2
Evie took to life on board as though born to it. Blessed with a gentle passage through the Bay of Biscay and safely into the Mediterranean, her good humour was aided by the absence of Veronica, who remained confined in her cabin. Even the gentlest of swells evidently made her nauseous.
After they passed the Straits of Gibraltar, Veronica emerged on deck briefly, only to retreat again, pale-faced and gaunt. Her hair lacked its previous lustre and her eyes were devoid of make-up.
In contrast, Evie loved the rise and fall of the ship and experienced no nausea. On dry land she was liable to trip over the slightest obstacle but at sea she coped well with the need to brace herself and find her balance.
When the ship reached Port Said, Evie felt the thrill of the Orient in the chaos of bumboats surrounding the ship. The gully-gully men and souvenir sellers clamoured to make deals, selling everything from trinkets and fruit, to slippers and camel-leather bags. In between the traders, young boys dived into the waters to retrieve coins flung to them by passengers.
The ship bunkered here – taking on board coal to fuel the next leg of the voyage. Even this operation seemed exotic, as Evie watched small, wiry, Tamil coolies scamper up and down, carrying heavy baskets of coal on their heads.
Port Said was an opportunity to go ashore to shop at Simon Arzt – the emporium where East met West. Passengers disembarked to restock their tropical clothing, including the pith helmets that were de rigeur throughout the British Empire. It meant Veronica put in another brief appearance – like many habitueés she had stored some of her lightweight clothes there, and intended to replace them in storage with the furs and heavier clothing she had needed for the British winter and spring.
By the time they entered the Suez Canal, Evie was wishing the voyage could go on forever, partly because of her growing trepidation about how Douglas would receive her in Penang. She was terrified he would regret his hasty offer of marriage – perhaps even withdraw it and send her back to England with her tail between her legs. The prospect of becoming step-mother to a little girl was also daunting. Having no siblings and no friends or relatives with young children, Evie had little or no knowledge of what it took to bring up a child – and her own experience with a cold and distant mother was a poor preparation.
Traversing the Suez Canal gave her another insight into the increasing foreignness of the world beyond Gibraltar. It was peculiar to be sitting on the deck, under a sunshade, as the ship sailed through the middle of the desert. Egyptian traders with camels and donkeys, men in small boats, villages with flat-roofed concrete dwellings like children’s building blocks, minarets, palm trees, and everywhere the pale yellow sand of the desert.
Since Port Said, Arthur Leighton had been occupied for most of the day with a heavy burden of paperwork, and by night he often dined in their cabin with his wife. Evie walked the deck with him in the late afternoon and now and again joined him for a pre-dinner cocktail. She took her own dinner in the wood-panelled dining room, where she was seated with an elderly couple travelling to India to visit their son and daughter-in-law, and a missionary and his wife, headed for Burma. Occasionally, if Veronica was sleeping, they were joined by Arthur, who proved to be an excellent dinner companion, helping the conversation flow – presumably a skill essential to his profession.
While they strolled together on the promenade deck, Arthur told her something about his life and asked about hers. There was no sign of the judgemental attitude his wife had demonstrated – Arthur took a friendly interest in Evie and gave no indication that he found her life mundane or worthy of pity. She was unaccustomed to spending time with members of the opposite sex – Mrs Shipley-Thomas had rarely received guests and when she did they were other women. But Evie felt comfortable and relaxed in Arthur Leighton’s company and they enjoyed easy and amicable conversations.
One afternoon, while leaning against the rails at the stern of the ship, watching the ship’s wake, she found herself telling Arthur about what had happened to her father. ‘I had no idea that Daddy had done anything wrong. He worked for a bank and they claimed he was diverting client funds into his own account.’
‘You believe he was wrongly accused?’
‘I did at first. It was too painful to think him capable of such wrongdoing. But the evidence was incontrovertible.’
‘I’m sorry, Evie. That must have been tough on you.’ His eyes were full of concern.
‘It was awful coming to terms with the fact that my father was a thief. Even though he probably didn’t see it that way himself. I expect he thought making a few false entries on a ledger was a less heinous crime than committing a burglary.’ She shrugged ruefully. ‘A gentleman’s crime. His death was the final proof for me that he was guilty.’ She looked out to sea. ‘He left a note confirming his wrongdoing. Said he’d been overcome by greed. But I think it was more about fear that he was going to lose my mother.’
Arthur looked at her with a quizzical expression.
‘Mummy was romantically involved with an American man, Walter Winchgate. He’s stinking rich. Something to do with oil. When Daddy found out she was having an affair, he must have thought he couldn’t win her back unless he could offer her the same kind of life that Winchgate could.’ She shook
