was nothing compared to the
fiery jungle juice her grandfather had mischievously invited her
to try when her grandmother’s back was turned. Entri made
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Ann Massey
the brew by extracting sap from an unopened coconut bud and
allowing the liquid to trickle into bamboo containers. Collecting the sap was one of the few jobs he could still manage and
every day he hobbled down the jungle paths collecting a bottle
of juice from each tree. One day he showed Mei Li how to make
a powder from the palm tree’s bark, the special ingredient that
gave his native brew its distinctive bittersweet taste.
‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ he said when she pulled a
face, gagged and spat out the fierce, fiery liquid. ‘Stick to your
grandmother’s wine. Only real men can take jungle juice,’ he
boasted.
David looked in on Mei Li later in the morning. ‘Are you going
to stay in bed all day?’ he asked.
‘Go away,’ she groaned. ‘I’m dying.’
‘Drink this down,’ he said, and watched as she drank the two
Beroccas. ‘You’ll feel better if you have a shower and get dressed,’
he said with a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour.
We’ve got to talk.’
The shower revived her but she wasn’t looking forward to talking to David. He was being kind, but what he would do when he
got her on her own? Entri had never taken a stick to Lada, but it
was impossible to hide violence when the entire village lived in
one longhouse and Mei Li saw how women suffered when they
displeased their menfolk. She’d been an idiot to try to make him
jealous. She wouldn’t blame him if he did beat her.
‘Good, that’s more like it,’ David said when he returned. ‘Let’s
walk into the village. The fresh air will do you good.’
They left through the kitchen garden gate to avoid the
persistent paparazzi. It had rained overnight and David led
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The White Amah
her down a mud-covered country lane, chatting to her about
the storm damage as if she was a neighbour who’d dropped
by rather than the disgraced fiancée who’d humiliated him
in front of his family. Pollarded willows bowed in the wind
as a fast-running stream turned the meadows into a flood
plain. Drenched sheep, their wet fleece heavy, huddled under
the hedgerows in sodden fields. In the distance a lone figure
struggled against the wind to drive the cows toward the solitary
hillside farmhouse, hidden by the gathering mass of storm
clouds in the leaden grey sky.
‘We better go back. This wasn’t a good idea,’ David shouted
over the wind.
A scowl marred Mei Li’s lovely face. ‘I’m going for walk,’ she
said with a toss of her long black hair and strode away, too proud
to let him see her crying. It was obvious that David didn’t love
her anymore. He was more interested in speculating if the old
elms had weathered the windstorm than questioning her about
what had happened between her and Pau.
David’s heart sank as she broke into a run. For the last twenty
minutes he’d been trying to whip up the courage to tackle her
about last night but it was useless. Even Blind Freddy could tell
she didn’t want any more to do with him. He watched apprehensively as the slight figure fought to keep upright in the buffeting
wind while ragged leaves clung to the threshing branches. His
heart lurched as she tripped and fell heavily.
‘Have you had enough now?’ asked David as he sprinted over
to help her out of the puddle she’d landed in. Her pants and
top were soaked. He took off his jacket and silently handed it
to her.
‘I don’t want it,’ said Mei Li, emphasising the personal
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Ann Massey
pronoun. His criticism of her knowledge of English grammar
still rankled.
David could tell she was freezing; even her teeth were chattering. ‘Don’t be stupid, you’re wet through.’ He placed his jacket
round her shoulders and wiped the mud off her cheeks with his
handkerchief.
In the fading light she looked thin and pale and he could see
dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there before. ‘You
better take my arm,’ he added as the wind whipped her tangled
hair in her eyes.
She pushed his arm away and glared at him.
‘Why are you carrying on like this?’ he asked, the rage he’d
been fighting to control all day finally exploding. ‘First of all
you throw me over for no good reason, and next thing you’re
down the pub with Pau. Why did you go out with him, Mei? I
thought you loved me.’
‘I do love you,’ whispered Mei Li. ‘It my fault we quarrel. All
day I want to tell you sorry,’ she confessed, ‘but when you no
come home I think you not want me.’
‘So you immediately go off with the first man who asks you
out?’ he yelled, more disappointed than angry. He’d hoped her
feelings were as strong and unshakeable as his own.
‘I wanted to make you jealous so you love me again.’
‘Now let me get this straight. Are you telling me that the
only reason you went out with Pau was to make me jealous?
It wasn’t because you fancied him?’ he asked, looking into her
eyes intently.
‘I love you.’
‘So you didn’t really mean it when you said you’d changed
your mind? Does this mean you still want to marry me?’
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The White Amah
‘Sometime love not enough,’ she replied, playing with the
shining ring she’d hurled at him in temper only yesterday.
‘I don’t agree,’ replied David passionately. ‘I believe our love
is worth fighting for and if you don’t then you’re not the girl I
think you are.’
Mei Li was torn. It would be so easy to throw her arms round
David’s neck, but she was afraid that unwise love would one day
turn to hate. All through the troubled night her head and heart
had battled, and as dawn’s soft light vanquished night Mei Li had
made a hard decision, a decision worthy of Lada’s granddaughter:
the only way she’d agree to marry David was if he could prove
he respected her people and valued their way of life. David had
been very quick to offer financial aid to her grandparents, but
she didn’t want charity if it went hand in hand with contempt
for everything she held dear. She knew David was proud of his
heritage and birthright – well, so was she. No matter what it
said on a piece of paper, she was a Dayak through and through,
and there was no hope of long-term happiness if the man she
loved looked down on the beliefs and customs that shaped her
character.
Hesitantly, she tried to explain what it was to live in a close-knit
community where the natural world still held sway. ‘Longhouse
life not better than here, just different …’
‘What an arrogant sod you must have thought me,’ said David
when she finished telling him about the richness of tribal life. ‘I
behaved like an insensitive boor. No wonder you got mad. Yesterday, after I’d cooled off, I got to thinking about what you said
and you’re right, it isn’t fair that families like yours are being
forced off their land. I’m going to talk to Pa and Mr Ling about
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Ann Massey
it. There are better and fairer ways of doing business, and if I’m
going to represent the company I’m going to make damn sure it
operates ethically, because from now on, Mei, your people are
my people.’
David kissed her and she put her arms around him and nestled into his chest. Patches of blue began to open up in the watery
sky, grey clouds raced seaward and the stormy afternoon turned
into balmy evening, unnoticed by the preoccupied lovers.
David was the first to make a move and Mei Li moaned in protest
when he disentangled himself. ‘Still got a headache, sweetheart?’
he asked, looking down at her in concern.
‘No,’ she whispered and reached up and pressed her lips
against his.
It was thrilling the way Mei Li responded so passionately
to his lovemaking. David felt so protective towards her and his
blood boiled when he thought about Pau and what might have
happened if she hadn’t passed out. He wouldn’t put it past Pau to
have spiked her drink. Thank goodness he had come back from
town when he did. His active mind conjured up images of Pau
forcing himself on his depressed and vulnerable girl.
‘Pau didn’t try to kiss you, did he?’ he said.
Mei Li shook her head. Most of last night was a blank, but
she would have remembered something like that. Fragments of
conversation came back to her and she remembered Pau promising to persuade his father to stop logging the jungle.
‘We just talk. Pau good man. He wants to stop the logging
too.’
David blinked in disbelief. Pau was such a fox. It was just a
ploy to get on Me Li’s good side. David had made a few phone
› 247‹
The White Amah
calls to a colleague who had a younger brother at Oxford, and his
comments confirmed David’s own suspicions about their client’s
elder son. The brother was sure Pau had got someone to sit his
finals. No one ever saw him at lectures and he wasn’t the type
to spend his nights swatting. Apparently it was even rumoured
that he had badly beaten a girl he’d been seeing but no charges
were ever laid. The speculation was that Pau’s rich father had
paid the family off.
David was convinced that Pau was dangerous, devious and
totally lacking in scruples, but he knew Mei Li had trouble
enough with the dreadful business over Rubiah, the shock of
finding out her real mother had abandoned her and guilt about
her grandparents, so he kept his opinion to himself. He would
just have to make sure Pau didn’t get another chance to be on his
own with Mei Li, and the best way to guarantee her safety was
to bring everything out into the open. Pau wouldn’t dare make
a move on her once he and Mei Li were officially engaged.
‘All this secrecy has got to end, Mei Li. We’re going to tell my
parents and the Lings we’re getting married. And I don’t want
you worrying about Ma. She’ll be fine, you’ll see.’
Mei Li smiled up at him and David said a silent prayer of
thanks; he’d almost given up hope of seeing her smile again.
He looked at her tenderly. ‘Mei Li, from now on it’s just the
two of us. I want us always to be there for one another, best
friends as well as lovers. I know I’m going on a bit,’ he apologised,
‘but I want you to understand that no matter what I’m on your
side.’
It was the way her grandmother spoke to her – intimately
and lovingly – and she realised there was another special person
in her life, one who loved her unconditionally. Since she’d left
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Ann Massey
the longhouse there had been no one to confide in, no one to
share her hopes and sorrows. She’d tried to get close to Rubiah
and been shut out. Now she had David. She had come within a
hair’s breadth of losing the best man in the world just because
she was stubborn and proud. She made a promise to herself:
she was going to try hard to learn David’s language so she could
tell him how much he meant to her. There were going to be no
more secrets.
She felt in her pocket and handed him the crumpled envelope.
David scanned the letter, hoping there wasn’t more bad news
in store for Mei Li.
‘It’s from your mother. She wants to see you.’ He sat down
on the stone wall and pulled Mei Li onto his lap. Secure in his
embrace, Mei Li listened to David read her mother’s plea.
Dear daughter,
Daughter … how special is that? I never knew I had a
daughter because I was anaesthetised when I gave birth,
and when I came round the nurse told me you were stillborn. How was I to know that the doctor who befriended
me when your father ran out on me was planning to steal
my baby? But I was just a young, defenceless girl on my
own in a strange country.
Now I realise I was too trusting, but I was only seventeen.
If I’d known you had survived, nothing – nothing – on this
earth would have stopped me from finding you. I have no
right to expect anything from you and I wouldn’t blame you
if you simply tore up this letter. All the same, I am asking
… begging for your help. I am being framed for a murder
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The White Amah
I didn’t commit and I don’t know what to do or who else I
can turn to.
If I could see you, even just for a few minutes, it would
mean more to me than anything else has for the last seventeen years.
I don’t know how to finish this. I don’t feel I have the
right to sign myself Mother. Maybe I will one day!
Crystal Brooke aka Tuff
Please God, let this woman be genuine, David thought,
noting Mei Li’s flushed face and excited expression. My poor
girl’s been through enough. David didn’t know if she was strong
enough to stand another disappointment.
‘It certainly sounds like we might have misjudged her,’ he said
cautiously. ‘How do you feel about meeting her?’
‘I want to talk with her very much.’
‘Leave it to me then. Remand prisoners can have visitors
every day except Sundays. I’ll take you up to town tomorrow,
darling.’
‘Oh, David, I’m much scared.’
‘You don’t have to be. I’ll be there.’ He squeezed her hand.
‘Come on old thing, buck up. It’s getting late and I want to tell
my parents our good news.’
For a moment he’d sounded just like his old-fashioned, warmhearted father, and Mei Li had a flash into her future as the wife
of this kind and honourable man. She would even try to win over
Mother Dragon if it would make him happy because this was
the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

› 251‹
Chapter 29
Flashlights popped like lightningas Mei Li stepped out
of the car and a forest of boom mikes were thrust at her. David
elbowed aside a zealous photographer who poked his camera
close to Mei Li’s startled face, determined to get the first photograph of Tuff’s elusive love child. David couldn’t hide his
indignation. Someone must have tipped them off. There had
to be at least sixty guys out there.
‘Look this way, darling!’
‘Is it true you lived with headhunters?’
‘How do you feel about meeting the woman who abandoned
you?’
‘Are you here to reconcile with Tuff?’
‘Has Sir Josh supplied DNA yet?’
Turning round to confront them, David shouted, ‘Let us
through. Show some respect for her privacy.’
But there was no way the media was leaving without getting
the goods on her. This was the biggest scandal to hit the nation
in years. It had everything: feuding rock stars, sinful secrets, faraway places, a beautiful long-lost daughter and a brutal murder.
No wonder the pack was howling like wolves.
‘Get out of our way, I’ll have you arrested,’ David yelled, trying
to push through a tightly formed phalanx armed with cameras
and mikes.
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Ann Massey
‘Say okay to take photo,’ whispered Mei Li. ‘See Mother
quicker.’
‘Perhaps you’re right, but don’t tell them anything.’
‘No speak English,’ she murmured, and she looked at the
photographers blankly, trying not to laugh.
‘What do you want to say to your mother?’
‘Do you think she’s guilty?’
‘What are your plans?’
‘Saya tidak faham,’ said Mei Li, looking at David with a puzzled expression.
‘She doesn’t understand English,’ said David, ‘and it’s no use
asking me. I’m just the security guard.’
A collective groan went up from the reporters, but they parted
like the Red Sea as four police officers in riot gear erupted into
the crowd.
‘Terima kasih, terima kasih,’ Mei Li called out, and she waved
at her tormentors as the police officers escorted her through the
prison gates with David bringing up the rear, not succeeding in
his attempt to keep a straight face.
Benny had advised Tuff to start working on her image before the
case went to trial. It was essential to convince the jury that Tuff
was a creation, her stage personae, and that at heart she was a
gentle, sensitive woman who wouldn’t tread on a snail let alone
murder a tiny, unarmed woman in cold blood.
‘Grow your hair,’ he had told her. ‘Nothing we can do about
the tat. Pity. Make sure it’s covered. We don’t want to give the
impression we’re a vicious dyke, do we, Ducky?’
Tuff was furious when he talked down to her like that. She
wasn’t an airhead. She was a superstar, for christ’s sake. But she
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The White Amah
was too scared to face up to him, even though she was paying
through the teeth for his services. He’d convinced her the only
chance of getting out of jail lay in following his advice to the
letter. At least he was making things happen, which was more
than that boring old fart Bailey was doing.
Benny’s publicity machine had swung into action and already
visitors to Tuff’s web blog were posting comments. Benny was
right: people loved gossip, the more scandalous the better.
According to the pundits, hers was the most clicked-on site on
the web. Okay, she conceded that the majority of comments
were negative, but there were a few positive ones appearing and
Benny had told her they’d mushroom once he fed his journalist
friends the tale of how ruthless baby snatchers had tricked her
into believing her baby was stillborn.
Tuff dressed carefully for the reunion with her daughter. Benny
had suggested that she wore motherly clothes when she met Mei
Li for the first time and to tone down her makeup. She went
through the dowdy garments his PA had chosen and picked out
a full-skirted floral dress in shades from deep rose to palest pink,
and knotted a rose chiffon scarf shot through with threads of gold
around her neck. A pair of gold ballet flats finished off the look.
‘How do I look?’ she asked Benny. ‘Am I frumpy enough for
your liking?’
Benny thought she looked breathtaking. The shoulder-length
wig completely changed her appearance. ‘You look alarmingly
delicious, Ducky.’ He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
‘Just as long as my fans don’t see me like this or I’m finished,’
groaned Tuff, secretly pleased by the compliment. All the same,
she knew she’d hit the pits when she was down to flirting with
a poncy queer in a striped blazer.
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Ann Massey
The governor escorted Mei Li and David to Tuff’s cell. Dodd
was just as curious as the rest of her staff to meet Tuff’s daughter.
‘Take as much time as you need,’ she said with a friendly smile,
charmed by the girl’s gentle, sweet-natured manner, and she
nodded to the officer to open the cell door.
The pretty woman standing behind the bulky man, looked
nothing like the posters of Tuff that Adele had stuck up on her
wall before Madam Ling had made her take them down. Mei
Li’s spirits rose. She’d been worrying about meeting the tough
rock icon but this woman looked softer and friendlier than she’d
expected. I hope she likes me, she thought, and for the first time
she felt self-conscious in her drab uniform. Why hadn’t she listened to David when he’d suggested taking her shopping?
Wow, peas in a pod, thought Benny, taking in the willowy
beauty’s high cheekbones, heavily fringed, almond-shaped eyes
and beautiful, genuine smile.
‘Hello,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘You must be Mei Li.
I’m Benny Allan, your mother’s agent.’ He flashed his winning
grin. ‘I see you’ve brought a friend.’ He looked questioningly at
David.
‘David Entwistle. Mei Li is my fiancée. She doesn’t speak
English very well. But you understand most of what’s being said,
don’t you, Mei?’
Mei Li nodded without taking her eyes off the lovely woman
half hidden behind Benny’s bulky frame.
‘Let’s sit down,’ said Benny, pulling out a chair for Mei Li. ‘I
hope you don’t mind sitting on the bed, David. It’s pretty spartan accommodation, I’m afraid. It’s not what you’re used to, is
it, Ducky. We’re hoping it won’t be for much longer,’ he said,
turning on his hundred-watt smile.’ You’ve been so excited since
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The White Amah
you got word that Mei Li was coming to see you today, haven’t
you, Ducky?’ he said, giving Tuff her cue.
‘Me too,’ said Mei Li. She smiled at the woman, who looked
nervous. She was relieved to know she wasn’t the only one in a
flap.
Tuff was in more than a flap. She was gobsmacked. Her legs
had nearly given way and she would have fallen if she hadn’t been
leaning against Benny’s big, solid body. The photo she’d seen of
Mei Li had been deceptive. In real life, Mei Li was exactly how
Tuff remembered her own mother. The way her mother had
walked and held herself, the frank gaze, the pretty scrubbed face,
the casual ponytail. It was like looking at a ghost.
Benny looked across at Tuff with a touch of irritation. What
was she waiting for? She knew what to say; they’d gone over and
over the script. By now she should’ve burst into tears like they’d
rehearsed. Okay, this was a scary situation and he could understand anyone freaking out, but this was Tuff and nothing bothered
her. It was usually the other way round. Even his PA, a tall, confident Australian girl with a black belt in kickboxing had quailed
at the prospect of shopping for ‘the psycho’, her nickname for her
boss’s aggressive client. She’d finally said yes but only as long as
she didn’t have to deliver the garments in person.
Benny gave her a little push. ‘Get on with it,’ he whispered.
She rounded on him like a wild thing.
‘Don’t tell me what to do! I’m tired of pretending and I’m not
going through with this charade. So back off!’ She swung around
and took a step toward Mei Li. ‘Where’s that letter I sent you?’
Tuff asked, her voice so loud the prison officer looked up from
her magazine and stared at the monitor.
David was alarmed. Tuff had been charged with murder and
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Ann Massey
in his experience the police seldom got it wrong. ‘Here you are,’
he said, stepping forward to shield Mei Li.
Tuff grabbed the letter and tore it in half. ‘It’s nothing but
a pack of lies. None of it’s true. It was his idea to trick you into
helping me.’
‘No need trick me … you my mother … of course I help
you.’
‘You won’t when you find out what sort of mother I really am,’
Tuff screamed, working herself into a frenzy.
She ripped off the wig and began pulling frantically at the
knot in the gauzy scarf that covered her famous tattoo.
The snake gyrated like a living creature, vibrating to the
thump of her mother’s fevered pulse. Mei Li knew only a woman
with supernatural powers would wear the symbol of the snake
on her heart. And like Rubiah before her, she backed away in
horror … her mother was a witch.
Benny groaned. His orchestrated reunion had gone pearshaped; Mei Li was cowering behind her fiancé and his client
was spinning out of control. He put a restraining hand on Tuff’s
shoulder. ‘It’s all been too much for your mother. It might be
better if you come back tomorrow.’
‘No!’ shrieked Tuff. ‘I’m tired of all the lies. I’m tired of feeling
ashamed. She’s not going anywhere … not till she knows everything.’ The angry words were forced out between huge sobs and
tears coursed down Tuff’s hollow cheeks. ‘Listen to me. This is
the truth. When I found out I was having you I didn’t know what
to do. How was I supposed to bring up a kid when I was only a
kid myself? There was a couple living in Miri that wanted a baby
and they were willing to pay. I signed the papers, pocketed the
money and got on with my life. End of story.’
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The White Amah
David put his arm around Mei Li. ‘It’s probably best if we
leave now.’
‘That’s right, go, leave me to rot,’ Tuff shouted and threw
herself down on the bunk. ‘Who needs you?’
‘We can’t leave her like this,’ protested Mei Lei, watching the
possessed woman thrashing to and fro and pounding her fists
on the pillow.
Fighting her fear, she got down on her knees so she and her
mother were on the same level. She put her arms around the
hysterical woman and rocked her back and forth. ‘Don’t cry, it’s
going to be all right,’ she crooned.
The intimacy was too overpowering for Tuff. Roughly, she
pushed Mei Li away. ‘Get real,’ she snarled through clenched
teeth. ‘I need to convince a jury that I’m innocent and how’s
that going to happen when even my own lawyer doesn’t believe
a word I say?’
‘David’s a lawyer,’ Mei Li said, struggling to hold back her
tears.
‘I’m only a company solicitor, but I could recommend a barrister if you’re unhappy with the way your lawyer is handling the
case.’ David’s voice was flat and discouraging. There was no way
he’d help Tuff after the way she had just spoken to Mei Li.
‘Thank you, we need all the help we can get,’ said Benny
without his usual spark. ‘It was good of you to come. I know your
mother appreciates it.’ He watched Tuff pacing up and down the
cell, feeling sorry for her although he couldn’t have explained
why.
Tuff stopped pacing and looked back and forth between them.
It suddenly seemed to sink in that they were leaving. ‘Don’t go,’
she said, arms outstretched, barring the exit. ‘I’m going mad, shut
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Ann Massey
up in here. I don’t think I can take much more, and if that twit
I’ve got for a lawyer can’t even get me out on bail what chance
have I got of being found innocent when I go to trial? You’ve
got to help me.’
‘Please, David,’ begged Mei Li. ‘She’s not guilty. I know she
isn’t.’
‘I don’t think you did it either, Ducky,’ said Benny.
David sighed. He just wanted to get Mei Li away from her
unstable, deranged mother. He’d read psychology as well as law
at Cambridge and he thought Tuff was exhibiting the classic
behaviour of a criminal sociopath. He took out his notepad and
looked quizzically at Tuff. ‘What were you doing in the deceased
woman’s room in the first place? Were you a friend of hers?’
‘Get real! I met her for the first time at my benefit for the
orphaned children of Africa. She was posing as the wife of a rich
Chinese guy, but you could see she was just his whore. In front of
his kids too. Disgusting! You could tell they weren’t happy having her there, particularly as their father lashed out twenty-five
thousand pounds for the diamond necklace I personally donated
to raise money for charity.’
‘I see. So if you, as you say, hardly knew her, what were you
doing in her hotel room?’
‘Does it really matter?’
‘It certainly does and it’s the first question the Crown’s going
to ask you to answer.’
‘She was blackmailing me, if you must know.’
‘Blimey,’ interjected Benny. ‘What did she have on you?’
‘She worked for the people who adopted you.’ Tuff said, looking across at Mei Li and hastily dropping her eyes when her
daughter smiled. ‘I can’t remember setting eyes on the bitch but
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The White Amah
she remembered me. You were right, Benny, I never should have
got that tat. That’s how she recognised me.’
‘So you killed her to stop her from talking,’ concluded
David.
‘No, no!’ Tuff shouted and burst into tears.
‘Oh come on,’ said David. He thought her tears were as shallow as her pretence of caring about starving orphans.
‘I didn’t kill that woman,’ sobbed Tuff. ‘Why won’t anyone
believe me? She was dying when I found her. I did my best to
save her. She died in my arms.’
‘What happened to the necklace?’ asked Mei Li, her forehead wrinkled with concentration as she tried to follow the
conversation.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Tuff.
‘Was the necklace found among Rubiah’s possessions?’ asked
David, his quick mind instantly grasping the point Tuff had
missed.
‘How should I know?’ said Tuff. ‘Is it important?’
‘Vital,’ he answered. ‘If it’s missing, your defence could mount
a strong argument that theft was the motive for the murder.’
‘But surely the police would have told Tuff’s lawyers if there’d
been a robbery,’ Benny argued.
‘Not necessarily. The prosecution is not required to disclose
evidence that they don’t intend to rely on in court. It’s not
unknown for them to sit on evidence because it doesn’t fit in
with their hunch as to who committed an offence,’ explained
David.
‘The policeman who arrested me had it in for me right from
the start,’ wailed Tuff.
‘Don’t worry, Ducky. We’ll sue his arse off when you get out
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Ann Massey
of here,’ said Benny, his mind already calculating the damages
claim he planned to mount as soon as she was released. ‘Sweetheart, you’re a genius, and I’d kiss you if your mother and fiancée
weren’t watching,’ he said to Mei Li with a disarming grin
‘Does this mean I get out of this hellhole?’ asked Tuff.
‘It rather depends on what we can find out,’ said David. ‘If
there’s evidence of theft your lawyer can start the appeal process
immediately. I’d like to have a word with the governor to let her
know our intentions. Perhaps we should leave Mei Li and Tuff
to get better acquainted, Benny.’
‘A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mei Li. You’re a bright girl. If ever you want a
job don’t hesitate to let me know, though you’d be a fool to let
this lovely lady loose in the big bad city, Davy. Cheerio for now,
Ducky. I’m heading back to the office to compose the hottest
story. Believe me, your website is going to be molten.’
Tuff signalled Don’t leave me, but Benny just grinned at her
‘So you bagged a lawyer,’ Tuff said to Mei Li once they were
on their own. ‘I wish I’d had the brains to marry a rich man
when I was your age. The men I fell for weren’t the marrying
kind. But I never meant for you to end up living in squalor. You
were supposed to be adopted by some rich expatriates. It was
all agreed. What sort of monsters were they, abandoning you? I
mean, really!’
‘Them not family,’ said Mei Li in a low voice, the unspoken
accusation like escaping gas fumes poisoning the atmosphere,
pressing down on Tuff’s chest as heavy as stones.
‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry. I can’t change what’s happened. Why
don’t we put all this behind us? Forget about all the unpleasant
stuff. It’s in the past. I’d like to make it up to you when I get
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The White Amah
out of here. I’m a very rich woman. I know all the right people.
I can open doors. You don’t have to tie yourself down to that
stuffy solicitor. I can introduce you to some seriously rich gogetters. We’ll have fun, dating and hanging out. You’re in need
of some serious fashion help. But you’re in luck. I could have
had a career as a style guru if I wasn’t a rock star. You’ll be an
entirely different person by the time I’m through with you. The
paparazzi will wet themselves when we step out together,’ Tuff
crowed, feeling happy and excited. She’d get a real kick out of
launching her daughter. ‘Wait till you see my house.’ Her eyes
shone as she raved about the improvements she’d made to the
Elizabethan manor house, the sound studio, heated indoor pool
and state-of-the-art gym.
Tuff would have been surprised if she had been able to read
Mei Li’s mind. Rather than being impressed by her mother’s
glitzy lifestyle Mei Li felt sorry for her, living in that big house
without her friends and family around her. How rich her own
life had been in comparison with her mother’s solitary existence.
Mei Li remembered steamy nights, a long wooden house and
Grandma Lada, tired from working in the paddy fields, gently
brushing the tangles out of her long hair while she sang Mei Li
to sleep. She breathed deeply for a moment and closed her eyes.
She felt peaceful and quiet, as if the jungle was inside her.
‘Aren’t you listening?’
‘I beg pardon,’ said Mei Li, coming back to earth with a rush.
‘House sounds very good. I like to see one day.’
‘I just invited you to livewith me,’ Tuff said with a trace of
annoyance in her voice. Didn’t the girl realise what a fabulous
opportunity she was offering her?
‘Sorry … cannot. I going back home, leaving very soon.’
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Ann Massey
‘Don’t be a fool. This is a great opportunity. You don’t want
to spend your life in a backwater when you could be jetsetting
around the world.’
‘Grandma and Granddad need me.’
‘This is where you belong, with me. You’re my daughter. Those
people are not your grandparents. They’re not even family.’
What a vile thing to say, thought Mei Li. Her mother didn’t
know what she was talking about. Family was more than shared
ancestry. All she and her mother shared was a physical resemblance. Whoever Mei Li was, she had learned her beliefs and
values from her grandmother. ‘Grandma was the one who was
always there for me,’ yelled Mei Li, angry tears spilling onto her
flushed cheeks. ‘I had no one and she took me in, clothed, fed
and sheltered me. She was my real mother. You gave me life but
she loved me.’
‘Get out,’ Tuff screeched, her face distorted with rage. ‘You
know what? You’re borrring. Open the door. Open the door, yer
freak. She’s leaving,’ she yelled to the guard.
Almost immediately the door opened and a prison officer
strode into the cell. She put a motherly arm around Mei Li.
‘Your friend is waiting for you in reception. Come with me and
I’ll show you out.’
Tuff held back her tears until the key turned in the lock.
An entry in the Protective Custody unit’s journal recorded that
the prisoner had a restless night, sobbing and crying out in her
sleep.
‘You won’t credit it,’ the night officer told her relief. ‘She’s got a
heart, after all. Do you know, she kept the whole wing awake, calling for her daughter?’ Mei Li andMummy… easy to confuse.
› 263‹
Chapter 30
Adele was vexed.Everyone had something exciting to do
except her. Madam Ling, who was getting ready to go out, was
impatient when she complained about having nothing to do.
‘Why don’t you go for a walk? It’s a lovely day. Who’d have
thought it after yesterday’s storm. Take the dogs. You could all
do with some exercise,’ said Madam Ling, eyeing the roll of
puppy fat above the waistband of her chubby daughter’s lowslung jeans.
Since they’d come to England Adele had refused to wear
the pastel pyjamas that made her look like a pretty China doll.
Madam Ling would get Adele into more suitable clothes once
they were home again, but at the moment she was too preoccupied by her husband’s blatant infidelity to put her foot down
about her daughter’s inappropriate get-up.
‘You know I’m scared of dogs,’ protested Adele. She still woke
up in the night in a cold sweat after one of her vivid dreams when
she was chased by a ferocious black dog, even bigger and more
wolf-like than Alpha.
‘Well, read a book or watch a DVD.’
Madame Ling had been looking forward to today; she needed
a distraction. Her life had been a nightmare since she’d found
out Joe had brought that little whore he’d been running around
with for years to England; his shame was her shame too. At least
the murderer was found immediately and no suspicion had fallen
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Ann Massey
on the family, but she’d be glad when they were all safe home
in Miri.
She glanced down at the notes she’d made about bidding.
Lady Entwistle had been teaching her how to play bridge and
she liked it nearly as much as mah-jongg. They’d signed up in
a tournament at the Women’s Institute and she wasn’t going to
let her moody daughter spoil it for her.
She massaged her face with anti-ageing cream. ‘And don’t
bother Mrs Smith. It’s her half-day and she’ll want to get off on
time.’ It was strange how the English didn’t have any idea how
to manage servants. She would never let a housekeeper dictate
to her.
Adele wandered into the kitchen, where Mrs Smith was down
on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. ‘Don’t walk on my
clean floor,’ she warned gruffly. She’d spent the whole morning
preparing dinner and the kitchen was filled with the smell of
grilled pork, chicken soup and steamed castle puddings. Adele
looked at the puddings longingly. ‘Don’t even think about it, dear.
There’s only just enough for your dinners.’
‘Our cook always makes me special treats like pineapple tart
with mango ice cream, not plain boring puddings like you make,’
complained Adele.
Mrs Smith had spent all morning cooking and now she had
to go home to make her old man’s dinner. Spoilt little madam,
she thought indignantly. Thank goodness they were leaving.
She’d be glad to see the back of the whole pack of them.
‘Tell me some other time, dear. I washed those seat covers for
Pau. Nasty-smelling things they were too. Take them up to his
room, there’s a good girl.’ She picked up her bucket and went
into the scullery, banging the door behind her.
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The White Amah
Adele didn’t see why she should help Pau out after what he’d
said to her. She struggled to carry the heavy lambswool seat covers, still warm from the dryer, up the staircase. Pau had really
hurt her feelings. She’d been too ashamed to tell her mother
what he said when she’d asked if she could go to the races with
him and Clarence. The tears started to prick as she remembered
his hurtful words.
‘There isn’t room for you, Fatty,’ he’d said when she’d asked
why she couldn’t go with them.
‘I’m not fat, am I, Clarrie?’ she’d asked Clarence, her dimpled
chin quivering.
‘Fat? You’re so fat Dad had to buy two airline tickets for you,’
Clarence joked. He winked at his brother and they both laughed
when she glared at them.
She dropped the seat covers on the bedroom floor and looked
at the clutter in distaste. Clarence and Pau were used to having
an army of servants pandering to their every whim, but this
wasn’t Miri, and the overstretched housekeeper had neither
the time nor inclination to pick up after them. The room the
brothers shared looked like a bomb had exploded: clothes were
strewn all over the carpet and hanging half out of drawers; and
the dressing table, sticky from the gel Pau used on his spiky,
multi-coloured hair, was littered with balled tissues, overflowing
ashtrays, chewed gum and expensive toiletries. How can they
stand to live in such a muddle? Didn’t they notice the smell?
She crossed to the window to let in some fresh air and caught
a glimpse of herself in the spotted cheval mirror. She looked at
her reflection in dismay. No wonder David liked Mei Li better
than her. Tears of self-pity rolled down her cheek. David was
Adele’s first love and she spent many long hours daydreaming
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Ann Massey
about him. In her fantasies she imagined him falling in love
with her when she was a grown-up lady, so she had been taken
by surprise at dinner when David had proudly announced that
he was going to marry her amah.
‘I won’t be going into chambers tomorrow, Pa. Mei Li and I
have some things to see to in town,’ he had said without explaining the reason for the trip, guessing Mei Li wouldn’t want
everyone speculating about the meeting with her mother.
‘Take as long as you like, dear boy,’ said his father.
‘You’ll have to take me too or you can’t go. Mei Li’s just an
amah and she has to do what I say,’ Adele had told him, trying
not to cry.
David turned on her angrily. ‘She’s quitting. And don’t let
me hear you talk to my fiancée like that again, ever. Is that
understood?’
The way he looked at Adele made her feel small and ugly. It
wasn’t fair. He’d been herfriend until Mei Li came along and
spoiled everything. She hated the way the two of them had stood
there holding hands with silly grins on their faces. She stood at
the mirror, willing the tears into her eyes. I hate her … I hate
David … I hate Pau and Clarence … I hate them all. Smarting
from the sting of unreturned love, she threw herself on the closest bed and burst into tears of rage. Then, exhausted by her fit
of temper, she fell asleep.
When she woke up she was surprised that only half an hour
had passed. Nobody would be home for hours and there was
nothing she wanted to do. She looked at the unmade beds with
distaste. Tidying up her own room was one of Mei Li’s jobs, and
sometimes Adele would help. Once the household jobs were
finished her amah was free to do fun things like stringing beads
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The White Amah
to make the colourful, intricate necklaces the Dayaks sold in the
local market. Maybe if she tidied up the boys’ room they would
play with her when they got home.
Competently, Adele smoothed the sheet and plumped up the
pillows on Pau’s bed. She picked up, hung or folded their clothes,
and put the tops back on their toiletries and lined them up neatly
in a row on top of the tall boy. That looked better. Now all she
had to do was find a place for the seat covers. She opened the
crammed closet; the only possible place they’d fit was on the top
shelf. Standing on a chair, she surveyed the luggage distributed
haphazardly on the shelf. The bulky seat covers needed more
space. If they were to fit she’d have to move a few things around.
She pushed one of the suitcases to the side and put an overnight
bag on top of it.
She saw something interesting right at the back of the shelf
in a corner. She hadn’t noticed the box at first because it had
been hidden by the bag. It was made of steel about the size of a
shoebox and it felt heavy. She shook it curiously, disappointed
because the box was securely locked. She wondered what Pau
had in here that he didn’t want anyone to know about. She was
excited at the prospect of discovering her brother’s secret. She
knew the security box must belong to Pau because she knew all
Clarence’s secrets. Back home she snooped in his room all the
time and she’d never seen this box among his things.
The numbers on the combination lock ran from nought to
nine and there were thousands of possible combinations. But
Adele didn’t know that and she began to twirl the numbers randomly. After a while she became confused and looked round
for a pen and pad. It was just a matter of being organised. It had
to be four numbers, so that ruled out birthdates, car regos and
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Ann Massey
phone numbers. There’s no rush, she told herself as she wrote
down 1-2-3-4. It was just a matter of being patient and she had
plenty of time.
Two hours later she’d had enough. Just one more try and then she
was giving up. She’d thought of everything. Suddenly a number
came into her head and she knew, she just knewit had to be the
one. Trembling with excitement, she spun the dial to 6-8-8-9,
the number of their house in Miri. You’re not as clever as you
thought, Pau, she thought smugly as she opened the lid.
She lifted out the divided change drawer. In the compartment below was a black velvet drawstring pouch. She emptied
it onto the bed. A multicoloured cascade of precious jewels
spilled across the bedspread. Most dazzling was a diamond
choker. She had difficulty fastening the clasp around her neck,
but she managed and then she ran over to the mirror. If only
David could see her wearing this. It was fun trying on all the
necklaces, rings and bracelets and Adele forget about the time
as she played with the priceless trinkets. She lined up the
ornaments in order of preference, with the brilliant diamond
necklace being her favourite, but she still wasn’t completely
happy with the ranking and she moved the delicate heartshaped locket with the little ruby ahead of the heavy wooden
beads. It was pretty, but not in the same league as the rest of
the collection. She was sure Pau had bought the locket for her.
And those wooden beads must be for Mei Li. They looked
like something her amah would wear. He must have a lot of
girlfriends, she thought enviously, hoping a special boy would
buy her expensive presents one day.
‘Adele!’ called Madam Ling. ‘We’re home. Where are you?’
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The White Amah
Adele knew she was going to be in trouble if she was caught
going through Pau’s stuff. Hastily she began stuffing the jewellery back into the pouch. Her hand was shaking as she reset
the lock. She put the box in its hiding place at the back of the
wardrobe and was hurrying to escape detection when she saw
the wooden beads had fallen on the floor. She just had time to
snatch up the necklace and hide it behind her back before the
door opened and her mother came in.
‘What are you doing in your brothers’ room? You’ve been
snooping, haven’t you?’ Madam Ling said in a cross voice, looking at her daughter for any sign of guilt.
Adele wanted to tell her about the box and all the treasures,
but she knew she couldn’t admit she’d gone through her brothers’ things.
‘No, I haven’t. Mrs Smith washed Pau’s car seat covers and she
asked me to bring them up to their room. Her legs aren’t what
they were and she finds the stairs a trial,’ she replied, repeating
the housekeeper’s frequently heard complaint.
‘She has no right to get you to do her work,’ bristled her mother.
‘Servants in this country just don’t know their place. You tell her
no if she asks you again. Remember your position. You’re my
daughter. Stay out of the kitchen, and your brothers’ room,’ she
said, moving to the door. ‘I’ll be in my bedroom having a rest
before dinner and I don’t want to be disturbed.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Adele dutifully.
She followed her mother out of the room and shut the door
behind them. She didn’t relax until she was in her own room.
In front of the mirror she smiled at her reflection. The heavy
intricate necklace looked much better now that it wasn’t being
outshone by the gem-encrusted jewellery. But I’d rather have
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Ann Massey
diamonds any day, she thought, dismissing the rare and outstanding Sarawakian masterpiece as a crude ornament that could be
bought in the native markets for a couple of ringgit.
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Chapter 31
‘I’m glad we’re finally going home, but I wish you were
coming too,’ grumbled Adele.
‘We’ll come and see you often,’ said Mei Li with a reassuring
smile. She was smiling more these days. The charges against
Tuff had been dropped and she was due to be released today.
Telling her grandparents about Rubiah’s death was going to be
hard, but at least Mei Li was spared the horror of admitting her
own mother was Rubiah’s killer.
‘I got you a going-away present.’ Mei Li took a brightly
wrapped package out of her pocket.
Adele tore open the package and fastened the bracelet around
her wrist. ‘Thank you! I love it. I’ll treasure it forever.’ She was
delighted by the charms but embarrassed that she had nothing to
give her amah in return. And then she remembered the wooden
beads she’d found in her brothers’ wardrobe. She hadn’t had a
chance to put them back and they hadn’t been missed, though
it had been over a week since she’d discovered the jewellery box.
‘I’ve got something for you too.’ She ran upstairs and rummaged
under a pile of folded tops where she’d hidden the necklace.
Mei Li couldn’t believe her eyes. She gazed at the intricately
carved beads in disbelief. What was Adele doing with the collar
of the matriarch, her tribe’s most sacred relic, the precious ornament her grandmother had entrusted into her care and which
had been commandeered by Rubiah?
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Ann Massey
‘Don’t you like it?’ asked Adele, puzzled by Mei Li’s silence.
‘Where you get this?’ Mei Li asked so fiercely she frightened
the little girl.
‘I bought it for you … in London.’
‘Is that truth?’ Mei Li asked in a loud angry voice that scared
Adele, who had never heard her amah yell before.
‘Why are you getting angry? They’re just cheap wooden beads.
You can buy them in the market in Miri for a couple of ringgit.’
‘These are very special beads,’ Mei Li answered, appalled by
the girl’s disrespect for her family’s treasured icon. The necklace
was unique. Each bead was carved with an animal, plant, bird or
fish, all revered totems of her tribe. Others might be similar to a
casual onlooker but not to a member of her family. Mei Li knew,
without a shadow of a doubt, that this was her grandmother’s
necklace.
‘You find shop again?’ she asked. Perhaps the jeweller would
recognise the thief who had sold him the tribal artefact. She
wondered if she should ring the police straightaway or wait until
David came home.
Adele went bright red. “I didn’t buy it in a shop. I … found
it,’ she finished unconvincingly.
‘Go on, Adele,’ said Mei Li, watching her sharply.
Adele dropped her gaze.‘ I’ll get in trouble,’ she wailed.
Mei Li knew she could have promised Adele that everything
would be fine but that would have been be a lie. She knew
Adele’s revelation would destroy a member of her family and
Adele would have to live with the blame for the rest of her life.
Mei Li’s voice was firm. She spoke to Adele honestly, in the way
her grandmother had spoken to her when she was a child.
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The White Amah
‘Always tell truth and take punishment.’
A few minutes later they were standing in the boys’ bedroom.
‘There,’ Adele said proudly as she unlocked the box, took out
the pouch and emptied its contents onto the satin counterpane.
‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ She picked up the sparkling bracelets and
necklaces in delight.
‘Did you get beads out of here too?’
‘Yes,’ admitted Adele, too ashamed to look Mei Li in the face.
‘Sorry. I’ll get you something much better than these.’
‘Don’t say anything to Pau.’
‘Do you think I’m crazy? Pau would kill us if he finds out
we’ve been going through his stuff. It’s just an expression,’ Adele
said, laughing at Mei Li’s shocked face.
Mei Li smiled weakly. Her head was in turmoil with wild
dark thoughts she couldn’t share with Pau’s innocent little sister.
There was no way she was going to tell Adele about her suspicions. That would be Adele’s mother’s job and she felt sorry for
Madam Ling. It was a dreadful thing for a mother to find out
about her son, especially when she doted on him.
‘There’s no hurry,’ said Adele, and she slipped a heavy gold
bangle on her wrist.
Madam Ling had gone up to town to do some last-minute
shopping before they all flew out at the end of the week and was
staying in their London apartment overnight. Lady Entwistle
was out for the day too. It was her turn to do the church flowers
and she’d taken along her housekeeper to help with the masses
of flowers she’d picked from the garden.
‘I won’t be home before teatime,’ she said before she left. ‘I’m
dining at the parsonage and then I’ve got my book club in the
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Ann Massey
afternoon. Do be careful, Mrs Smith,’ she scolded as water from
the heavy pails her housekeeper was lugging splashed on the
marble tiles.
The boys’ bedroom was at the rear of the house and Adele
and Mei Li didn’t hear the car pull up or the tread of footsteps
ascending the spiral staircase. The thickly piled Aubusson rug
muffled the footsteps down the corridor and both girls were
shocked when the door suddenly opened.
‘Oh, it’s only Clarrie,’ said Adele in relief. He might yell at her
but even when he was really angry he’d never twisted her arm up
her back or given her a painful Chinese burn, unlike Pau, who
would wrestle her to the ground and cover her mouth with his
hand so she couldn’t breath and couldn’t scream.
‘What are you doing in here?’
‘I was just showing Mei Li some of Pau’s things. Don’t tell
him,’ pleaded Adele.
‘Go to your room … now,’ ordered Clarence, his voice and
face so severe that Adele slunk out of the room without protesting.
‘Where did all this come from?’ Clarence asked Mei Li, once
he was sure his sister had really gone to her room and wasn’t
listening at the door.
‘These belong to Rubiah. Adele found them up there, hidden
in this box. How they get there?’ she yelled, dangling the wooden
beads in front of Clarence’s face.
‘I don’t know,’ said Clarence, staring at her blankly. ‘I’ve never
seen them before.’
‘Only one person it could be then. Pau.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Clarence, but his voice lacked
conviction.
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The White Amah
‘You know I’m right.’
He didn’t answer. There was a long silence. His face was bleak
and wintry and his eyes were dull as tar.
Mei Li knew he was wondering how he was going to tell his
mother her beloved elder son was a murderer. It would be like a
dagger in her heart. ‘I’m sorry, Clarence,’ she said.
‘Who else knows about this?’
‘Nobody, everyone out.’
‘We have to get out of here,’ said Clarence. ‘Pau’s right behind
me and I don’t think we can trust Adele to hold her tongue.’
‘Oh no,’ she moaned, gripping his arm so tightly he winced.
‘Don’t look so scared, Mei Li. I won’t let anything happen
to you and Little Sister. Put a few things in an overnight bag for
you and Adele,’ he said, taking charge of the situation, ‘and I’ll
leave a note for Lady Entwistle. And I’ll phone David to let him
know you’re on your way up. And hurry.’
He was sitting on a hard oak hall chair, hunched over the
security box, when Adele, unaware of her brother’s distress,
skipped down the stairs, followed more slowly and sombrely by
Mei Li, who was clutching a hurriedly packed bag.
Clarence took the note he’d written to Lady Entwistle out of
his breast pocket and placed it on the marble side table. ‘I called
David while you were getting ready,’ he told Mei Li. ‘He’s going
to meet you at the mews flat. I told him we should get there by
nine, depending on the traffic. C’mon, let’s get out of here.’

› 277‹
Chapter 32
Every Thursday evening David joined his fatherfor
drinks at an Italian restaurant just down the road from chambers.
After the waiter had taken their order Sir Roland smiled at his
son. ‘It’s good news that Tuff is finally free. I expect Mei Li will
want to see her mother straightaway.’
David frowned. ‘I’d rather she didn’t. That woman is poison.’
‘I’m inclined to agree with you,’ replied his father, ‘but it’s
only natural that your fiancée will want to have a relationship
with her mother. Besides, things might go more smoothly now
the ice has been broken, so to speak. And for heavens sake, Tuff
has to be grateful to the pair of you. She’d be stuck in Holloway
for months waiting for her case to come to trial if you hadn’t
questioned the disappearance of Rubiah’s jewellery.’
‘Normal rules don’t apply in her case. I’d rather not talk about
her, Pa. When I remember how she spoke to Mei my blood
boils.’
‘That bad –’
The phone ringing interrupted the conversation and Sir
Roland removed his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. ‘It’s
your mother,’ he whispered. He listened for a moment or two.
‘What a coincidence, David and I were just discussing that very
thing … It was good of Clarence to drive her up … Yes, yes. I’ll
be home at the usual time.’ He closed the phone and put it back
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Ann Massey
in his pocket. ‘Your mother found a note from Clarence when
she got home from her bridge game. Apparently he took Mei Li
up to town to meet her mother.’
‘That’s odd. I wouldn’t have thought meeting up with Mei
Li was high on that woman’s list of priorities. Did Ma say where
they were meeting, by any chance?’ David didn’t like the idea
of Mei being alone with her irrational mother, who was still the
prime suspect in his eyes, even if the police had dropped their
charge.
‘No idea, but I shouldn’t worry. She’s with Clarence and he
strikes me as a responsible lad. It’d be different if it was that
brother of his. An ugly customer … he’ll do jail time in the
future, mark my words. His father can’t keep covering up for him
indefinitely. But Clarence is from a different mould – chalk and
cheese, my dear boy.’
David wasn’t convinced and he flipped open his phone and
called Mei Li’s mobile, but it was either switched off or she’d
forgotten to recharge the battery.
As he dodged in and out of the snarling commuter traffic on
the clogged thoroughfare, Clarence began cursing, honking the
horn impatiently at the slow-moving car ahead. He groaned as
they came to a halt at yet another red light. He hadn’t banked
on running into the evening rush. By the time they turned into
the quiet garden square in Belgravia where the Lings leased a
luxurious flat it had been dark for over an hour.
‘Wake her up,’ Clarence said, drawing up outside the redbrick
Queen Anne Revival building.
Mei Li shook Adele gently.
‘Are we here already?’ Adele yawned sleepily.
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The White Amah
‘I’ll never get used to this weather,’ complained Clarence, shivering in the damp foggy air. He sneezed twice. ‘It’s supposed to
be summer.’ He picked up a cashmere rug and wrapped it round
his drowsy little sister. ‘You better come in too. I might be a while
and it’s cold out here.’
Mei Li’s heart sank, but she couldn’t think of a plausible
excuse to remain in the car. Why didn’t she have the sense to
ask Clarence to drop her off first? She followed Clarence up
the well-lit cobbled path lined by a neatly trimmed privet hedge.
When he reached the imposing front door, he rang the bell and
immediately a veiled housemaid opened it.
‘Welcome home,’ the maid said.
‘Are my parents home?’
‘Madam Ling has retired for the night and Mr Ling isn’t
home.’
‘Put Little Sister to bed and show Miss Mei Li where she
can freshen up,’ instructed Clarence. With a sigh, his shoulders
hunched like an old man, he walked towards the winding marble
staircase that led to his mother’s bedroom on the first floor, overlooking the private park they shared with the other residents of
the exclusive square.
‘Follow me. We’ll take the lift,’ the maid said in a cold fashion,
ignoring Mei Li’s friendly smile.
‘I want Mei Li to put me to bed,’ said Adele, tugging at Mei
Li’s sleeve as the lift rose smoothly to the nurseries on the second
floor.
‘I expect Missis too grand to wait on you now she’s come up
in the world.’ The maid glared at Mei Li, envious of the white
amah’s good fortune in bagging a rich husband.
Mei Li ignored the servant’s jealous outburst and winked
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Ann Massey
at Adele. ‘Me tell you a good story,’ she said with a smile as she
stepped out of the lift.
Stroking Adele’s head, the way her grandmother used to
do when she was small, Mei Li started to tell her the story of
Kumang, the beautiful Dayak maiden who fell in love with
Guang, the son of her father’s oldest enemy. But her mind was
on her own troubles rather than the star-crossed lovers as she
imagined what would happen when Clarence showed Madam
Ling Rubiah’s stolen jewellery and told her where they’d found
it. She’s bound to blame me, she thought. Any mother would.
Madam Ling had retired early. Ever since that horrendous day
when the body of her husband’s whore had been found she’d had
trouble sleeping. Suspicions, so vile she dared not repeat them,
troubled her dreams. They were foolish fears, unsubstantiated
because the evidence incriminated Tuff, and not her husband
or sons. She was sitting up in bed watching a Chinese movie
on the roll-down screen when her younger son burst into her
bedroom looking so apprehensive she shuddered violently, as if
a ghost had walked over her grave.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Clarence had been rehearsing what he’d say on the journey,
but now, in the presence of his mother, he just stood at the foot
of her bed, paralysed by fear. He blinked rapidly, in the grip of an
emotion so powerful he couldn’t get out a coherent word. Finally
he just dropped the security box on the bed and lifted the lid.
Every trace of colour drained from his mother’s face, leaving it pale as a corpse. Her heart began to pound wildly; her
chest felt so tight she thought she would suffocate. ‘Aiyoh …
my pills,’ she said weakly. Chalky faced, propped up on her
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The White Amah
pillows with a glass of water in her hand, Madam Ling listened
expressionless as, stuttering and twitching uncontrollably,
Clarence spoke.
‘I didn’t mean to kill her. You’ve got to believe me. The only
reason I went to her room was to warn her to stay away from
father and then …’ He stopped. How could he tell his respected
and beloved mother about the depraved acts Rubiah described
that had his father begging for more; the way she’d laughed
mockingly and said, ‘If Joe leaves anyone it’ll be the old crone
he’s married to’; her shameless smile as she untied the sash of
her slinky, satin robe and put her hand on his manhood. ‘Be
nice to me,’ she’d said with an insolent smile. ‘After all, we’re
going to be family.’
‘Go on,’ said his mother, steely eyed.
A muscle in his face twitched, his mouth twisted and he
grunted and coughed to clear his blocked throat. ‘She made me
wild,’ he said, his eyelids fluttering furiously. ‘She said father
was going to divorce you and then she joked about being my
stepmother. I just went crazy. I wasn’t going to let her take your
place. You’ve got to understand, I did it for you.’
‘Oh Clarence, what have you done? You’ve ruined us.’
‘It was for you, Mother,’ he gasped between the shuddering
sobs that racked his body.
‘Give me my dressing gown, over there on the chair.’
‘You mustn’t get up, Mother, not after one of your turns.’
‘Better to die from a heart attack than live with the shame
of disgraced son.’ She looked at Clarence with a contempt she
didn’t even try to conceal. ‘But it won’t come to that. This sort
of situation is best left to your father to handle.’
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Ann Massey
‘After Kumang and Guang died, the two rival chiefs met near
the mouth of the Pangup. Brokenhearted, the two old enemies
wept. They swore over the bodies of their dead children to put
a stop to the war and the two tribes lived peacefully ever after,’
said Mei Li softly, blinking back unshed tears; the tragic story
still had the power to move her.
Adele knew Mei Li had skipped over parts of the tale but she
was too tired to complain, and when her amah leant down and
kissed her forehead Adele whispered, ‘I love you.’
‘Me too,’ answered Mei Li, and then she switched off the
light.
The long narrow hall was gloomier than Mei Li remembered. The lights in their gilt sconces, subdued and dim, threw
eerie shadows on the walls and the plush carpet. She felt the
hairs on her neck stand up and her heart started to pound. Why
hadn’t she stayed in the car? Why hadn’t she phoned David?
She was scared, although she didn’t know why. She paused and
fumbled in her pocket. She was holding down the on button
on her mobile, a look of desperation on her face, when the lift
doors slid open.
‘You were a long time. I was coming to look for you,’ said
Clarence. He took the phone from her. He stared at the screen
for a moment and handed it back. ‘Your battery’s flat, that’s your
problem.’
Mei Li looked back over her shoulder; she was tempted to
run back to Adele’s room.
‘Hurry up,’ said Clarence. ‘Mother wants to talk to you before
I take you round to David’s. It’s already late. We don’t want to be
getting round there at midnight, do we?’
Better get it over with, she thought. She watched the doors
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The White Amah
slide shut with a sinking feeling, echoed by the moan of the
hydraulics as the lift began its descent. Seconds later it came to
a juddering halt and the doors re-opened. Mei Li peered suspiciously into the gloom.
‘What’s going on? What place is this?’ she whispered, shaking
uncontrollably, the blood roaring in her ears like the furious beat
of a hundred war drums.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. Mother suggested we talk
down here away from the prying eyes of the servants. C’mon, I
don’t want to keep her waiting.’
He gripped Mei Li’s arm tightly, yanking her out of the
brightly lit elevator and into the underground cellar. Unlike the
blazing ground floor, the basement was lit only by one dim light;
the renovations to the building had not continued below ground
level. Dark and gloomy, the underground vault looked like it was
inhabited by ghosts and demons.
‘I’m over here,’ called Madam Ling.
Mei Li breathed, reassured by the sight of the familiar rotund
figure standing in a pool of light, looking wholesome and ordinary in a blue woolly dressing gown and fluffy slippers. But her
relief was short lived.
‘You ungrateful girl,’ Madam Ling shrieked. ‘We took you
out of the jungle and into our home and this is how you repay
us. Wickedgirl. I trusted you and all the time you were in league
with that slut Rubiah.’ She slapped the surprised girl hard with
the back of her hand.
‘I’m s-s-sorry,’ cried Mei Li.
‘Not as sorry as you’re going to be. Put her in there until your
father gets home.’
Mei Li flailed and struggled as Clarence dragged her into the
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Ann Massey
disused coalhole now used as a storeroom for ancient, obsolete
household equipment, but he was too strong for her.
‘We can’t let you go, you know too much.’ He stood over her
as she got to her feet, the blood from her nosebleed dripping
unheeded on the stone-flagged floor.
‘You won’t get away with this. David will come look for me,’
yelled Mei Li. ‘Better let me go before you get in more trouble.’
Madam Ling shuffled up in her slippers. ‘That’s where you’re
wrong,’ she said. Her voice was weak and shaky as an old woman’s,
but her eyes shone with hate.
‘David’s not going to come looking for you here. He thinks
you went to meet your mother. At least you got one thing right,’
she told Clarence, peering into the gloom, her small, hard eyes
obscured by the swell of her cheeks as her lips stretched in a tight
smile. ‘Nobody will ever suspect you killed Rubiah. Tuff will be
the one the police go after when her daughter disappears and
she’ll get the blame for murdering both of them.’
‘You … it was youwho killed poor Rubiah,’ cried Mei Li.
Gathering herself up, she flew at Clarence like a wild thing, arms
flailing, fists flying, kicking and biting, while Clarence just stood
there like a zombie, taking her blows without resistance.
‘Don’t just stand there like a lump of wood,’ hissed his
mother.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, too quietly for his mother to hear, as
his fist contacted with Mei Li’s jaw. She staggered backward, her
knees buckled and she collapsed. Just before she lost consciousness, she heard the door slam shut and then the light went out.
› 285‹
Chapter 33
‘Another bottle of Klug,’ Joe said to the waiter. ‘That
all right, darling?’ he asked, just as his mobile rang, the Bollywood tune out of step with the Dralion’s predominantly Chinese
clientele.
The tycoon was wining and dining an attractive sassy croupier
he’d met through Dai Bin Tan when the disreputable businessman introduced him to Lysander’s, a casino frequented by
London’s Chinese mafia. Tan was heavily involved in people trafficking and routinely laundered vast amounts of money through
the casino. There were lucrative opportunities for those able to
provide illicit smuggling services, and Joe Ling was celebrating
his coup at being given the opportunity to set up a ring operating
between Miri and Australia, using his timber export business
as a cover. This was his chance to move into the big time. No
longer a big fish in a small pool, he was a player in an international criminal enterprise, accepted by his Han brothers, and
the expectation of massive wealth had helped to ease the pain
of his mistress’s death.
Blank faced, Joe listened to the caller. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said,
getting to his feet abruptly. ‘Get a cab.’ He threw some notes on
the table and was walking out of the restaurant before his date
had time to reply.
Seething with fury, his temper was white hot by the time he
confronted his wife and son. Rubiah’s murder had thrown him.
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Ann Massey
Demanding, impossible and unpredictable, his capricious concubine had always been able to excite him, but he’d discovered
that he missed her companionship as much as the sex. Called
upon to identify her body, he was shocked when he saw his lovely
mistress lying on the blood-soaked bed in her hotel room. She
didn’t deserve to die like that, he thought angrily. No stranger
to violence, he could see that the feisty little Dayak had put up a
fight and had been kicked and punched repeatedly before being
overcome by her killer. For her killer to be his dull, lumpish
younger son was beyond belief.
‘You twisted bastard! What were you thinking of? ’ he shouted,
the harsh words booming in the cavernous basement.
Speechless and with terror in his eyes, Clarence flinched
at the sound of his father’s angry voice. Ever since he’d been
a small boy he’d feared his sadistic father, who seemed to find
pleasure in dealing out punishment. The words ‘just wait until
your father gets home’ had the power to transform him to a
quivering jelly.
As usual, his tongue-tied son’s anxious expression infuriated
Joe and he turned to his wife. ‘I always knew no good would
come of letting him spend so much time with you. You’ve turned
him into a weakling like your drunken brother.’
‘None of this would have happened if you’d left your harlot in
Miri,’ sobbed Madam Ling, tears running down her cheeks.
‘Hot tears won’t cook rice,’ sneered her husband, looking at
her coldly. ‘Why wouldn’t I bring her? Have you looked in the
mirror lately?’
‘Don’t talk to her like that,’ spat Clarence, his hands clenched
into fists at his sides. ‘You think you can do anything and say
anything you damn well want. Well, I showed you. Did you
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The White Amah
think I was just going to stand by and see your tart in my
mother’s place, a woman like that, a common prostitute? Yes,
I killed her and I’d do it again.’ His small eyes were dark and
hard with hatred.
For the first time Joe felt a flicker of respect for the younger
son he’d always thought was gutless. He wouldn’t have put it
past Pau to have murdered Rubiah. After all, it wasn’t unknown
for ambitious concubines to be killed by ruthless sons protecting their inheritance. In the same situation, he wouldn’t have
hesitated. But Clarence was a different kettle of fish.
‘You didn’t need to kill her. The necklace was nothing more
than a parting gift,’ he said more mildly.
‘That’s not what she said. She said you were going to divorce
mother and marry her.’
‘It doesn’t do to reveal your hand too early, particularly when
your opponent’s a woman.’ Joe winked. ‘Wah, tiger father begets
tiger son. Maybe there’s a place for you in the organisation after
all – that’s if we can keep you out of jail, lah.’
Madam Ling wiped her eyes. ‘What are we going to do about
Mei Li? She knows everything.’
‘We have to make sure that no one connects her disappearance with us.’
‘David phoned earlier to ask me where I dropped Mei Li off,’
said Clarence, ‘and I told him the last I saw of her was when she
was getting into a taxi with her mother.’
‘Did he buy it?’ asked Joe.
‘Yeah, he’s frantically trying to track them down. But no one’s
seen Tuff since she was released. He said it’s like she’s disappeared into thin air.’
‘The cops will think that’s very suspicious. It takes the heat
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Ann Massey
off us if they’re looking for her mother, but she’s going to dispute
your story when they find her.’
Joe was worried. He ran his hands through his hair, hoping
his feeble son would be able to keep to his story under pressure.
But Joe had nothing to fear. Benny Allan had been waiting for
Tuff outside the prison in his red Ferrari and they headed straight
for the Chunnel. He’d convinced Tuff to hide out for a few weeks
until she got back in shape. ‘Imagine the hullabaloo when you
completely vanish. The media will go wild when you surface
lithe and lean, my lovely.’
‘Are you sure this place is really remote? I don’t want to be
snapped by any predatory photographers until I’ve lost ten kilos.’
Tuff was dismayed by the weight she’d gained without a personal
trainer in charge of her diet and exercise regime.
‘It couldn’t be further off the beaten track. I bought a derelict
farmhouse in an abandoned village in Andalusia five years back.
It’s in need of total renovation, Ducky, but I can guarantee we
won’t be disturbed, no matter what we get up to.’
‘Hello, you’re gay.’
‘Don’t be fooled by appearances.’ and Benny guided her hand
to the bulge in his skin-tight jeans.
‘Oh my god,’ groaned Tuff, rolling her eyes in mock horror
and snuggling closer.
Joe looked at his Rolex. It was still two hours short of midnight.
Tan would be at the casino where he hung out most nights and
Joe knew he would have to call on his services. He was furious at
having to ask a favour from his new partner, and he glared at his
wife and younger son, who were huddled in a corner whispering.
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By the time he had phoned the Triad boss and arranged for Mei
Li to be smuggled out of the country, Pau had arrived at the
flat.
‘Tan will send round his men tomorrow to pack the goods
we’re shipping back home,’ Joe told his sons.
‘But how can you be sure she won’t talk when we get her back
to Miri?’ Clarence still felt troubled. Mei Li was resourceful and
it was his head on the chopping block. Joe knew it was too dangerous to take her back to Borneo, even if he cut out her tongue.
‘What makes you think she’s even coming back with us?’
‘I bet she’s off to Saudi as a sex slave,’ guessed Pau, and he
laughed, pleased to settle an old score with David.
‘Got it in one,’ his father replied, the lie coming easily. He
had something else in mind but he didn’t mention the gang’s
lucrative trade in body parts. He’d ease his sons into the business
bit by bit. He smiled to himself at the unintentional pun.
‘I wish there was some other way.’
‘Stay out of the kitchen if you can’t take the heat, Clarence,’
and Joe glowered at his weak younger son in disgust.

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Chapter 34
Mei Li opened her eyes to darkness– deep, dark and
impenetrable. The dampness of the hard flagstone floor soaked
into her clothes, chilling her skin and creeping into her bones.
Her body felt numb from lying in one spot for too long. She
listened to silence overlaid with the sound of her own rapid
breathing. A violent spasm shook her and she curled up on the
floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her shaking body. Never
had she felt so lost and frightened. Fear like a dense, deep fog
wrapped round her, intensifying her despair .She knew nobody
would be able to find her. She was going to die in this cellar, in
the dark … alone. Oh Grandma, she whispered, where are you?
I’m scared. I don’t want to die.
But Mei Li was descended from a line of courageous,
resourceful women. Her decision to live seemed to calm her:
her heart rate steadied and the pounding in her ears subsided.
She struggled to stand, but the shooting pains in her legs were
too painful. Her legs buckled under and she sank to her knees.
Gritting her teeth, she crawled blindly over the uneven flags
until she bumped her head against a brick wall. Ignoring the
pain, she used the wall for leverage and raised herself up, leaning
her head against the rough wall as blood flowed like burning
needles into her numb feet and legs.
Four painful sidesteps to the right took her to the door. Sliding her hands up, down and across the rough wooden surface,
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she found the doorknob. Her hand curled round the knob and
she turned it. She swallowed a sob. Stupid to get upset, she told
herself. She knew it would be locked. Think! she told herself.
Maybe there was a light switch. She was rewarded when her
probing fingers felt the smooth surface of the Bakelite wall plate.
She let out a laugh that ended on a sob and pressed the switch
down.
The bulb flickered on and off, on and off, and the brief, jerky
flashes of light revealed a poky junk room. For years the disused
coalhole had been used as a store for generations of trash: a
wooden ladder was leaning against a heavy Victorian sideboard;
a rusty obsolete mangle was wedged up against an old rocking
horse; old-fashioned furniture and broken toys were piled up
high against the brick walls on all sides of the room. There were
all sorts of things that just seemed to have been thrown into the
room. Tins and boxes full of forsaken odds and ends had been
stacked on top of broken furniture and crates.
There was no other way out. Mei Li stared around the room
at walls bare of window or another door. It would have been so
easy to throw herself down on the tired old couch and sob her
heart out.
Never!she vowed to herself. She was a Dayak and Dayaks
were warriors. If she had to, she would fight her way out. She
looked round for something she could use as a weapon.
A collection of old tools was heaped up against the wall. She
moved a rake and the whole lot clattered to the ground with
a resounding clang. Under the jumble she saw the blade of a
coal shovel glittering in the flickering light. The rusty, shorthandled spade, used to fill the scuttles with coal to heat the
household, had lain forgotten for over sixty years. She grasped
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it, felt its solid weight with satisfaction. She gripped it tightly,
brought it back across her body and tried a practice swing. All
it would take was one good blow. Now there was nothing else
to do but wait. She lay down on the couch, facing the door,
prepared. With a weak splutter the naked bulb fizzled out and
the cell was once more shrouded in darkness. After the short
respite, incarceration in the pitch-black cellar seemed twice
as bad and Mei Li finally broke down and bawled.
Always, in times of trouble, Lada had sent her spirit to guide
Mei Li. Why now, when she needed her counsel as never before,
had she abandoned her? There was only one thing to be done,
Mei Li decided. Her own spirit would have to seek out her grandmother. It was a perilous undertaking and the consequences
were dire. Unsanctioned travel was prohibited and punishable
by divine law.
Mei Li knew that the gift of metaphysical travel was only
bestowed on exceptional women. Women who defied the spirits
and attempted to travel without first winning the approval of the
spirits fell into layu, a state of lifelessness. Mei Li feared layuas
much as the next woman. She knew you never recovered and
death was the only release. But her need was great, greater than
her fear of breaking the taboo.
Mei Li stared off into the distance, focusing on her grandmother. Pictures formed in her mind as she hummed a soft,
wordless melody. She saw again the long, low wooden house on
stilts in a leafy clearing at the edge of the jungle; welcoming;
rich with the sweet spicy aroma of shared feasts; resounding with
the swelling, untamed symphony, with every insect, bird, reptile
and animal playing out its heart. In that house she knew there
would be a tiny, formidable old woman with wise eyes and a
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brown leathery face weaving an intricate pattern she’d learned
in a dream.
Mei Li’s own song burst from her lips and she chanted it passionately, like an anthem:
‘The vast river captures me,
The current like white water over rocks spurs me on.
I mount the riding moon.
The starry sky lights my way.’
The air was redolent with the intoxicating scent of the jungle,
the sweet, spicy, pungent aroma of home. Rising from the couch,
Mei Li gazed down for a moment at her frozen sheath. Set free,
she soared toward the hidden shore.
Dawn on the Pangup, and the early-morning mist was just
clearing. In a sandy cove where dazzling white sand blinded the
eye like sunlit snow, Dayak women, their hand-woven sarongs
clinging to their wet bodies, scrubbed their clothes with smooth
river rocks while their naked children splashed in the shallows.
Mei Li looked about in wonder. How could she have forgotten the
peaceful pleasures of home?
Rounding a bend in the river, by the edge of a mangrove swamp
where the morning mist was still lingering, she saw Lada sitting
cross-legged under a casuarina tree and staring into the distance.
Immediately she began to paddle faster, desperate to reach the one
person in her life who had never let her down, the wise woman
who would tell her what she should do. Straining every muscle, she
paddled swiftly through a sudden tropical storm as arrowheads
of rain like stinging poisoned needles from thousands of warriors’
blowpipes pierced her bare arms and face.
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Huge waves broke over the tiny canoe. The strong current was
pushing her back, and although she paddled harder and harder
her grandmother seemed to be moving further and further away.
Mei Li knew she had to act quickly or it would be too late; the
water was rising and the gathering mist was fast obscuring the tiny
figure on the distant riverbank.
Standing precariously in the rocking boat, she shouted over the
din of the raging torrent, ‘Oh Grandma, help me.’
‘This time you have to weather the storm under your own
strength, Little Lotus.’
‘But I’m locked in a dungeon,’ screamed Mei Li, hoping her
grandmother would hear her cry over the rumbling thunder.
Flash lightning lit up the sky. For a few mystical moments a
haloed figure shimmered with a brilliant radiance before swirling
mist, as thick as smoke, concealed the shining vision – but not the
far-off response. The gusty vibrations whispered on the winnowing
wind: ‘Look for another way out. Look, look!’
Mei Li looked towards the shrouded shore. What had been
vibrant and intense moments ago now seemed vague and filmy.
She felt disorientated and very confused. What would happen if
she got stuck in the astral plane and wasn’t able to return to her
physical body? Would she be forever trapped twixt the Land of
the Living and the River of the Dead, a homeless entity, belonging nowhere?
There was a flash. She dipped to avoid the bolt, and landed
with a jolt in her empty body.

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Chapter 35
‘Keep the change,’ said David with a frown.He didn’t
have time to wait while the cabbie searched through his wallet.
All he was interested in was finding out if there’d been any fresh
information about Mei Li’.
‘Thanks, guv,’ said the taxi driver with a pleased grin. ‘I’ll
be back at eleven-thirty on the dot.’ He pulled out in front of a
removal van and headed back to the city.
David stepped to the side to allow the removalists to pass by
him. They were struggling with a pine packing case, which they
humped into the van. He watched them for a moment and then
strode up the cobbled path.
Madame Ling answered the door, quite unlike herself still in
her dressing gown at ten in the morning.
‘Oh, David,’ she said, looking flustered. ‘You find us in chaos.
As you know, we’re going home tomorrow and the packers are
here. Mr Soames, the gentleman we rented the flat from, offered
to let us buy any of the furniture we liked and, well, there are
quite a few nice pieces. But that’s not why you’re here. Is there
any news of Mei Li?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I would like to speak with Clarence
if he’s home.’
‘Of course, David, but I don’t think he can tell you any more
than what he said last night. Please have a seat and I’ll see if I
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can find him, and then I’ll organise some tea for us. Adele’s gone
shopping with the maid. She wanted to buy some last-minute
presents for her little friends at home and that’s the reason you
find me answering the door and running my own errands.’ Nervously, she tightened the sash of her dressing gown and reknotted
it, thankful she’d had the foresight to make sure Adele was out
of the house. Relying on her daughter to confirm her brother’s
story was precarious as a pile of eggs.
‘Please don’t put yourself to any trouble, Madame Ling. If I
can just have a quick word with Clarence,’ said David, feeling
very much in the way.
‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, and went out of the room, closing
the door behind her.
Too restless to sit, David walked over to the windows. One
of the brawny packers took a drill out of a bulky tool bag and
screwed down the lid of the packing case. He shoved the trolley underneath its front edge and rolled it up the ramp. A few
minutes later the men came out carrying a stack of flat cardboard boxes. David screwed up his eyes and stared at them; they
were Chinese. His father had mentioned that the company was
expanding its export division. He looked at the logo on the van
– Global Logistics – and made a mental note to look them up.
Twenty minutes passed before he heard the door open.
‘Mother told me you wanted to talk to me about Mei Li,’
said Clarence, a look of concern on his moonish face. ‘I don’t
know what else I can tell you. Like I told you on the phone, I
dropped her off outside Victoria Street Station. I waited until a
cab pulled up. The passenger, I’m sure it was Tuff, rolled down
the window and said something to Mei Li and she got in. And
that was the last I saw of her. I’m sorry, David. I feel terrible. I
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suppose it’s much too soon for the police to get involved. Doesn’t
a person have to be missing for two or three days before they’ll
look into it?’
‘It’s a common misconception that a person must be absent
for seventy-two hours before being legally classed as missing, but
this is rarely the case and certainly not in these circumstances.
Mei Li has disappeared in the company of a prime suspectin a
murder case,’ said David, sounding like a lawyer.
David got to his feet as Madam Ling came through the door
carrying a tray of pastries.
‘Surely you don’t believe Tuff would harm her own daughter,’
said Madam Ling, looking around for somewhere to put the tray.
She’d changed into loose, wide pants and a flowing top, but she
still seemed edgy and distracted. ‘I think you’ll find that she’s
just frightened that the media is going to give her a hard time
and she’s trying to keep her hiding place secret. Wouldn’t you,
in her shoes?’
‘I hope you’re right, Madame Ling.’ She sounded impatient
and David could tell she wanted to get on with organising the
move. He shook his head when she offered him a pastry. ‘No,
thank you. I won’t take up any more of your time. I can see how
busy you are. Have a safe journey home. Mother and Father
send their regards.’
As he was leaving Pau came into the room, yawning. ‘I hear
the bird has flown the coop,’ he said, helping himself to a Danish.
‘Well, you know what they say. If she comes back she’s yours, if
she doesn’t she never was.’
David hadn’t trusted himself to answer. He wished he could
have wiped that smug smile off Pau’s face. He looked up and
down the street and checked the time, again. Where was that
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damned taxi? He’d wasted the whole morning on a wild goose
chase. Clarence was a decent guy and he had no reason to doubt
he’d told the truth. Now if Mei had gone off in a car with Pau,
well, that would be a different story, he told himself, still angry.
A pretty, heavy-set young woman with dark hair was walking
up the square holding a small boy’s hand. The child was holding
a bright yellow soccer ball. He dropped it and it rolled under the
truck. David bent down, picked up the ball and gently kicked
it back to him. The boy smiled and waved goodbye to him all
the way up the avenue until he and the au pair had turned into
the park.
David looked at his watch. Damn it, where was that taxi?
Adele was feeling tired. It was a long walk from the tube station
and even though her maid was carrying three-quarters of the
shopping she was still weighed down with carrier bags.
‘Not much further now,’ said the maid as they turned into
the square.
‘It’s miles,’ said Adele petulantly. ‘And they haven’t finished yet.
The van’s still there.’ She stopped. In an instant her bad temper
evaporated as she recognised the familiar figure pacing up and
down the pavement. ‘Oh look, it’s David,’ she cried. ‘Thank
goodness we came back early. I might’ve missed him.’ She still
had a crush on him and she was pleased he’d come alone. Mei
Li must be having a sleep-in. She knew it had been late when
Clarence took her around to David’s flat.
She raced off but she’d only got a few metres when she rushed
back again. ‘Where’s that present I bought for Mei Li? Is it in
one of your bags? Quick, have a look.’
Several minutes elapsed before the small package containing
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a carefully wrapped crystal figurine was found at the bottom of
the last bag.
‘You bring the rest,’ yelled Adele. She ran ahead, holding the
package against her chest and calling out David’s name.
A taxi pulled up next to the van. Oh no, thought Adele, quickening her pace, running faster than she’d ever run in her life.
David was talking to the cab driver and if she didn’t do something now he’d drive off. The plump little girl ran and ran. Her
heart was beating faster and faster and she was so tired that it
seemed to her that she couldn’t run another step. Gasping, she
screamed David’s name. The choked cry was absorbed by the
dull roar of the passing traffic.
‘Sorry, guv, the traffic’s all snarled up.’ The cabbie opened
the door for his passenger, the five-pound tip still fresh in his
memory.
Red-faced and panting, too out of breath to yell again, Adele
half walked and half ran, but she was too late. The cab sped off.
In the back of the cab, unaware of how close he’d been to finding out the truth, David once again called Tuff’s home number
as Adele staggered the last ten metres home.
It was late morning when Mei Li woke. Rays of morning sun
illuminated the narrow gap round the rim of the coalhole cover,
a hatch in the pavement above the underground cellar that had
been installed so the coal could be delivered straight to the bunker and the coalman didn’t need to enter the house with dirty
sacks of coal. Perplexed, Mei Li stared at the glowing circle that
had appeared as if by magic on the ceiling. Could that be the
way out that her grandmother had told her to find?
She remembered seeing a ladder in the corner of the room
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and closed her eyes, trying to recall its location. Kicking aside
or clambering over the jumble of junk, she found the ladder
propped against a wall. By pulling, pushing, twisting and turning,
Mei Li finally managed to get the rickety old ladder where she
wanted it. When it was in position it was less than a metre short
of the ceiling. Fear of falling didn’t enter Mei Li’s head. Used
to shinning up trees since she could walk, she climbed up the
ladder swiftly, like a monkey up a palm tree. The coalhole cover
was almost directly above her head and she was able to reach it
easily from the last but one rung. Curious, she ran a finger round
the illuminated edge, probing with her nail the tiny gap between
the rim of the lid and the raised metal frame through which the
light was gleaming. Suddenly an exciting thought occurred to
her: could it possibly be daylight?
Instantly her chest felt tight and she couldn’t breath. It felt like
all the air had been squeezed out of her and she was conscious
of the blood pounding in her ears like a surging tide. Mei Li
realised that the basement was accessible from above, hopefully
from the street, which meant that the only obstacle to escape
was a mere metal lid.
Sixty years ago the firm of local coal merchants had delivered
the last sacks to the household and since then the hatch had
remained closed. By the time Mei Li’s questing fingers discovered the bolt that prevented the coalhole cover being lifted from
above, she was trembling so much she would have fallen if she
hadn’t been gripping the sides like grim death. The house was
well maintained. Locks, bolts and hinges were regularly oiled
and greased to stop them siezing up, but the obsolete coalhole
had long been forgotten. It would be a miracle if Mei Li could
release the disused bolt. To her surprise it slid out of the hole
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The White Amah
at her first attempt, evidence of the longevity of fish wax, the
old-fashioned lubricant that was highly regarded in Victorian
households.
Mei Li’s relief was short lived. The hinged cover had been
designed to be opened from above by strong men. Mei Li raised
both arms above her head and pushed against the lid with the
flat of her hands. It didn’t budge, but she hadn’t expected it
would, not at her first attempt. Next time she pushed harder with
strong, sustained pressure, and she felt the wedged-in lid move
slightly. Buoyed by success, she pressed against it with renewed
energy and was rewarded when she managed to raise it slightly.
Straining with all her might, she tried to push it up further but
it was too heavy for her. It was all she could do to hold it up, and
with a cry of frustration she let go. She only just saved herself
from falling to the cellar floor by clinging to the sides of the ladder. The heavy iron lid slammed back down with a resounding
ring that reverberated in the tiny room.
Worn out, she kept on trying despite the dull ache of soreness
in her arms and shoulders and the pain in her forearms as sharp
as a knife. It felt like her bones were separating.
‘I won’t let it beat me … I won’t give up,’ she sobbed, angry
at her own weakness, and resolutely she squared her shoulders
and raised her aching arms again.

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Chapter 36
For the first time in days the sun was shining warmly
and the au pair and her employer’s four year old son opened the
gate of one of the loveliest gardens in the whole of London. Kiri
thought there was nowhere on earth that could compare with
New Zealand, but she had to admit that this garden with its
ornamental trees, deep green ponds and ancient lichen-covered
statues took some beating. Admittance to the private park was
one of the perks of working in Belgravia and she felt happy as she
sat down on a favourite wooden bench shaded by a plane tree,
even though she had a difficult letter to write to her boyfriend
back home in Queenstown.
The Percivals were going to Whistler for Christmas and
wanted her to go with them to look after little Oscar. Kiri had
learned to ski on New Zealand’s Southern Alps and didn’t want
to pass up the chance to ski the picturesque Canadian fields.
She stared at the writing pad, wondering how to tell Caden she
wouldn’t be home for Christmas.
Oscar was feeling bored. Usually there were lots of other
children to play with, but for once he and Nanny had the park
to themselves. He’d tried to get her to play soccer with him but
she said she was busy and told him to amuse himself. He kicked
the ball as hard as he could and it went flying over the metal
railings. Oscar knew his father would be angry if he lost another
ball, so, after sneaking a look at Nanny, who was biting the end
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of her pen and staring off into space, he ran down the path and
through the gate that opened onto the square.
The bright yellow soccer ball had rolled into the kerb behind
a large furniture van parked outside the ivy-clad house where
the nice man had picked it up before. Oscar bent down to grab
it and was amazed when the manhole cover moved. He looked
at it curiously. He’d never seen it do that before. He knew what
it was called and what it was for because there was one just like
it outside his own house. His daddy had told him it had been
used by workmen in the olden days to enter the cellar from the
street.
He knelt down beside it. ‘Who’s down there?’ he called in
his high-pitched voice.
Blood suffused Mei Li’s face and her eyes lit up with excitement. It was going to be all right. She was going to be rescued.
She yelled back ‘Help! Help!’ and banged her fists against
the manhole cover.
Oscar grabbed hold of the handle but he couldn’t lift it. ‘Wait,
I’ll get Nanny,’ he shouted, and raced off toward the park.
Mei Li laughed out loud with relief. She would be out of there
soon. Just at that moment the light was switched on in the basement, the glow of its beam clearly visible under the bottom of
the door.
‘Oh no, someone’s coming,’ she whimpered. She was certain
that an evil force was at work. Why else was she being tormented
so cruelly? No one could have such bad luck without the malevolent intervention of the gods. This was her punishment for daring
to enter the astral plane without the approval of the spirits. Guiltily, she remembered she’d neglected to propitiate the gods with
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offerings of tobacco and rice since she fled the longhouse. And
even worse, she’d impulsively agreed to marry an outsider without seeking counsel from her ancestors.
Spare me. I promise to lead a good life. Please, please let me
live. I swear I’ll obey the laws of my people.
Mei Li’s prayer was cut short when she heard the rattle of the
key in the lock. Scrambling down the ladder, she grabbed the
shovel and stood back out of sight, against the wall. Joe slid back
the bolt, but instead of coming into the room he looked at the
width of the door, shook his head and went back to the lift.
‘It’s no good,’ he said to Tan’s henchmen, two hefty Chinese
packers from Global Logistics who were manhandling a large
storage case nearly as wide as the lift door. They’d had trouble
just getting the large pine crate into the small lift and Joe could
see there was no way it would fit through the narrow storeroom
door. ‘Take it back up. It’ll be just as easy to work up there. I’ll
grab her.’
‘Do you need any help?’
‘Not necessary. Just tell Pau and Clarence to make sure there
aren’t any servants hanging around the hall.’
He waited until the lift door closed and peered into the gloomy
room, ‘It’s no good hiding,’ he warned. ‘You’ll just make it harder
on yourself … Owww!’ he yelled as the shovel came crashing
down across his shoulders and he stumbled backwards.
Mei Li stepped out in front of him and swung the shovel at
his head. Immediately she knew she should have hit him harder
the first time when the element of surprise was on her side. She
was no match for the Asian gangland leader, who’d won his
territory by wiping out all opponents. Watching her arm with
the concentration of a mongoose with a mercurial cobra within
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striking distance, he had ducked sideways a fraction before she
swung and then lunged at her, grabbed hold of the shovel and
yanked it out of her hand. She gasped, backing away from him,
as he advanced towards her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. With
no place to retreat, Mei Li turned and fled up the ladder like
a panicked mouse deer that had glimpsed the hornbill’s savage
beak.
‘Got you!’ Joe stared up at his trapped quarry and placed his
hand on the sides of the ladder.
‘Don’t tell stories,’ Kiri scolded Oscar. The au pair’s panic at not
being able to find him had been replaced by anger. Holding his
hand tightly, she dragged the struggling child past the furniture
van. It looked like that Chinese family was moving out. ‘Maybe
the new people will have a boy your age,’ she said brightly.
‘But there’s someone down there,’ said Oscar, not to be
diverted. He broke free, stepped off the pavement and squatted
down beside the manhole.
‘What have I told you about running into the road?’ admonished Kiri. Really, he was getting to be a handful and she was
reaching her wits’ end. ‘Oscar, I’m very –’
The rest of the speech was lost as she heard Joe roar. ‘Come
down or I’ll shake you off your perch!’
From below street level, Kiri heard a girl scream and realised someone down there was in terrible danger. She glanced
at Oscar. ‘Stand back,’ she said sternly and grasped the handle
of the manhole cover.
Wild-eyed and gasping like a long-distance runner and
covered with residual coal dust and dried blood, Mei Li pulled
herself up through the gaping hole and onto the road. Squinting,
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The White Amah
her eyes tightly shut against the blinding light, her frantic hands
grasped the lid and she slammed it shut. She knew it was impossible to lift the cover from below, but all the same she planted
both feet firmly atop of the lid.
‘You call police please,’ she said to Kiri with a look of grim
satisfaction.
‘Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?’ asked
the bewildered Kiwi.
Cowering in the dark below, Joe trembled. Tan had told him
that Interpol suspected the Triads were running a human trafficking ring and he’d boasted about how they would never be
able to infiltrate the society because none of the members would
ever talk. Now, inadvertently, he had put Dai Bin Tan’s operation
in jeopardy and he dreaded the Triad boss’s vengeance. It would
be no use begging for mercy. Joe knew how merciless Tan could
be to anyone who exposed his criminal activities.
For the last time he whispered the blood oath he’d sworn
when he became a Han brother. ‘I must never injure or offend
my blood brothers or sworn master. If I do so I will be killed by
ten thousand long knives.’
He drew his revolver and thrust the barrel in his mouth. The
sound of the approaching police siren muffled the blast.

› 311‹
Chapter 37
‘It’s about time you let me paddle for a while. You must
be getting tired, darling.’ David was itching to take over from Mei
Li, who was lording it over him like a female version of Captain
Bligh, acting as if she was the only one who knew anything about
boats. Earlier that morning they’d set out from the town of Miri
by canoe and each time he offered to take a turn she had turned
him down flat.
‘Get there quicker if I paddle.’
David didn’t have the heart to tell he’d rowed for Cambridge
and was considered one of the best oarsmen of his year.
‘Do you fancy a dip?’ he asked, looking longingly at the crystal-clear water.
Mei Li shaded her eyes and looked at the sun. ‘Okay, we’ve
made good time,’ she said and headed for the bank where wild
lilac orchids were growing on long grassy stems, an entire
meadow of them.
‘You look like Eve and this is Eden,’ David said later as he
floated blissfully on his back in the warm water, watching as Mei
Li weaved a garland from the bunch of flowers he had picked for
her earlier, a look of rapture on her face. She was definitely on
the road to recovery. There was an excited sparkle in her eyes,
which he put down to being back in Sarawak. Happiness was not
a state he’d seen her in for a long time and he knew he’d done
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Ann Massey
the right thing in agreeing to postpone their wedding plans until
her grandfather endorsed their betrothal.
‘When I was in desperate need in that black cellar, I prayed
to our gods,’ she’d told him. ‘I made a promise to obey the laws
and customs of my people. If I marry you now, without first
seeking approval from my grandparents, I’ll be breaking that
solemn vow and there’ll be dreadful consequences for the entire
tribe. That’s what we believe,’ she told him. ‘It’s not just you and
me who’ll be threatened as a result of my defiance. The whole
village will suffer: rice won’t grow; there won’t be any wild pigs
around to hunt; people will get sick; and young women will give
birth to dead children.’ She looked at him earnestly, hoping he’d
understand that the sins of one tribal member would be visited
on the whole community.
David had agreed to abide by her grandfather’s decision
because he’d come to understand that their marriage wouldn’t
stand a chance if they couldn’t reconcile their different customs
and beliefs. Mei Li might look like a delicate, enchanting English rose but she’d been reared in a remote, steamy rainforest by
fierce headhunters who still worshipped pagan gods and she was
a Dayak through and through.
Just look at her, he thought admiringly as she climbed out of
the water, laughing, sparkling prisms glistening on her arms and
face like the most pure and rare of white diamonds. That was
what she was: a peerless diamond, flawless and perfect. It wasn’t
an original notion but it was heartfelt and he groaned. What
would he do – what couldhe do – if he didn’t measure up as
husband material? It was an unnerving prospect to accept for the
gifted young lawyer, long regarded as his county’s greatest catch.
According to Mei Li, her grandfather’s notion of the ideal suitor
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The White Amah
was a gifted carver with the skill to manufacture all the objects
a newly wedded couple would need to survive and prosper in
the harsh and dangerous forests of Borneo. But much more vital
was the ability to carve statues of powerful spirits to protect his
family from malevolent deities.
‘Evil spirits can enter the longhouse through unprotected
front doors,’ she told him now. ‘Our door is protected by an
open-mouthed python. There’s a place between its open fangs
where you place a frog so that a hungry demon will feast on the
sacrifice and not on any of us. Grandfather carved the panel on
the door when he married Grandma – and from when I first
learned to walk, it’s been my job to catch the frogs.’
She watched him warily for any sign that he mocked her
beliefs, but David was silent as he floated on his back staring
at the cloudless sky. How he wished he’d shown more aptitude
for woodwork when he was at school. A moment later the whir
of a helicopter’s rotor disturbed his unhappy appraisal of his
shortcomings.
‘I knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that they’d
leave us in peace. That’s the media for you,’ he said, rising up
out of the water, growling at the chopper’s pilot and shaking his
fist.
Mei Li thought he looked like an enraged, hairy-nosed otter
that had lost a young trout he’d been stalking to a skilful hornbill, and she covered her mouth with her hand so he wouldn’t
know she was laughing. Not even the pervasive publicity could
dampen her spirits. She was back in her country and her senses
were sated with its spicy, peppery fragrance.
While the Cambridge Blue paddled strongly with a steady
easy rhythm, determined to show Mei Li he was as good as
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Ann Massey
any Dayak when it came to boating, Mei Li searched through
Rubiah’s jewellery for the collar of the matriarch. She lifted her
hair and slipped it around her neck. When she saw her people
she would be wearing the tribal talisman proudly. Rubiah had
been a wealthy woman. David had estimated Rubiah’s estate,
which included property, her salon, a sizeable bank balance and
her magnificent jewellery collection at close to a million pounds.
At least Grandma and Granddad won’t starve, she thought, and
she choked back her tears. Riches couldn’t compensate for a
murdered daughter.
‘How much we get if we sell this?’ she said to David, holding
up the little golden locket. It was the only item of jewellery that
had not been bought by Rubiah’s Chinese lover, a tawdry trinket
that Roger had bought her when Mei Li was only a baby.
‘It’s pretty and that could be a real ruby, but it’s not valuable.
It’s certainly not in the same league as the diamond necklace
and the emerald bracelet. I guess Rubiah kept it for sentimental
reasons. Why don’t you open it? There might be a picture of
her inside.’
As soon as he uttered the words he wished he could take
them back. If there were a photograph, it would undoubtedly be
of Rubiah’s lover, the gangster Joseph Ling. David crossed his
fingers and mumbled a prayer under his breath.
It seemed like his fears had been confirmed when Mei Li gave
a little cry and held out the locket to him in a hand that was trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide and every drop of colour
had drained from her face. The small oval case contained just two
mementos: a lock of silky, baby hair and a photo of a beautiful
young woman laughing into the camera, a pigeon perched on her
hand, in front of the fountain in Trafalgar Square.
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The White Amah
‘Oh, David,’ sobbed Mei Li. It was the photo she’d sent to
Rubiah’s mobile when she still thought there was a chance of
developing a relationship with the only mother she’d ever known.
‘She loved me all the time.’
‘No doubt of it,’ agreed David. ‘Let’s get you back to the longhouse.’ he said and put his arms round her comfortingly. ‘You
belong with your own people, Mei Li.’
‘Ourpeople,’ countered Mei Li and they smiled at each other.
It was time to go home.

› 317‹
Epilogue
They’ve seen us, they’re waving,’ said Tuff,waving back
from the television company’s chopper. ‘Let’s buzz them.’
‘I don’t think David will be thrilled to see his future motherin-law, Ducky,’ said Benny with a knowing smile, ‘and we don’t
want to get him offside. I had a devil of a job getting him to agree
to take part in the program in the first place.’
‘Hari’s been sick,’ interrupted Rashni, one of Tuff’s adopted
twins. He tugged at Tuff’s sleeve urgently.
‘Oh my god, not again,’ wailed Tuff.
Lady Chadwick, who was seated across the aisle, smiled in her
friendly fashion. ‘It’s hell travelling with kids. Get your brother to
suck this, Rashni,’ she said, taking a couple of barley sugars out
of her capacious bag. ‘And there’s one for you too. I’ve got some
tissues if it’s a help, Tuff.’
Accepting the tissues from her former lover’s wife ungraciously, Tuff glowered at her agent. It had been his idea to remove
her adopted sons from their boarding school and foist them on
her. ‘Why did I let you talk me into bringing the twins, Benny?
They were perfectly happy at school in Scotland. It isn’t as if the
doco has anything to do with African orphans. It’s just about
trees, for christ’s sake.’
‘Excuse me for trying a last-ditch attempt to rescue what’s
left of your reputation. Why don’t you trot along, Ducky, and
look after the nippers while I have a chat with this lovely lady.’
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Ann Massey
He smiled across at Sandy Chadwick, who was making out that
she was interested in her book and wasn’t paying any attention
to their quarrel.
‘Do you mind if I sit down, Lady Chadwick?’ asked Benny,
eyeing the empty seat.
‘Call me Sandy,’ she said, moving her book off the empty
seat vacated by her husband, who was sitting up front with the
producer talking shop. ‘We’ve never really had a chat, have we?
You know, I’m really pleased you persuaded Josh to make this
program. I’ve not seen him so excited about anything for a long
time and of course it’s giving him an opportunity to get to know
his daughter,’ she added happily. There wasn’t a jealous bone in
Sandy’s pleasantly plump body.
‘The pundits predict the TV spectacular will have the biggest
audience ever,’ gloated Benny, settling his large bulk into the seat.
This was the biggest coup of his career and he could hardly believe
he’d pulled it off. After seventeen years of stubbornly refusing to
even appear on the same show as Tuff, Sir Josh Chadwick had
capitulated, agreeing to co-present, and on top of that, amazingly,
he’d waived his fee. And his enthusiasm for the undertaking had
increased since they’d flown over the deforested interior of the
state.
‘I’ve never been what you’d call a tree hugger,’ he’d said to
Benny after they’d visited a makeshift government camp with
inadequate facilities, where proud, self-sufficient Dayaks were
living humbly and unproductively, forced off their ancestral land
by rapacious loggers. ‘But now that I’ve seen the devastation
firsthand, as it were, I’m convinced that something has to be
done before we lose the bloody lot to them greedy buggers. I’m
working on a protest song and I’m going to donate the profits
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The White Amah
to set up a fighting fund to help save the Dayaks. Me and the
wife were thinking it might be something our Mei Li and David
might like to manage. Weren’t we, Sandy luv? What with him
being a lawyer and all.’
Benny wasn’t fooled. He knew Sir Joshua Chadwick was an
astute and canny businessman; the broad Lancashire accent was
just his way of relating to his legions of working class fans. It
was obvious to Benny that the only reason Josh was willing to
underwrite the funding for an environmental protest group was
to please his daughter. And if I Mei Li were his daughter he’d be
doing the same. David’s a lucky sod. Tuff’s courageous daughter was tops in his book and Benny was glad she was marrying
someone top drawer like David, even though young Galahad
had almost queered his pitch. Convincing David to allow Mei
Li’s story to be the focus for the anti-logging documentary had
been a hard sell.
Sick and tired of being in the spotlight, David had arced up
at the idea of having a television crew filming their every move.
‘Mei Li’s been through a terrible experience,’ he’d said. ‘Surely
she deserves some privacy.’
‘But we’ve got to strike while the story’s red hot,’ Benny had
countered. ‘And if, as you say, you’re genuinely committed to
fighting the logging companies, you’ll never get a better chance
to publicise your cause. Think of the size of your audience and
imagine the size of the donations it’ll bring in. This will make
the Tuff Lovespecial look like small bikkies.’
He had turned to Mei Li. ‘And to give your mum her due,
Mei Li, no other program has ever generated more money for a
charity,’ he said, delivering his killer argument with a disarming
grin.
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Ann Massey
‘Do you really think Mei Li wants to see her grandparents for
the first time since their daughter was murdered with a whole
lot of media types spying on her?’
‘S’okay, we do it,’ Mei Li said, cutting in. ‘More important
people know cutting trees destroys lives than me and you being
watched by millions.’
Bravo, Mei Li, thought Benny. He remembered how, in her
halting English, she had persuaded David that the interests of her
people were the most important thing. That grandmother of hers
must be something special. He was looking forward to meeting
the woman who’d moulded Mei Li’s attitudes and values.
‘What’s that you’re reading?’ Benny enquired as Sandy politely
closed her book.
‘It’s a biography about the White Rajahs of Sarawak,’ said
Sandy. ‘I bought it at the airport in Miri. Did you know that a
British family, the Brookes, ruled Sarawak for over a hundred
years?’
‘How fascinating,’ said Benny, feigning interest. After all, she
was Lady Sandy Chadwick and the influence she had over her
husband was legendary. It couldn’t hurt to encourage her. Who
knows, she might persuade Josh to change agencies. He flashed
his practised smile at the rock star’s trusting wife. ‘Maybe we
could mention something about them in the program.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Sandy
with a shy, winsome smile. ‘Did you know that Tuff’s real name
is Crystal Brooke?’
‘Yeah,’ said Benny, trying to keep a straight face. In his estimation, changing that ridiculous name was one of the few sensible
decisions Tuff had ever made.
‘Well, you’ll probably think this is far-fetched but wouldn’t it
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The White Amah
be marvellous if Mei Li turned out to be related to the Brookes?
Apparently there are scores of their love children popping up all
over the world. Imagine what a great story that would make.’
‘It certainly would be a an interesting angle,’ said Benny,
intrigued by the possibilities. But that was too big a stretch even
for him to get the public to buy.
Scarcely a minute had passed before he turned eagerly
towards her. ‘Would you mind letting me have a look at that
book?’ he asked, his lively, intelligent eyes gleaming with halfformed schemes.
Forgotten scandals from the past didn’t trouble the long-lost
descendant of the White Rajahs. The sound of gongs and drums
floated across the paddy fields, the feast was spread out on mats
in front of the longhouse doors and the children in decorated
canoes strewed blossom on the water. The bride and her groom
had come home.