didn’t have any children of their own and they were adopting a local baby as soon as the mother gave birth. Just my luck to be looking after a baby again, Rubiah thought, but she accepted the job.
In the days before the birth the missus spent most mornings shopping for the baby, taking along her new amah to carry the bags. Mountains of neatly folded BabyGros, frilly frocks, bootees, bibs and nappies filled every drawer and shelf of the room the missus had converted into a nursery. The rest of the tiny garments, still in their plastic carrybags, were strewn on the floor of the baby’s wardrobe. Who would have thought a baby would need so much? In Rubiah’s tribe children didn’t wear clothes until they approached the age of puberty, and except for special festivities, adults just wore a small piece of cloth wrapped round their waist made from flattened tree bark. What a lot I’ve missed out on, she would tell herself as she pressed the ruffles on a diminutive, flounced nightgown.
Rubiah gazed with narrowed eyes at the baby decked out like a little doll in Swiss cotton, ribbons and lace. The missus had spent all that time and money buying fripperies and forgotten to purchase the one garment that was essential. Back home in the village no mother would ever leave her baby’s head exposed. Her mother had made Rubiah wear a thick woolly hat to stop evil spirits entering her head through the soft spot to steal her soul until she was more than three years old.
Carefully, Rubiah pulled the bunny rug up over the baby’s head. The tiny infant looked so sweet and innocent. No one would guess that she was a witch’s child. But Rubiah had seen the evidence with her own eyes when she had reached down to take the baby from the mother’s arms: the sign of the snake,a fearsome symbol and absolute proof the wearer possessed supernatural powers was tattooed on her neck. With a feeling of foreboding Rubiah had backed away. She knew evil spirits could leap to a new host.
But her employer had no such qualms. ‘Isn’t she sweet?’ Heather said. ‘May I pick her up?’ It was just empty civility. Crystal had no say. She had already signed over custody of the child.
Fearfully, the superstitious Dayak touched the handmade necklace she always wore. The shell amulet, finely carved with protective motifs by the village witch doctor, was guaranteed to protect the wearer against evil spirits. But from the first moment Rubiah had set eyes on the fearsome tattoo she’d known it would take much stronger magic to save her from the witch’s curse. Perhaps Dedan could help her find a witch doctor. Getting the money to pay him wouldn’t be a problem: hadn’t Roger bought her the gold anklet she’d asked for? She looked down at her delicate ankle and smiled.
Leonie turned around and looked at Rubiah nursing the baby in the back seat. ‘You should buy a baby capsule, Heather,’ she said bossily. ‘You’d be fined in Calgary if the police pulled you over.’
‘I already have. Roger’s going to install it when he gets home from work tonight.’
‘Is he pleased?’ asked Leonie.
Heather had confided that she and Roger had been trying for a baby unsuccessfully for years and had little chance of adopting back in Canada because of their age, but all the same the arrangement with Michelle Kong, her doctor’s wife, seemed unorthodox, very dodgy. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. The restof the wives in her bridge club agreed. Leonie’s three children were all at boarding school, paid for by the oil company. Appalled, she couldn’t believe any woman would hand over her baby to strangers. Heather hadn’t admitted that she’d bought the baby, but Leonie knew for a fact that money had changed hands. Roger had confided to her husband that he’d handed over fifty thousand Malaysian ringgit to Michelle Kong to seal the deal. Twenty thousand was for Crystal and thirty thousand was for the Kongs.
‘Yes, he’s over the moon,
In the days before the birth the missus spent most mornings shopping for the baby, taking along her new amah to carry the bags. Mountains of neatly folded BabyGros, frilly frocks, bootees, bibs and nappies filled every drawer and shelf of the room the missus had converted into a nursery. The rest of the tiny garments, still in their plastic carrybags, were strewn on the floor of the baby’s wardrobe. Who would have thought a baby would need so much? In Rubiah’s tribe children didn’t wear clothes until they approached the age of puberty, and except for special festivities, adults just wore a small piece of cloth wrapped round their waist made from flattened tree bark. What a lot I’ve missed out on, she would tell herself as she pressed the ruffles on a diminutive, flounced nightgown.
Rubiah gazed with narrowed eyes at the baby decked out like a little doll in Swiss cotton, ribbons and lace. The missus had spent all that time and money buying fripperies and forgotten to purchase the one garment that was essential. Back home in the village no mother would ever leave her baby’s head exposed. Her mother had made Rubiah wear a thick woolly hat to stop evil spirits entering her head through the soft spot to steal her soul until she was more than three years old.
Carefully, Rubiah pulled the bunny rug up over the baby’s head. The tiny infant looked so sweet and innocent. No one would guess that she was a witch’s child. But Rubiah had seen the evidence with her own eyes when she had reached down to take the baby from the mother’s arms: the sign of the snake,a fearsome symbol and absolute proof the wearer possessed supernatural powers was tattooed on her neck. With a feeling of foreboding Rubiah had backed away. She knew evil spirits could leap to a new host.
But her employer had no such qualms. ‘Isn’t she sweet?’ Heather said. ‘May I pick her up?’ It was just empty civility. Crystal had no say. She had already signed over custody of the child.
Fearfully, the superstitious Dayak touched the handmade necklace she always wore. The shell amulet, finely carved with protective motifs by the village witch doctor, was guaranteed to protect the wearer against evil spirits. But from the first moment Rubiah had set eyes on the fearsome tattoo she’d known it would take much stronger magic to save her from the witch’s curse. Perhaps Dedan could help her find a witch doctor. Getting the money to pay him wouldn’t be a problem: hadn’t Roger bought her the gold anklet she’d asked for? She looked down at her delicate ankle and smiled.
Leonie turned around and looked at Rubiah nursing the baby in the back seat. ‘You should buy a baby capsule, Heather,’ she said bossily. ‘You’d be fined in Calgary if the police pulled you over.’
‘I already have. Roger’s going to install it when he gets home from work tonight.’
‘Is he pleased?’ asked Leonie.
Heather had confided that she and Roger had been trying for a baby unsuccessfully for years and had little chance of adopting back in Canada because of their age, but all the same the arrangement with Michelle Kong, her doctor’s wife, seemed unorthodox, very dodgy. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. The restof the wives in her bridge club agreed. Leonie’s three children were all at boarding school, paid for by the oil company. Appalled, she couldn’t believe any woman would hand over her baby to strangers. Heather hadn’t admitted that she’d bought the baby, but Leonie knew for a fact that money had changed hands. Roger had confided to her husband that he’d handed over fifty thousand Malaysian ringgit to Michelle Kong to seal the deal. Twenty thousand was for Crystal and thirty thousand was for the Kongs.
‘Yes, he’s over the moon,
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