‘Well, that’s just a precaution, surely. It’s not serious. Singapore is impregnable. Everyone knows that.’
‘And there are Jap spies everywhere,’ Barry continued. ‘Haven’t you noticed? They are all over the place: in the barbers, in the tailors’ shops, in the doctor’s surgery. They’re spying on us to get information for an invasion. You people really are naïve.’
Douggie laughed uneasily and slapped Barry’s back.
‘Now I know you’re paranoid, Cliff, old man. My advice to you is to have a couple more whiskies and forget all about the Japs.’
And Douggie expressed the view of virtually all the ex-pats on Penang. Life went on exactly as it had for years: one long round of tennis and drinks, and dances at the club. They felt untouchable. The rubber industry was booming, supplying the war effort in the West, and the estates were all working to capacity.
They read the news of the Blitz in the papers with interest, but with a creeping feeling of guilt. Here they were, leading the Lotus Eater’s life, when back at home people were dying. It seemed hardly credible, under the endless sun and in the comfort of their pampered existence. Tom was concerned about his parents, living in central London, but a letter arrived from his father, informing him that they were leaving to stay in Dorset with his sister for a while, and that Tom was not to worry.
It was a few months later that Tom first met Joy. He was still seeing Millicent then. They had slipped into a routine of meeting twice a week, more often than that if Sir James happened to be away. Tom was beginning to tire of the whole thing. It irked him that they had to be so discreet, and that the relationship was ultimately finite. He felt stifled by the constraints it imposed on him, trapped by the secrecy.
One weekday morning he happened to be in Georgetown. He had to visit one of the go-downs on the docks to find a spare part for some machinery on the estate. The man he came to see was delayed on the mainland, so he decided to kill some time by wandering around town.
It was sweltering on the main square. It was almost midday, and the sun was reaching its full height in the sky. Crossing the square, he happened to notice the museum. It was a long low building with arched windows and columns adorning its white facade. Having nothing else to do, he wandered up the flagstone steps, under the shady portico and in through the open door.
It was cool inside the vaulted hall, under the whirring fans, and he took his topee off and wandered around the displays. A portrait of Sir Stamford Raffles and a massive statue of Sir Francis Light, the founding father of Penang, dominated the room. Tom stared at the statue for a while, before walking up the wide stone staircase to the upper level.
A school party of excited Malay and Chinese children dressed in blue and white uniforms appeared at the top and started to swarm down the stairs. They were chattering and shouting, pushing each other and jostling for position. Tom stood aside and waited for them to pass. But as the last group clattered by, one of the little boys, who was holding a fountain pen, flicked it in Tom’s direction. A shower of ink flecks appeared on Tom’s white jacket.
‘Hey! Wait a minute,’ he shouted, but the boy had already run off with his friends, shouting with laughter. Tom turned round, exasperated. He was proud of that jacket. The Chinese tailor had run it up for him only the previous month, and it was cool and comfortable.
Then, suddenly, a young Eurasian woman was standing in front of him, tearful, full of apologies.
‘I’m so sorry, sir. He is my pupil. He will be punished severely.’
Tom looked at her. Even in the heat of his anger, he was struck by her beauty. She was truly exquisite. Her face was delicate and fine boned, with creamy skin, full lips and slightly tilted eyes, brown and soft, now brimming with concern. Her shiny black hair was swept back from her face.
Tom tried to put her at her ease.
‘No, please don’t worry. It really doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, but of course it matters. That jacket looks new. I know someone who will be able to remove the stain. The school will pay. Please let me take it just for a day or so. I will ensure that your jacket is as good as new.’
She spoke in a precise way, enunciating every word carefully, as if English was familiar to her, but not her first language.
She held out her hand, and automatically he slipped his jacket off and gave it to her.
‘If you are sure it is not too much trouble. I could easily have it cleaned myself.’
‘No, no. This person is a friend of my family. I assure you, it will be very easy for me.’
He gave it to her, not because he particularly wanted her to get the jacket cleaned, but because he knew that this would be a way to ensure he got to see her again. And that was suddenly very important to him. He knew he would do anything he could to get to know this shy, delicate girl. And he also knew, with sudden clarity, that it would be impossible for him to continue seeing Millicent anymore.
17
Tom had ceased to register the passing of the hours. He no longer even knew whether it was day or night, or if he had survived another day in the pit. He had stopped bothering to watch the routines of the camp. He would open his eyes at random and see the stars twinkling above the ragged jungle skyline, or the sun burning overhead, the officers digging the latrines on the other side of the camp.
He realised he
