The letter had a reproachful tone throughout. Angela could hardly curb her indignation: the perusal was punctuated with cries of ‘What cheek!’ ‘Who does he think he is to be talking like this to me?’ and ‘Fanatic’, ‘Hypocrite’.
‘Sister Angela’ – he had started calling her Sister Angela ever since he joined the sect that made them all brothers and sisters in the Lord Jesus Christ.
It began with salutations, with a litany of blessings, for he, the worker for Christ, was now the receptacle from which the Lord’s graces could be liberally drawn upon to touch the lives of the less privileged, but the salutations quickly gave way to severe reproach.
It has come to my attention that you, the most intelligent of my family, the one through whom I was hoping to use to draw the rest of the family to the Saviour, are yourself guilty of those very practices of evil that I had hoped to see vanquished forever from the midst of my family. What hope is left when the one who had shown great promise becomes like the rest, engulfed by the powers of evil?
What on earth is he talking about? thought Angela, her pulse quickening. Me engulfed by evil? What on earth does he mean, that fanatic?
It has come to my attention that you, my dear Sister, dabble in the forces of evil. You have consulted astrologers, the very agents of the Prince of Darkness, who unleash confusion upon the world, and you have consulted a geomancer for pure material gain. (I didn’t know Dorothy’s brother was such a gossip, thought Angela angrily. He must have told Wee Siong all this.)
Let me tell you, my dear Sister in Christ (Fanatic! Will you stop calling me this? I’ve no wish to be allied to your mad religion!), that fortune-tellers, astrologers, temple mediums and so on, are the very means by which the enemies of Christ hope to destroy the world. By going to them, you have denied the Lord His power of love and healing. He offers you bread; you cast that aside for a viper. Allying yourself with these agents of iniquity, you are erecting a wall between yourself and salvation.
Sister Angela, I know of the problems at home, and they grieve me. They grieve me not because you, Mother and the rest of the family have suffered. They grieve me because, instead of turning to the Lord, you turn to the Iniquitous One for help. I had thought, my dear Sister, that you were the most sensible, the one most open to the Lord’s grace. (Ah, the fanatic is trying to flatter me now!) I trust you more than my own brothers who are now too much embroiled in materialistic pursuits for their hearts to be open to the Lord Jesus Christ, But you, my dear Sister – remember the many conversations we used to have? I had much faith in you then (What conversations is that idiot referring to?). Now it fills me with sorrow to learn that you have gone the way of the others, chosen the Path of Corruption instead of the Path of Faith and Love that the Lord Jesus Christ offered you through me, His humble agent. (If you mean those sickening pamphlets and booklets, they’ve ended up in the trash-basket.)
Sister Angela, of what good is it to lose your salvation for a miserable bit of money by seeking the assistance of the powers of evil? (Miserable bit of money! I’ll have you know, you hypocrite, that because of the geomancer, your brother’s business is flourishing, and he’s in a better position to be host to his parasitic family, including you!) Now I learn that Old Mother has gone to stay with Gloria. Now Sister Gloria, through no fault of her own, is in a religion that is all darkness and superstition. Popism has foisted upon our poor Sister and millions like her, corrupt practices involving images, rosaries, statues and a whole host of abominable objects designed to confuse and block out the Truth and the Light. Old Mother’s going to live with Gloria will mean that in addition to the burden of superstition that has been her lot for so long, she is now going to be touched by agents in other perhaps more sinister guises. (Now I don’t understand this. Is Gloria not a Christian, too? What’s the matter with you Christians?) I was hoping, my dear Sister Angela, that when I returned, I would be able to rescue my family from the evil they have fallen into; all the family problems that have happened are surely the result of this evil. (My dear young man, you have contributed greatly to the problems. How much have you squandered of family money so far? A hundred thousand?)
But now I find that with you abandoning your faith and trust in the Lord’s love and mercy to go the way of the others (Whenever did I have this ‘faith’ and ‘trust’?), my work of saving my family for the Lord Jesus Christ will be much harder. But I am not one to flinch from the call of the Lord. The Lord wants me to return, after I have finished my work in this country, and lead my family to Him. From my family, I will go on to bring the message of salvation to others. The Lord calls; I cannot ignore His cries. He has saved me from a life of sin and iniquity, and I am now fully restored to His love and mercy. (Don’t bring the poor Lord in. Your Australian divorcee was found in bed with another man and you kicked her out).
The letter ended with more strident cries to heed the Lord; Angela showed it to Mee Kin with amused exasperation, and then crumpled it into a ball and let it go the way of the exhorting, pleading, threatening pamphlets. “I wonder what Dorothy’s brother told him of the geomancer,” said Angela, and then quickly became enthusiastic on a subject she had never stopped talking about to her friends, since the astonishing results.
“Business has soared,” she exclaimed, eyes brightening. “Almost immediately. You wouldn’t believe it. Boon and I are trying to buy over all the shares so that we can have full management of the restaurant. And I’m thinking of that reporter who wrote that nice article on Mark’s 15th birthday party in the hotel, she could do a write-up on the cuisine of our restaurant. We’re negotiating for an Indonesian cook to come over – a top-rate cook from a leading hotel in Jakarta.”
The boutique in the Singapura Shopping Arcade that was about to be opened – the geomancer had to come in here, too. He was simply marvellous.
“That fool in Australia does not know the real circumstances of the old one’s going to stay with Gloria,” said Angela with some vehemence, recollecting the pains of negotiation. She and Boon had sat down for a long talk with Mee Kin and Gloria. Gloria’s mother was going to Canada for a three months’ vacation with her eldest daughter. The new house would be ready by the time she returned, so the old one’s stay with Wee Nam and Gloria would be only temporary. “I had to stress the temporary part of it,” confided Angela. “Gloria was very reluctant, and I had to keep reminding her that it was for only three months. After that, the old one can move to the new house, to her separate wing. And don’t imagine it’s all plain sailing for me. I’ve promised to go to Gloria’s house often, to pick Old Mother up for her medical appointments, to bring food and whatever she needs. And do you know I’ve actually engaged a servant, at my expense, to do the housework and regular meals. Gloria could never afford a servant, so she’s really benefitting from the arrangement.”
Both Wee Nam and Gloria had still appeared unhappy – wasn’t that incredible? – after these arrangements.
“Do you know what Boon and I finally agreed to do?” cried Angela with energetic triumph. “We pulled Wee Nam aside and told him to forget all of it – that money owing to us. Twenty thousand, at least. Imagine, the debt has been wiped off – just like that. That did the trick.”
“My poor children,” said Angela, in vexation. “Especially Mark. How he suffered. He locked himself in his room for days. And Michael. He actually fell ill. It was on Dr Wong’s orders that we had to get the old one out of the way – at least for the time being. Otherwise, I dread what would happen to the children.”
“So pathetic,” said Angela, who moved from mood to mood with ease. Now her voice had softened to compassion. “When we took her to Gloria’s house, she looked so lost, I really felt sorry for her. I wouldn’t like to be in such a position in my old age. But what can we do? Everything falls upon Boon and me. That Ah Tiong and Gek Choo have so neatly extricated themselves from the situation. And of course, that maniacal son in Australia is of no use.”
Angela bought a new bed for Old Mother and a
new cupboard; she went every day for a week to Gloria’s house to train the
servant and to see that all was well. She brought a huge tiffin-carrier of food
on the
first day.
When she returned home, there was another letter from Australia.
Sister Angela – I would not be a worthy member of the brotherhood to which the Lord ]esus Christ in His mercy has called me, if I did not tell you, my dear Sister Angela –
Angela crumpled the letter into a tight ball in her hand and dropped it into the wastepaper-basket.
“Mem,” said Aminah tearfully. She had returned to work; her newest baby was three months old now.
No more wage advances, thought Angela warily. She’s getting a little out of hand.
“Mem,” said the woman, and Angela wondered how one who was barely a few years older than she was could look so old, haggard, emaciated.
“Sharifah’s run away.”
“Why?” asked Angela sharply. “Is it her father again? I thought I’d settled that.”
“No, mem,” said Aminah. “Her father hasn’t gone near her since. But she went to stay with her boyfriend, and then yesterday he came looking for her, for she told him she’d decided to return home. But her identity card is missing, and we fear she’s run away.”
Angela sighed. One mess after another to be cleared.
“Do you have any idea where she’s gone to?” she asked. “Any relatives she could be staying with? Have you asked her boyfriend?”
“We don’t know anything, mem,” whimpered the woman.
“Perhaps we’d better let the police know,” sighed Angela. Why had she taken on a washerwoman who was continually running to her with problems? But her compassion did not allow her to turn anybody away – not Aminah, not that drunken Muniandy and his wretched wife.
It occurred to her to ask Mooi Lan, for sometimes she saw the girl talking to Sharifah while the latter was doing the washing or ironing. Mooi Lan, with the departure of the old one, was slowly regaining her vivacity and communicativeness. Mooi Lan knew.
Sharifah had confided that she was going to work in a bar. The money was good. The life could be exciting.
“She came to see me once,” said Mooi Lan. “She looked happier and really beautiful. I couldn’t recognise her. There was somebody with her, a tall handsome-looking man.” Angela concluded there was nothing to be done. She almost sighed with relief when Aminah came to see her a week later, the thin worn face actually looking better from the smile that lit it. “Sharifah’s working,” she said, “she brought money back for me and her brothers and sisters. She promises to give us money every month.”
Angela was glad for the poor woman.
“Mum,” said Mark, and the absence of anger in her son’s voice was balm to her heart. “Mum, I got through the Advanced Preparatory Exams, and now I can go in for the Merit Exams. Mr Ong tells me that only the top 5 per cent will be eligible for the Elite College that will lead to Cambridge and Harvard.”
“Oh, that’s marvellous!” cried Angela, radiant with delight. But she refrained from too much maternal enthusiasm, as it always had the effect of making her son withdraw into reserve. She waited for him to go on, ready to come in with appropriate comments, to express her great love, without displeasing or embarrassing by excessive ardour. Mark told her he was among the top in the exams.
“I’ve been following the plans for the Elite College in the newspapers,” said Angela knowledgeably. “It seems it will be built on that splendid piece of land in Grangefields, you know, the one that is next to Grandfather’s cemetery. It seems they will clear the cemetery soon for development to begin.”
The boy had little more to communicate afterwards, but he looked better, happier. Mark told his father the news at dinner-time that night, and the father was sufficiently buoyed by the good news to suggest a family dinner in a restaurant the next day. “What a superb idea,” said Angela enthusiastically. “Mikey’s sufficiently recovered to go, and Michelle will like it, won’t you, darling?”
“Yes, Mum!” said the little girl obligingly. Michael’s silence when Angela spoke about the celebratory dinner did nothing to mar the happiness of the occasion.
“I do need more of such happy days,’ sighed Angela to her husband as she prepared for bed that night. She looked at him, this wonderful husband of hers, and she did not tell him that just a few days ago, out of sheer coincidence, one of the regular coffee parties she had had with Mee Kin had actually ended on a visit to Mrs Daisy Perez’s apartment. She had caught a glimpse of her beautiful antique bed – and as she had suspected – now cluttered with heaps of garish Thai silk cushions of various shapes. She recollected the dream – those dreams – and she shivered.
But that, too, did not mar the happiness of the day.