The villagers were going about their tasks, tilling their small gardens, mending nets, and putting fish out to dry on the wooden racks. One man was stacking up his goods and replenishing the rice, lentils and curry powder in gunny sacks in the provision shop which supplied the village with sundries and dried goods. A cornucopia of fragrances rose from the various sacks. At the open well, several women were washing their clothes: one woman, a sarong wrapped around her bosom, was bathing, another was brushing her teeth with the splayed end of a neem twig which was reputed to have anti-bacterial properties. They seemed unabashed to be washing themselves in public. They nodded and greeted George as he pushed his bicycle into the village. He greeted them back. His parents’ preposterous fear was unfounded. It was foolish to allow their prejudice to influence his perception. George described Pansy to the villagers and asked for directions to her house. He was warmed by their gentleness of speech and friendliness, though he was conscious that they kept an eye on him till he reached Pansy’s house, and they saw Kim Guek welcoming him in.
“Where do you live?” Kim Guek asked.
“On the hill, on Jalan Haji Salam, nor far from Haji Kahar’s house…”
“That’s a smart area. Are you sure your parents approve of your mixing with us?”
For a moment, George looked nonplussed. He had not considered the social divide before. He had been amused when Pansy had said he was the kind who lives in a house with a flush toilet. But now he felt mortified—was his family’s wealth smeared all over him?
“Bibik. I’m training to be a doctor. As far as I’m concerned, a human being is a human being. What kind of doctor would I be if I were to differentiate between different types of people, or where they live?”
“He’s studying at the University of Malaya, at King Edward VII College of Medicine in Singapore General Hospital, Mak,” Pansy offered the information. “We’ll probably be working in the same hospital if I get the nursing job.”
“Still, you must let your parents know.”
“I will. I will. But please let me take Pansy to the celebrations at the Padang. We can go near the new Esplanade and we will be able to see the march-past and the flypast. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Why don’t you also come with us, and then she will be properly chaperoned? I’ll treat you to a nice cream cake at Polar cafe.”
“Yes, Mak, why don’t you? It’ll be good for you to get out of the house. You haven’t gone anywhere since…”
“You’re right,” Kim Guek interjected quickly. “It will be an auspicious occasion for the young queen, and we should celebrate to send her our good vibes. A fresh cream cake sounds very tempting…”
“Thank you aunty! Bibik, I mean,” George said. “Bibik, do you know one or two kids in the kampong who might want to go but cannot afford to do so? I can belanja, pay their bus fares. Many of the communities are giving out free food to the needy in honour of the Queen. The Indian community is giving out free lunch at the Chettiars’ Temple on Tank Road this coming Saturday. Maybe some of your friends might like to go too?”
Kim Guek smiled approvingly at him.
“Yes, I think Khatijah, Ismail’s wife, might like to have a reason to get out. Though we might have to find a baby-sitter for her brood. And I just might find one or two others who might be interested,” she said. “Since you are here and it’s low tide, you might as well help Pansy harvest the agar-agar seaweeds. We boil the seaweeds to extract the gelatinous part to make jelly or sun dry it into agar-agar sheaves to sell on market day. Our Hindu friends, many of whom are pure vegetarians use agar-agar for setting their desserts, as gelatine is from the cow’s stomach. Let me emphasise that your behaviour mustn’t disgrace us in the village. Make sure you keep within sight of me so I know you two are not up to any hanky panky. And don’t go hiding inside the pillboxes!”
“Would I get up to anything under your hawk-eyes, Bibik?”
“Oh, get off!” Kim Guek flicked a thin Good Morning kitchen towel at him playfully.
Thank goodness his meeting with Pansy’s mother went better than expected. He gave Pansy a quick look and smiled with his eyes. She looked as if she was beaming. George took off his rubber slippers. He carried the rattan basket that Kim Guek had handed him. Pansy rolled up her sarong to just above her knees and tucked it tight between her legs, so that she could step into the water without getting it wet. George’s eyes homed in on Pansy’s shapely calves and ankles. Malay and Peranakan women generally do not bare their legs. That was why the young lady’s sarong with the slit in front was so tantalising when it offered an occasional glimpse as she walked. To men, this was more provocative than baring all in public.
Although the sea water was an almost opaque blue-grey colour in the shallows, it allowed surreptitious glimpses of the red-brown seaweed, rooted but swaying hither and thither with the ebb and flow of the tide, like a mermaid tossing her hair about. George was gloriously happy to have Pansy by his side. But they were not the only two harvesting the seaweeds. There were others from the village—men, women and children bending over to pluck the seaweeds from their watery bed. Every now and then, George would purposefully make for the same clump of seaweeds that Pansy was about to pick, so that their hands touched and clasped each other’s underwater,
