RAIN PELTED DOWN thick and fast. The bus was packed. The central aisle had no standing room. People stood like tin soldiers, hip to hip, swaying with the motion of the bus. Inside the vehicle, with bodies in close proximity, the damp heat was unbearable. Within minutes of departure from Port Dickson, the air in the bus became musty. Moisture condensed on glass. The windscreen misted over. Tick tack went the windscreen wiper. The driver leaned forward to peer. His chest brushed the steering wheel. He reached out to wipe away the condensation on the windscreen but moisture collected almost immediately.
Ruth sat squashed next to a Malay farmer. He had a rattan basket on his lap. Inside it were several fluffy little chicks. From time to time, he jiggled his foot. “Untuk cucu saya,” he explained. “For my grandchild.”
She smiled in answer before turning to look out. She could see little. She rubbed the windows with the heel of her palm. Huge black clouds loomed and trees bent and swayed. The wind was strong. She was glad that baby Michael was safe at home with Fu Yi. The bus lurched to the left. Someone screamed. The farmer’s basket fell, caught in time by the man standing next to him. The bus righted itself. The passengers heaved sighs of relief. Everyone began to talk.
“Alamak! Bound to flood-lah. The last time I was in KL floodwaters reached my knee. Is this your first trip to the city?” asked the man in the seat in front of her. He stood up and turned to look at Ruth.
“I lived there for a few months. I have not known it to flood.”
“You are lucky-man. Floods very common one you know. Monsoon-what. Maybe you lived in good area. All depends on where you are.” He rubbed his thumb and index finger. “You rich; all white people rich. Money counts.”
Ruth smiled politely and looked away.
The man glared at her, clearly offended and sat down. “Stuck up,” he muttered.
Embarrassed, Ruth looked apologetically at the farmer who was sitting next to her. He was observing the exchange with interest. He pointed at the man’s back and whispered leaning into Ruth’s ear, “Jahat! Penyibut,” making a face to indicate that the man in front of them was a busy body and was to be avoided. The bus continued to plough through the rain. More and more cars overtook them. Each time the bus swerved to the verge to make way. The road was narrow. The heat, the mingling of odours in a confined space, became unbearable. Ruth felt nauseous. She placed her forehead against the window to get some coolness. A car sped by perilously close to the bus, its metallic grey body a blur as it overtook. Harsh lights shone into Ruth’s eyes from an oncoming car, its body indiscernible under the pelting rain. A loud bang followed. The bus swerved and rolled over in slow motion, down the side of the road into a parallel ditch. Ruth could feel her head banging against the window, once, twice, three times. She lost count. Then darkness.
***
“Why is Ruth so late?” May asked. Streaks of lightning lit up the sky but within seconds everything fell back to darkness. May pushed aside the curtains and looked out. Rain lashed down with force, driving diagonal sheets across the lawn and driveway. “I said I would send the driver to her. I begged her to at least take a taxi. She insisted on using a bus. She wouldn’t even allow us to meet her at the station. She wanted to make her way here on her own! I couldn’t make her see sense. She is so stubborn.”
“In this bad weather the bus journey could take four hours, more if the traffic is bad. Remember the potholes when we last went to Port Dickson? Shall I drive to the bus station? I tried calling. No one answered. The connection is poor.” Hugh could see that May was agitated.
“I’ll come with you.” May went into the hallway to get some umbrellas.
“No! You stay at home and keep safe and dry.” Another streak of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a roll of thunder. Huge drops pelted the windowpanes. “Look at the weather. An umbrella would not protect you against the rain. The wind is gusty. It would turn it inside out within seconds. Umbrellas under such conditions are more a hindrance.”
“I want to come.”
The phone rang. The sudden succession of rings startled May. She looked at Hugh but he was already striding towards the phone. He picked it up. May watched his grim face as he listened. His hand went up mid-air to stop her from asking questions. Minutes passed: the clock in the hallway ticked. Gently, he placed the phone down. “It is Ruth. There has been an accident.”
***
Ruth’s eyes fluttered, they moved rapidly from side to side. She saw Buster. He bounded up to her wagging his tail and leaving behind him a trail of flattened golden ripe wheat. It was summer and the sun was shining bright. He jumped, his paws catching the threads on her skirt. Ruth knelt down and stroked his head. The fur was soft and she could smell his doggy scent. She looked up. Mark was calling and waving to her. His voice soared and trailed in the wind. She could see his smile and sense his eagerness for her to join him. He stood in the field with the wheat reaching up his waist. His hair was like the colour of sun-bleached grains. The sky was clear blue. “Come,” he gestured to her. “Come to me,” he seemed to say, his words lost in the sound of the wind.
Then another voice came from behind her, stopping her. She turned. Green paddy fields inundated with water stretched before her. The water gleamed black. Overhead the sun was red. In the midst of it stood Omar. “Stop, don’t go! Stay with me,” he shouted. His eyes sought hers. He ran towards her with his arms spread wide. “I love you.” He caught her wrist. She sensed a movement behind her. From the corner of her eye, she could see Mark. He was fading away with each backward step he took.
Ruth struggled, hitting out with her hands, her arms flailing.
“Nurse, hold her,” a voice commanded. “She will harm herself.”
May stood petrified at the bedside. Ruth was twisting and turning in the bed. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut. Yet behind the blue-veined eyelids, her eyeballs continued to dart wildly from side to side. Ruth opened her mouth to speak. No words came out; instead an unnerving agonised howl issued from her lips.
May dropped to her haunches and took Ruth’s hand in hers. She stroked it. “Shhh! We are all here. You had an accident. Everything will be all right. Libby wants to see you. You won’t want her to see you in distress.” May’s face was wet as she leaned over to stroke Ruth’s cheek.
The nurse administered a needle in the crook of Ruth’s arm. Ruth stopped struggling and her head lolled to one side She was very pale and her lips were blue. There was a deep gash on one side of her temple, which had been stitched and bandaged.
The nurse pulled a chair to the side of the bed. “There, a seat for you. Let her rest. We will run a series of tests when she wakes up. For the moment sleep is the best thing for her.” The nurse went out and came back shortly with a box of tissues. She placed it in May’s hand. “She must mean a lot to you. I’ll be back soon to check.”
***
Omar opened his eyes. Gingerly, he touched his cheeks and felt the rough stubble of two days’ growth. He was fully dressed. His shirt, unbuttoned almost to his waist and un-tucked from his trousers, was crumpled. He could smell himself. A necktie lay carelessly half hidden and trapped by a cushion. He must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Since that fateful day when the poisonous documents had been rudely thrust into his hand he had dragged himself to the office and performed like a robot before heading home and drinking himself into a stupor. He looked around the room. It was a mess. Bottles, glasses, half-eaten food lay on every surface. He had given the maid leave. He wanted to be on his own to think. Instead, he drank.
That was until the previous night. Filled with self-disgust, he had emptied a whole bottle of whisky into the kitchen basin and stood listening to the gurgling of the golden liquid as it disappeared down the waste hole. After that he collapsed on the sofa and slept until bright sunshine shone straight onto his face.
He rose to his feet and stamped them. They were cramped and sore. He went into the kitchen and took a bin bag. With methodical care, he cleared up the bottles and mess from the floor and tables until some semblance of order returned. He went to his bedroom and stripped off his stale clothes and walked into the shower. The sensation of hot water pounding his body, the fresh scent of soap and shampoo breathed new life into him. He scrubbed until his body tingled. He dressed with care. He had reached a conclusion about himself and Ruth. He was a hypocrite. She had not told him the whole truth about her past because he had not wanted her to. He had told her that they should look forward to the future and not backwards. How could he blame her for not telling him? Her past was not for him to forgive. He had no right. Yet, the words of the report sprung before him, black on white and vicious. He had no right. But was it a question of right? Could he trust Ruth to be faithful to him, when she had not been faithful in her previous marriage, even though May had tried to explain? A picture of Ruth with Steve rose in his mind’s eye. He could not stop his revulsion. He recalled May’s words. Could he be magnanimous like Hugh? Deep down, he wasn’t sure.
The doorbell rang. He rose to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it. “Hugh!” he exclaimed in surprise. Behind Hugh another car swerved into the driveway. It was his parents.
Omar pushed open the door and indicated that Hugh should enter. He looked over Hugh’s shoulder and saw his mother getting out of the car followed by his father.
Hugh hesitated with his foot suspended over the door’s threshold. He followed Omar’s eyes. “You have guests. I won’t stay. What I have to say won’t take long. Ruth is in hospital. She has had an accident.”
Omar held on to the doorframe. “Accident?” he asked. “How? Is she going to be all right?”
Siti’s voice cut in. She had hurried over the minute she saw Hugh at the door. “Of course she is all right. All this fuss over a little accident.” She brushed past Hugh without greeting. “You again,” she muttered aloud, “interfering with my family affairs. Isn’t it about time you packed up and went home like the rest? You don’t belong here. We have had enough.”
“I am sorry. My wife is upset,” Omar’s father said with a curt nod to Hugh before he too brushed past and went into the house.
“Well! I’d better leave you.” Hugh, embarrassed by the assault of words, turned to leave. He could hardly blame Ruth for not wanting to be part of Omar’s family.
“Omar! Come into the house. We have something to say to you,” his mother shouted from within.