THE DANCE went off smoothly. Toni and Cheng Ho ordered the food after asking his friends to recommend good caterers and checking prices. They got to know each other as they worked together. He was surprised how hard a bargain she drove with the caterers. He did not believe in pushing prices too far down, believing the caterer would have to cut costs and drop quality.
“Not true,” Toni said. “Not always. He may just cut his margin.”
His respect for her went up when he saw how fluent she was in Malay as she discussed roti jala, lontong, satay and curries with the caterer for the Muslim food table.
Cheng had felt he had something in common with Toni when she told him she had worked as a cook, but when he discovered the circumstances of her job in the restaurant kitchen, he felt cheated.
“So you had the best of both worlds, didn’t you?”
“You mean a rich man’s daughter and yet working with the servants and in the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
Toni was happy to see the team spirit on the day of the dance when many turned up to help move tables, decorate the hall, and tackle numerous other tasks. Cheng worked like a bull. So did Andrew at first but he soon drifted to Siti’s side, helping her with whatever she was doing.
Toni heard David say to Siti, his eyes wide, when she walked in wearing a tight tee-shirt and denims that showed her full-fleshed rump, “Man, that’s fierce!”
When everything was finished Toni sat down at a table with Cheng and some of the others with bottles of Coke.
Andrew, David, Lettie and Siti sat at another table. Andrew and David were smoking.
“That Toni, she’s got awful taste. Do you know what she wanted to do with the balloons?”
Nobody listened to Lettie. Andrew was talking to Siti and David was gazing at Siti like a man in a trance.
It was a great night. The committee sat together with some others. Siti, of course, got onto their table. Or rather, Andrew arranged it. Siti and Lettie were the most popular first years that night. Toni could not dance and went from table to table chatting with the many non-dancers. But she could not click with some of them as her Mandarin was very basic.
Soon after the dancing started Andrew pointed to the floor and said loudly to all at the table, “Hey look! A cross between a bear on a hot tin roof and a gorilla in a rugby line-up.” They laughed at Cheng Ho dancing in his vigorous and clumsy style with Siti.
“Don’t be rude, Andrew,” Lettie said to him. “Siti doesn’t dance so badly.” He feigned frustration and they laughed again.
When Toni came back to the committee table after a round to a few other tables, she saw that Ig and Cheng had started a game to monopolise Siti. Just to rattle Andrew.
After either of them danced with her they brought her to another table and talked to their friends and sure enough someone would ask Siti to dance. After this had gone on for some time Andrew waved his handkerchief wildly in the air when Siti and her dancing partner passed the committee table.
The dance was to end at one o’clock. At about midnight a limbo competition started. Andrew was up at once. Cheng Ho stood with his hands on his hips watching the first guys go under the stick. He had never seen that done before. He decided to have a go at it.
A thin guy from St. Pat’s, Andrew and Cheng were the last three. Andrew went down on his back. Then the St. Pat’s guy tried. He got through. Cheng also made it.
The stick was lowered half an inch. The St. Pat’s guy indicated with a sweep of his arm to Cheng to go first. He was still panting.
Cheng got through, with every A.C.S. boy yelling his head off. When the St. Pat’s guy started the A.C.S. boys chanted “Down, boy, down.” Ig stood on his chair and bellowed out “Oh when the saints, when the saints, when the saints go crawling in.” The crowd took up the singing but in spite of all the encouragement, the St. Pat’s boy dropped flat on his back onto the wooden floor.
There was a great cheer for Cheng.
Lettie had organised the prizes. She had purposely given the guys little things like sample perfume bottles and the girls masculine articles like neckties.
By the time the limbo was done everyone knew how the prizes were rigged. Cheng Ho returned to the table, bowed to Siti and laid his wrapped prize on her lap. As he did it he turned to Andrew, and said, “I’m number one!” thumping his chest.
Toni frowned as she saw the gloating on Cheng’s face.
Talking of the dance on Monday was almost as good as the dance itself. The guys discussed it in the corridors. The girls sat in groups in the canteen.
“That Nora bit, did you see how good she looked?”
“Never mind Nora, did you see Peter with his tongue hanging out. Shit, the fellow’s a gonner.”
“Hey, Cheng, you got to do it slow, man. Like real slow.”
“Did you see David’s shirt?”
“Hey, Samad, why you don’t give Andrew some competition. Sama bangsa, sure win, lah.”
“Slowly, slowly, man. Like the tortoise.”
“I could see Lettie’s boobs bouncing.”
“Shit, man. You never seen.”
“Lucy was the biggest surprise. I would never imagine she could look so good …”
“That basket, John.”
“Who?”
“John, lah. The fullback.”
“Oh.”
“He told me he had a condom. Wanted to give it to Andrew.”
“Shit!”
“Boy, that would have exploded him. You know Andrew.”
“Stupid ass.”
“Hey, Siti’s not like that, lah.”
“How do you know, badak?”
“I bet my bottom dollar she won’t.”
“Hey, pretty boy, don’t you go around betting your bottom.”
“Hey, Siti, you are freshie queen, huh?”
“Where did you get that lovely dress, Evelyn?”
“Did you see that T.K.G.S. girl’s neckline!”
“Yah. I saw the principal looking at her.”
“Sure to be a notice on the board today.”
“Please, this is not a mission school.”
“That Toni Ng, her dress …”
“She’s old, lah.”
“David’s really a nice guy, so attentive. A real gentleman.”
“Don’t you believe it.”
“Sweet on him, are you?”
“No lah!”
“You know Rose? Rose Wong. Isn’t she a bitch?”
“Your language, Lettie.”
“Must ask Miss Rosario to give us alternative words for bitch.”
“Or bastard.”
“Cathy looked so nice. Green suits her.”
“Yes, but she should have had something round her neck to set it off.”
“A big chunky silver pendant.”
“I must cut my hair. Everybody has nice neat short styles.”
“Did you see Andrew Lee mauling Siti on the floor in the last dance?”
“No guy can maul Siti if she doesn’t want to be mauled.”
“You better look up the dictionary.”
“You know he took Siti home in his mother’s mini-minor? Or was it a Hornet?”
“Really, ah?”
“You jealous or what?”
“You think she …”
“Aiyah! Siti’s not like that, lah.”
“THEY GET bolder every year. When is it going to stop?” Miss Wee said in the staff room.
“What they need is a good shot of Confucian …”
“Nonsense. It’s not our job to straighten out their morals. It’s the parents’.”
“It is, Nancy. Just look at the discipline M.G.S. and other mission schools get into their …”
“It’s inside, lah. Not just being courteous or well-mannered.”
“The other day I saw two of them holding hands brazenly in the corridor. But they were Pre-U Twos.”
Philippa didn’t dare tell them what she had seen in the doorway of Lecture Theatre One.
“I hate these first two months. No one is interested in anything.”
“Yah … I know what you mean. Can’t HQ do something about it? After all, how many get thrown out when the results come out? Surely we can rely on school assessments to place them in the pre-U classes.”
“In a way this period is good for them. A relaxation time. After the O’s. They all remember it later, you know.”
“And they need to get to know each other. It builds the college team spirit.”
“For what, huh? Two years?”
Philippa spoke up. “It’s no use wingeing about the system. The challenge to us is how to get them interested in study because they are interested. I mean, stir up their curiosity so they want to study. I mean, not mugging. Finding out about things. Wanting to know.”
“Philippa, for an English teacher, that was a mess of phrases.”
“Go back to your hockey sticks and your balls, Lionel.”
IG WAITED for Andrew one Monday morning. He went up to the Mercedes as soon as he saw it. “Say, we got five before baldie’s lecture. I wanna talk to you. I got an idea.”
“I’m still asleep, Ig.”
“Look. It’s like this. My Ma is going to Malacca for two weeks. We can have a party at my place. Pa will agree. No doubt about that. What about it?”
“Now, that’s woken me up. It’s on, man!”
“Good. You, me and who else to organise it?”
“David?”
“Yeaaaah.” Ig didn’t seem too enthused about David’s party organisation capabilities.
“Lettie.”
“Yah. A girl would be …”
“Or Siti.”
“No. That’s not her beat.”
“O.K., O.K., Lettie.”
“Next week?”
“Fine.”
And so the party at Ignatius Rosario’s house was decided. His father agreed and Eva said she had a date, anyway. Phyllis’s eyes lit up. Pa saw her reaction to Ignatius’ announcement and told her she was too young to be mixed up with that lot. Ignatius knew that as sure as the sun rose in the mornings, Phyl would sneak in. And she would feel like a fish out of water. At fifteen, she believed she was ready for all the men of the world, the silly sentimental kid.
Ignatius argued with Andrew about who was to be invited. He insisted that some of his Chinese-ed, Chinese stream boys and girls be included. Lettie supported him.
PHILIPPA HEARD about it after mass on Sunday. Antonio suggested they have a drink at the coffeeshop on the Bain Street corner. “The kaya’s jolly good.” And he told her he had agreed to Ignatius’ party. “If we don’t let them enjoy themselves at home, they’ll go out on the streets. R.T.S., Roam The Streets,” he said.
The Theseiras joined them for coffee and toast and kaya.
As Philippa said “ta-ta” to them the thought suddenly hit her.
Toni.
They would ask Toni Ng. And she would go. She was hungry for the new experiences of Singapore social life. Philippa knew she had been to Siti’s home and had got on well with Siti’s family because of her Malay. Not just that. Toni understood their adat, their customs and ways of living, their interests, desires and dislikes. In spite of being brought up in the Cantonese town of Ipoh, she had absorbed a lot of the Malay culture because she was always alive to the world around her.
Philippa’s mind went into a spin. This was the time to tell Antonio. Gloria was away. It was the best time. But she baulked at the thought. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was an Arul Rosario, or whatever the name was.
Would he see something in her face? Would he start chatting to her? It was probable. Toni would look for him. As she had got to Philippa. That photograph of Ignatius. It was not just wanting to paint an unusual face. That girl was digging.
Philippa imagined the scene. Then she decided. She had to tell Antonio. A party at her place?
“HELLO, PHIL,” Antonio said as he walked into Philippa’s flat. “Am I too early?”
“No,” Philippa replied, tense.
“Where’s everybody?”
Philippa was walking to the fridge.
“Who’s coming to your party, Phil?”
He walked to the back where Philippa was knocking the ices cubes out. “The usual, I suppose?” she asked him.
“Yep.”
He glanced at the kitchen. There were dirty plates in the sink.
“Hey. Did I get the date wrong? It is tonight, isn’t it?”
Philippa handed him a whisky soda, her mouth firm, her eyes looking direct at his.
“What’s …”
“There’s no party, Antonio. I just wanted to get you here. Alone. I have bad news for you.”
“Ha?”
“Let’s sit down.”
“What is it, Phil?”
“It’s your past, Antonio …”
Antonio sat up straight. His eyes rounded. He waited.
“I think it’s caught up with you. Now listen,” Philippa continued quickly to stop Antonio’s questions.
“When you were in Ipoh you started playing around, didn’t you? I mean bloody screwing around. I don’t know how many women you knocked off but I know of one. Mimi Tan.”
Antonio paled. He put his glass on the table and leant forward, staring at Philippa.
“Well, I’ve come to know … Mimi Tan had a baby in 1942. She named the child Toni, the French Toni … . But before that she had changed her name by deed poll to Mimi Rosario. As she was unmarried when the baby was born, she named the child Toni Mary Rosario.”
Antonio put his head in his hands. “Oh God,” he mumbled.
“You had a good friend, a true friend … a Mr Ng …”
Tony looked up wide-eyed.
“In fact, you worked for him, didn’t you?”
He had not told any of the family the details of his job with Ng. He had not even mentioned his name. Maybe Gloria did.
“You have not kept in touch with Nr Ng, have you?”
He shook his head.
“Or Mimi?”
He shook his head again, too shocked to talk. Waiting for what Philippa still had to say.
“Mimi Tan was killed by the Japs during the war.”
“Oh God!” Antonio burst out loudly and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, God. Oh God …”
He started sobbing. Philippa was taken aback. She had hit him deeply with the announcement. His body was shaking with his muffled sobbing.
She moved over and sat on the arm of his chair and put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Antonio,” gently, softly.
She got up and went to her room, returning with a handkerchief for him. She had not expected this reaction. Did he still love her? She went for another handkerchief. Then she knelt down on the carpet in front of Antonio, gripping his shoulders. “Antonio.”
“Oh God!”
“Antonio!”
She could not move him. Walking to the balcony, she looked out at the blue lights of the H.D.B. flats, the city, the sodium road lights, spread out below. The dark clouds in the sky. The little picture of the dining room of the flat in the block opposite, like a tiny television screen far away. Three little ones and the father without a shirt at the table. The woman dishing out rice.
From somewhere below her flat the emotive voice of Roberta Black singing The first time ever I saw your face drifted up.
She felt left out. She was standing there watching; not part of it. Looking down from above. An observer. A spectator.
She waited, a pain in her heart. She had known the pain of suppressed love too.
The thump of the fridge door being shut brought her out of her calm but black depression.
“Antonio?”
He stood at the door to the balcony with a glass in his hand.
“I loved her, Phil. But I really loved Gloria more. But she … Mimi became a friend … a real friend … I don’t … I don’t think I’ve ever had a better friend, a closer friend in my life …”
Philippa went up to him and held his forearm. “I’m sorry …”
“It just happened, Phil … And it just finished … Or was it the war … I can’t remember … Yah. The war came suddenly … And I remember that day when she told me she was pregnant. It was the eighth of December … the day that …”
“She must have been someone different, Antonio, something very …”
“She was.”
Tears started running down Antonio’s cheeks again.
Philippa decided to continue.
“I know all this because …”
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
“What?”
“Because I … I … I met the girl …”
“Girl? But you said she’s dead?”
“Her daughter?”
“Ha?” his mouth open.
“A wonderful young woman. Baptised Toni Mary Rosario.”
“Ha?”
“Mimi Tan changed her name to Mimi Rosario. The illegitimate child was registered as Toni Mary Rosario …”
“You said that just now … didn’t you? … . I see … so the baby became a Rosario … . But Mimi was not a Christian.”
“She got her baptised in a Catholic church. I’ve seen the baptismal certificate. Signed by Father Glineur.”
“For my sake …” Antonio mumbled.
“Listen to me, Antonio. Your daughter is a wonderful girl. She’s got the best of you and obviously the best of Mimi Tan in her …”
Philippa saw that Antonio had recovered somewhat from the shock of Mimi’s death, so she gave him the rest of what she had to say on Toni Ng.
As she shut the door when Antonio left a flood of pain and tears erupted in her. It wasn’t just Antonio’s life. She pushed her head into her bolster, sobbing, muttering Daud, Daud …
TONI NG tossed in her bed all night the day Ig asked her to the party at his house. Somewhere deep inside her a voice cried out, “I know.”
PHILIPPA LOOKED for Toni Ng the day after she had spoken to Antonio. She asked her if they could meet that evening. At the coffeeshop on the corner. All U.P. students knew it.
Philippa braced herself for the meeting. It was not going to be easy, she warned herself. Toni stood up smiling as soon as Philippa came up to her. Her first words were, “Thank you for seeing me. But before we talk I want to show you something.”
Philippa dismissed the coffeeshop boy hovering around her shoulder with, “Barley water,” and looked round the shop. There were some Chinese-ed U.P. girls eating at the other end of the shop. Toni took out a postcard size photograph from her bag and put it on the table. It was a photograph of an ink and watercolour painting, portraits of a man and a woman, side by side, but both sitting as if painted individually, at different times.
Philippa recognised Ignatius at once but the drab dark blue coolie’s outfit of the woman put her off at first glance. Then she saw it was Toni herself.
The painting was accomplished with the minimum of lines and colour. The watercolour washes in the facial shadows faded to the white of the paper on the highlights. It needed thinning of the colour quickly before it dried, yet keeping the brush as dry as possible to prevent the colours running into each other. It was Chinese brushwork but done in a way that was almost western impressionist.
“I call it ‘Brother and Sister’,” Toni said, looking into Philippa’s eyes. Philippa returned her intense look and saw that she knew. “I am going to the party. Is that why you want to see me?”
“Yes.”
They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.
“You saw my birth certificate, didn’t you, Miss Rosario?”
“Yes. The first day I met you.”
Philippa sighed. “Toni. I am now sure. I talked to your father last night and told him.” Toni’s eyes were expectant, excitement in them. “I want to arrange for the two of you to meet before the party. At my flat. By the way, you know Ignatius’ mother is away?”
“Yes.”
“You tell me when you are free. He’ll fit in with your schedule.”
“Tomorrow.”
“But I think I should tell you a few home truths before you meet. Incidentally, I won’t be there. I think you have to be alone with each other.”
“Oh …”
“The first thing is that he was very upset to hear your mother is dead. Badly upset, Toni. So do not talk too much about her. I know you can’t avoid it, but get done with it quickly and tell him about yourself. Anyway, you don’t really know your mother, do you?”
“No. I mean, yes.”
“I did not tell him she was tortured by the Japanese. For God’s sake, don’t.” Philippa paused. “Tell him about Mr Ng, your stepfather. They seem to have had a very good relationship. Although he told me Mr Ng was very angry with him for leaving when the Japanese were advancing towards Ipoh.”
Philippa stopped again.
“But you’ve got to get some things straight. Get all the shit of romance out of your head. I can see your eyes shining. You are going to meet a man who loved your mother in some sort of way. But he loved his wife more. I’m sorry if it hurts. But that’s how it is. I told him he was a bastard for … I’m sorry, I’m getting carried away. But you must see that he broke his social and religious codes. Right?”
“Yah … I suppose so …”
“He’s going to feel a huge responsibility towards you, I’m sure. We must not let him go overboard. The Eurasians are a sentimental people. We Rosarios have Malay and Portuguese blood in us. Both are emotional people.”
“Hmm …”
“And you have a touch of that. Get this straight. You are complete strangers to each other. And you are not the victim of anything. In fact you’re a damned lucky girl. It’s Mr Ng who’s the hero in this story. You were brought up in luxury. You have never felt hunger in your belly. You have felt fatigue only because you punished yourself by working with the servants. It is a strange quirk to me. That you did it.
“It can cloud you, Toni. It has clouded that brother and sister picture. What a bloody soppy romantic piece of shit it is. I don’t mean the workmanship. I think it’s good. Very good. Though I’m not an art critic. But to put yourself in a Hakka tin miner’s samfoo reveals so much.
“You meet your real father. Then what? Think about that.”
Philippa saw that Toni was frowning. She thought she may have been too harsh. Like Vicky.
“I called him a bastard last night. I didn’t mean it. He’s a good man, Toni. He’s clever and he’s kind. But he can kill emotions when he wants to.”
She let that sink in.
“I have thought about why I called him a bastard. Maybe it’s because I have got to know you. I think you’re a wonderful person. But now I can see you would not have been any better if you had been brought up by Antonio … er … and his wife Gloria. Ignatius has got a lot of Antonio in him …”
“Ignatius is such a nice person. Not just nice. He’s going to get there. He has his faults …”
“What are they?”
“Tries to be too nice to everybody. Has phases of indiscipline. But when he works …”
“His faults, Toni, not his good points.”
“Girls affect him.”
“And?”
“Accepts his weaknesses … I think so. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s being realistic. He’s ambitious. But does not want to go to the very top. Maybe. I don’t know. Above all he reads people, he understands feelings. He will get on with …”
“His faults, Toni.”
“You’re right, Miss Rosario. I’m prejudiced.”
“Because his surname is Rosario. Right?”
“Oh shit, I don’t know.”
“Tomorrow evening, then. Here’s my address. And a sketch map with the bus numbers and the bus stop. Six?”
“Yah.”
Philippa did not try to find out how the evening went. She told Antonio she would put out a dinner in the tiffin-carrier. All he had to do was heat it. She and Vicky went to the pictures. After that day she was unable to remember the film or the names of the actors. She just sat in the dark, frightened, feeling pain she knew was illogical, imagining the worst.
She checked the plates and even looked into the rubbish bin to see if they had thrown away any food. She tried to remember the level of the whisky in the bottle but couldn’t. It took all her self-discipline not to ask. She avoided Toni. But at her tutorial she saw that Toni was glowing. Almost like a teenager in love.
IT WAS Cheng Ho who told her Ig’s party was terrific.
“Was Siti there?” Philippa asked.
“Yes. Looking absolutely stunning, as Andrew would say.”
She didn’t know why Cheng Ho added that rider. But Irene, the pimply girl who worked her heart out on every assignment she was given told her it was the party of her life.
“We sang around the piano till two o’clock in the morning, Miss Rosario.”
Philippa smiled. That was her measure of a good party too.