Two Dreams. Shirley Geok-lin Lim

faces. The Methodist Church was ten minutes’ walk away. Mother no longer went to church, but her younger daughters went every Sunday, since it was still their mother’s faith, and were greeted by women their mother’s age, who sent regards but never visited themselves. The pastor was especially nice to them, having participated in the drama eighteen years ago.

       She’s a stray lamb. Those were barbaric times after the Japanese Occupation; otherwise, she would probably not have consented to live in sinful relationship as a second wife. And, although I suppose it doesn’t matter who the sin is committed with, Mr Tang is a well-known, respectable man. Her situation is more understandable when you know how careful and correct Mr Tang is with everything concerning himself and his family. It’s a pity he is so Chinese, although, of course, divorces weren’t as acceptable until a few years ago, and, even now, one shouldn’t encourage it. Yet, if only he would divorce his first wife, she could return to the Church and the children ... They’re lovely girls, all of them, although the oldest hasn’t been to service in a while, and the second seems excitable. The two young ones are so good, volunteering for the Sunday School Drive, singing in the choir (they have such sweet tones!) and so cheerful. A little anxious about the Scriptures. They want to know especially what has been written about the day of Judgement, which isn’t surprising seeing ... Now, if Mr Tang weren’t a pagan, he couldn’t maintain this terrible life, keeping two households in separate towns, but, of course, he’s old-fashioned and believes in the propriety of polygamy. Pagans have their own faith, I have no doubt, and Christ will consider this when the Day comes, but for the mother ...

      For Kim Bee and Kim Yee, Sunday service was one of the more enjoyable events in a dull weekend. Fresh as frangipani wreaths, they walked companionably to church, for once in full charge of themselves. They radiated health and cheerfulness from the hours of imposed rest, from their gladness at meeting the friends their parents never met but still approved of, and from the simple encouraging emotions of welcome, love, and forgiveness which welled up in hymns, and which were the open subjects of the pastor’s sermon.

      “Love, love, love,” sang the choir. “Our Father, Our Father,” they murmured and flooded their hearts with gratitude, with desire. Radiant, they returned from church at noon, in time for lunch and, later, to say goodbye to Ah Kong who drove back to Kuala Lumpur every Sunday at two.

      All morning Kim Li sat cross-legged on the floor next to Ah Kong’s chair. Now and again she attempted to clip a toenail, but her toes seemed to have been too awkwardly placed, or, perhaps, she had grown too ungainly; she could not grip the foot securely. It wasn’t unusual for the girls to sit on the floor by Ah Kong’s feet. As children they had read the Sunday comics sprawled on the sunroom floor. Or mother would bake scones, and they would eat them hot from the oven around their father. It was a scene he particularly savoured, a floury, milling hour when he was most quiescent, feeling himself almost a baby held in the arms of his womanly family. This morning, however, Kim Li’s struggles to clip her toenails forced his attention. Her silent contortions exaggerated by the shorts she was wearing bemused him. Was she already a woman as she had claimed last evening? Ah Kong felt a curious pity for her mixed with anger. Yes, he would have to marry her off. She moved her skinny legs and shot a look at him slyly as if to catch him staring. If she weren’t his daughter, he thought, he could almost believe she was trying to arouse him. But he couldn’t send her out of the room without admitting that she disturbed him. Once he had watched a bitch in heat lick itself and had kicked it in disgust. He watched her now and was nauseous at the prospect of his future: all his good little girls turning to bitches and licking themselves.

      Leaving promptly at two, Mr Tang told his wife that he might not be coming next Friday. He had unexpected business and would call. He didn’t tell her he was planning to find a husband for Kim Li. Complaisant as his wife was, he suspected she might not like the idea of an arranged marriage, nor would the girls. By midweek, he had found a man for Kim Li, the assistant to his general manager, a capable, China-born, Chinese-educated worker who had left his wife and family in Fukien eleven years ago and now couldn’t get them out. He’d been without a woman since and had recently advised his Clan Association that he was looking for a second wife. Chan Kow had worked well for Mr Tang for eight years. What greater compliment to his employees than to marry one of them, albeit one in a supervisory position, to his daughter? Chan Kow was overwhelmed by the proposal. He wasn’t worthy of the match; besides, he was thirty-three and Mr Tang’s young daughter may not want him. But he would be honoured, deeply honoured.