The White Amah (4 page)

‘Is it a special?’ asked Imelda.

‘Naturally he’ll expect you to perform topless.’

‘Topless!’ shrieked Crystal.

‘Er … yes. But it’s treble time, Chicken, and you get to keep your tips.’

‘I’ve got a migraine,’ wailed Crystal.

‘The prince was very taken with you,’ Jimmy told Crystal. ‘He asked for you specially. It’s no big deal.’ Sensing her reluctance, he flashed a smile to show off his latest extravagance: a diamond sparkled in his front tooth. ‘I’m going to promote the troupe as Diamond Jim and his White Diamonds. Wicked idea, lah?’

‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ Melanie said. She knew it would take more drastic measures to get the young girl off the hook.

Jimmy stepped back, thinking of his new white dinner jacket, and rushed off to find a bucket. Melanie winked broadly. By the time Jimmy came back with an ice bucket the girls had stopped giggling.

‘Get a taxi back to the Cathay. There’ll be another time.’ The new diamond flashed again.

Neon lights were flashing. The hawkers’ stands and the brightly painted shop-houses were packed. Chinatown was humming and the streets were awash with partygoers looking for a good time. At two am it was as warm and balmy as a summer’s day. The pedestrian mall had been transformed into a night market, and the cafes and bars lining each side of the street were full of tourists and locals. Mel was in the mood for fun but she knew the time had come for some straight talk with Crystal. What was Crystal’s father thinking of, letting her go off on her own, she
wondered again for the umpteenth time. Couldn’t he see what a sleaze Jimmy was? Or didn’t he care?

She ordered two shandies from an outdoor bar, and while they waited for the waitress to bring the drinks over she started to tell Crystal about the special parties where the White Diamonds entertained rich businessmen away from home.

‘They don’t think it’s been a good night if they don’t end up having sex with one of us.’

Crystal lowered her voice and hoped the tourists sitting chin to jowl at the next table couldn’t hear. ‘Are you telling me you sleep with men you don’t know for money?’ She couldn’t believe the sophisticated, worldly women she’d aspired to copy were little more than high-class callgirls.

‘Only if I like the look of them,’ Mel said. ‘I wouldn’t go with anyone who was old or repulsive. Why not get paid for something I’d do for free? There was this one guy who was a deadringer for Imran Khan. I got a real kick out of that. I’d always dreamt of making it with the captain of the Pakistani cricket team …’ She tailed off when she saw the way the younger girl was looking at her. ‘But you’re just a kid. You don’t want to get into this kind of a life. Maybe you should go back to Oz and finish school, think about getting a degree or something.’

The advice was unnecessary. Crystal knew she would never get involved in anything so low. Why would she? She was paid well, they all were. Didn’t Melanie have any morals?

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ She laughed in an attempt to hide her shock. ‘Do you know what they call Perth? Dullsville. Jimmy says we’re going to KL in a fortnight and I can hardly wait.’

Melanie saw that it was going to be hard to convince Crystal, and perhaps after all it wasn’t her place. At least she’d tried.

The Indian temple was just across the road. Tourists were gaping at the elaborate plaster sculptures and Hindu ornamentation on the six-tiered tower, but Crystal was more interested in the karaoke bar’s flashing lights and told her friend she’d rather sing than pray. The dingy bar was half empty. A tall, brash Yank was singing ‘On the Road Again’ to enthusiastic applause and whistles from a noisy group in the corner. Crystal took one look at the shabby lounge and the smattering of unfashionable, middleaged customers and knew it wasn’t her kind of place, but Melanie put her arm round her waist companionably and propelled her forward.

‘I love country music,’ Mel whispered, ‘and he’s not bad.’

They slipped into a booth, Mel’s eyes on the singer who was performing the number in a showy style, enjoying the attention. When he finished the song his friends encouraged him to sing another and he launched into ‘Country Road’.

‘More country and western,’ groaned Crystal.

Unmoved by Crystal’s complaints, Melanie sang along and when it was over joined his friends in calling for more, but a couple of Malaysians were already pestering the MC for their turn and the rangy singer stepped down from the stage. He took the long way back to his seat so he could check out the two good-looking blonds. It was unusual to see two Western women in a non-tourist bar like this, which was mainly patronised by locals and oilfield workers who lived in Holland Village when they weren’t working offshore.

Melanie leaned out of the booth and smiled up at him. ‘That was great. I hope you’ll sing for us again when he’s finished murdering “My Way” … in
his
way,’ she said, dimpling up at him as the beaming Malaysian pompously belted out the familiar lyrics, jarringly off-key.

Hank introduced himself and said, ‘Can I get you ladies a drink? And would you like to join me and my friends?’ A crinkly smile lit up his pleasant, homely face.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ replied Melanie, wasting no time in getting to her feet.

Crystal sighed, annoyed. She didn’t want to spend her first night out in Singapore in a fifth-rate bar with dreary, middle-aged oilfield workers who couldn’t talk about anything other than work. With reluctance she joined Melanie and Hank at the other table.

Hank and Melanie got up to dance and Hank’s friend Walter thoughtfully tried to include Crystal in the conversation. He was impressed when she told him she was in show business. ‘I bet you sing too. Why don’t you give us a number?’

But she just shook her head, making no effort to be at all friendly or sociable. She seemed so standoffish that he quickly lost interest and turned back to the hovering bargirls, both flatteringly fascinated by his stories. The men started to talk about moving on. The barmaids had just finished their shifts and were invited to join the party. Melanie was equally enthusiastic at the thought of kicking on. In the squalid unisex washroom she confided to Crystal that she had the hots for Hank and she was clearly excited at the prospect of spending more time with him.

Crystal groaned. There was no way she was sticking with such boring company.

‘Okay, get the barman to call you a cab,’ Melanie said when Crystal steadfastly refused to go with them. ‘But it’s not too late to change your mind,’ she added.

‘No thanks,’ said Crystal. She couldn’t believe her friend was
really going to go off without her and she was dumbfounded when, without a backward look, the happy party trooped out, laughing and talking nineteen to the dozen.

Crystal sipped her drink dejectedly. Normally people went out of their way to please her. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked and a teardrop ran down her cheek. She sniffed. It would be so easy to cry. She was just about to go and ask Billy, the Sikh barman, how long the cab was going to take when three young men came over and asked if they could sit down. All three had down-the-back long hair, myriad facial piercings and were dressed in regulation blue jeans, boots and black leather jackets. Belligerent and with attitude. Crystal was scared. She thought they were bikies at first glance.

It would have surprised Crystal to know how much courage it had taken for the guys to come over and talk to her. Josh had spotted her the moment she and Melanie had come through the door and had been watching her ever since. When her friends left, Aryn and Geoff pushed him to go up to her, and when he couldn’t get up the nerve they all came over to lend support.

Crystal knew that if she hadn’t been feeling so low she would probably have given them the brush-off. A wealthy, smart, gogetter like that stock dealer she’d met on the plane was the sort of guy she wanted to be with. These long-haired Pommy punks weren’t her type at all, but she was lonely, and besides, she didn’t have enough money for another drink if she was going to take a cab back to her hotel.

Josh bought her a Singapore sling and all three were fascinated when she told them she was touring with the White Diamonds dance troupe.

‘We’re going to KL soon,’ she said self-importantly.

‘We’ve got a gig there too,’ exclaimed Josh, amazed at the coincidence. Like Crystal, Josh, Aryn and Geoff were on tour for the first time. The three young musicians were working-class boys from Manchester, the third largest city in Britain. Long-time friends, they had formed a garage band when they were still in school. Their early success had been due to Josh’s gift for songwriting as much as their musical ability. Six months ago they had met Tom and William, who had split from a group called the Satyrs, and the five guys had combined forces to form a new band, Speed. After some fast-talking from Tom, Speed was booked to replace the defunct Satyrs for a South-East Asian tour.

‘We’re booked for a fortnight at the Riverine,’ said Josh. ‘Where will you be? We’d like to catch your act, wouldn’t we, lads?’

‘I wish I knew. The director likes to keep us in the dark.’ Crystal sighed. She was thinking that it would be fun to catch up with the guys and make the other girls jealous when Billy came over to tell her that her taxi was waiting.

‘Send him away,’ said Josh. He pulled out his wallet and handed over twenty dollars to the tall, handsome Indian in the neat black turban. ‘I’ll see she gets home safely.’

Billy shrugged and pocketed the money. Lucky guy, he thought. Like Josh, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Crystal.

‘Where are you staying, luv?’ asked Josh.

‘At the Cathay Hotel in Changi Village.’ Crystal was embarrassed that she couldn’t tell him the Orchard or the Hilton.

‘Me and the lads are in the staff quarters at the Shangrila La Rosa on Sentosa Island,’ explained Josh, wishing he had a place of his own where he could take her. ‘We come over here after our session for a bit of action. The drinks are cheaper in Chinatown if you know where to go,’ he boasted.

Crystal wasn’t impressed. It didn’t sound like Speed was a big success if they were staying in the hotel’s staff quarters and saving money by drinking at dives like this. ‘You don’t have to worry about taking me home,’ she said, ‘I can call another cab.’

‘Won’t hear of it, Crystal luv. It’s not safe. I don’t know what your friends were thinking of, leaving you alone in a place like this. Come on,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘See yer, lads,’ he called out to his friends and steered Crystal towards the exit.

Crystal was in no hurry to go back to a lonely hotel room, and when she admitted she’d never been to Sentosa Josh insisted on taking her.

‘There’s nothing more romantic than exploring a tropical island in the moonlight,’ he said with a likeable grin.

It depends on the company. Admittedly the gangly youth with the mobile mouth, always on the verge of a grin, and dreadlocks, so deep and solid black that the colour had to come in a packet, didn’t make her flesh crawl like Jimmy, but there was no way she’d be seen dead with such a plain, ordinary guy back home. All the same she didn’t object when Josh put his arm around her waist as they strolled the brightly lit streets.

‘That looks fun,’ said Crystal, staring enviously as a beefy Texan in a ten-gallon hat and his portly wife sped past in a brightly coloured rickshaw pedalled by a weedy old man. ‘Look, they’re stopping,’ she said, clutching Josh’s arm and pointing, dropping the blasé star act and reverting to wide-eyed teenager.

Josh sighed and looked in the side of his wallet he reserved for emergencies. Soon the red rickshaw was bowling along at a furious pace, the tasselled gold fringe on the green canopy bobbing as, puffing and panting, the soft-hearted muso pedalled
hell for leather up Mt Faber Road to the cable-car station. The old man beamed at the pretty passenger sitting next to him, his head nodding like the tacky tiger in the rear window of Taylor’s panel van. For the first time he was experiencing the journey from a tourist’s perspective.

‘I couldn’t let that poor old guy pedal up that big hill,’ Josh said with an apologetic grin, sweat beading like raindrops on his red, beaming face, his heart threatening to burst through his chest.

They were sitting side by side in a cable car suspended sixty metres in the air above Kepple harbour, a rare treat for Josh, even though he worked on the island resort. Living in Singapore was more expensive than he’d realised. Invariably hard up, he and his mates always walked across the bridge like the locals; the expensive aerial ride was for the free-spending holidaymakers who flocked to the island like sheep, their fat pockets crying out to be fleeced.

The view across the bay was breathtaking by day, but at night it was magical as silhouettes and shadows of ships in the starlit sea vied with the lights of Sentosa.

‘Isn’t this cool,’ Josh said, overwhelmed by the spangled panorama. He leaned across to get a better view, his jean-clad leg pressed against the curve of Crystal’s bare, silky thigh. Sleepily, she nestled into the comfortable bulk of his shoulder and closed her drooping eyelids.

Fifteen minutes later they were walking through the park. At three in the morning the Enchanted Grove of Tembusa was the perfect setting for lovers. The romantic, dimly lit garden was pungent with the sweet scent of the
tembusa
blossom but the moonlit magic was wasted on Crystal. It was almost dawn and
she’d performed two gruelling shows before heading off with Melanie to Chinatown.