Missed the blog deadline again, sorry. However, this time it’s because I don’t quite know how to undertake writing about 1994. To quote Mr. Dickens: “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”, the best being the birth of our darling daughter Jade and the worst being Daniel’s untimely and tragic demise. I appear to have two main methods of dealing with what the universe throws at me; firstly I have developed an irreverent sense of humour and secondly I use what I call the ostrich method of life, that is I bury my head in the sand and simply carry on regardless with apparent stoicism and scant regard for finance. When I talk about the tragic events of that year my listeners can see the reality behind my eyes, my humour or flippant story telling can be seen to be what it is, a cover for the enduring pain and emotional devastation caused by the loss. The same words on a page cannot convey that but I do not apologise for keeping this blog light, it is meant to be fun, and let’s face it, some of the best comedy ever is gallows humour!
In rereading 1993 I realise I completely forgot to relate the fact that Daniel decided he hated the resort business. I believe it was in the April or May that he sat me down in the restaurant and very seriously told me that he was awfully sorry but this resort malarkey really wasn’t for him. Essentially this life was the stuff that young single chaps dreams are made of and that now, as father with a second child on the way, this was not what he should be doing or where we should be living.
A quick aside here for all of you that are thinking Sea Gypsy is a perfectly acceptable place for a couple with pre school children… it is NOW. In 1993 we were still trying to clean up a filthy cockroach, rat, snake and mosquito infested piece of land with wild dogs running all over the place. With no reliable communication and only a 40hp boat to get us to the mainland in all weather conditions living with babies in that environment can also be worrisome.
I controlled my natural instinct to beat him about the head screaming “I told you so!” and asked him what he thought he might like to do now? He had absolutely no idea but would “start looking seriously”. If I’m honest I didn’t pay an enormous amount of attention to all the ideas and possibilities, as long as it meant moving off an island to somewhere with infrastructure (oh to have mains electricity, air conditioning and running hot water!) I didn’t care. Daniel was a grafter, he was always the first up and would happily labour outside till sundown and then carry on working inside until bedtime. A qualified commercial diver as well as scuba diving instructor, he was an underwater photographer, a paramedic and, believe it or not, a potter. He was handsome, charming and well educated and finding work would not be a problem, I trusted him absolutely. Nancy’s fun companionship and baby whispering skills meant I didn’t mind his absences during the week in order to find whatever it was he wanted to do.
Fast forward to 27th January 1994 and Jade Victoria Hali Wills entered the world twenty minutes after we arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night. You will probably (not) remember that Richard was born at 8.20 p.m., a sensible time as one can then have a jolly good nights rest and leave hospital the following day. In fact Richard was always an easy baby, from seven weeks old he slept from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., as long as you fed him all day he slept all night. He rarely cried and was generally happy and smiley. I remember Nancy asking me when I got pregnant again so quickly: “But what if you have a normal baby this time?” I was blissfully unaware of what she spoke.
By March 1994 we were back on Pulau Sibu but without Nancy, who had gone back to her London life, nannying for the rich and famous. I was learning what it was like to have a baby that thought being awake during the night was great fun and if you didn’t want to join her… well what else were we given a good pair of lungs for? The battle lines were drawn! My darling girl never changed, she never understood why it was ok for adults to tell her what to do. That is until, ironically, she started nannying & tutoring in London whilst at university, heaven forbid she would ever let a child not listen to her.
Having two babies back to back at the age of 40 would be pretty tiring at the best of times but add to that contending with nature on a daily basis, plus helping to get a fledgling resort up and running, and I required some help. Whereas I needed Nancy the year before as a teacher, now all I needed was an extra pair of hands occasionally. Luckily our lovely house keepers Pai and Mai adored the children and loved helping to look after them, as did our boat driver’s wife Azi, who fell in love with Jadie baby and constantly wandered off with her. However, at some point a lovely Finish girl named Paivi came to be the children’s nanny. I’ve been wracking my brain to think how, why and exactly when, since I already had help and we weren’t that busy, but I cannot for the life of me remember. Apparently the gods knew that we would be in need of her and so she came into our lives.
Talking about contending with nature made me think of a story that happened in 1993 but I don’t care, I shall digress. Richard was sitting on the floor in our house when I saw him put at millipede in his mouth, or a songololo as we used to call them thanks to our South African partner. Horrified I told Nancy to take it out. Even more horrified she told me I didn’t pay her enough money to take it out. I pointed out that she had shorter nails so she should do it, and so it went on as we both stood looking at Richard, who was too young to understand the words “spit it out”. Before either of us did anything he swallowed it and carried on playing. I recall looking at each other, shrugging and then ignoring the whole thing. As I mentioned before, the ostrich method of life, jolly handy in situations of that sort.
While Daniel was still on the search for a new (ad)venture, for marketing purposes he was still very much in touch with old contacts from the Maldives, bringing us two large groups of divers that year, one from Germany and one from Italy, and his network of friends in the area of his youth, Malaysia & Singapore. One of those friends was the current Sultan of Johor, or TMJ as we knew him in 1994. They often went diving together as he owned a very snazzy kelong (traditionally a fish farm on stilts in the sea) off the coast of Pulau Tinggi, visible from our beach. Out of the blue Daniel announced that they were going into business to run the kelong as an exclusive getaway. OK, but how would that get me and the children off the island, all it would do is add to Daniel’s work load. I assume you can hear the echo of my nagging even now? Well, after much preparation and an expensive photo shoot for the brochure (no drones for aerial shots in those days), where the male model didn’t turn up and Daniel had to step in, the project was dropped and the bookings cancelled. I do know why but I have no intention of sharing that with you here, however you can see the nice brochure I kept as a souvenir.
When it came to religion Daniel and I were 180⁰ diametrically opposed as with most things in our lives, in our case the old adage that opposites attract was certainly true. I didn’t get my religious beliefs from my parents, rather from being sent to a High Church of England primary school and a Church of England grammar school thus quite naturally making it part of my every day life. Not to mention the fact that from a very young age until teen years I had been packed off to church every Sunday morning with my brother and my cousins. It never occurred to us it was a simple way for the parents to have some piece and quiet on a Sunday morning. Besides, we enjoyed the social side of church and were all cubs, brownies, scouts & guides and the youth club was the only mixed socialising we got to do as we all went to same sex schools. The only thing Daniel believed in was nature but he said if he had to be anything he’d probably be Buddhist. Having been married by a registrar in Sri Lanka the question of religious ceremonies had not come up before. However, I felt strongly about having any children christened and, since the subject was firmly categorised by Daniel as not worth arguing over, we serendipitously decided to take the choice of godparents very seriously.
I’ve just remembered more strange but true stories (the first being the fire and the sea witches, keep up!) so more digression. Strolling along Kurumba jetty in the Maldives to go and play tennis with my friend Julia she asked who Richard’s godparents would be. Julia was British but we’d met in the Maldives and as far as I knew we didn’t have any mutual friends in the UK. I told her a school friend of Daniel’s and a school friend of mine, both of whom were British. She then inanely asked their names, I asked why, was she expecting to know them and we burst out laughing but I told her anyway, James and Margaret. She used to hang out with the godfather’s older brothers when growing up! Seriously what are the odds? We chose an Australian friend of Daniel’s, Peter, to be Jade’s godfather, and a lovely girl Daniel knew from growing up in Singapore, Francesca, who we’d reconnected with in the Maldives, to be the godmother. Standing on the driveway at Francesca’s parent’s home in Singapore as Peter’s taxi arrived, her mother, Michelle, started laughing. I had never met Peter before but as he got out of the car he was also laughing. I watched, amazed and confused, as they fell into each others arms greeting each other effusively. I heard Michelle ask after Peter’s mother only to find out that they were such good friends the families had often spent time together when the children were younger and that Peter and Francesca had grown up together. Daniel and I had absolutely no idea they even knew each other… freaky or what?!
In April 1994 I headed to Singapore to make arrangements for the christening, choosing St. George’s. It’s a lovely church I’d come across when walking as it’s near the British Embassy and the Botanic Gardens. I was incensed when the vicar refused to christen Richard & Jade on the grounds we were not regular church goers. How could we be when we had been living on islands in Muslim countries for the last 9 years? Did the fact I listened to the BBC world service church service every week count for nothing? What happened to “suffer the little children” and surely the whole point was to welcome children into the church even if their parents should happen to be philistines? The chap would not budge and I returned home extremely vexed, which absolutely galvanised Daniel into action. He wasn’t having some vicar refuse to christen his children and upset his wife, he would sort it! True to his word he found a lovely vicar at St. Christopher’s Anglican Church in Johor Bahru who actually agreed to come to Pulau Sibu and conduct the ceremony. We set a date for the end of September and sent invitations out all over the world, deciding to close the resort to guests for a few days. Family and friends would all come to see our new home, meet the babies and party. I was so excited, it was all going to be such fun!
Finally in June Daniel got a job offer he did want, the Manager, water side, of a new multi million dollar project in Desaru called Sebana Cove Marina. It incorporated so many things he enjoyed, was well paid and came with a house on the golf course, a car and expenses. It was close enough to Pulau Sibu for us to be able to retain an interest in Sea Gypsy but allowed for us to have a proper family life. I also loved that it was right next to Tanjung Belungkor and the Changi car ferry, therefore easy access to Singapore, family and friends. My only condition was that during the transition period Daniel must come back to the island at weekends to be with us, this was non negotiable. He promised me he would, since the Marina still wasn’t open it shouldn’t be a problem, and agreed to start in the July.
The very first weekend he popped home for a day, I was not thrilled. The following weekend he did come home but was distracted and I knew he wanted to be at work (probably needed to be at work but I didn’t want to hear that). The third weekend he told me he had to work and I was extremely cross with him. Remember, no mobile phones with FaceTime, WhatsApp, etc. and no email to fire off angry missives. So when our partner Russell strolled up to me on the beach around 2.30 p.m. on Sunday afternoon and told me that I was not to worry but “Daniel had come off a jet ski and cut his nose and chin” I was absolutely furious. If he had time to go out jet skiing he had time to come home to his family! Serves him right if he fell off!! What was he doing on a jet ski anyway, he hated the damn noisy things? I continued playing with the children on the beach, seething with righteous indignation that he had not come home. I calmed myself down by acknowledging that on the other hand my darling husband had made me supremely happy and I finally had it all. An incredibly loving marriage to a wonderful man, who now had a job that would allow me to be a stay at home mum for our two gorgeous children, living in a super new house in a beautiful setting at the Marina. Life simply didn’t get any better, yes, I certainly had it all. I softened, smiled and continued playing happily with my babies, blissfully unaware that my long awaited dream life had actually been shattered at 2.30 p.m. that very afternoon.
An hour or so later Russell came and told me that Daniel had been taken to a clinic because they thought he might have “cracked a rib”. I still wasn’t too concerned, he was after all superman, a great big strapping chap, it would take more than a few cuts, bruises and a cracked rib to stop him.
At about 6 p.m. another call came in to say that they “thought he might need an operation so they were on their way to Kota Tinggi Hospital”. That was the point at which the alarm bells went off in my head, not the least because Kota Tinggi Hospital is a complete misnomer. I called SOS in Singapore immediately, told them about the accident and gave them contact details. I asked Paivi to take charge of the children, grabbed an overnight bag and the car keys and jumped on the 40hp. I remember arriving at Daniel’s bedside and being shocked at the pain he was in and the size of his swelling girth. He kept begging me to puncture his stomach as he felt it was going to explode, stupidly I wondered if that was a thing, since I knew they did it to cows. Long story short SOS was sending an ambulance to take Daniel to the Johor Specialist Hospital in Johor Bahru where they had a surgeon standing by. I wanted to take him straight to Singapore but they assured me that the Specialist Hospital was “on their list of approved hospitals” and inanely I agreed.
I will never, ever forgive myself for agreeing. I knew that Singapore had the best medical care and we’d always agreed that if anything ever happened to any of us we would go straight there. Had we done that he would have survived. I’m not saying he would be alive today, he was rather like a cat using up his lives but he would have survived that accident.
We didn’t get to the hospital until midnight, so a crucial ten hours after the actual accident. Having done an x-ray and an ultrasound the surgeon informed me Daniel had ruptured his spleen and he’d operate immediately. I didn’t need to wait, he’d be fine. Of course I would wait! I sat down outside the operating theatre and not long afterwards the anesthetist came out and handed me Daniel’s signet ring. I held my hand out to take it but before he dropped the ring he looked me straight in the eyes and said; “this operation is going to be much more complicated than expected, it’s going to take some time”. He put the ring in my hand but I kept watching his face, he looked horrendously worried. I slipped Daniel’s ring on my wedding finger (I never wore my wedding ring on the island as it had a sapphire & diamonds and I was frightened of losing it in the sea). I promised myself I wouldn’t take the signet ring off until Daniel was wearing it again.
They finally finished at 5 a.m. The surgeon beamed at me and told me all was well and I should “go back to the island and my babies” Daniel would be fine. I went to the Pan Pacific, checked in, had a shower, made some phone calls and headed straight back to the hospital. Daniel was alone in a side ward, he was awake and he was still groaning with pain, I was horrified. I asked for the surgeon to be called, I wanted to speak to him. He eventually came, lifted and looked at a tube coming from Daniel’s side, said it was fine, not to worry, I should go home. I asked if he couldn’t be given something for the pain, he acquiesced and called the anesthetist to come and give him an epidural pain killer, since the nurses on this ward weren’t trained to do it, then left. The same Singaporean anesthetist from the operation came (did these chaps never sleep?) and immediately apologised that there wasn’t a bed in intensive care as that’s where Daniel should be. Why? The surgeon has just told me he was going to be fine, I could go home. I will never forget his answer: “Surgeons can be very… erm very… well… simplistic. You have got to get him out of here, now.” It suddenly dawned on me what he was saying, if I didn’t get Daniel to Singapore he’d die. I called SOS immediately and informed them we had to transfer Daniel to Singapore.
“We’ve just spoken to the surgeon, he says Daniel is fine.”
“Well he isn’t, I have the anesthetist with me and he says he’ll die if you leave him here.”
“We need to speak to him then.”
I held the phone out to the anesthetist but he shook his head; “I’m not allowed to say that.”
“Please, I’m begging you.”
He took the receiver and told them what needed to be said to get them to send an ambulance posthaste. He then decided to move heaven and earth to get Daniel into intensive care until they arrived, which he did. I have never known the gentleman’s name but he was a credit to his profession under very difficult circumstances.
Please forgive me if I stop here, I’ll finish 1994 in episode 5. If you have been, thanks for reading. x
