‘I prefer to make up my own mind.’
‘Good. Because I’m hoping we’ll get along.’
‘I’m sure we will.’
They sat down to tea with home-baked scones and the conversation turned to Jasmine. Miss Helston confirmed that she had settled in to her new school and was already a popular member of the class. ‘Jasmine’s bright. A bit shy, but growing in confidence every day. She loves singing and is a fast learner. I’d be a happy woman if all my pupils were as delightful as she is.’
‘I’m sure her father will be pleased to hear that.’
‘I don’t know Mr Barrington, but I did know his late wife slightly.’
‘Really?’ Perhaps now Evie would get a different perspective on her predecessor.
‘I didn’t know her well, but you seem different from her. Felicity was part of a set – most of them weren’t my cup of tea at all. Talking of tea, can I top you up? Or offer you another scone?’
Evie declined. ‘I heard Felicity was very popular.’
Miss Helston raised her eyebrows. ‘Was she? I wouldn’t know, as I wasn’t part of that crowd. But I did hear she hated Penang. Terribly homesick for England. Some of the wives struggle to adapt here. Of course, it’s easy for me to say that, having spent most of my life here.’ She gave an apologetic smile. ‘But it’s hard to adjust if your heart is in another country. The climate can be trying for them – not just the heat and the humidity but the fact that it never changes. Always hot every day. Lots of the mems miss the seasons. And a few of them struggle to grasp even the few basic Malay phrases you need to get by here..’
It was hard for Evie not to feel daunted by that herself.
Noticing her expression, Miss Helston hurried to add, ‘Most of them get used to it in the end. Wait here a moment.’
She hurried out of the room and returned with a book. ‘Take this, I have no need of it. I learnt Malay as a toddler from my amah. It’s a dictionary called Malay for Mems. Everything you’ll need is in there. Try a few phrases at a time and you’ll soon build up your vocabulary. Even the Chinese and Indians know how to speak Malay so it’s essential for communicating with your servants. And we Europeans tend to pepper our sentences with Malay words.’
‘I have picked up that the tuan is the boss and I know I prefer a pahit to a stengah.’
Miss Helston laughed. ‘Nothing like getting your priorities right. You certainly won’t get far in Malaya without knowing what your favourite tipple is.’
‘Thank you so much, Miss Helston. That little book will be an absolute godsend.’
‘And there are many compensations to living in Penang. The beaches are beautiful. And it’s cooler up in the hills. People enjoy living standards that are much higher here than they’d have in England. And the flowers and plants are stunning.’ She leaned forward. ‘Have you been up to Penang Hill?’
Evie shook her head. ‘I haven’t really been anywhere yet. Just short walks around George Town. I’m finding the heat exhausting.’
‘You’ll soon acclimatise. And up on the Hill it’s much cooler. Maybe we could go together. There’s a little train to take you up. The views are stunning. You can see the whole island.’
They arranged to meet the following week. As Evie and a reluctant Jasmine were leaving, Miss Helston said, ‘And please call me Mary.’
‘I’m Evie.’
They shook hands and Mary’s face beamed with pleasure. ‘I’m so pleased to have met you, Evie.’
Mary Helston had not exaggerated about the panoramic views from Penang Hill, which turned out not to be a single hill but a whole series of them. When they got off the funicular railway, Evie saw George Town laid out below them. Beyond the town was the narrow stretch of water which separated them from the mainland, and a cluster of small islands. The view across the Straits to the Kedah Peak took Evie’s breath away. The crystal waters of the Straits were speckled with fishing boats, and the mainland was draped with the pale silvery green of distant paddy fields. She gazed out across the panorama and decided she had never seen anything so beautiful. All around them they heard the ceaseless susurration of cicadas and the trilling of birds. Even the trees were explosions of colour. Tulip trees – the flames of the forest – framed the views with their vibrant orange flowers like upturned claws. Evie wished she were a painter.
Mary told her the area had been developed by the British colonial settlers, seeking a refuge from the blistering heat of George Town.
In the shade of the tall hardwood trees, they ate the little savouries and slices of cake that Aunty Mimi had prepared for them. Mary pointed out landmarks and told Evie how the funicular railway had only opened fifteen years earlier. Before that, if someone wanted to get up here they had to climb up – unless, like the wealthy British and Chinese, they could afford to pay for half a dozen coolies to bring them up in a sedan chair.
They chatted for a while, Evie fascinated to hear about the history of the settlement. After some time, a lull in the conversation encouraged her to ask the question that had been on her mind.
‘Do you know the Leightons?’ she asked, certain of the answer. ‘Veronica and Arthur.’
Mary’s lips stretched tightly. ‘Everyone knows them.’
A brief silence followed and Evie was thinking perhaps she shouldn’t have raised the subject, when Mary continued. ‘May I be frank?’
‘I’d expect nothing less.’
‘He’s all right. In fact he’s rather a good egg. But she’s not someone I like at all. In fact, I loathe Veronica Leighton with every fibre of my being.’ She brushed an insect off her skirt.
‘Well, that’s a relief. You’re not alone in that. I can’t bear her either.’
Mary frowned. ‘If I were you, I’d give her a very wide berth.
