Category: Memories

This episode is dedicated to my darling Michelle who passed away in October 2021. As verbose as I am I simply don’t have enough words to express my sorrow, especially as I hadn’t been able to see her since March 2020.

No apologies for the delay in posting this, I see it was mid September when I finished writing episode 7. That was when we were given permission to open the resort on 1^st October 2021 and since then it’s been all systems go. I spent the first five weeks of being open on the island as Richard was the only diver and was consequently all day every day in the water. It’s been years since I stayed on the island for such a long time and I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially our guests. We are seriously short staffed since we can no longer employ from abroad and unfortunately not many Malaysians like working on the islands. I even found myself back in the kitchen, no not cooking (apart from one evening trying out a new sea bass recipe, delicious if I say so myself!) but washing up. Took me almost 30 years to go full circle and end up back where I started! Or if you want to get really retro, 50 years and back to my washer upper days in the Hotel Rhetikon in Bürserberg, Austria, but that’s another story.

I have, however, spent the last three months wracking my brain trying to remember what actually happened from 1995, when I returned to Malaysia from Florida, until 1997 when it was irrevocable that we would stay. I rummaged in the camphor chest to find all the photos from those years, now permanently strewn across the dinning table as I go through them over and over, trying to jog my memory. What brought about my decision to stay when I can only ever remember wanting to leave? Nancy and I spent some hours trying to make a time line, using her old passports to help. It was no good, I still couldn’t answer the question of why I stayed, what on earth was I thinking? Every thought in my head was to “go home”, despite not actually having one to go to. Then, face timing the other evening, we finally hit the nail on the head, realisation dawned and it became evident that I never did decide to stay, I had absolutely no choice in the matter!

Vee was tall and blonde and vague. Annoyingly when we went out and about in town, with her pushing Richard & Jade in the double buggy, people would assume she was my daughter and I was the grandmother. She didn’t notice, I’m not sure she ever noticed anything. I was so grateful when Nancy told me she’d found a lovely girl to come and work for me as the children’s nanny. Her recommendation, “I’d employ her for my children”, was good enough for me. At first I tried to put Vee’s vagueness down to jet lag but she was simply a walking disaster. I’d find Jade playing with a bottle of bleach or some other unsuitable object left within her grasp, Richard’s “job” was to put Tiger Balm on her bites, food was dumped on their high chair trays rather than on a plate. Chatting away to others, not looking at what she was doing, she’d blithely use a nine inch knife two inches in front of the children’s noses to cut up fruit as they sat in their high chairs. My anxiety would soar as I’d see their tiny hands inching towards the interesting blade twinkling in the sun light. I’d get up early to do the children’s laundry because left to Vee their laundered clothes would somehow come out of the washing machine as filthy as they went in, just smelling worse. I kept telling myself it must be me and not her because Nancy said she was good. Every morning she walked into the nursery and every morning Richard would look at her then turn to me and say “I hate Vee”. He stated it as a matter of fact, simply informing me, rather than making a fuss. He wanted me to know I was handing him into the care of someone he didn’t like. I now realise I should have listened but at the time I just laughed it off, probably in desperation because what would I do otherwise? Besides everyone else liked her, in fact I liked her, she simply wasn’t fit for purpose, to put it bluntly.

When Daniel died I was left with two business partners. One lived at Sea Gypsy (which was never meant to be part of the deal, however he simply turned up from South Africa bag and baggage and moved in, what to do lah?). This live in partner brought a live in partner with him, so to speak, and they were both wonderful with Richard and Jade. So too was our lovely manager Samsudin, aka Sam, (although at that time he was working between bar, restaurant & kitchen). Over the ensuing years he became like a father figure to them, since he was the constant man in their lives. Our boat diver’s wife Azi basically kidnapped Jade the minute she laid eyes on her, thus Vee had a helper, or, to put it another way, Vee never had to bother about Jade. In other words the children were surrounded by love, caring people, fun and games. All they were missing was a father, and a sane mother.

I was a mental wreck trying to act normally, smiling and chatting to guests as if nothing had happened. Concentrating hard on work helped to keep me grounded. I instinctively knew I should only be with the children when I could be happy from the inside out. Since they made me happy that wasn’t too difficult but the moment I felt myself losing it I would leave them with other people. They loved each other from the start and were very happy playing together, always very self sufficient from an early age, disappearing into the jungle with pillows, blankies, teddies and books to make a cubby house. They grew up fearless and full of adventure, all very Swallows and Amazons. One of Nancy’s invaluable pieces of advice is that routine is key, so I always made myself available for “bath, book and bedtime” a regime I loved and tried never to miss. It was completely normal for Vee to disappear while I was putting the children to bed and not be seen again until the following morning, quite often late and not always in prime condition.

Nancy decided to come and visit in the spring of 1995 and she was accompanied by her great friend Helen, a pukka Norland Nanny. I have never seen two professionals quite so quick to judge a third, the third being Vee of course. They swept in and took over those children faster than a fast thing on national fast day and Nancy spent the rest of the holiday begging my forgiveness for sending her to me. She simply couldn’t understand how she could have got it so wrong. One morning during their visit Vee announced she was leaving. I asked her why and she told me it was because I was such a miserable person, always unhappy. I was horrified. She was of course correct, I was miserable and unhappy but I thought I’d really been hiding it well, apparently not. Hang on though, Nancy told her she was coming to work for a recently bereaved widow, did she expect me not to be in mourning? As useless as Vee was, she was better than nothing, and I asked her if she wouldn’t reconsider, what did she expect me to do? She calmly told me that Nancy would look after the children. Eh? I didn’t think so! Nancy was working for a world famous lead singer of a rock band and his wife who were currently touring the world and she was to catch up with them in Australia when she left Malaysia. She couldn’t simply abandon her job, even if she had wanted to, and I certainly couldn’t afford to pay a top notch nanny to work for me. That evening, as I was bathing Richard, Vee walked into the bathroom and said; “I’m leaving now, can I have my money?”

“I’m bathing Richard, I can hardly leave him to go and find money to give you. Anyway where are you going at this time of night, there’s no transport?”

It turned out she’d been quick to start an affair with a partner in another resort and that’s where she’d been disappearing to at night. She’d decided she liked the island but not working (no kidding) so chose to go and stay with him there. I asked her if she would mind coming back during the day to say goodbye to the children, when people suddenly disappeared without trace they obviously worried that they had died, like Daddy. Vee didn’t bother to come back, even though it was only a 15 minute walk, she sent someone for her money. On the other hand Richard never, ever mentioned her name again, not even to tell me he hated her!

Nancy did indeed have to leave but Helen wasn’t starting her new position for a couple of months so she kindly stayed until the end of April. She was like a breath of fresh air and the children adored her. By the way I am getting all this information from Nancy and Helen. Although I do remember them coming to visit and Vee leaving, I cannot remember Nancy leaving or Helen coming back to the island. My memory of 1995/6 is very patchy and all jumbled up, as I said I was a basket case. Helen mentioned that Mark picked her up to come to the island and that did spark some memories.

In 1993 lovely Dutch Mark cycled into our lives. Tall, handsome, blonde and fluent in English, he pitched up at Tanjong Leman and informed us he was “cycling around the world”, getting work when and where he could. How could we resist? Daniel taught him how to dive and he worked at the dive base as a dive guide and took out snorkeling trips. I remember he stayed over the monsoon and by the time we came back he was pretty fluent in Bahasa, he had an amazing ear for languages. He also had an amazing way with the ladies! We used to have KLM airline crew coming to stay when on stopover in Singapore and they all fell for him. We used to tease him about what would happen if one day more than one of them turned up on the same trip? Mark left to travel, became a diving instructor in Australia and then came back to run the dive base. All this being pre computer I’m not sure when he left the first time but I do remember he returned to run the dive base mid 1997, more of that later.

In 1995 the South Africa connection via our partner brought some lovely staff from that continent. The first to arrive was Garth, the lad that first taught me the expression “if it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger”. Garth hadn’t quite grown into himself when he arrived at Sea Gypsy, still showing signs of a gawky teen, but was bubbly, outgoing and full of fun. He became our barman and asked if we had a job for his friend Malcolm. Since we needed a waiter we said yes. A good looking, solid, surly lad, his towhead a mass of curls and with a really broad Afrikaans accent he couldn’t have been more different from Garth. He stomped round the dining room dumping food in front of guests who wouldn’t have dared to complain had he served them the wrong order. I remember taking Malcolm aside one day and spending half an hour talking to him about his body language and service, at the end of which he told me he hadn’t got a clue what I was talking about, so I told him to forget the restaurant and rake the garden. Malcolm is still in our lives and many of you may know him as the owner of Rimba Resort!

Despite the inconceivable lose of Daniel those were the halcyon days for the resort and resort owners in general. Consequently, having secured the acre of land next to Sea Gypsy called Hillside in 1994, it was decided to put purpose built family chalets there. My partners and I having decided to sell the lease on the resort, they would increase the selling price of the business and boost our income until we actually sold. With new projects springing up all over the peninsular and guests with seemingly endless spending power, it was boom time and not expanding would have been stupid. With Nancy’s expertise and Richard and Jade as guinea pigs it seemed obvious to go for the family market. Expatriates were still given enormous packages, not only large salaries but substantial homes, car, international airline tickets and school fees. A great many of them had boats and Sibu was frequently surrounded by a flotilla of sail boats, their occupants coming ashore to spend money. We had a coterie of regular guests, that treated Sea Gypsy as their weekend getaway and we frequently asked “who’s coming this weekend” rather than “how many guests have we got this weekend”. The children didn’t realise we ran a hotel, they thought we had lots of friends and when they were told to “say goodnight” it would take forever as they would go around the lounge bar and kiss anyone in there goodnight!

April 1995 I was staying at Michelle’s home in Singapore when I received the (much smaller than expected) insurance pay out from the company Daniel had been working for. I thought about the apartment in Florida I had looked at whilst there and on a whim decided to see if it was still on the market, it was and I bought it. Michelle came back from shopping to find me sitting in “her chair” in the living room. Pre lap tops, ipads, iphones and all the other modern paraphernalia, Michelle’s chair was the equivalent of command central with her phone, her address book, her diary, even an intercom to the kitchen and all other rooms of the house, and always surrounded by piles of books and papers. She had everything she required to hand and ruled her kingdom from that seat. It was very unusual for anyone else to sit in that large comfy arm chair and so she asked what I was up to.

“I’ve just bought an apartment in Florida.”

“Then you’d better not sit in that chair again for a while if that’s the effect it has on you,” was her reply.

I immediately started making plans in my head, excited to be moving to be near Mummy and my American family. I was thankful that the children both had American passports, giving them, and consequently me, the right to live there. Meanwhile Mama would organise renting out the apartment for me as I was sure it would be at least a year before we could move.

The resort landlord had extended the lease so that we could sell 10 years clear and we started looking around for buyers. They came, they saw and they all, without exception, started talking about cutting down the trees and building dozens more chalets. I can’t remember what my business partners thought about it all but I do know I was adamant that wasn’t happening. If you haven’t seen first hand my reaction to a fallen tree or having to cut a rotting tree you may not be able to understand my putting trees before business. I honestly don’t think of myself as a crusader for the environment, I simply love trees and nature. Besides, they anchor the land on an island, you are idiotically destroying your home in more ways than one by cutting them down.

My mother arrived for two or three months mid year, she was a woman on a mission. Under no circumstances was I to move permanently to Florida, she wasn’t having it. I could move back to the UK but not to America. Sitting here 25 years later, fast approaching my 68^th birthday, and having spent ten of those years living with my mother, I now wonder about her motives. I adored and admired my mother, she had so many amazing qualities, but there is absolutely no doubt about the fact that if one peeled away enough layers one would ultimately find she had it within her to be a vain and selfish woman. She didn’t have permission to live in America, had never been able to get a green card as she was always sliding down the queue because other more deserving cases had been put ahead of her. She could get a six month visa and then an extension but it left her travelling 4 months a year and she had, to date, always spent a great deal of that time with me, wherever I was. Once she could no longer travel or look after herself the plan was that she’d come and live with me, wherever I was. My living in Florida would put the kibosh on all that. Did she manipulate me or was it my decision not to move to the States? Let’s just say I believe had she possessed a green card our lives would have been very different. Anyway I started looking towards the UK instead.

I was still looking for a nanny for the children when Nancy returned in September 1995 having quit her job. She was planning on spending Christmas & New Year in Australia so thought she’d come and help out “on the way”. We were so happy to have her back that I begged her to consider joining us until we left Malaysia, to my joy and astonishment she agreed. However we also agreed that she’d work with me and learn to do everything I did for the resort so that I could spend more time with the children. When I say “everything” that didn’t include the accounts, not Nancy’s forte! Then again she wouldn’t let me talk to guests on the phone for bookings as my patience with stupid questions is not limitless, unlike hers, obviously borne from dealing with toddler’s endless questions!!

Three things of note to this story happened in 1995. Firstly the introduction of cellular phones made radio phones redundant. Consequently we lost our communication system due to the phasing out of the mainland radio phone towers and lack of cellular towers sending a signal to east coast of Sibu. Guests would walk through and say they had wanted to stay at Sea Gypsy but couldn’t contact us. Secondly, a life long BBC World Service radio fanatic and tech geek, I had been hearing about this thing called the World Wide Web and electronic mail, which I found riveting and definitely the way ahead. I believed passionately our office should be computerised. Not that I’d ever owned a computer, the closest I’d been to one was on a ticketing course at Gatwick Airport when I worked as a ground hostess for British Caladonian, circa 1974 so you can imagine the technology. Lastly I felt that Richard needed to go to kindergarten. He loved books, art, building blocks and was endlessly creative but he needed his peers for socialising. Richard and Jade had each other and an amazing teacher in Nancy but children need to socialise with others their own age. Only one thing for it, we needed to move to the mainland, now how on earth would we make that work?

It is a fact of life that no matter how much you may like someone socially, whether family, friend or acquaintance, it does not mean you can work with them. During 1996 it became blindingly obvious to me that I could not live and work with the business partner I had inherited. As charming as he could be we came from two different worlds, two different upbringings, never mind the age gap, leading to two completely different sets of ideals, principles, beliefs and  work ethic. It was becoming apparent that selling the business wouldn’t be as easy as I had hoped. As far as I was concerned if we had to continue running the resort then only one of us could live and work on the island, the other had to leave, except how to make that come about?

On the one hand, for many various reasons, we couldn’t leave the partner to run the resort. On the other hand we needed to open an office and have a home on the mainland. Nancy and I spent many hours cogitating on these problems, over many, many glasses of wine, which always makes these decisions seem so much more attainable.

1995 rolled on and, because I thought I would be moving to America, I had planned a monsoon holiday in Europe to see family. We’d spend Christmas in the south of France with my brother and his family, move to the west of France for New Year with Daniel’s father George, now living in France, and then head to the UK for a couple of weeks before returning. Garth and Malcolm volunteered to stay and care take the property over monsoon. Their choice of provisions for the two months had me worrying about their getting scurvy, so I decided to feed their minds instead by leaving them a game of scrabble, a dictionary and a thesaurus. They used to ask each other what I had said because apparently I used vocabulary they didn’t understand, so I tortured them regularly by insisting they play scrabble with me, always a favourite game of mine.

My holiday in France was horrendous, although the children had a blast because they didn’t understand the grown up stuff, but no point in going into that because it has no relevance in this story, the UK was lovely. I could have kicked myself for not changing our destination to Florida once Ma had revised my long term plans.

We arrived back in Johor Bahru end of January 1996 and met Nancy at the Pan Pacific hotel.

On a drive up from Singapore with Michelle’s youngest daughter Justine sometime in 1995 I had veered off the road and asked her to write down the name and contact number of some tower blocks they were building near the Padang Seri Gelam. The three Aloha Towers are situated on a steep hill one block in from the Straits and five minutes away from the Istana park land, a lovely part of town just a stone’s throw from the Causeway and the centre of JB. She asked me what for and then laughed when I said I would like to move there. They were some of the first luxury tower blocks to be built in JB and a very large sign outside informed us they were being rented from RM5000.00 and upwards per month. Never one to be daunted I started looking for a private owner that might give me a good deal if rented unfurnished, and almost unfinished, for a short term let while they found a proper long term tenant. After all, I had no idea whether living in JB would even work. However, I didn’t take Nancy there that first day back in Johor, I took her to Straights View Condos out at Permas Jaya. They were also a new build and a really nice complex but in 1996 they stood alone, with absolutely no infrastructure to support them, one would have to travel into town for everything. As the crow flies that’s not far but in those days one had to drive miles inland to cross a narrow single lane bridge, which got completely jammed at rush hour. Despite liking the condo and the price Nancy was appalled, so I took her to Aloha Towers, which she fell in love with, as had I, and subsequently didn’t quibble about the fact the best deal I could find was RM2500.00 per month. I signed a six month lease and lived in that apartment for eight years until the landlord decided to sell it, never signing another one.

The weather was awful, full on monsoon, as we set off for Tanjung Leman the following day in our Proton Wira hatchback, with Bakri taking our luggage & supplies in the Ecovan. The road was flooded at Kota Tinggi and although Bakri got through the little Proton could not, back to the Pan Pac. The following day we set off with Nancy driving, deciding if we went via Kluang we could probably make it, and we did. The problem was it took 5 hours, was a hairy drive and the only thing that kept the children quiet was leaving The Three Little Pigs on a loop. We’d have gone insane if we hadn’t been able to get to Tanjung Leman that day and we can never listen to The Three Little Pigs again! Patlong’s bum boat was anchored off the beach (no jetty in those days), bouncing up and down in enormous waves. The 40hp was on the beach with Garth and Malcolm. As we approached the boat with the children some Chinese people raced towards us shouting stop. We waited, “You can’t go out in this weather!”

“We have no choice, we live over there.”

They looked on in horror as we all piled into the little boat and headed towards the bum boat. My fear of boats has never abated, I’ve just learned to live it, no choice. It was still raining so Nancy, the children and I sat inside the little cabin and off we set. Within minutes Jade was projectile vomiting. Malcolm grabbed her from me took off his shirt and dunked it over the side, using it to clean her up and handed her back to me. She vomited again, Malcolm washed her again, and so it went on. At some point in the proceedings Malcolm got fed up with the whole cleaning her up procedure and just held her over the side so the next wave did the job for him, sorted! We had hysterics, or maybe we were just hysterical?

By April 1996 we had moved into Aloha Towers and enrolled Richard in a brand new Montessori kindergarten up on Straits View which had three lovely Irish girls working there, thus providing Nancy with an instant set of friends. In those days the children that attended were almost exclusively expatriate, Montessori not yet having made its mark in Malaysia. Besides, unlike today, the majority of expatriates lived in a very small radius of “downtown” and was a tight knit community. When the Hyatt Regency (now the Thistle) opened in April 1996 and offered daily Happy Hour at their pool side Italian bar it became “the local”. Having said that the Holiday Inn (now the Mutiara) and the Pan Pacific both had fantastic discothèques, not to mention brilliant General Managers who became family friends. The Holiday Inn also had lovely balls and dinner theatre. Plus there were several clubs in Stulang Laut that had excellent live bands. The night life was fun and vibrant in those days.

It didn’t take long to settle into a routine, on Friday we’d pick Richard up from kindergarten, Jade was still too young to attend, much to her disgust, and head for the island. On arrival one of us would clean the family house the other would go straight to work front of house. We’d work bar, restaurant, kitchen and office all weekend and leave on Sunday evening. I’d put the children to bed when we got home, Nancy would check the fax and answer machine and catch up with reservations. The office was in our living room, the children had the master bedroom so they could use it as a play room as well. I bought a computer and spent the rest of the year sitting up all night learning how to use it. The lady that owned the company I bought it from and installed it came twice a week for months and answered all the questions I had written on the white board. Sad to say I instantly fell in love with excel spread sheets, a love affair that continues to this day.

The season came to an end and we closed for December and January, as was habit pre global warming since we knew exactly when monsoon would be. I have no idea when Garth left, I think Malcolm may have stayed longer and he definitely learned to dive. I do know the lovely Natalie joined us in 1996, again from South Africa. Blonde, pretty and quietly spoken she was an excellent addition to the Sea Gypsy family. She worked predominantly front of house but was happy to help with anything, a really sweet girl.

Christmas 1996 was to be our first Christmas in Malaysia. Nancy was going away for monsoon but Natalie had asked to stay and work through 1997 so I asked her to join the children and me at Aloha, she could still earn money by helping me there. Some British neighbours that were going to their home in Australia gave us their Christmas tree and some decorations, which we used for years. We still put the angel, Mabel, on top of our tree every year, any mention of replacing her is met with a chorus of “NO!” The four of us were very excited and enjoyed a lovely dinner on Christmas Eve, Nathalie and I indulging in a cocktail and then a bottle of wine. We were quite merry when I went to put the children to bed leaving Nathalie to wash up. The children went to sleep very quickly dreaming of Santa, having left the prerequisite home baked cookie and whiskey for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph, and I went back to help finish cleaning up. We were then going to treat ourselves to coffee, a night cap and a box of After Eight whilst watching a Christmas film before retiring.

I heard Richard cry out and raced into the bedroom to find him apologising profusely for having thrown up in the king sized bed the children shared (I’d ordered it before deciding they would have the master bedroom), he was mortified but said he felt better. Jade was still asleep but of course the bed needed changing so I popped her into my bed. I then carried Richard to the living room and sat him on my lap as I perched on the pouffe next to the Christmas tree, giving him a cuddle, telling him he could look at the lights while I changed the bed. I shall never forget the look of horror and disgust on Nathalie’s face as she turned from the sink, yellow Marigolds still on, at the sound of Richard hurling all over the Christmas tree and the wrapped presents underneath, I’m quite sure it mirrored my own. I resigned myself to a night of cleaning up sick, rewrapping presents and soothing Richard. I told Nathalie to go to bed, that I’d see to it. Jadie refused to open her presents from Santa the next morning, she wanted to wait till Richard was well enough to open his, which took a couple of days. Nathalie decided that her yearning desire to have her own children despite the lack of a partner could be put on hold for a while, so I considered renting mine out to broody single women in order to put them off.

Opening in February 1997 for Chinese New Year, life continued as before but I had been reorganising my finances over the monsoon and decided I could offer to buy my business partner out. I thought about it long and hard as it was every penny I had and I could just take that money and leave. However, the business was doing well, we could carry on building it up and find a buyer. I would be able to sell the lease and should make a good profit, if I was going to relocate to the UK I’d need as much money as possible. I finally made a decision and in May 1997 I took a deep breath and offered to buy out my exceedingly shocked business partner. I explained how I felt about our business partnership, saying I was sure he must feel the same way. He hadn’t got a clue what I was talking about, he thought everything was fine. Men!

Long story short, he agreed to go but only if I paid him the whole amount immediately, not 50% now and 50% at the end of the year, which is what I had offered. I said I’d think about it. Prior to the discussion I had been absolutely adamant that I would not shift, I would not borrow any money to do the deal, I would stand firm. However that was simply in a yes or no situation, this was different. Didn’t I believe in the growth of the business, didn’t I believe I was building a successful resort to sell? In which case why hesitate? While they were still young the children were happy playing on the island every weekend. I had Nancy and some great key staff and we all made a good team. I could borrow the money from family and friends and promise to pay them back by the end of the year, sooner if we found a buyer before then. I went back and forward in my mind, what to do for the best. By Monday morning I still didn’t know what I’d do but thought there’s nothing I can do if I can’t borrow the money, I need US$50’000. Europe and America being too many hours behind us to wake up, I called our business partner in the commercial diving company we had in the Maldives. He and his wife were lovely, and approachable. If they said yes, then I would continue to ask others. If I could raise the money within the day I’d go ahead and buy him out. By 3pm I had what I needed so that was that. The US$ had been stable at 2.4 to the Malaysian Ringgit for ages so I now owed the equivalent of RM120’000.00 in short term loans.

It seems absolutely horrid to say we were euphoric the day they finally left but we were. My mother, Auntie Fay, her sister, and my father’s youngest brother Uncle Ragnar all came to visit just for a couple of months end of June. We had a lovely time and I was full of plans to expand and sell. Life was the best it had been since Daniel had died and I finally felt I was starting to move forward.

I should have know better than to tempt fate, because that all knowing, all seeing, almighty foot always manages to come along and stomp on you, putting you back in your place whenever you get too cocky. Starting in June 1997 a financial crisis emerged that swept across most of the tiger economies of Southeast Asia and major players in East Asia, the Malaysian Ringgit crashed and by July my debt had increased to RM220’000.00. Towards the end of August 1997 a haze started to affect Pulau Sibu from fires burning in Indonesia. By September we couldn’t see the boats parked off our beach and needed a compass to get to the mainland. It lasted until November and wiped out our business for nearly three months, we were lucky if we had six guests over a weekend. My ex business partner must have been laughing all the way to the bank!

So there you have it, I wanted to leave, I planned to leave but I was stuck. I had to stay and somehow get out of the financial hole I’d managed to dig for myself. However, I’d only stay until it was all sorted. Took me nearly 30 years to do that, what with one thing and another, and I was all ready to go for it at the beginning of 2020. March 2020 covid happened. Do you think my trying to escape Malaysia somehow affects the global economy? Because here we are at the end of 2021 and I’m back in debt with no chance to escape until I manage to dig myself out of another financial hole!

If you have been, thanks for reading x

I awoke to hear Jadie crying, sleepily I got up and went to the nursery to get her and make my way downstairs, thinking “it can’t be my turn again”. To this day I remember exactly which stair I was on, third one down, as my brain dropped into gear and I was jolted awake with the realisation that it would always be my turn from now on. There was no one else to take a turn, I was on my own and I had two tiny human beings totally reliant upon me. Why on earth had I encouraged Mummy to move to Florida? If she still had our lovely home in London I would have scooped the children up and been on the next plane back to the place I loved best in all the world. I’m not just talking about the house and my London family, but the city itself. 

When I was about nine my brother, then eleven, almost cut off my thumb, accidentally I hasten to add. My Norwegian grandmother had sent him a hunting knife with a fancy handle for a present, which my mother had instantly hidden but of course both my brother and I knew where. One afternoon he decided to risk his mother’s wrath and, having got it out to play with, advanced towards me menacingly. Terrified I grabbed the blade and asked him to stop the game, I didn’t like it. Without thinking he put his arm down but unfortunately I hadn’t let go of the frightening blade. My mother was right to have hidden it, the blade was extremely sharp and it was not a toy for children. It sliced straight through to the bone and I remember staring at the back of my right hand in fascination as my thumb fell to my wrist and blood poured everywhere. I could hear my brother screaming and noted he had run off to get help. I can remember very clearly standing stock still, feeling completely calm and being totally engrossed in looking at the widening wound and watching the blood pour copiously down my arm, there was no pain. It was as though I was watching a scene and not a participant. Then of course there was the dash to the hospital and the discussion of whether or not my thumb could be saved, a simple matter nowadays but not then, my mother was adamant that it would be (my mother’s life long vanity extended to her little girl). Then all the stitches, the bandages, the ride back home and getting me settled and comfortable. Only then, after the event, did it all hit me, the calmness disappeared, the delayed shock and the pain started.

So it was with Daniel’s death. The six weeks of standing by his bedside willing him to get better, the inundation of family and friends, the funeral, the christenings, the mountain of paperwork a death requires, the scattering of the ashes, once again I felt like I was numbly watching a scene unfold. However, standing on that staircase, holding my baby daughter in my arms, the reality of my darling husband’s death hit me like an express train and could not have left me feeling more shattered had that been an actuality. It wasn’t just the overwhelming grief, the horrendous anger induced by a truly beautiful person dying at such a young age, the unfairness of these lovely children never knowing the father that wanted them so much, it was the absolute terror of the future. I had no idea what on earth I was going to do or how I was going to manage, and the feeling of aloneness was almost unbearable.

I realised Jadie had stopped crying as I’d been standing still on the stairs for some minutes, allowing desolation and bereavement wash over me like a tsunami.  Looking at her peaceful face her innocence struck me, I turned to look sideways as though I could see Richard’s face through the wooden wall. Two innocent babies that did not need a miserable, mourning, useless mother to look after them, they deserved better. My multi generational upbringing with a myriad of relations that had lived through both world wars, had taught me that one has to accept adversity and “get on with it”. Certainly Daniel had been taught that a “stiff upper lip” was always expected. I couldn’t let him down, I had to give the children love and happiness and a good education. Fine, that’s the way it had to be, obviously the ostrich method of life needed engaging, I just couldn’t and wouldn’t allow myself to think about it. Take one day at a time, get up in the morning, slap a smile on your face and work hard at all that needed doing and simply try not to think. Yes, that’s the answer, don’t think about it at all, wipe it from your mind, pretend Daniel was simply away doing something else. Now if I could just manage to sleep at night I might actually pull it off.

In fact I have to thank the makers of the British TV series Darling Buds of May and the film Four Weddings and a Funeral. I discovered that by putting a TV and video player in my bedroom and leaving either of those videos on continuous play I could fall asleep. If I woke up they somehow soothed and comforted me with their lovely music and scenery, enough to keep me from thinking but not enough to stop me falling asleep again. It took me a good year to stop falling asleep to them! I was always too frightened to take any kind of sleeping pill, I have an addictive nature and didn’t want to tempt fate.

I followed my advice to the letter and it did work. By using the ‘video’ method to sleep at night and filling my days with noise (to this day I always have an audio book or talking on the radio playing, never silence) I managed to ignore Daniel’s death. Since no one wanted to come to a resort and be reminded of his passing it wasn’t discussed, either by me or the regulars, other than a quick “I’m so sorry…” cut off by me with a “thank you so much and how are you?” By all means change the subject as soon as possible and move on. I did talk about Daniel as a person and his life all the time, especially with the children, but never as though he was dead, always as though he was still very much a part of our lives and very careful not to turn him into some kind of saint. Years later a divorced friend of mine said: “You know what it’s like to be a single parent.” I was incensed: “I am not a single parent, my children have a mother and a father. I never make a decision without considering what he would want, I talk to him all the time!” Guests frequently asked my children where their father was as they talked about him naturally and easily. They were always shocked to hear that he was dead, had in fact been dead for years. Of course how they really felt is their story, I couldn’t possibly say because I cannot imagine what it would be like to grow up without a father.

A month ago my girlfriend’s husband died suddenly and quickly, although not unexpectedly, and she is in deep mourning. She has the luxury of being financially secure and since they didn’t have any children she only has herself to think about. She keeps asking me if her inability to stop crying and move forward is normal: “Was it like this for you?” Obviously not is the answer, I had to “get on with it”. I have often thought my lack of being able to mourn Daniel was not healthy and would come back and bite me in the bottom one day. For years I’d watch the boat come around the head and wonder if he’d alight and run up the beach, confirming my suspicion that it the whole thing had been a big mistake. Even now, after 27 years, if I allow myself to really think about him, how my heart had been broken, my life shattered and then wonder what having a husband and a father to the children would have been like, it still has the ability to devastate me. I’m cynical enough to realise that it might have been a total disaster, but I would have liked the chance to have found out. I’m also shallow enough to think that had I met someone else then I probably would have got over Daniel, but that never happened. The problem is you don’t fall out of love with someone just because they die, so I always felt like I was being unfaithful. I still talk to Daniel regularly and think about him for some reason or other most days. However, it would be fair to say that’s probably because I’m still blaming, and cursing, him for having ended up running his bloody resort for nearly 30 years, the one he decided he didn’t want!

My main objective in November 1994 was to get the accounts up to date, organise some advertising for the next season, manage the finances to last through till next season, make sure we had staff for next season and then pack up and get to my mother’s house in Florida in time for Christmas. I somehow managed it and by mid December was on my way. Having closed up the resort my business partner agreed to open up for the new season, thus we’d be able to stay away until February 1995. Normally I would always fly to the States via Europe but this time I wanted to get there as fast as possible so decided we’d go via Tokyo and Detroit. An horrendous journey with babies but they’d sleep if I timed it right and I’d booked business class as I knew I would be getting an insurance payout.

Daniel’s company had promised me RM500’000.00 as they held life insurance policies on all executive staff. I happen to know for a fact they received RM450’000.00 but I only received RM240’000.00 because they had forgotten to take out any medical insurance for him, so deducted all his many medical bills. I politely asked for the balance because I was going to move back to the UK and would need money. At 40 years of age, with no discernable qualifications, two babies and no where to live I’d need as much help as I could. I still have the wonderful reply they sent informing me that the money I had received “more than adequately compensated for the death of your husband”. To this day it staggers me that anyone thought it was acceptable to actually put those words in black and white, even if they were thinking it. I did sue them because a great lawyer friend of ours insisted, took years and years, and we did win, over RM2 million. Unfortunately we didn’t sue the mother company and they bankrupted the subsidiary company so we never got a penny. First lesson learned, always sue the mother company, second lesson learned, always have more than one company!

I digress as usual, sorry. So having taken off from Singapore I treated the first leg of the journey as day time and played with the children. We landed at Tokyo but instead of being able to stretch our legs and explore I discovered that nothing there is designed to accommodate a double buggy. Consequently we spent the layover playing in the mother’s feeding room off the toilet facilities. I had designated the second leg of the journey as night, even putting on jammies, cleaning teeth and reading a bed time story. Thankfully the lack of exercise in Tokyo hadn’t spoiled my plan and they both went to sleep almost immediately. I was extremely pleased with myself and, breathing a sigh of relief, I relaxed. My children were used to sleeping soundly from 6pm to 7am so this 12 hour flight was going to be easy. Instead of going straight to sleep I enjoyed some food, sipped some fizz and watched a film, secure in the knowledge I would have peace and quiet till we reached Detroit. I really should have gone to straight to sleep and not had any alcohol, one should never tempt fate.  I awoke with start as the captain announced: “Prepare to land in Seattle”. Seattle? I was flying direct to Detroit I anxiously asked the air hostess: “Am I on the wrong plane?”

“Oh no honey, this is the direct flight to Detroit, it’s just not non stop.” I had been a ground hostess and an air hostess and I had never heard of such a nonsense!
“Will we be continuing on the same plane?”

“Yes, same plane, same seats.”

“In that case can we please stay on the plane, hopefully the children will continue sleeping.”
“Oh no honey, you and all your luggage have to come off as you all have to clear Immigration & Customs at the first port of entry.”

I woke the babies, who were grumpily unamused, and we prepared to land, except we didn’t. The worst snow storms in North West America in years caused a diversion to a Canadian airport where we sat on the aircraft on the ground for hours. Finally we took off for Detroit landing just in time to miss the last connection to Fort Myers, Florida, naturally. We didn’t have any winter clothes as I thought were going straight to Florida so we almost froze getting to the hotel. By the time we got there it was nearly 3am, only to be told by the receptionist we’d get a wake up call at 5.30am as we had to be ready to go back to the airport at 6am. Almost on my knees with tiredness by now I asked Richard to amuse himself while I looked after Jadie. Normally such a good boy, he was lovely and quiet and I assumed my little book worm was reading a book as usual. Apparently today was the day he decided reading a book wouldn’t do it for him, he’s try some “experiments” by stuffing every toilet roll he could find down the toilet. I was practically on my knees as we approached the aircraft for the final leg of our journey. Even Richard had had enough of planes: “No Mummy, please ask Bakri to come and get us.” Bakri was our supplies buyer and general factotum and our driver when required.

In those days business class was considered for businessmen and frazzled mothers traveling alone with babies weren’t terribly welcome. As I was sorting our seats out the air hostess putting our hand luggage away muttered something about women traveling without their husbands to help them. I couldn’t help snapping: “I’ll be doing everything alone from now on as my husband just died.” The poor girl, she literally shrank in front of me, and I did feel guilty but seriously, what a thing to say? Beating a rapid retreat she must have told her colleagues because I literally passed out on take off and slept all the way to Fort Myers. On waking the children had gone and I discovered the cabin crew had looked after them happily the whole flight, with Richard regaling them with “stories” of Pulau Sibu, which they could hardly believe!

Apart from wanting my Mummy, always a default position for me when things went awry, I wanted and needed a proper family Christmas and New Year. My mother’s sister and her husband lived next door and their two sons also lived close by with their families. Their daughter and her husband lived in New York but I was hoping they could come as despite the distance my cousin Sylvia and I are very close. Daniel’s father and his partner came from London and my brother and his wife and two children came from France. Consequently we were surrounded by love, happiness and merriment over the festive season and the children had a blast. I honestly can’t remember too much about it except from looking at the photos.

There were two practical things I made sure I did, wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget. I bought some life insurance, because I was so mad that Daniel didn’t have any, and I looked at apartments with a view to possibly moving to Punta Gorda, Florida. One thing was for sure, we wouldn’t be staying in Malaysia.

I also clearly remember two phone calls. The first was mid January 1995 from my business partner informing me we wouldn’t be opening because I’d done the accounts all wrong and there was no money. Now, I might have useless memory for names, I might be rubbish at recalling events, but I never forget a number. I love numbers and ledgers (pre computer days, remember?) and I knew I had not made any mistakes. I told him to find some money and we’d sort it out when I got back but he said he couldn’t so unless I did something we’d remain closed, typical! I made some calls and arranged things but couldn’t stop wondering where on earth the money had gone. When I got back I discovered that Bakri, who had been with us from day one and I trusted absolutely, had “borrowed” it. Apparently he’d got a gambling problem and had used it to pay his debts. Again I’m a little fuzzy as to why I didn’t just sack him but I didn’t and I’m not sure I even told my business partner, just sorted it all out myself. I do know when he finally resigned he stood next to me in tears and said he was quitting because “it’s just too easy to steal from you and I hate myself for doing it”. Well he had a point, in those days supplies were bought from all sorts of small shops and stalls between Johor Bahru and Tanjong Leman and everything was cash, receipts being slips of hand written paper, so of course it was easy for him to steal.

The second call came two days before we were due to fly back. It was Bakri, he was at Changi Airport to collect our Finish nanny Paivi, who had gone home for the holidays, but she wasn’t on the flight. I instantly called the contact number for Paivi in Finland and asked if she’d missed the flight. No, she’d split up with her boyfriend, who was meant to be coming back with her to work in the bar but now wasn’t, so she had decided not to come either. She was sorry she’d forgotten to tell me but it had only just happened and she was too upset. She was upset?! I’d just lost the nanny and the barman in one fell swoop. I franticly called Nancy in London and begged her to get on her nanny network and find me someone yesterday. I was not looking forward to going back to that blasted island, but it wouldn’t be for long, that was for sure.

If you have been, thanks for reading x

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!

Apparently this is now a bi monthly blog. Procrastination is defined as “the action of delaying or postponing something” and I am an Olympic gold medalist procrastinator. What begins as a task needing to be done becomes a bête noire living in the corner of my office, growing daily, until it becomes feared and avoided. Finally the day comes it has to be faced and the ridiculous thing is the task is very often either easily done or extremely interesting once I get into it and furthermore enjoyable, so why do I do it? I have no idea and I wish I were different but it was ever thus and I doubt at 67 I’m about to change, more’s the pity.

I am aware that we left poor Daniel about to be rushed into Singapore from Johor Bahru, if only it were that easy. Firstly, despite the team from SOS arriving poste haste they took one look at Daniel and refused to move him as they didn’t believe he’d survive the journey. After much pleading, phoning, faxing and the signing of indemnity forms it was agreed to try. Secondly, having made the decision the hospital refused to allow us to depart until I had paid the bill, no problem, here’s a credit card.

 “I’m sorry the bill isn’t ready.”

“Would you mind awfully speeding it up, we’re in a bit of a hurry, it’s quite an emergency.” Sometimes my Britishness annoys even me!

I must have gone back to that counter every two minutes but the clock ticked on and no amount of pleading the obvious could speed up the system. Could we simply make a run for it? Apparently not. It took them over an hour and I have occasionally wondered what their reaction would have been if Daniel had died during the wait? What the SOS team had to say about it is unrepeatable.

While I was waiting for the ambulance the management and some of the workers from the Marina turned up and I finally discovered what had happened. Daniel had been preparing for the Marina opening celebrations by putting in markers for jet ski slalom races and decided to test them out. Another employee that had never been on a jet ski before was also in the water, took a turn too fast and lost control, shooting off sideways. The poor chap was literally on his knees in front of me begging my forgiveness, I felt so sorry for him, I have never blamed him, accidents happen. I believe he must have hit Daniel in the back, which probably ruptured the kidney, knocking him forward and slamming him into the handle bars, which caused the liver injury, and finally he went over the handlebars, causing the superficial facial lacerations. Unfortunately being a Sunday there were no other management staff on duty and it was the facial lacerations that the local staff focused on, not being trained in any kind of first aid. I found out much later that a Singaporean cook was first aid trained, having done his national service, and told them Daniel looked grey, which indicated internal damage. He suggested putting him on the Changi ferry as the fastest way to get him to a good hospital. Such a shame no one listened to him, the outcome would probably have been very different.

Secondly, having finally hit the road, siren blazing, doctor looking frazzled at the delay, we came to the Causeway. This was the old crossing at Woodlands, maybe things have changed in an emergency nowadays, both ends having been rebuilt, but in those days you queued. Yes, I kid you not, literally a case of life and death and we queued! Once through we could put the siren on to “race” across the causeway but how to race with a siren when all lanes are blocked? Immigration and customs weren’t much better the Singapore side, the SOS staff could have outdone a platoon of squaddies for colourful language, and only when we hit the open road did the siren have the desired effect again.

We made it to the National University Hospital but barely and Daniel was rushed into intensive care. I am not going to bore you with six weeks of medical details, in short he stabilized, he was out of intensive care, he deteriorated, he was back in intensive care. His kidneys packed up so needed dialysis, he had a tracheostomy, he was jaundiced, he had nine operations in total, he finally succumbed to septicemia. I can only praise the doctors and staff at the NUH, they were absolutely brilliant. I also praise their attitude to alternative medicine, they didn’t mind us trying whatever we wanted including a faith healer. So that’s enough of the medical stuff, now for the interesting and the weird.

I should mention that during the six weeks Daniel spent in hospital he was nearly always conscious. So hospital phobic was he that he was literally tied to the bed most of the time or he’d have used every ounce of strength he had to escape. For one late evening operation (due to having to wait for fresh platelets) I was called back to the hospital as he’d suddenly refused to go through with it, convinced he would die. By that stage they had to be careful with pre meds so Daniel would be awake going into the operating room. Having assured him he would be fine I had to be gowned up so that I could hold his hand while he was rolled into the theatre, to keep him calm I talked him through one of our favourite dives in the Maldives (Banana Reef for any of our diving buddies from the Male chapter of Dan’s Nasty Frogmen).

Speaking of platelets I’d like to take this opportunity to thank blood donors from the bottom on my heart. In Johor we were actually charged for the blood. This was to encourage us to send blood donors to replace it and we were refunded for every pint we replaced. In Singapore we weren’t charged but we were given a daily update of how many pints we’d used in the hope we’d encourage people to replace it. One of the things I did to occupy my time was launch a blood drive, eventually putting an appeal in the funeral order of service. I remember one morning the British Consul asked all employees to go and give blood, giving them time off to do so. To this day I still bump into people that remember Daniel because of the blood drive and going to give blood. We also needed people on standby to give platelets, which form clots and prevent bleeding, at any given time day or night. Blood is taken out of one arm, the platelets are removed and the blood is put back into the other arm.

As soon as I knew we were on our way into Singapore I had called my friend Michelle, who lived in Singapore, and from that moment on I never had to worry about anything except Daniel. In the Maldives when you get told you’re pregnant that’s pretty much it.  I’m not sure what happens in other countries, I’ve never actually asked anyone, but I imagine the doctor or somebody then offers you a sack load of information and services, including pre natal classes or whatever they’re called.  In the Maldives you wait nine months and then give birth.  It’s a perfectly normal occurrence and women have been doing it for a couple thousand years, so what’s the big deal.  Never having had any pregnant friends, never having lived near any pregnant relatives I was pretty much completely ignorant about all aspects of the situation.  My supremely happy husband was wonderful in the total support and love department, a little better informed in the anatomy department (not having flunked out of all science classes like the mother to be) but basically just as ignorant.  So we bought a book.  I cannot for the life of me remember where and it’s really annoying me, since it certainly didn’t come for any shop in Male’ and I don’t remember taking any trips at that time. Sorry, I digress. This book by Dr. Miriam Stoppard became our bible.  I remembered being fascinated by Dr. Stoppard when she did a TV program about a newborn baby’s survival instincts.  How you could hang a newborn baby on a washing line by its hands because it’s vice like grip was designed specifically to ensure survival and it would not let go.  Or you could throw a baby into water and it would automatically surface, roll onto it’s back and float quite comfortably.  The baby will even kick out towards its mother if in another part of the water, following the scent of mother’s milk.  Fascinating stuff.  Of course I’d watched the program in my teens and had by now probably got all the information wrong or mixed up but Dr. Stoppard seemed like my kind of person.

One of the important things our baby bible told us was that a woman in her late thirties is advised to have an amniocentesis to see if the fetus is ok.  Since the test wasn’t available in the Maldives a trip to Singapore was in order.  At the end of the previous year I had received a phone call from an acquaintance of Daniel’s from Singapore.  A young stunningly pretty girl called Francesca.  She and a boyfriend had just arrived in the Maldives for an extended holiday and were wondering which island to stay on.  We met up, organised things, had a super time together during their stay and became friends.  Before departing Francesca said that if we were ever in Singapore we were to come and stay.  It wasn’t so much that I was looking for a place to stay, I actually love the strange anonymity and fantasy limbo existence that staying in nice hotels seems to evoke.  I was looking for a doctor, clinic, whatever to perform the amniocentesis.  Francesca was younger than Daniel and I doubted that she would know.  However she still lived at home with her parents when in Singapore and I thought her mother, who is anyway closer to my age and has given birth to three children in Singapore, would be able to recommend a gynecologist.  I phoned Francesca.  I can now say in hindsight that this phone call turned out to be one of the single most important acts of my life.  Not because it sorted out where I would have the amneo, or produce an invitation to stay at their home that couldn’t be refused but because it would introduce me to Francesca’s mother, Michelle. 

Francesca had suddenly left for Canada so it was Michelle that picked me up from Changi Airport in Singapore.  When I asked how we would know each other she said: “I’ll be the dark haired Amazonian outside the Customs Hall”.  She is indeed tall and she does appear to be larger than life in a land of Asians (the curse of many a Western female expatriate!).  She had bobbed shiny dark hair, beautiful eyes and it is obvious that she turned from a very pretty girl into a beautiful woman.  South African in origin, married to an Australian, over twenty years living in Singapore, with much travel and many experiences under her belt her accent has ended up sort of British but mostly just educated.  I soon found we shared a common love of words and word games but Michelle also seems to have an encyclopedic mind.  She devours information of every kind and is interested in just about everything.  Another thing we have in common is that we are both extremely loud and very opinionated.  We talk over anyone, slap them down with our opinion and expect a lively debate not realising that many people are intimidated by our loudness so aren’t quick to respond.  We live in blissful ignorance of trampling over other people’s valid points of view because they are either too overwhelmed to respond, are made to believe their opinion is irrelevant or simply consider our enjoyment of lively debate a form of dispute and don’t like, or can’t be bothered with, what feels like confrontation.   Personally I can’t ever see either of us changing.  I don’t think any real friends would want us to, at least neither of us are boring (well, not often anyway).  Finally we share the same irreverent sense of humour, which was to stand us in good stead over the coming years.  By the time we had reached their incredibly beautiful home, an indication that these people were not short of a bob or two, I was already in love with Michelle and felt I had found a really good friend.  Coincidentally, and I only found this out some years later, Michelle knew Dr. Miriam Stoppard!

Michelle’s whole family was so loving and supportive but she was my rock, I can’t begin to imagine how I would have survived that ordeal without her. Through choice I strangely took up residence in their den, choosing to sleep on a mattress on the floor in front of their massive TV, which I left on constantly for company and to avoid thinking. Luckily the drive from their home to NUH was only 15 minutes.

In 1991 Daniel had popped to Singapore for his medical check up with a hyperbaric doctor. On his return I was laying in bed reading while he was taking a shower, when he walked into the bedroom and dropped his towel. I screamed: “What is that on your bottom?”

“Do you like it?” he grinned at me.

“Were you drunk?” I assumed he must have been.

“No, I asked for it.” He was inordinately pleased with himself.

Tattooed on his left buttock was a pair of bright read lips as though someone had kissed his bottom wearing deep red lipstick.

“Those lips might look alluring now but what they’ll look like at sixty on old wrinkly skin is another question.”

Obviously we were never to find that out but the tattoo did become a source of great amusement to us both. Daniel spent a total of six weeks in the ICU. Nurses rotated from bed to bed daily, in order not to become too attached to any patient as in so many cases death is the outcome. Each day we would enjoy the squealing as new nurses found the “kiss” on Daniel’s bottom during bed bath time.

As the days dragged on, turning into weeks, I started thinking about the impending christening. Obviously I had informed everyone of the accident and they were all in touch but I think we collectively refused to believe the worst. OK, to be honest that was coming from me, I refused to believe the worst, right to the very end. In hindsight I feel so sorry for Daniel’s doctor, Dr. Isaacs, a wonderful man. The number of times he’d explain everything to me and finish with things like “we have to be realistic” or “we have to be prepared for the worst”. I’d listen intently nod in all the right places and invariably answered with “yes, I understand but on the other hand….” and believe he could do miracles. Daniel also believed me as I informed him constantly that he would get better, it would simply take longer than we thought.

Nearly everyone invited to the christening was of the same opinion, they would come since tickets were already booked. Even if the christening didn’t go ahead they’d be able to visit Daniel, as he’d obviously be in recuperation by then, and still have a holiday.

I missed my babies terribly but was firmly of the opinion that they should not be brought to the ICU or even to Singapore. I have always believed babies and toddlers are cognitive sponges and will absorb emotion from those around them. They did not deserve to be absorbing the fear, apprehension and the pure panic that was emanating from me. Michelle came up with a plan as she was firmly of the opinion I needed a break and I needed to cuddle my children. She’d drive me to Tanjong Leman, we’d pick up the babies, I could check into the Pan Pacific hotel in JB with them for a couple of days and try to relax a little. I’d be well away from everything to try and enjoy them but close enough for her to come and get me at the drop of a hat should it be necessary. Meanwhile Daniel’s father had arrived and he would be by his side daily. That in itself would be interesting as their relationship was complicated to say the least. I have no intention of opening that can of worms here. However, when I wonder why Daniel was made to suffer those six weeks in hospital, instead of dying outright in the collision, it pleases me to think it might have been so that Daniel could hear his father tell him he loved him and was proud of him, something that had never been said before.

Richard’s godfather James arrived, without the family, and was desperate to see Daniel but had a slight problem, he was even more hospital phobic than Daniel. James regaled us with stories of his hospital disasters as he tried to be present for his children’s births and other occasions, we were in hysterics. Bless him he finally made it into the ICU but I hadn’t warned him he’d have to climb over tubes attached to various parts of Daniel’s anatomy to get to the top end of the bed. Think he actually made it all the way on the third attempt, his antics made Daniel laugh so much the tube popped off the tracheostomy and my shoving it back on again almost did for James completely!

Jade’s godfather Peter arrived with his wife Karen and the instant they stood next to the bed Daniel indicated congratulations were in order (I had got very good at interpreting his hands tied sign language and grunting by then). They asked what for and he indicated that they were expecting a child. Both of them burst out laughing and said absolutely no way as Karen didn’t want children. Daniel shrugged but assured me later that he was correct. Turns out they were expecting, she was about two weeks pregnant at the time with Lachlan. Can departing souls see arriving souls, I wonder?

The island staff sent us photos of the children (well, actually they sent rolls of film which we got developed, remember those days?) which Daniel and I spent ages looking at. About the middle of September Daniel asked if he could see the children. I was horrified. Things were not looking better, in fact they were getting worse.  Richard & Jade did not need the sight of their father in that ICU bed hooked up to heaven knows how many tubes, including the one coming out of his throat allowing him to breath but not talk, seared into their brains. I said I didn’t think it would be a good idea, that ICU probably wasn’t a nice place for the babies to be. He thought about it and then indicated he wanted a mirror. I realised he hadn’t seen himself since the accident and suddenly had the idea he must look terrible. I laughed and assured him he looked lovely, fetching him a mirror, and in fact he did. The jaundice gave him the look of a tan (if you didn’t notice the yellow eyes) and although wasting away his girth was still swollen so one didn’t realise how thin he’s become, his face was as beautiful as ever. His finger nails and toe nails were immaculate! A life long nail biter, this was the first time his nails had ever grown, thanks to being tied down. His constant running around bare foot meant he usually had half his toe nails broken or hanging off and they had grown as well. Sitting in an ICU watching someone sleeping most of the time can be awfully boring and giving my darling man mani-pedis helped pass the time. I know a lot of people thought I was awful not allowing him to see his children but to this day I believe I did the right thing because whenever I think of him I always see him first and foremost in that blasted bed.

On 27^th September my mother finally arrived and immediately asked me what she could do. Without a seconds thought I said she could allow me to shout at her. I know people are being kind but “how are you?” is about the dumbest question anyone can possibly ask at a time like that. You want to scream “how the **** do you think I am?!” but instead you grind your back teeth and count to ten and answer politely. I never ask anyone how they are in a bad situation, unless I add that they can tell me the truth whilst screaming if they like. I proceeded to scream at and be cuddled by my mother for some time and she took it all lovingly. Mind you, she’d had plenty of practice at stoicism. Her first husband was called up on their honeymoon and died very early on in WWII. She then got engaged to a pilot towards the end of the war and he died in a crash landing at Croydon Aerodrome. My father, a Norwegian naval man, always said he was the last man standing!

We checked mummy in at the Marco Polo hotel (I still miss it, loved the Brasserie) and went to the hospital. I remember standing either side of Daniel’s bed and having been a life long agnostic she said: “That’s it, if Daniel dies I’ll know there is no God.”

“If Daniel dies I have to believe in God or I’ll never see him again.” It was the only reply I could possibly give her.

Two significant things happened that afternoon which at the time I didn’t really understand. The first was that I was informed they felt that Daniel’s pain killer needed to be increased. The second was that as I was sitting next to Daniel he opened his eyes from dozing and for the first time in ages they seemed clear, apart from being yellow of course. They usually looked fevered from his high temperature and foggy from drugs but they were so bright I literally said: “Hello you, how are you?” He looked confused, as though he wondered why I would be asking him. He obviously wanted to be kissed and kissed soundly! I asked if he’d like to see some new photos of the babies and he looked at them happily, lovingly, smiling all the while. Then he looked tired so I kissed him again and told him to go back to sleep and watched those bright eyes closing, little realising they’d never open again.

I almost skipped out of the ICU thinking I’d been right all along, he was going to get better. I was staying at the Marco Polo with Mummy and drove over there in high spirits. Our friend Tina had arrived that day and was staying there as well. Before starting live aboard diving in the Maldives Tina had been a theatre nurse in Holland. She was literally a female version of Daniel and they absolutely loved each other. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t in the same state of happiness as me when I told her my news but she said nice positive things to me. At 1.30 am on 28^th September I sat bolt upright in bed and knew without a shadow of doubt I needed to be at the hospital with Daniel. Mummy said they wouldn’t let me in at night but I insisted I had to go. I assume she must have called Tina because I do remember she came with me. Entering the ICU is like entering a secure unit, the first door has to be opened and then closed behind you then the internal door is opened. This is all done by the nurse on the ICU reception and normally there is no way it would have been opened in the middle of the night. My worst fears were confirmed as the doors magically opened for me and the nurse said hello as though my being there was the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere in my fitful sleep I must have realised that Daniel had woken up to say goodbye to me yesterday afternoon and that his pain medication was being increased simply because there was nothing else that could be done for him other than ease his pain.

At daylight I contacted his father, who had gone to Pulau Sibu to see his grandchildren, and told him he had to come back immediately. As I hung up I saw Michelle walking towards me and asked her if she had ever organised a funeral in Singapore, she said yes and from that moment on took on the burden of informing all our guests that they would be attending a funeral rather than a christening. I went back to the ward and told the staff that I no longer wanted them to do anything that might prolong Daniel’s life, he’d fought a brave fight but had lost. As I sat with him I told him it was OK to go, I understood and we’d be fine, but he needed to wait until his father could say goodbye. George arrived at midday and said his goodbyes, obviously horrendously upset, no parent should ever have to see their child die before them. He made a speedy exit as his generation were taught it was unmanly to show emotion. I started to follow him out to comfort him but at that precise moment the monitor started screeching, I turned and watched as Daniel took his last breath, having waited to say goodbye to his father. At 12.18 pm on 28^th September 1994 Daniel Allan Colquhoun Wills died aged 29 years old.

If you have been, thanks for reading. x

P.S. For obvious reasons there will be no photos for this episode.