“I was told about Mr. Saotome’s desire to discuss some ventures with me,” my father said. “But I’m afraid it was my grandfather’s expressed intention that Hutton & Sons must always remain solely in the ownership of the family. We don’t have partners and we’re not for sale.”
“Ah, yes, the principles of the famous Graham Hutton. I shall let Saotome-san know. He will be quite disappointed,” Endo-san replied.
“Is Japan thinking of invading Malaya?” my father asked. His voice must have carried in the air, for several heads turned to look at us.
“I do not know. That is up to my government to decide. I’m just a lowly servant of my country,” Endo-san said, and I saw the principles of
aikijutsu
at work in his reply.
I laid a gentle hand on my father’s arm. He nodded and smiled at me. “For tonight we’ll all believe that,” he said. His attention was distracted by a group of people coming through the open doors. “I see your grandfather has arrived. Perhaps you should come with me and greet him.”
* * *
I had often wondered how my father would behave when he faced my grandfather. I watched as the two men, who had caused so much hurt to each other and to the woman they loved, now greeted one another with great civility.
“Mr. Hutton,” my grandfather said.
“Mr. Khoo,” my father replied, equally bland, aware that he had given and was now receiving great face by issuing the invitation to my grandfather and having him accept. There would never be an open apology from my grandfather and my father now accepted this, changing the tone of his voice the way he often did in his business dealings when things started to go the way he wanted. “I’m very glad you could come.”
“I thought it was time I came to see my grandson.”
“Yes. It’s high time,” my father replied, putting his arm around me. Only then did I realize that he was also holding this party for me, hoping that through me the broken bridges could be made whole again.
The two men looked long at each other and I knew they were both thinking of my mother, each with his personal, favorite memories of her.
I stepped in and took my grandfather’s arm. “Where’s Aunt Mei?”
“She has been arrested,” he said.
“What?” my father and I both said.
“Oh, it is nothing.” He shrugged in the way I had seen so many times in Ipoh. “She was in the demonstration, protesting with the Aid China Campaign people against the Japanese. The police told them to leave but they went ahead with it anyway. I offered to get her out but she refused. She sends her apologies, by the way. Young people today.” He sighed, quite oblivious to the fact that Aunt Mei was already past childbearing age.
I went to look for William and Isabel, who had made me promise I would introduce them to my grandfather. I found them in the kitchen, supervising the servants. Isabel called out to Edward and together they followed me out to where he was standing.
They were nervous of my grandfather and I could understand why. He was dressed in an understated gray Mandarin robe that shimmered as he moved. His sleeves were edged with silver, matching his eyebrows, which he had let grow long, over his cold glinting eyes. He looked tough and compact in his clothes.
There was an awkward silence since none of us knew quite what to say after the introductions had been completed. My grandfather seemed not to know what to think of my siblings. He blinked rapidly with discomfiture, which I found both surprising and endearing.
Isabel saved us all from further embarrassment. “We’ve all missed Aunt Lian very much ever since she died. She was wonderful to us, and I always thought of her as my mother.”
My grandfather inclined his head. “I am happy that she meant so much to you.”
“May we call you Grandfather too?” Isabel asked.
My grandfather looked surprised. “You may not,” he replied. I felt hurt, and Isabel was taken aback, afraid that she had insulted him.
But I had misjudged the old man. “I would prefer you to call me
Ah Kong,”
he said, using the Hokkien term for “Grandfather.” Then he smiled, and my hurt turned to admiration and affection. Isabel and William looked relieved. They asked to be excused and returned to the kitchen and I brought my grandfather out to the lawns where we had laid out the tables.
The maids were moving in and out of the kitchen, bringing dishes of food. We had decided to provide a combination of English and Malayan fare, and my father had chosen his usual favorites: Indian fish curry, beef
rendang,
coconut rice, curry
Kapitan, assam laksa,
fried
kuay teow, rojak,
and
mee rebus.
I had hired a few local street hawkers to push their carts into Istana, and they were now cooking on the lawn. I could smell the satay-seller’s sticks of skewered chicken and beef as he grilled them over a charcoal fire. Every time he brushed them with a stalk of lemon-grass soaked in peanut oil the flames from the coals erupted, lighting the trees around him and sending a cloud of mouthwatering smells into the night air.
My grandfather took a glass of champagne from a waiter and said, “Where is your Japanese teacher? I would like to meet him.”
I searched the terrace for Endo-san, and found him by a group of Japanese businessmen. He saw me and came over.
“We have met before. Mr. Endo, is it not?” my grandfather asked.
Endo-san nodded. At the instant that they shook hands, I sensed something shift, something move out of focus, and then sharpen again. I felt as though I were intoxicated, but I had not yet consumed any wine.
“You are the one who has been teaching my grandson.”
“Yes,” Endo-san replied. “He is eager to learn, so that makes it more enjoyable. It is quite wonderful that I should find someone such as him. In all my travels I have yet to meet anyone else who has his abilities. He is a quick learner.”
“Almost as though he had been taught in another life, hm?”
Endo-san’s face lightened in color. “Do you believe in such things, Mr. Khoo?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you understand that certain things cannot be stopped, that they must be allowed to proceed, regardless of the consequences?”
“I know one cannot escape one’s path on the continent of time,” Grandfather Khoo said.
A sense of the surreal unsettled me as I followed their bizarre conversation. It was like listening to two monks argue about the existence of nothing. I remembered what Endo-san had said to me at the snake temple; how far away and long ago that all seemed now.
“I have trained and taught your grandson, as best I can, to face the life he has to lead,” Endo-san said.
“I understand. But then, as we both know, that is never quite enough, is it? There are so many things one can never be taught to overcome.”
“That would depend on the person’s strength and fortitude,
and the level of desperation he is faced with.”
My grandfather did not like that. “That is not fair, Mr. Endo.” “It is out of my hands, Mr. Khoo,” Endo-san said, and in his
voice I heard an unbearable sorrow.
* * *
“What were you two talking about?” I asked him later, when Endo-san had joined another group of people. My grandfather looked distracted and only responded when I touched his arm gently.
“We were talking about fate,” he finally said. “How one cannot escape it.”
“You seemed to believe him.”
“He tells the truth. But it is what he does with it that will make him dangerous.”
“You’re not making sense, Grandfather.”
“Has he ever told you about your earlier lives?”
“Yes, once.”
“And?”
“I trust him,” I said.
“But you have your doubts.”
I did not like the direction of the conversation. On a magnificent night like this I had no inclination to hear about my past, or my future. “Come with me,” I said, and pulled at his sleeve.
I led him to the fountain. Lights from the house shone on the frothing water, turning it the color of the champagne being served in the house. He completed a circle around the fountain, as I had done at his house in Ipoh.
“You did not lie to me,” he said. “I am unable to tell the difference.”
“That was her room, up there.” I pointed to the second floor. “She could see the fountain from her windows. Hear it clearly too.”
“Will you leave me alone for a while?” he asked, and sat on the edge of the fountain.
“Will you be all right?”
He smiled and then said, “Go and help your father. I will speak to you later.”
Most of the guests were now arriving all at once and my father looked relieved when he saw me next to him. “The resident councillor and his wife; Monkey Hargreaves, the newspaper editor; and now here comes Towkay Yeap and his son. It’s going to be an interesting night.”
I was not really listening to him; the words exchanged by Endo-san and my grandfather were bouncing around my mind, trying to piece themselves together to make some sense to me.
Towkay Yeap and Kon stepped out of their car and came up the steps. They shook my father’s hand and then Kon said, “We have something urgent to tell you.”
I saw the look on their faces and said to my father, “I’ll get William and Edward to greet the guests. I’ll meet you in the library.”
* * *
My father was leaning against his mahogany desk by the window when I entered the library and closed the door behind me. “What’s wrong?” I asked Kon.
“We received information that the Communists have placed a bomb in your home.”
“Where exactly?”
Kon shook his head. “All we know is that it is in retaliation for your use of force against them. They know the party’s heavily attended, that everyone they’d like to see dead is here—the resident councillor, the
Tuans,
the press. It’ll make for a nice front page.”
“Should we tell the guests to leave?” I asked.
“That would cause a panic,” my father said.
I did not ask Kon how he and his father had obtained the information. I trusted Kon and to ask would have insulted them. They must have planted members of their society among the Communists.
“Let’s think carefully. They would’ve put the bomb where there would be a large crowd. Check the lawn first. We’ll divide into teams and go around the whole house,” Noel decided.
“We have some of our men waiting outside your gates. May they enter and assist in the search?” Towkay Yeap asked.
“Of course. And then please ask them to stay for the party.” That was my father. A party, once started, had to go on.
Kon followed me outside. The grounds of the house looked festive and full, the guests looking almost like one body in their white and cream dinner jackets and white shirts. Only the women stood out, scattered among the white in their orange and blue and red.
We started under the tables. They were covered in thick, white, starched tablecloths draped with blue bunting, the champagne glasses laid out like frozen crystal flower bulbs in a bed. Kon crawled beneath the first table and came out, dusting his knees. “Nothing,” he said.
“Do you even know what it looks like?” I asked, and I was not surprised when he said, “Yes.”
“There’re eight more of these to do,” I said, heading to the next table. We crawled under and examined all the tables, as guests turned and tried to find out what we were doing. “We’re looking for my sister’s puppy,” I said.
“Any luck?” my father asked, when we met in the kitchen.
I shook my head. Something was edging its way into my thoughts. I reached out for it but it was gone. There was no point in chasing after it; I knew if I stilled my mind it would return to me.
“We’ve checked the grounds, the garage, and the servants’ quarters,” Towkay Yeap said. “Everything looks normal.”
“Maybe it hasn’t been put into position yet,” Kon said. “They may still be carrying it around, waiting for the right moment and the right place to put it.”
Towkay Yeap lit a cigar and said, “We’ll have to keep our eyes open.” I watched the tip of his cigar and moved subtly to avoid the cloud of smoke. It was then that I recalled my earlier conversation with Endo-san, and the waiter who had distracted me.
“That Indian man on the docks that day,” I said to my father, “remember? The one who was shouting and inciting our workers—I saw him tonight. He’s one of the waiters.”
“Point him out to us,” Towkay Yeap said, looking at his son, who followed me as we went out once again into the party.
“Tanaka-san has arrived,” I told Kon.
“No time now,” he replied, waving to his
sensei
before moving through the crowd. Once or twice I thought I saw the Indian waiter we were trying to find, but in all cases I was mistaken. The music was addictive and I found myself beating time on my leg as we apologized and pushed and shuffled our way through.