Part 11 (1/2)
Hussein left the village hall, a simple wooden structure with a plain cement floor. The last of the voting booths were being cleared away and they could see the ballot boxes being carried to the adjoining offices. Hussein turned to the penghulu, the village headman. ”Terima kasih, thank you,” he said, clasping both of the older man's hands in his own before touching briefly his heart, a gesture of respect and grat.i.tude.
”It is my honour to serve you,” he replied.
”No, the honour is mine. I will remember your support and you can count on me to do the best for the villagers here. I bid you farewell for now, but I will be back.” Hussein bowed once more; his humility so touched the older man's heart that it evoked tears in his eyes.
Ghazali smiled, noting how easily his boss won people over. People had expected a brash, pushy westernised young man. Hussein's adherence to tradition pleased the villagers.
”Congratulations!” Ghazali said, opening the car door for Hussein, before sliding in next to him. ”The votes are not all in; two other villages have yet to finish, but all the indications are that you have won a landslide victory. Here, I have received a letter from KL. You are invited to see the PM. This must be good news.”
Hussein laughed. He was elated. It had been all that his father had predicted.
”Good!” he answered. ”When do we go? This will give me the opportunity to go to KL. Have you called Noraidin for me?”
Hussein had been so rushed that he had not had time to lift up a phone. He depended on Ghazali to do it for him.
”One day,” he continued, ”we will have a phone that we can carry around with us, instead of this mad rush to find a phone and then spending time dialling a number over and over again. But before we have this miracle, we will have to rely on land lines.”
”I am sorry,” replied Ghazali, his voice was reproachful. ”We are not in KL; telephones are still not that widely available in the villages of Kemun, and the lines are not good. I find it difficult, in fact I would say impossible to rush in search of a phone and be with you at the same time. You have to tell me your priorities.”
”I know, I know. I will do it myself. Let me have the letter.”
Hussein read the letter and then read it again. A smile broke out on his face, transforming it.
”Yes, I have done it! If the votes swing my way, the ministerial post is mine.”
He felt a surge of adrenalin course through him; his doubts, his worry that the sacrifices he had made in pursuit of politics might not be worthwhile, fell away.
Chapter 23.
An Mei's eyes strayed to the clock; measuring each miniscule movement of its hands as though her life depended on it. Perhaps it would speed up if she were to close her eyes, she thought. She squeezed her eyes tight; she willed the clock hands to move faster. ”Hurry, hurry,” she whispered. Yet the minute hand lingered, making each little movement a reluctant jerk forward.
”Seven o'clock will arrive soon enough. No amount of blinking and mumbling will make it go faster,” teased Nelly. ”Go and make yourself beautiful.”
She blushed. ”No! I am just being silly, conjuring up a game I use to play as a child. I'll go through this correspondence for you and then I'll change out of my day clothes.”
”You will do no such thing. I am going and I will leave you to do what you need to do. I will take these with me. They can wait. You have worked like a demon ever since you came back from Oxford. You will be worn out soon if you are not careful.”
Nelly took the folder away from An Mei and walked to the door.
”Fawziah will see me out, and then I'll send her back to you.” Impulsively, she turned and walked back to An Mei to give her a kiss. ”Everything will be alright.”
”I hope so,” An Mei replied, but she was already lost in thought, reliving the day she returned to Kuala Lumpur. The memories of what happened flashed through her mind as they had done so often over the past few weeks in Kuala Lumpur waiting for Hussein to come back.
She had returned from Oxford without telling Hussein. She had taken the Kuala Lumpur airport limousine and driven straight from the airport to her in-law's home in the capital. Stepping out of the car, she had made her way up the grand entrance to the foyer. She could still recall the sharp shaft of light s.h.i.+ning down from the dome window that overlooked the foyer. It had lit up the whole expanse of marble, light reflecting light. Standing in the midst of this, were a group of people, their backs towards her. They had turned abruptly at the sound of her footsteps. Taken off-guard, they had stared at her. She could still recall clearly the surprise and shock in their faces. Her mother in-law Faridah had uttered just one sound, ”Huh!” before she turned her back on An Mei and resumed talking; there was no acknowledgement that she had seen or knew her. Her father-in-law Rahim had not lifted even an eyebrow. He had looked through her. Only Shalimar had come forward, followed quickly by Hussein.
And only Shalimar greeted her. ”Welcome back,” she had said, her face tinged red. She could not meet An Mei's eyes.
An Mei rubbed her arm, involuntarily as she recalled how Hussein had grabbed hold of her, his fingers digging deep into her arms.
”Why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave without saying a word?” he had asked.
”Leave her alone. She has only just arrived home,” Shalimar had intervened on her behalf.
An Mei had shrugged off his hand, her anger boiling over. ”Don't you know why I went away? Do I have to spell it out for you? How unfair can you be to make out that it was me who left you?”
”Please do not quarrel. He is upset because he missed you.”
”And you! I trusted and befriended you and this is how you repay me. I want to have nothing to do with you,” An Mei had said to Shalimar. She could not, even in her anger, but notice how beautiful her rival was, dressed in a hand painted silk batik of gold, bronze leaves. Her heart contracted recalling how she must have looked in comparison, rumpled and hot after the long flight. Just like when she first came back with Hussein from Oxford.
But neither Shalimar nor Hussein had time to answer An Mei. Both had been summoned.
”Tell Hussein and Tengku Shalimar that we are waiting for them,” her mother-in-law had called out aloud to a servant. ”We are late! We have to leave right away!” The family, making it known to all that she, An Mei, was the odd one out, unwanted, not part of the 'we'.
An Mei sat motionless, deep in thought, after Nelly left, unaware that the door had opened and that she was not alone in the room.
Fawziah closed the door softly behind her, pressing against the door with both palms flat against it. She watched An Mei wipe her eyes furtively. She walked quickly towards her and knelt down sitting on her heels.
”Please Puan Noraidin, I have been sent by Puan Nelly to help you dress, to prepare for Encik, Master Hussein's return. This is not the time for sadness. Don't think back. I have told you all that I know and have found out. Encik Hussein and Tengku Shalimar are not living together as husband and wife. You have to believe in him,” she reminded An Mei.
”Yes, I have to believe and continue to try to win my in-laws over and in particular to retain my husband's affection,” she said. But her heart sank at the enormity of the task. It was like confronting a tidal wave that threatened to rear up and crash down on her.
In the weeks following her return, she had seen little of Hussein. Rahim had commanded his son to leave the following morning to Kemun in order to continue his election campaign. They made it clear that An Mei was not to follow. ”You will spoil all the progress he has made,” they had warned.
In the very short time she saw Hussein, he had explained everything to her. The maid attending Shalimar had supported his story. She also learnt from Fawziah how Hussein was carried, almost unconscious, to Shalimar's room, the night he was supposed to have spent the night with her.
”He has not been unfaithful to me,” she had told Nelly. ”They have forced him to take on a second wife, but I shall not give him up.”
Sitting in her room, she remembered her brave words. She looked at Fawziah, her only ally in this hostile house of her in-laws. She wondered if her brave words had not been foolhardy.
”He will be here soon,” said Fawziah. ”Why don't you bathe and I will do your hair. It will make you feel better, give you more confidence in yourself.”
He came alone. An Mei ran down the stairs and was on the landing when he bounded up the staircase, two steps at a time, to reach her side. He crushed her to him.
”Where are they?” she asked Hussein. ”They did not come with you?” she asked again, full of disbelief. She smiled. ”Is this real? Is it possible that we are alone?”
”Yes! My mother and father think it safe enough to just let Shalimar accompany me because they believe that we are in love. But I have left Shalimar with the nurse who brought her up,” he said. ”And she is very happy with the arrangement.” He grinned, his brown eyes shone with mischief. ”And I am to spend a whole week here. Can you bear it?”