CHAPTER 87
She called me about three hours later, from Kuala Lumpur as Ish and I walked the Jurassic Mile.

“Arrived in one piece, love. Busy as, here. I’m heading for the exit in a few, but didn’t really want to have Mum earwigging this call. I’ll find somewhere quiet and call you tonight. About nine?”

“Ideal love. The lad can stay up that late, say hello. Bit of video so we can see your face?”

“Of course! I might be cheeky, though, and try and get her to do an earlier vid call, so she can say hello to Ish and you”

“Would she be up for that”

A long sigh.

“Honestly, I have no idea. All I can do is ask. After all, that’s all this trip is about, in essence. Oh! Just spotted my bag”

For a while there was nothing but random muffled noises, as she had clearly stuffed her phone into her handbag while diving for her suitcase. I waited as patiently as I could, and eventually had her voice once again.

“Sorry, love. Almost had to rugby tackle a ditherer. Why don’t people… No. Not going into a rant! Anyway, I also have a text. Mum is waiting at arrivals, so I better make tracks. I will call you later, twice if I can persuade her. Could I have Ish for a moment?”

I passed the phone to him, hearing only half the conversation as he chattered rather than chatted about the dinosaurs we had seen, until he stopped dead in the middle of some enthusiastic description of the T Rex and, in a much softer voice, said, “I love you too. Mum. Come home soon?”, then “Bye”.

He handed the phone back to me, and she was gone. Ah well.

I treated him to a ‘house special’ at a Chinese place and a walk around one of the shopping centres, feeling an odd need to buy Ish something to prove we both loved him, even though his mother had abandoned him, and that was my afternoon filled in the emptiest of ways.

We were by our pool when the phone rang again, and Maz did indeed open the video link, Ish and I huddled damply together to smile at our beloved. There was an older woman in shot that just had to be her mother.

“Hiya!”

Ish and I called out “Hi Mum/Hi love!” together, and Maz grinned.

“Ish, Mike. My Mum—your grandma, Ish”

The woman said something chunky and rapid in Malay, and Mas looked away from the screen.

“Ish is Australian, Mum. He only knows a few words. English, please”

Another rapid flow of syllables, and then she switched to English.

“He is a Malay, and so he will always be Malaysian. When he comes to see us, when you come to see us, Ishmael, we will help you learn your language”

“You’re my Grandma?”

“Yes, I am. We say ‘Nenek’, Ishmael”

She was smiling as she spoke to Ish, but that stopped when Maz introduced me. Mrs Rahman simply said “Mr Rhodes”, nodded, and resumed talking to Ish.

Ah well, yet again. At least he was seeing and hearing his mother, as was I, and that was far better than nothing. The call went on in the same way for about ten more minutes until Mrs R said something else in Malay, and Maz apologised to us.

“The funeral is tomorrow, boys. We have a lot to do, so I will have to go for now. Speak to you soon, and love you both”

We each gave back our love, and that was the end of that call. I felt like leaving the phone in the sun so that the frost on it could melt.

We stayed at the pool until the light was gone, alternating soaking and reading, then I sorted us out a cold meal from bits and pieces I had picked up as we had shopped. Music on, a shuffle of stuff Ish said he liked, from early Steeleye Span and Capercaillie to Ar Log and Martin Simpson. Ish was glued to the sleeve notes for the middle two, trying to work out how the written lyrics compared to the sounds from the singers. I talked him through Welsh spelling, which I was used to, but the Gaelic stuff remains beyond my ability.

Welsh spelling is phonetic, and as long as you remember how each letter is pronounced, it’s simple, although the mutation system confuses me. Gaelic could only be described as Byzantine. I mean, pronouncing ‘an t-Sabhail’ as ‘Towel’ is just silly. I was working through one Welsh song with the lad when the phone rang. He muted the sounds as I answered, then cuddled up with me on the sofa so we could all see each other as Maz apologised.

“I am so sorry, love. She just… Oh, it was all ‘that man’ and stuff like that afterwards, but she thinks Ish is wonderful. You’re not to say that to people, Ish, okay?”

She shared some family gossip, mostly as venting, because it all seemed to about dominance struggles, and I let Ish prattle on about dinosaurs and odd spelling systems, snatching a few moments of more serious conversation where I could, but time was getting on, and he needed to get to bed. Maz called it a day, in the end.

“Big day tomorrow, my loves. I won’t have any free time during the day, but I will try the same time tomorrow. Love you both”

My bed was empty; I ended up curled on my side all night trying to avoid any reminder of that absence. I saw Ish off to school the next morning, then spent a day in the classroom, sort of, with a group of Mrs Chao’s ‘matrix’ people, and then came home to a hyperactive son who simply wanted to get into the water. He fell asleep at eight thirty, so I carried him to bed before settling myself down with the phone, which finally rang at nine fifteen.

Maz looked frazzled.

“Sorry, love, but it is not going well up here. Expect me back tomorrow. Booked a ticket on the noon flight. So much utter shit going on here!”

“Are you okay, love? In yourself?”

“Oh, sort of, love. Just fed up, and angry. Ish not there?”

“Fell asleep nearly an hour ago, so I carried him up to bed”

“Best thing, I suppose. Means I can get stuff off my chest. Mum has been an absolute bitch about you, got right under my skin. All that ‘that man’ shit, and I threw some back, and she tried to sort of apologise, and by apologise I really mean ‘justify herself’, and she said ‘Well, at least he’s not a Jew’, which is when I lost my temper”

“Oh. And said?”

“I had said ‘You are talking about my husband, not some random man!’ when she came out with the ‘Jew’ bit, so I just yelled ‘Actually, he IS a Jew’ and some more stuff, and she went spare. After all the shit during the day, I’ve had enough. The arguments about inheritance, the complaints about who laid the soil in which order, it was all shit! Then there’s not just Mum, but so many others, ‘Your cousin Suleiman there, got a good fishing business in Melaka, needs a new wife’, and there’s me pointing to my rings and saying there’s no fucking way I need a new husband, thank you very fucking much and---”

“Maz!”

I didn’t raise my voice, but she understood, pausing her anger as she fought her breathing, I smiled at her image.

“Best home, love. You’ve tried, done your best. What time does your flight arrive?”

“One thirty”

“I’ll let work know, and be there for your arrival. Ish will be home about the same time as us. Go out to eat, or get something at home? Delivery?”

“Darling man, can we simply stay in? Food delivery? Bottle or two of wine?”

“Of course, love. The boy will be over the moon”

“Not the only one, Mike. I do love you both so, so much. I don’t see why the family can’t see you for who you are”

“Maz, love. My love. You’ve done all you can do. They will or won’t come round, and we both knew there would be a, I don’t know, reluctance? Tradition, like you said. We leave the door open, but it has to be their move next if they want to be part of the same family”

“I have all the family I need in Weyhill Close, my love”

“I will see you tomorrow, then, and we’ll be a complete one again”

There was more like that, but eventually she hung up and I headed for bed and a sleepless night.

I saw Ish off to school before heading for Changi, where I sat with my laptop trying to curate work mail and reschedule a couple of events for that afternoon, until It was nearly one fifteen, when I put everything away and headed for the arrivals area. The flight was actually early, coming in at one twenty, so I found a seat with a view of the arrivals board for the sequence of announcements, from ‘landed’ to ‘in customs hall’, when I took position at the doors. Passengers were coming through in a steady stream, and as the clock ticked around to one fifty, I approached one of them, a young ‘office worker’ man..

“Excuse me—sorry to disturb you. I’m waiting to meet my wife, off the one thirty arrival from KL. Is that flight coming through yet?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I’m about, well, only about ten people left at the baggage belt”

“Thank you very much, my friend. I’ll give it a few more minutes, then”

I gave it another half hour before I rang her number. No answer; I went to the enquiries desk.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m waiting for my wife. She was due in on the one thirty arrival from KL”

“May I take her name?”

“Maryam Rhodes”

“Nationality?”

“She’s dual national, Malaysian and Australian”

“Do you have any ID yourself, sir?”

I showed the young woman my passport, then brought out a miniature Neil had done for me of our wedding portrait.

“Where was the wedding, sir? Out of curiosity?”

“On Rottnest Island of Perth, but that’s King’s Park. Traditional to get pictures there”

“That is a lovely dress, Mr Rhodes. I think we have established enough of a relationship between you and the passenger—it’s about data protection”

“I understand”

“When did she book her flight?”

“We spoke around nine thirty last night, so it was sometime before then yesterday”

“Thank you…. Here we are. Maryam Binti Rahman Rhodes”

“That’s her”

“Ticket booked at seventeen thirty and… Right. No show”

“Sorry?”

“She didn’t board the aircraft, Mr Rhodes”