Read Separation, The for Free Online

and threw open the door, shading her eyes from the sun’s low afternoon rays, as sharp as knives.
    In the corner a slight girl with drawn features, black hair in a top knot, and frightened almond-shaped eyes, sat cross-legged on the floor. A young child, also with straight Chinese hair, sat on her lap, and hid his face in her chest. In baggy blue trousers, barefoot, with a beaded anklet on one leg, he looked undernourished. Lydia stared, sure she’d seen the girl leave their house once before.
    ‘Mem.’ The girl got up, a well of misery in her eyes. ‘I am Suyin. This my sister’s boy.’
    There’s something familiar, Lydia thought, as she took in the girl’s shiny tunic.
    ‘What’s the child’s name?’
    ‘Maznan Chang, Mem. He was at hospital. Cannot go home. Please, he go with you.’
    Lydia glanced at her watch, but the girl, rigid and pale, pitched headfirst into her plea.
    ‘The jungle not safe for him. They hurt him.’
    The boy stood, and pulled up his shirt to reveal a red welt across his side. Lydia saw that besides being thin he was very dirty, and the injury was obviously recent.
    ‘He help you, Mem. He speak Malay and Chinese.’
    ‘He looks so young.’
    ‘He is seven, small for age.’
    The boy turned damp eyes on Lydia, and gave a wary smile. She was taken aback. Pretty like a girl, he had a flat face and fullnostrilled Malayan nose, but pale eyes, and skin with a touch of amber, lighter than most Malays. Only his hair looked Chinese. He smiled again, displaying a row of even teeth.
    She sized things up, pushing aside the pinch of anxiety about the delay. An image of Emma flashed in her head and she heard her daughter’s voice as if she was in the next room.
Hurry up, Mummy. Aren’t you here yet?! I’ve got a new story to tell you
. She closed her eyes and felt her heart constrict.
    ‘Mem?’ the girl said, interrupting her.
    ‘Why is he not safe?’ Lydia asked.
    ‘His mother. She run away to inside.’ The girl waited to see a reaction before pressing her point. ‘She in jungle, Mem. If they don’t come get him. The others take him next time.’
    The penny dropped. The child’s mother had run off to join the communist rebels.
    ‘Which others?’
    The girl looked embarrassed. ‘The white people, red hairs. Please. Take this boy to resettlement village, or even Malay village. They take care of him.’
    Lydia wavered. ‘What about the police?’
    The girl curled her lip and spat on the floor.
    Lydia felt torn. She needed to catch up with her girls, get on before the day drew to a close. But then she imagined if it were them who were alone and dependent on a stranger for kindness. ‘All right,’ she said, making a snap decision. ‘I’ll take him. What’s your address? And the name of the place to take him?’
    She stared at the girl’s pinched face. Then it came to her. ‘You’re the driver’s daughter?’
    The girl nodded.
    ‘Can’t your father have him?’
    The girl shook her head and Lydia saw a look of anxiety in her eyes.
    ‘Did your father drive my husband to Ipoh?’
    The girl shook her head. ‘My father sick.’
    ‘Well, let me have your address, so I can let you know where the little boy is.’
    The girl stepped forward, held the child by one hand and placed his other in Lydia’s. She bent down and, again in rapid Chinese, spoke in his ear. He shook his head, hair wheeling out round his face. The girl straightened up, spun round, raced through the door, picked up speed along the covered walkway, and melted into the long grass.
    Lydia called out, but the girl had gone. She sighed and peered at the child. He almost had the eyes of a European child. Was he really in danger? A picture of the orphanage came up. The pitiless grey block on the outskirts of town. If the rumours of neglect were true, it was no place for this little one. The thought of her own girls there made her hold her breath.
    He looked up, then counted his beads in Malay. ‘
Satu, dua, tiga, empat,