She examined her little boy’s face, trying to identify any feature of Douglas. He had inherited his father’s dark hair, and his eyes were the same blue, but it was impossible to detect anything more. Evie told herself that something would become apparent as the baby grew up. Besides, there was no discernible evidence of her in the baby either. She hoped Hugh would grow up to look exactly like Douglas – those dark good looks would stand him in good stead – but not that he would inherit his father’s melancholia or his inability to express his feelings. No, she had to make sure of that.
The heat was oppressive, with no breeze. Evie had a sudden overwhelming need to get away from the house, to escape the tragic air that Aunty Mimi and Benny were projecting, to escape the constant reminder that Doug would never again stand on the veranda outside the drawing room with a stengah in his hand. She picked up the bassinet and went inside where she transferred Hugh into his pram, and told Aunty Mimi she was going out for a while.
As she went to open the front door, there was a knock. It was Arthur Leighton.
‘You’re going out?’ he said. ‘I came to say goodbye. I’m driving back to Singapore today.’
‘I was going for a walk. I can put it off.’
‘No, don’t. May I walk with you? Where are you heading?’
‘There’s a little Taoist temple I like to visit.’ Until the words came out she hadn’t realised that was where she intended to go.
They began walking.
‘Is that the one near the Fort? The Temple of Harmony? I know it well. Outside is chaos and inside it’s an oasis of tranquility.’
‘That’s it exactly. A very peaceful place. There’s a monk there who once gave me some advice. I was hoping he might be able to give me some today.’
‘What did he advise you about?’
She hesitated then decided to tell him. There was something about Arthur that made it impossible to hold anything back from him. ‘It was after I found Doug with that Malay woman. The monk helped me find a way to forgive him, to give our marriage another chance.’
Arthur said nothing.
‘I was thinking he might have some words of wisdom for me about how to cope with being a widow while still in my twenties.’
Arthur’s lips tightened and a nerve twitched at the edge of his mouth. He turned to face her. ‘Evie, I wish I could make everything different. I wish I could be here with you all the time, to support you.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been a rock for me. I couldn’t have got through the funeral without you. And those last hours at the hospital.’ A tear ran down her cheek. How was she going to cope, without Douglas and now without Arthur too?
They walked along a quiet, tree-lined street, Evie pushing the pram with Hugh still fast asleep inside. Abruptly, Arthur stopped and pulled her into his arms. He crushed her against him and she could feel the beating of his heart through his white cotton shirt. ‘I love you, Evie, more than life itself. I’ve tried to make it otherwise but I can’t. And now, seeing how lost and lonely you must be feeling, all I want is to be with you. To make things better for you.’
’Don’t,’ she said, a surge of anger running through her. ‘Your best friend is barely in his grave and you’re saying things like that.’
‘I’m saying them because I have to say them. Because of Doug dying like that. So unexpectedly. So quickly. It’s made me realise how fleeting life is and how important it is to grasp hold of the possibility of happiness.’ He drew her closer. ‘I love you, Evie, and you know as well as I do that we’re meant to be together.’
She pushed him away. ‘Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more.’
He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Evie, listen to me. I love you. Desperately. Totally. Completely. With every fibre of my being. I realise while I’m still married to Veronica I have no right to say this to you, but I want you to know that I am going to find a way to free myself. Being in that rest-home is helping her. I just need to give her some more time. I know I can convince her she’ll be better off without me–’
‘Stop it! I told you. I don’t want to hear this, Arthur. What kind of woman do you think I am? My husband has just died. You’re still married. And I don’t want to hear any more about your bloody wife.’ She took hold of the pram again. ‘Now go. Now!’ and without waiting for an answer she moved away, walking at speed from him, without looking back.
To her relief he didn’t attempt to follow her. She felt herself shaking as she pushed the pram. The baby began to wail, perhaps sensing his mother’s distress. Her legs were like jelly, so she stopped and sat down on a bench, taking her baby into her arms to comfort him.
Why was life so damn hard? What would Douglas feel? His best friend declaring his love to his widow, just a day after he was buried.
The truth was her anger was with herself even though it was directed at Arthur. She was consumed with guilt. Yes, she missed Douglas. Yes, she grieved his death. She wanted him to be here for his children. She wished he hadn’t died. Yet what Arthur had said was true. She loved him body and soul and yes, yes, yes, she knew they were meant to be together.
The rain began. A typical Malayan shower, arriving without warning and often ending just as quickly. It started with light drops that refreshed the oppressive air, before rapidly turning into a
