Penang did not feel like home any more. The place had changed, and he guessed he had too. There was no longer an air of ease and colonial languor on the streets. There was a feeling of industry. It was filled with new people rushing everywhere, with engine noise, activity. It was not the place he had known before the war.
He toyed with his food and wondered how he would go about finding Joy if she had gone to Singapore. She could be living anywhere. He had his back pay now though, so perhaps he could afford a trip down the coast to look for her.
He looked up and suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure coming down the street. It was the manager from the rubber estate.
‘Mr. Jones!’ shouted Tom, getting up from the table and waving to get his attention. The manager did not notice him.
Tom put enough money on the table to cover the meal and a tip, and then dashed out onto the street. He ran after the man and put his hand on his shoulder.
‘Ellis!’ The man was astonished. ‘We all thought you were dead. You are looking a bit skinny, I must say, but you seem to be alive at least.’ he patted Tom on the back, smiling brightly. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.’
He took Tom to a bar a few doors down from the café. It was dark and steamy, with loud music being played on a gramophone. It was packed with men. The bar girls, heavily made up and scantily dressed, were making a great deal of fuss over the customers, sitting down beside them, draping their arms around them, flattering them with dreamy looks.
They were shown to a table. They ordered whisky stengahs.
‘So, what brings you back to Penang?’ asked Jones.
‘I’m looking for a friend.’
‘Your lady friend? The one you were seeing before the war?’
‘Yes. I went to her house today. It was boarded up. No-one seems to know where the family went.’
‘There was a hell of a lot of chaos during the air raids, Tom.’ Jones sighed. ‘People went out onto the streets to watch. They thought they were going to see a dog-fight in the sky, but they were bombed or mown down by bullets.’
Tom looked at him in alarm.
‘She said they were going to Singapore.’
‘Perhaps they did. Is there anyone else you could ask about her whereabouts?’
Tom sipped his stengah and thought about it.
‘I suppose I could go to the school where she worked. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before. I’ll go first thing in the morning’
Jones looked at him steadily.
‘Would you like to come back to United Rubber when you’ve found her? We’re really short of manpower. We could do with someone experienced like you, Tom.’
Tom looked into his drink for a moment, considering the offer.
‘I’m intending to marry Joy, if she’ll have me. Would that be a problem?’
Jones leaned back on his chair and laughed.
‘You mean because she’s Eurasian? Things are changing here, Tom. The old pre-war prejudices are a thing of the past. As far as I’m concerned it wouldn’t be a problem in the slightest.’
They held their glasses up and drank to the future, then two bar girls brought them more drinks and squeezed in to the seats next to them.
The one next to Tom put her arm around his shoulders and started stroking his face. She was heavily made up and could not have been more than sixteen.
‘You so handsome,’ she purred.
Tom felt uncomfortable. He only wanted Joy, not this little Chinese girl who would go with any man for the price of a meal.
Jones was obviously enjoying the attentions of his own girl, who had now progressed to sitting on his lap and running her hands through his hair. His eyes were fixed on her breasts, bulging with lust, his face flushed with the pleasure of anticipation.
Tom finished his drink and stood up.
‘I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Jones. I think I’ll get an early night. Maybe see you tomorrow.’
His bar girl pulled a face and grabbed on to his sleeve to try to stop him, but he shook himself free from her grasp and walked quickly out of the bar, and back to the guesthouse.
The school had not been touched by the air raids. Tom walked into the front hall the next morning, when he knew that lessons would be in full swing. It looked and smelled exactly as it had done that morning in 1941 when he had last come looking for Joy. There was even the same grey-haired woman on the desk.
She looked up. Tom thought he saw a flash of recognition cross her face.
‘Can I help you, sir?’
‘I’m looking for Miss Joy de Souza. She was a teacher here. I was wondering if you knew her whereabouts.’
The woman looked flustered. She got up from her seat.
‘Could you step this way, please, sir?’
She beckoned him towards the office and left him at the door while she slipped inside and whispered something to a woman seated behind a desk.
‘The headmistress will see you, sir,’ she said, coming out and sidling back behind her desk.
Tom stepped inside the office. It was painted white and was very bare, with a picture of the crucifixion above the desk. The headmistress, a tall thin woman, stood up and shook his hand.
‘Are you a relative of Miss de Souza?’ she asked.
‘No, a friend. I’ve been a prisoner of war. I haven’t seen her since 1941.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
She hesitated for a moment, watching his face. Then she looked directly at him and said, ‘I’m afraid I have some very bad news. Miss de
