One day the Ripper came striding across the clearing. He tore away the corrugated iron and bamboo from the top of the pit and bent down to peer at Tom’s face. Then he poked his shoulders and chest several times with a bamboo cane as if Tom were a pig being prepared for slaughter. He was obviously not pleased with what he saw. He frowned, and shouted at the guards, lashing out at them indiscriminately with his cane, jabbering orders at them. In his fevered state, Tom was confused. What did all this mean? Were they going to take him out and shoot him? Tom tried to blank out his thoughts.
As the Ripper stomped back to the guard house, Tom allowed his mind to drift again. It took him back to the day after he had first met Joy at the museum. He remembered that he had telephoned Millicent in the morning and arranged to meet her at the club.
When they met in her private suite, he had told her that their relationship was over.
At first she thought he was joking. She sat there, lounging on the white sofa, smoking her cigarette, eyeing him with scepticism.
‘What on earth has brought this on?’ she asked when she had begun to realise that he was serious. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘No,’ he said, looking down at his hands. It was the truth, but not the whole truth.
‘Are you sure? I think there is. Who is it? Betty Tranter? Jane Gibbons? I’ve seen those tarts eyeing you up. They’d love to get their hands on you.’
‘No, Millie. It’s nobody. I just think we should end it because … Well, because it has been wonderful, but it is going nowhere. You have to agree.’
‘So what? That didn’t matter to you at first,’ she said, sitting forward, anxiety displacing the mocking look her face usually held.
‘Look, Tom,’ she went on, stubbing out her cigarette. He was surprised to see that her hand was shaking, ‘I haven’t told you this. Perhaps I should have done. But you mean a lot to me. You’re not like the others. You know, I really think that I’m in love with you. Come on. Let’s go to bed and forget all this silliness.’ She moved towards him, but he stepped away.
‘No, Millie. I mean it. I’m fond of you, of course, but I’m quite serious. It has got to end.’
She began to cry, to let out great shrieking sobs that racked her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks. It shocked Tom. He had not thought her capable of feeling this way. He put his arm round her shoulder and passed her a handkerchief. She cried for a long time, but eventually her sobs subsided and with an effort of will she pulled herself together.
‘I’d like you to go now, Tom,’ she said quietly.
He left her, but he felt uneasy. He had completely misjudged the situation. And he had a feeling that she wouldn’t leave it there. But as he drove away from the club he felt a huge weight lifting from his shoulders.
The next day was the day he’d been waiting for. It was the day he had arranged to drive to Joy’s house and collect his jacket. The manager of the plantation, Jones, had sold him an old Morris a few months earlier. He drove up through the town to the outskirts. The house where Joy lived with her parents was in Pulau Tikus, the cramped Eurasian quarter on the edge of town, and it took him some time to navigate the maze of streets and find the right one. The shabby wooden houses were built close together on concrete piles, surrounded by patches of bare earth where grubby children played. When she saw his car drive up, she came out onto the porch to meet him. A small crowd of children followed her out to stare at him. She shooed them inside, but Tom could see that they were still watching them through the slats of the louvered doors.
She was holding his jacket, and handed it to him with a smile.
‘It’s all done,’ she said. ‘As good as new.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiled back at her as he took the jacket. She looked just as lovely as when he had first set eyes on her. She stood there on the shabby porch in a pure white dress, her hair pulled back as before. She seemed to Tom the picture of serenity.
‘Aren’t you going to look at it?’ she asked with curiosity.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ He made a show of inspecting the jacket. There was no sign of ink anywhere.
‘Please thank your friend for me. He is very clever. He has done a wonderful job.’
He stood, staring at her still, transfixed by her. She smiled at him, puzzled.
‘Was there something else?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I was wondering … I hope you don’t mind my asking, but would you like to come for a drive with me? We could go up to Penang Hill?’
She blushed a little then looked down.
‘No, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I have to look after the children. My mother is out at work.’
‘Oh, well, perhaps another time?’
This time she looked him in the eyes. She had recovered her composure. He held his breath, waiting for her reply.
‘Yes, Saturday is my day off. If that would be convenient, I would
