July 2021, No. 6

As I approached the curtains around Daniel’s bed I heard weeping, which confused me, as I knew I was the first of the family to return. Two of the intensive care nurses were saying goodbye to him. As I said, he’d been in ICU an unusually long time and they had come to care for him too much, despite the constant rotation of nurses to the ICU ward. Bless them. I stood looking at Daniel, all signs of machines and tubes and heaven knows what else removed. People came and went to say their goodbyes but I didn’t want to leave as leaving meant facing reality, facing the aftermath. However, whatever might be contra indicated in films, a dead body is just that. It has no spirit or soul, call it what you will and the being that you loved is truly gone. I knew that what remained was not Daniel. A passage from Watership Down came to me:

“You’ve been feeling tired,” said the stranger, “but I can do something about that….. If you’re ready, we might go along now.”……. It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch….. He reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom.”

I desperately hoped and prayed that Daniel could be free and happy now he no longer needed that battered body.

Having married what everyone used to joke was my “toy boy”, not for a moment, even in my wildest dreams, had it occurred to me that at the age of 40 I would become a widow. Never having wanted children the likelihood of me ending up a widow with a 9 month old daughter and 22 month old son was literally inconceivable. All I wanted to do was pack up those babies and head back to my childhood home in London to be with my mother. Because then everything would be alright, I’d be able to cope, somehow. I certainly didn’t want anything to do with that blasted resort on Pulau Sibu or anything else in Asia. I just wanted to go home.

There were several exceedingly large flies in the proverbial ointment with that plan. Firstly, my mother had sold our home in London, and secondly, Daniel had no life insurance and thirdly we (there is no more “we” Linda, you’re on your own now) were personally US$50’000 in debt, or thereabouts. OK, simply not going to think about it, default position, head in sand (the ostrich method of life never fails me!).

Back at Michelle’s (I couldn’t cope with staying at the Marco Polo Hotel with Mummy, I needed to be on the floor in the den still) I remember George saying he was going to St. Andrew’s Cathedral to arrange the funeral. I was slightly taken aback but he insisted. It was where he’d been married, it was where Daniel and his sister had been christened and that was where he wanted the funeral. Hearing the word “christened” it occurred to me there was absolutely no reason not to go ahead and christen the babies. If we did it at St. Andrew’s now it would almost be like Daniel was there. It was George’s turn to be taken aback when I said I’d like him to ask the vicar to christen the children the day after Daniel’s funeral. Now it was my turn to be adamant. I was sure the vicar wouldn’t dare turn down my request under the circumstances, although to be fair he might not have done anyway, unlike the vicar of St. George’s. I was right, the funeral would be on Tuesday 4^th October and the christening on Thursday 6^th October.

What happened over the next five days I couldn’t begin to tell you, I have very little memory of it. I do know I refused to have the children brought down from the island until the day after the funeral. Too much weeping and wailing on the one hand and stiff upper lip on the other, which was as it should be, but not something those little sponges needed to absorb. I also remember Michelle insisting that I shouldn’t go to the mortuary to identify the body, she would do it (ridiculous considering he’d been in hospital for so long but if a body is brought in as an accident it is apparently required). She took a sarong with her and asked them to dress him in it; “Make sure as a sarong, not a shroud”, I told her, since that’s what I felt he’d be most comfortable in. I also remember fielding calls from friends and family all over the world wanting to come to the funeral. I told them all the same thing, please don’t, simply think of him and keep his memory in your heart. In fact I didn’t want a funeral service at all but Mummy told me firmly to “sort myself out”, it had nothing to do with what I wanted, it was for others to pay their respects and celebrate his life. So I organised an order of service, hymns, eulogies and music and pretty much left everyone and everything else to Michelle and Mummy.

Le Grande Bleu, the story of free divers Jacques Mayol and Enzo Molinari, was Daniel’s favourite film and the soundtrack was constantly playing at the resort. I rerecorded the evocative music of Éric Serra, leaving out all the parts that were too jolly for the occasion. As a result I walked into that beautiful cathedral with its high arched blue ceiling, windows open to the beautiful day, listening to the sound of whale song. It set the perfect tone for a beautiful service.

Two of our Malaysian staff were driving our guests that day and both really wanted to attend the service. However, they begged my pardon as they thought their religion wouldn’t allow them to enter the cathedral and all my assurances couldn’t convince them. Just before the service was to begin I was actually standing outside looking for the vicar when I saw police outriders arrive, followed by a car with the royal plates from Johor. It was TMJ. He said hello and walked into the cathedral, quietly sitting at the back. In a heartbeat our two staff followed, figuring that if their prince could enter, so could they! (As an aside they thought the Cathedral and the service was beautiful and loved the singing.)

The cathedral was absolutely packed, I couldn’t believe it. I knew I thought Daniel was the best thing since sliced bread but I hadn’t realised quite how much he had touched other people’s lives. By the time the service actually started there was standing room only. I later found out that Michelle had placed a very large sized announcement in the obituary column of both the Straits Times & the New Straits Times. She said afterwards that Daniel’s death was so unexpected she didn’t want people to find out later, when they couldn’t come and pay their respects to him and the Wills family. So Mummy had been right and I was glad I’d sorted myself out.  

I come from a large South London family on the British side, my grandparents having had many siblings, so I attended quite a few funerals growing up. Invariably someone had to be sent out to the Off Licence as the sherry at the “come back to the house for a drink” ran out and it was decided we should be partying in honour of and with respect to the deceased. There was no greater accolade than; “Remember so and so? Now that was a great send off!” Sad to say I couldn’t tell you whether Daniel had a great send off, I’m sure he did, but I can’t remember a single thing after leaving the Cathedral that day.

The next thing I do remember is my babies arriving at Michelle’s the following day. Pure joy to have them with me again but luckily, I realized from the minute I saw them that I had to be careful. The temptation to simply hang on to them and bawl my eyes out was irresistible but they hadn’t got the least idea what was happening or why their Mummy, and everyone else for that matter, was so sad. I did not want them to feel that sadness, that feeling of loss. It was all so overwhelming, what on earth had these darling children done to deserve losing their father before ever knowing him?

“What on earth am I going to wear?” I asked Michelle, I have nothing suitable for a christening. And for whatever reason I ended up borrowing what I can only describe as something large made out of some Laura Ashley curtains. I had already got outfits for Richard and Jade and everyone else looked terribly smart… and then there was me. You’ll see what I mean when I post the photos.

When I asked my oldest friend Margaret (or the friend I have know the longest, as she would tell me to say) to be Richard’s godmother I didn’t think it would matter that he had two older women as his ‘life guides’ because he had a young father. With Daniel gone I decided to ask Michelle’s youngest daughter Justine, then only 12, to be a second godmother. She was delighted as she’s been playing with him and looking after him on our trips to Singapore since he was six weeks old. I am sure Richard would agree it was an inspired decision as they have a lovely relationship. He asked her to marry him when he was about five years old as he loved hanging out with her so much. Justine laughed and said that could never happen, but Michelle and I were busy doing the math and said; “Well, like father, like son?” and burst out laughing.

I do remember the party after the christening. We arrived back from the ceremony en masse to find the garden was filled with balloons, streamers, delicious food and bucket loads of champagne. It couldn’t have been a happier, sunnier, lovelier occasion, with babies, children and dogs all joining in, and for a brief moment I remembered what it was like to feel happy. I will forever be grateful to Michelle and her family, not for going to all the trouble and expense of arranging such a wonderful party, but for allowing me to realise that it was going to be possible to feel good again. Despite being in the depths of despair, that afternoon, if only for a few hours, I was happy. It was something to hang onto.

After that we all moved up to Pulau Sibu, taking Daniel’s ashes with us. I had decided to scatter them on his favourite dive site, a kelong wreck off Pulau Tinggi. Daniel had a very great friend and mentor, someone he thought of as a second father, called Herwarth Voigtmann, a famous underwater photographer. When Daniel had his accident, Herwarth called and asked if he should come as he was due to go to the Chagos Islands but he could postpone his trip. We said no because at that time we thought Daniel was getting better, so off he went saying he’d call as soon as he got back to a phone (remember, there was no easy communication from such out of the way places in 1994). When we realised that Daniel was in fact getting worse we desperately tried to contact Herwarth but to no avail. It was heartbreaking to have to tell him Daniel had died when he finally managed to call. Not only that but he’d missed the funeral as well. He was determined he’d join the dive to put Daniel’s ashes down on the kelong wreck and asked me if I could wait. I assured him we would.

The problem was that George wanted to leave. He’d had enough of it all, he wanted to go. Luckily his lovely lady at that time, Helen, managed to calm him down but he wanted to know what the hold up was. It didn’t seem politic at that time to say “because we’re waiting for Herwarth”. George was an old school expat, a retired plantation director used to telling an enormous work force what to do on a daily basis and accustomed to getting his own way. I can literally hear him now; “Why, what’s it got to do with that bloody man? Just get on with it!” What to do, lah? It came to me while I was changing Jadie’s nappy and I used the last wet wipe in the box. There’s a handy container, nice and air tight (see, we Sea Gypsies have always thought about recycling). I decided, sea and weather permitting, we’d do the dive tomorrow and asked the boys to arrange it all. I then went and got some old newspaper and a pair of chopsticks and tipped Daniel’s ashes out of the urn onto the paper and started sorting with the chopsticks. Big piece for the urn, big piece for the wet wipe box, etc., finally, carefully, tipping half the finer powder into each receptacle from the paper. I put the wet wipe box on the shelf next to my bed and took the urn downstairs.

The next day we all set off on a bum boat, those of us actually diving jumped in at the kelong wreck, George emptied the ashes (I had given him strict instruction to bring the urn back using the excuse that I didn’t want any divers finding it), got back on the boat, opened a bottle of fizz and said a few words before heading back. George left the next day. I washed and sun baked the urn, emptied the contents of the wet wipe box into the it and put the lid back on. I then threatened everyone on pain of death that no one was allowed to tell Herwarth we’d already been down once. He arrived within the next couple of days, and so once again we all got on the bum boat, those diving jumped in at the kelong wreck, Herwarth emptied the ashes, got back on the boat, opened a bottle of fizz and said a few words before heading back. Except this time none of the rest of us were terribly upset by the whole thing, having done it all once already, whereas poor Herwarth was blubbing his eyes out. He’d brought an enormous wreath with him and after he got out of the water he threw the wreath in. There was a strong current running and it shot off like a bat out of hell. Having started the fizz whilst waiting for Herwarth to come up from the dive, I’m ashamed to say we had a hard job controlling our hysterics (or possibly hysteria, as it was all so ridiculous). He must have found us a very insensitive bunch but I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell him. I’m only telling this story now because I know that neither of them are here to read it!

All my friends and family, even Mummy, eventually left Pulau Sibu and it was only then that my business partner Russell informed me we were closing the resort for the monsoon at the end of the month (October). Not only that, but he’d also told all the staff that they could go on leave. He and his partner would be going on holiday, incidentally to Hawaii, to stay with my friends who had been invited for the christening (nothing like adding insult to injury!). I was absolutely stunned, yes, we had to close for monsoon but we still had a business to run and organise. I was told it was too late to change anything as he’s made all his travel arrangements. I asked if the accounts had been kept up to date, whether finances had been sorted for the monsoon maintenance, whether we had a financial plan for reopening. I simply got handed a cardboard box full of paperwork that hadn’t been ledgered (remember, all administration was done by hand in those days). I asked if he’d done anything about advertising or marketing for next season. Again he said no, nothing, as I always did all of that, basically it wasn’t his department. He knew I planned to go to Mummy’s for Christmas and try and sort out what on earth I was going to do, he suggested I get on with it so I could leave as soon as possible.  Oh, and not to worry, he’d be back to open for Chinese New Year. I could then go on leave until the end of February 1995, he’d see to the opening up. I asked again if we could discuss this, but again was told no, it was all arranged and that was that.

Resignedly, I asked the staff if they would stay on but apart from Mai (a house keeper from the kampung) and her fiancé Black (who she’d met when he came as a builder but didn’t actually work for us) everyone had already made other arrangements. Paivi, the Finish nanny, also said she’d stay and her boyfriend was now there, agreed to stay as well. None of them could cook so apart from sorting out accounts, finances for opening, marketing and who would maintain the resort over the monsoon, I had to do all the cooking! Welcome back to the real world Linda!