In the Red


by Sheena Oo




Sungai Petani? We come from the same home town.

She looked up from the middle distance, past the tawdry trinkets swinging above the dashboard and caught the taxi driver’s eyes in his rear-view mirror. It had been incessant all the way up from the airport. Where had she travelled from? How long had she lived there? Where did she originally come from? All seemingly innocuous questions but ending up with her giving away far more information than she would have liked. And now, what school had she gone to? Mae looked away without answering and wiped the sweat from her brow, her face flushed. Readjusting to this oppressive Malaysian heat always took time. If only it would rain and clear the air.

“Business or pleasure, ma’am?” he continued, craning his neck to look at her in the carefully angled mirror.

“Both,” she replied.

“Ah, your friends and family will be glad to see you again.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will.”

She slid along the traditional patchwork mats covering the back seat, closer to the window on the opposite side. Mother had had these handmade rugs at the front door of the old house, years ago. Ever-increasing circles of rosy warmth welcoming you home. They had just passed Jalan Scotland at its intersection with Jalan Macalister and would soon be nearing Gurney Drive - the final leg of the journey through the heaving hordes of Friday commuters returning to the island. Another half hour of this. She turned the aircon towards her face. Stay calm, Mae. Breathe.

‘Hallo, hallo, I have a fare, lah. I’ll call you back... Teenagers! What would they do without technology? Not for us: we had to make our own games.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ she said.



The games they had played when they were young. But only when studying and chores were completed. On the rare occasion, when her eleven year old self did get free time, she would set up the congak board with small stones dug from the dusty path or, if she’d managed to save some paper, she would make tiny paper clothes with tabs to press onto cut-out paper dolls. She sometimes played with Lin - the older girl, who lived in the house across the way - but it never ended well. There was always some argument or another. Once, Lin and her friends had asked Mae to play but had started whispering and sniggering at her. Incensed, Mae had lifted their dolls, thrown the rubber toys in the middle of the road, and had run off. Of course, Mae’s mother had had to deal with the angry parents. What else could she do? She had to stand up for herself. After that, Mae mostly sat alone at the side of the road, watching.



They were now in the midst of Persiaran Gurney and the island was coming alive: swarms of mopeds with riders clad in back-to-front jackets darted in and out the spaces between cars and buses; tourists in their droves were crossing busy roads and gravitating towards the many rickety food stalls - various bits of wood and metal haphazardly held together - lining the roads in and around the seafront. Signs for steaming hot Char Keow Teow, Laksa, and Nasi Goreng tantalisingly beckoned the crowds towards the flaming hot spices spattering from the stalls, spices so pungent that, when you got close and breathed them in, they would catch your throat and choke you.

‘Same old Gurney, lah?’

‘Yes, looks like it.’

But it wasn’t the same. Each long day and each long night; year in and year out, the seasons merged into one and the hawkers’ stalls were still standing. But, life itself never stood still; people had come and gone. That certainly had been the case with Mae’s family and friends. They’d all moved on in life: some better; some worse. And Lin? What had become of her after they’d left school? Joined the family business, no doubt.



‘More money than sense, that Lin,’ Mother had once said. ‘Always had everything she ever wanted. A charmed life, that’s for sure: no getting up at 5am to make curry puffs to sell at school; no having to collect firewood every morning; no worrying if there was going to be any dinner. But, easy come, easy go. Her money poured from her pockets like grains of rice from a sack. And no surprise - she soon squandered her inheritance. The last I heard, she was working in her husband’s coffee shop.’

‘So lucky. Don’t know how he puts up with her,’ Mae had replied.

‘I know. And to think she looked down on me for selling curry puffs. How the mighty fall. She’ll get her comeuppance some day, that girl.’

There had been no easy route for Mother, especially after Father had died, and certainly no safety net. But Mother had been prepared to do whatever it took to support her family. She worked hard and had been able to send Mae to continue her education abroad. When life got better for Mother, she was always willing to lend money to others to help them out. She always got it back, of course, with interest.



‘Looks like the Ah Long forced them out,’ the taxi driver said, casting a glance at a small battered metal food cart stumbling onto the road. Behind it, creeping black dampness was crawling over discarded tables dropped in the dank darkness, and grimy upturned plastic chairs were hiding in the shadows. Faded puce paper lanterns - which had once welcomed in the Chinese New Year - hung shamefully from the low corrugated iron roof, daubed with the trademark bright red paint of the loan sharks.

‘Poor people. It’s never a good idea to get mixed up with them.’

‘Absolutely,’ she said.

Why couldn’t he just shut up? Mae rubbed her forehead trying to loosen the tight band of her rain headache and, from the corner of her eye, she could see the taxi driver turning his head in another feeble attempt to make conversation. Why couldn’t he let her be? Deep breath, Mae. It wouldn’t be long now: once they got onto Jalan Tanjung Tokong, they would make better time. She was still on schedule and would be there well before the arrival of her old friend.



Mae hadn’t particularly wanted to meet up with Lin the last time she had been home either but there had been no getting out of it. A chance comment about her holiday on WhatsApp had led to lots of her so-called friends wanting to meet up, Lin included. Most had accepted her excuses. Lin? She just wouldn’t take no for an answer. We’ve all come such a long way since those days. We’re all adults now. We should let bygones be bygones. And so, Mae had found herself sitting in a coffee shop in George Town, listening to Lin prattling on about her problems.

Her husband had been working away and, for weeks, there had been silent phone calls. Yes, it had made her feel uneasy but that was not the worst of it. One evening, whilst she was preparing a meal, three men had run towards her house shouting, “You have been warned.” Red paint splattered over the front door grille and bled profusely onto the step and inside tiles. She and the children were screaming. There was no doubt about who it had been. Her husband had borrowed money from the Ah Long and now they were demanding it back. But, she couldn’t pay; the sharks started to bite harder. A note written in red marker appeared in her mailbox: ‘MAUT MENANTI KAMU!’ ‘DEATH AWAITS YOU!’ Yes, the police had been called. Yes, they’d check for prints and interview neighbours. Someone must have seen something. But, realistically? There was nothing they could do about it. They’d have to catch the perpetrators in the act. It was impossible. Her neighbours had already given money to help her out of a tight spot but her husband had clearly borrowed more than what he had initially admitted.

Mae drew in her breath, bit her tongue, and slowly exhaled. Her instincts were telling her not to get involved. She certainly didn’t owe Lin anything. But the truth of the matter was that loan sharks could turn nasty and Mae was in a position to help. Wasn’t she? What would Mother have done? Of course, she’d help out. Yes, she’d lend the money. After that, Mae had heard no more from Lin.



‘People worry about the Ah Long but that’s what’s putting us all out of business,’ the taxi driver said. He nodded towards the soulless grey concrete giant of a supermarket sitting to the right of the road, its neon signage a beacon in the darkness.

‘Yes, didn’t there used to be houses here? Small shops?’ she asked.

‘Crushed. The bigger monster crushed everything in its path.’



How hard it was for people to scrape a living here. Ever since Lin’s disappearance, Mae believed Lin to be no different. She had just been a poor local fighting for survival. Trying to get her life back on track. Hadn’t she? And now, she had unexpectedly surfaced again, made contact and insisted that they meet. She needed to talk to Mae. Mother had said before to let the bitch sort out her own problems but this time Mae knew it would be different: she would sort it out once and for all.



The road was starting to get steeper now as the taxi negotiated the narrow twists and turns of Jalan Batu Ferringhi. On one side of the road, the rocky landscape reached high towards the heavens above; on the other, there was the deathly drop down to the depths of the Andaman Sea. Low rumbles of thunder growled in the distance, signalling the start of a storm sweeping to shore.

Bright, blue tarpaulins were already stretched over metal frames perched on the kerbs at the start of the Pasar Malam. The night market was in full swing: strip lights, wired up to nearby street lamps, illuminated the stalls; and buzzing electric fans were blowing air, instantly gulped down by the monstrous heat. Hawkers were trying every trick in the book to make a sale; customers were haggling for a bargain. Cardboard makeshift covers over drain grates trapped the sewers’ stench and people with burning skin, sweat dripping, were squeezing past each other in narrow walkways and spilling onto the road amidst revving of car engines, bumbling of mopeds, and ringing bells of garishly lit trishaws. How easy it would be to fall into the path of the traffic and... Two forks of lightning carved into the blackened sky and held it with the sharp focus of a photographic image. In that instant, Mae knew for certain that it really was survival of the fittest. A loud roar of thunder filled her ears. The storm was only a few miles away.



‘I knew it was her the minute I heard her voice,’ Mother had said. ‘The lying witch. She and her friends were having a right laugh. How easy it was to rip off someone: tell the sob story; collect the cash; and disappear for a while. Mae, there never were any loan sharks. You can’t let her away with this.’



Mother was always right. Wasn’t she? Mae should have listened but it no longer mattered now. The storm was overhead and the wind was furiously shaking the leaves of the casuarina trees; large drops of rain were punching the parched pavements. Seven more minutes and she’d be there, observing Lin as she made her entrance. Lin would take a seat in the lounge. She would rehearse the story she had concocted about not being able to repay the money. She would practise her smile and perhaps prepare a tear or two. Mae would see all of this but it had already paled into insignificance: it was payback time. ●





Author Bio
Sheena Oo is an English teacher and writer, originally from Rutherglen and now based in East Kilbride. She is currently working on a short story collection and her first novel. A keen observer and listener, her writing is inspired by the experiences and predicaments of ordinary people.
/// t: @SheenaOo_888