The Plantation Read Free Page A

verse of her life before the war. And there are letters in that shoebox that she wrote to her parents describing married life in Malaya,’ said Caroline.
    ‘Well, then! You could tell that anthropologist fellow heaps!’ exclaimed Julie.
    ‘But they’re personal things, dear. He wouldn’t be interested in that.’
    ‘So how come you didn’t know about Great Aunt Bette and the jungle people? asked Julie.
    ‘Mmm. Well, that book was written long after Mother and I had left Malaya and, as I’ve already said, Mother only mentioned Bette to criticise her. “That terrible woman, that disgrace to the family”, that sort of thing.’
    ‘That was an odd sort of arrangement, wasn’t it, with you and Gran here in Brisbane, and your father and brother Philip in Malaya,’ said Julie
    ‘We didn’t really think of it like that. When Mother wanted to come back to live in Brisbane, Philip was in boarding school in England – he was ten years older than me – so he stayed there and I came here. Then, when he left school, he wanted to stay in Malaysia with Father. So I never really got to know him. Of course, I have Mother’s version of events, but there are probably a few missing pieces to the story.’
    ‘Do you think that the war had anything to do with the split in the family?’
    ‘I don’t know. Probably not. I think that Father spent most of the war in India, while Mother saw it out in Brisbane. But they both went back to Malaya afterwards, otherwise I wouldn’t have been born. But that doesn’t tell us anything more about Bette, does it?’
    ‘Maybe David Cooper knows something more. I mean he knew to look for her book, didn’t he?’
    ‘I thought he was researching the native people of Borneo, not our family!’ said Caroline.
    ‘I know but it mightn’t hurt to meet him. He did promise to loan me the copy of Bette’s book. I sent him an email.’
    Caroline shrugged. ‘Well, ask him over for a cup of tea. He might like to look at some of these pictures. I wish Mother had written names on the back of these photos, at least!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Who are they all?’

    Julie watched as David Cooper got out of his car, then stopped and looked at her mother’s home. He walked across the lawn to gaze up into the thick arms of the poinciana tree and then turned to admire the view across Moreton Bay. He was perhaps in his late thirties, medium build, with his hair a bit long so that it flopped near his dark glasses. He wore jeans that had been pressed, a short-sleeved lemon shirt and he carried a small package. As he headed towards the front steps, Julie came out onto the verandah to greet him.
    ‘Hi, I’m Julie. You like our view?’
    ‘It’s a stunning old place. Nice to know there are still some around in such good condition, though not too many are as beautiful as this. Hello, I’m David.’ He stepped onto the verandah beside her and Julie realised he was taller than she’d thought. She took his outstretched hand and shook it. He handed her the package.
    ‘The book. As promised.’
    ‘Thank you, we’ll return it as soon as Mum and I have read it.’
    ‘No, please keep it. I’ve photocopied what I need and I think that the original should be with Bette’s family.’
    ‘Well, thank you. Come on in. My mother has made a cake in your honour.’
    ‘I’m impressed. How nice.’
    Julie smiled and opened the front door. ‘Mum isn’t known for her baking skills, so it’s an easy pineapple cake.’
    ‘Sounds great.’
    Caroline was putting a jug of water on the table on the back verandah. ‘Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Caroline Reagan. Would you prefer tea, coffee, iced tea?’
    ‘Iced tea sounds great.’ David Cooper glanced around at the cool, casual surrounds with the cane furniture, bright cushions and a climbing creeper screening the lush private garden. ‘This reminds me of the tropics and the colonial planters’ homes.’
    ‘It’s not intended. This house was here in this