Read Separation, The for Free Online Page B

roadside. She imagined a happier time when they’d be off for drinks at the club, the children safe in their beds. But who can be happy in this damn country, she thought, apart from men like Alec.
    ‘What about when they get independence?’ she’d asked him once, on their way to the annual sultan’s ball.
    ‘They’ll always be scope for someone like me,’ he said, dismissing her concerns. ‘And there’s no chance I’d ever go back to my parents’ house, nor to England, for that matter.’
    She peered at the tall razor sharp
lallang
grass that lined the road. She had no reason not to believe him. Alec was not in contact with his parents, and there had been an awful atmosphere at their home.
    She and the boy walked a little.
    There was no breeze, and even the feathery pink tops of the grass were completely still. Wary of fat vipers concealed in the grass, and the bigger snakes coiled in the trees, she kept to the road and heard the brain fever bird, its call rising to a maddening crescendo.
    Maznan still hadn’t spoken, except to count his beads. He only ever reached five, and said them over and over.
Satu, dua, tiga, empat, lima
.
    She closed her eyes for a moment, sweat stinging the lids, and heard it before she saw it. A brightly painted yellow and red Bedford came roaring up the road. With a shout, she lurched towards it, hindered by the child who hopped beside her, jabbering in Malay, and ‘helping’ with the case. The driver slowed to a crawl, spread his arms out wide and shook his head. Her heart sank as thirty pairs of eyes stared through the open windows. The bus, stuffed with people, baggage, chickens and goats, was full.
    The driver revved the engine. From the back an Indian woman with bulging eyes stood up, and pointed at Lydia and the boy, as if protesting. The driver shook his head again but she seemed to win. He shrugged, and beckoned Lydia forward as the bus burst into life.
    Once on the bus, she clasped the child’s hand, dragged her case, and they bumped their way along the aisle to the back seat. The Indian woman, a floral shawl over her head, shifted over.With a sigh of relief, Lydia sat on the metal bench; no upholstery for insects to inhabit.
    The woman grinned, revealing red gums from chewing betel nut, and a couple of pink teeth. Lydia smiled self-consciously, the only white woman in a bus crammed with Malays, a scattering of Chinese in black baggy trousers, and Tamil workers wearing saris. She saw their eyes on her, and though she didn’t understand what they were saying, she picked up their grumbles. She’d thought she had a decent command of Malay, but realised now this was true only if the person speaking enunciated carefully, and spoke directly to her. Here, they could say what they wanted, and no one cared if she was the mistress of a sizeable house with a sprinkling of servants.
    She smiled vaguely at eyes that slowly turned away, then stared out of the window as the bus swayed from side to side through the tunnel of green.
    Her eyes glazed over and an ache settled in her heart. She put an arm round the child and he leant against her. Until the moment her daughters crawled away with her heart, she hadn’t known what love was, but now she would give anything to be with them.
    A few moments later, there was a sound of rattling paper, and through heavy lids, she glimpsed the Indian woman offer Maznan a pastry. He wolfed it down and held out his hand for more. The woman grinned, pulled out two more cakes, handed one to the boy, and, nudging Lydia, gave her the other.
    She savoured the sweet cinnamon and nutmeg, tried a few tentative words, but the woman stopped her. ‘Speak English,’ the woman said, passing her a flask of citrus-tasting tea and a small yellow pancake. ‘Is good cake. Keep the Pontianak away.’
    ‘The Pontianak?’
    ‘Evil spirit of dead woman. Will come and take your child away. Cake protects him,’ said the woman, pointing at Maznan.
    ‘Oh no. He’s not