Big Mole Read online

  “I’m a make-up artist,” said the third one. “My work comes from bridal shops.”

  “We are a team, Djalima,” Aunty Tan explained. “You are our missing link. We do things for fun, play with our work. We get better results from playing. We wanted your look of surprise on film. What we want next are photos of you in our exclusive clothing.”

  “Shall I change into them now?” Big Mole asked, trying to be cooperative.

  “I will make up your face after that,” said the makeup artist.

  “I will do your hair,” said the hairdresser.

  “Let me take your measurements,” said the dressmaker.

  “In the first photo session you will have no make-up on,” Jade said. “But in the second session you will.”

  “We are doing a test run on you,” Aunty Tan explained. “We will look at you from different angles to see how it adds up.”

  Big Mole asked jokingly, “Does that mean looking at me as an old-fashioned kampong girl compared to modern girls like you all?”

  “Yes, I hope so,” Jade nodded and pointed at the clothing rack in the changing room. There was also a basket of assorted shoes in different colours. “What you are going to wear is over there, Djalima. Choose what you like. Come out with your first choice.”

  The pastel sundress was among those on the racks. Big Mole put it on decisively and walked out in bare feet with both hands in the deep front pockets. She twirled around naturally, waiting for their opinions, as if they were friends already. “What do you all think of that?”

  They didn’t reply, and instead kept clicking their camera shutters.

  Aunty Tan asked, “How do you feel in it, Djalima?” Her intention was to make Big Mole respond naturally for their photos.

  “It’s very different from what I normally wear, but comfortable. I really like it.”

  Jade directed her: “Stand on your toes, Djalima… Swing your face around… Wave with one hand… Put a hand behind your ear like you are listening to something…”

  Big Mole’s hourglass figure, her radiant smile, her high cheekbones, her striking eyes and long eyelashes were all captured on film. Aunty Tan applauded her for posing so well. After the sundress, she chose a revealing low-cut camisole frock and paired it with high heels. She surprised everyone by how sporting she was. Jade told her to bend down, as if she were putting on her high heels, to reveal her cleavage. Although it was only just a test run with no real catwalk, they all realised that Big Mole was a natural.

  After the first photo session, during which she wore no make-up, they took a short break in the storage room behind the shop that housed a dozen or so mannequins, a few more racks of clothes and a bar table. A glass cupboard held an assortment of drinks, and it faced a mahogany coffee table with two light-coloured leather couches around it.

  Aunty Tan served drinks. “Could I have a Bloody Mary, Aunty Tan?” Jade said.

  The hairdresser asked for a whiskey sour, the makeup artist a rum and Coke, and the dressmaker a small glass of VSOP brandy.

  “I’m having a Singapore Sling, Djalima,” Aunty Tan said, looking at Big Mole. “Do you want to try it?”

  “No, I don’t drink,” Big Mole replied. “I prefer a Coca Cola.”

  “Oh, please forgive me! I forgot you are a Muslim,” the manager said. “Jade told us you are from Indonesia.”

  “I’m not actually Muslim; I just don’t like the taste of alcohol,” Big Mole said and cleared her throat. “What about you all, are you all Christians?”

  The make-up artist said, “My parents are Christian, but I am not.”

  The hairdresser said, “I don’t have a religion either, but I am not a communist.”

  The dressmaker said, “Fashion is our religion,” and they all laughed.

  “We are creators, not followers,” Aunty Tan added. “We like to be ourselves. We love our drinks, but we don’t get drunk.”

  “We are freethinkers,” Jade said to sum up. “Once we have the photos with your make-up on, we will take down your measurements to complete our work for today.”

  “What do you want my measurements for?” Big Mole asked.

  “To fit the dresses for you to wear in our catalogues,” the dressmaker answered.

  “As well as our swimwear,” Aunty Tan said. “We’ll use your face to advertise the clothing under our different brand names—Caravan, Silk Route, Bonfire, Aladdin Lamp and Twinkle Bell, all run by Jade in Combine Enterprise, our major company in Hong Kong.”

  “Combine Enterprise is a good name,” Big Mole said. “You are all so smart. I didn’t know there were so many smart women like you around.”

  “Don’t call us women, for god’s sake, call us girls!” the manager said, and everyone laughed again. Then they finished their drinks and began to go to work on Big Mole, who was starting to understand that they were a new breed of enterprising women, far from con artists.

  After the next photo session with make-up on ran long, Jade saw that Big Mole had lost her focus. She said, “I owe you some overtime pay, Djalima. Let’s call it three hours for today. Can you come to my house at Seaview Road to collect your pay?”

  “It’s only 4.10pm,” Big Mole said, although she had the $300 on her mind. “I didn’t work that long.”

  “You deserve it, Djalima,” Jade said. “Shall we go now?” The photo session had gone even better than she had expected. She knew that Big Mole had a unique look that could turn people’s heads, and was worth her weight in gold in the fashion world.

  Although the money and pampering was great, Big Mole still had issues with self-esteem and independence. “Seaview Road is not far from here,” she said. “I am used to walking. I can walk there if you tell me the address.”

  “No, please, come with me in my car,” Jade insisted.

  •

  It took Jade less than twenty minutes in her green MG to drive to the beachfront mansion. Two big Alsatians rushed out excitedly behind the wrought iron gate to greet them.

  “I am very scared of dogs,” Big Mole whispered.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Jade replied, and honked the car horn. A Chinese woman in her mid-fifties came out with a bunch of keys and said in broken English, “You like me do what, Miss Boss?”

  “My friend plenty scare dog,” Jade replied. “Ask cook take dogs go.”

  “Okay, me go now,” the servant answered and went back into the house. She returned with another woman of about the same age, who chained up the dogs and swung open the gate for Jade to drive her MG into the double garage. She pulled in next to a green Mercedes 180.

  “Is that car yours too?” Big Mole asked, amazed.

  “That’s my company car. I work upstairs.” Jade led Big Mole up a broad staircase to a high-ceilinged first floor. At the top of the staircase stood a five-foot-tall bronze statue of an elephant riding a whale, but what caught Big Mole’s eyes was the size of the elephant’s penis. But then, above the main doorway, which opened into a high-ceilinged lounge about five times as big as Big Mole’s whole kampong house, hung a painting six feet by four that stole her breath, of a sandy desert with a blue oasis surrounded by caravans, with purple sunlight peeping up behind the sand dunes. It looked like it had been painted on sandpaper.

  “Where did you get that picture from?” Big Mole could not look away.

  “An unsung artist,” Jade said. “There are no dates or names on it. I bought it for ten shillings at the gypsy market in London when I was a first-year university student. It was rolled up among some leftover wallpaper inside a sales bin. I was amazed by the concept of using sandpaper to represent the sandy desert. It inspired me to use the name Caravan as one of my brand names for my clothing business.”

  “That’s very clever of you!” said Big Mole.

  On one side of the big lounge, there were two full-sized cutting tables for drafting patterns, rolls of fabric, and mannequins along the wall. Along the other side, facing the sea, there were pieces of antique furnitu
re and photos of Jade and her friends during their university graduation ceremony in England, as well as framed certificates of her many awards. Big Mole realised how small her world had been compared to Jade, who was taking a cheque book from the drawer of an ebony Victorian table.

  “Do you want cash or a crossed cheque in your name?”

  “Cash is better,” Big Mole said honestly. “I cannot read or write, and I don’t know how to use cheques at all.”

  Jade paid her the $300 in fifty-dollar notes, taking the money from a crocodile-skin handbag. “You should start a bank account soon, Djalima. I am running a business with partners, you know. I have to pay you by cheque next week.”

  “Oh, I see,” Big Mole said. “You mean you have more modelling work for me?”

  “You bet!” Jade smiled. “Will you do it? Say yes!”

  “I don’t know what my boyfriend will say,” Big Mole said, playing hard to get.

  “You have to decide that for yourself, Djalima.” Jade zipped up her handbag firmly. “What does he do?”

  “Not much,” Big Mole said with some truth. “We breed pet fish for a living.”

  “Can you do without him?”

  “I am not sure,” Big Mole said deliberately, even though she had already decided to draw the cold sword on Hong.

  “Is he very handsome?” Jade asked.

  “No, not really.” It felt strange to open up with another woman, talking to her about men, for the first time in her life.

  “There must be something charming about him then,” Jade guessed.

  “Not any more,” Big Mole said quietly.

  “So then what the hell is so good about him?”

  “He would do anything for me,” Big Mole replied.

  “My ex-boyfriend was like that,” Jade said. “But he thought he owned me. I’m glad I got rid of him. I felt really free after that.”

  “How did you get rid of him?”

  “It wasn’t easy, took me a while to see his true colours. When I used my dogs to chase him out, he kept ringing me day and night. Finally, my lawyer got the police to arrest him for harassment. Take my advice: be free, be yourself, for freedom’s sake…”

  “I’ll go home and think about what you have said.”

  “Come here tomorrow instead of the shop.” Jade moved to open the French doors and lean against the railings of the balcony; it was a magnificent sea view. “I want some photos of you sitting here—are you scared of heights?”

  The balcony was about fifteen feet above the ground. “I am a kampong girl,” Big Mole said. “I have climbed coconut trees three times as high. I can stand up here on one leg, if you like.”

  “You’re a tough girl,” Jade said and laughed. “Is there anything else you need to know?”

  “Are your three friends coming here tomorrow too?”

  “Yes, they will be here too. Can you come at 2pm?”

  “Yes. I suppose your two dogs will tell you when I am here.”

  “Yes, I suppose they will!” Jade smiled at Big Mole’s sense of humour. “You must see Jack and Jill before you go.”

  “Why? I am not a dog person.”

  “My dogs are my best friends. I want you to like them too.”

  “But you are not a dog,” Big Mole laughed. “How can you say that?”

  Jade giggled and pulled at Big Mole’s arm. “Come on, stop laughing!”

  “Okay lah,” Big Mole agreed. “Show me your best friends, Jack and Jill, before I go.”

  “Be my guest, come downstairs.” Jade bowed slightly and held a hand out playfully.

  They had reached the ground floor below the staircase. “Where are they?”

  “Right over there,” Jade pointed at the kennels near the servant’s quarters under a mango tree. “Wait for me at the gate. I’ll bring them out.”

  The dogs sensed Big Mole’s fear and barked furiously, despite Jade holding on to their leashes. She shouted firmly, “No! No! Sit down, Jack! Sit down, Jill. Good boy, Jack. Good girl, Jill.” After the dogs obeyed, she rubbed their necks roughly. The dogs wagged their tails as Big Mole approached and then rubbed their necks like Jade did, whispering, “Good boy, Jack. Good girl, Jill.” This was the first time she had ever spoken English, and the first time she’d ever touched the animals she had been scared of all her life.

  “Can you trust me and my dogs now?” Jade asked.

  “Talk about that tomorrow lah,” Big Mole replied and said goodbye, walking away proudly toward the nearby Katong beach.

  Big Mole’s mind was full of everything that had happened over the past two days as she walked barefoot along the water margin. With one hand holding her sandals, she wondered about what Jade had said: be free, be yourself, for freedom’s sake. She knew that she could never tell Jade about her life on the streets as a kid, or anything that had happened to her in the last week.

  Our worlds are very far apart, very different, she reminded herself. Jade came from heaven with everything. I came from hell with nothing. What’s the point? What must I do next? Where should I go now? She turned to face the sea, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply and slowly. She let her mind run free, to find its own way, to see where it would go.

  She remembered telling Kwang to “see everything as beautiful”, then opened her eyes again to discover the sun setting, casting a red and purple light over the sea, a sight that took her breath away, instantly reminding her of the sandpaper painting, and carrying her back over memories of her early childhood, to her parents’ Makassar prahu with its two triangular sails, rocking on the waves at sunset.

  •

  Big Mole returned to Jade’s mansion the next afternoon for another two-hour modelling session. When they had finished and Big Mole had changed back into her normal clothes, she found Jade sitting at the tea table with the manager, hairdresser, dressmaker and make-up artist.

  “Djalima, we are hiring a boat to the Sisters’ Islands tomorrow,” Jade said.

  “You will be photographed having a barbecue with our swimwear on, Djalima,” Aunty Tan explained. “Nobody lives on the Sisters’ Islands, so it will just be us and the sea. We want you to be more relaxed there for our photos.”

  “How long does it take to get there?” Big Mole asked, so that she could calculate how much she would earn.

  “It depends on the currents and our chartered boat. We are leaving from the jetty at Clifford Pier at 10am, and will return sometime before 5pm.”

  “That will cost a lot of time and money just for my photos,” Big Mole said, indirectly trying to find out if she would get paid for those extra hours on the boat.

  “We don’t mind,” Jade told her. “You’re worth it. Just be sure to meet us here by nine o’clock tomorrow.”

  “Okay lah,” Big Mole said, then finished her own tea and said her goodbyes. On the way out, she petted Jack and Jill and smiled to herself, another $200 richer.

  “Djalima is adapting very well with us,” Aunty Tan said in English after Big Mole had left.

  “She could be a film star with those looks,” the hairdresser said.

  “She is very photogenic, and doesn’t need much make-up,” said the make-up artist.

  “She has a natural flair for modelling clothing, an eye catcher,” the dressmaker added.

  “I don’t want to lose her,” Jade told them. “I am going to enlarge Djalima’s photos for our display window at the boutique.”

  “What a godsend,” Aunty Tan said. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Jade said, “a possessive type. That’s what she told me.”

  “I’d like to know more about this boy,” the well-connected manager said. “He might beat her up and ruin her face. We certainly don’t want that to happen.”

  “Agreed,” Jade said, and instructed Aunty Tan to get their private detective to check things out.

  •

  On her way home, Big Mole thought about all the money she was making from modelling, and had the sudden idea of selling her shop.
She wondered what Kwang would say about that. She reached her house around 5pm, and discovered that the object of her affection was actually having a nap in the doorway at the top of the stairs. She chuckled to herself and sneaked up very quietly to look at him. He was handsome even in the depths of sleep; she could tell he’d been smoking, but she didn’t actually mind the smell, only telling that to Hong as another excuse to get rid of him.

  She caressed his cheek, and when he stirred, she whispered in his ear, “Hey Kwang, how long you been here?”

  “Not very long.” He grinned sleepily at her. “About half an hour, I guess.”

  “Left work early, is it?”

  “It’s okay lah, put in so much overtime lately. How are you?”

  “I have so much to tell you!” She opened the door, sat on the rattan couch in the lounge and told him everything, including the news about the mass murder from the radio, how she had found and disposed of the khaki bag with the guns and bullets in it, and how she had given the General a three-day notice to move out. But she didn’t mention anything yet about her modelling job and the valuables buried under her house because she wanted his opinion about the General first.

  After listening patiently, he said, “What you think Sachee will say?”

  “Sachee already play dumb with me. Hong has change him. You must not tell him or anybody else about the bag, okay?”

  “Okay lah, won’t say anything to anybody, trust me.”

  “What about us? Do you love me?”

  He looked down at the floor. “Yah, I love you. I always care for you no matter what. But I don’t think we should see each other any more. I am not good for you.”

  Big Mole felt heat rise to her cheeks. “You scared of people talking about us, or of Hong?”

  “No lah, I am not scared of anybody. It is more than that. I am not good for you,” he said again.

  “Why do you keep saying that? What you really mean? You say you love me, then you say you don’t want me. Why? Tell me why!”

  “There is no future for us lah. Cannot trust me. I am a gambling addict.” This had actually been true when he was younger, but he hadn’t gambled once since being converted to communism.