The Other Side of Paradise (6 page)

Beyond the twinkling lights of the Causeway, a thunderstorm was brewing up over the peninsula: glimmers of sheet lightning and the rumble of thunder sounding like distant guns.

She said idly, ‘But what if the Japs didn’t come from the sea? Supposing they came from the peninsula instead?’

‘Oh, they’d never try that. The jungle’s virtually impassable. A snake couldn’t get through.’ He grinned at her. ‘Leave it to the Royal Navy. We’ll take care of you.’

‘Britannia rules the waves?’

‘Definitely.’

‘There’ll always be an England?’

‘Oh, absolutely. And that’s a very beautiful dress that you’re wearing, by the way.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And you’re a very beautiful girl.’

She let him kiss her before they went back to the Mess. He was rather good at it – just as he’d been good at dancing.

The restaurant on the fourth floor of Robinson’s department store was one of the most popular places in Singapore to meet for morning coffee. Milly was waving frantically from a table.

‘I thought you weren’t coming, Susie. I’ve been here ages.’

‘Sorry. I got delayed.’

In fact, she’d been having a Saturday morning lie-in after a party the night before.

They ordered coffee and biscuits from the waitress.

Milly said, ‘Look, there’s that smug cow, Phyllis, showing off her engagement ring. Who on earth would want to marry
her
?’

‘Some chap in the Gordons, apparently.’

‘I pity him. He couldn’t know how awful she is. Do you remember how she used to sneak on us to the nuns?’

She remembered it very well, and the punishments that followed: the wooden ruler six times across the back of the hand, the hundred lines, the extra prep – all thanks to Phyllis. They’d got their own back once by shoving her head down the lavatory and pulling the chain.

Milly took a chocolate biscuit, waved it around casually. ‘I’ve been out with Geoff a couple of times lately.’

‘Geoff?’

‘You know – the Aussie doctor at the Alexandra. You met him at our house, remember? He took me to Raffles for dinner one evening and to the cinema. I’ve invited him to play tennis at Tanglin next weekend. Would you like to come too? We could see if Vin could partner you.’

‘Just so long as you don’t ask that other one. Ray whatever-he’s-called.’

‘Why are you so against him?’

‘I’m not against him, I just didn’t like him.’

She’d spotted several of the ladies who came to her mother’s fortnightly luncheons. Lady Battersby was only three tables away – poker-straight in her chair, navy crêpe dress, leghorn straw hat on her head, pearl choker round her plucked-chicken’s neck. You didn’t wave to someone like Lady B.; if you were in favour, she would incline her head in your direction. If you weren’t, she simply wouldn’t see you.

‘His name’s Ray Harvey,’ Milly said. ‘Geoff told me that he’s a very good doctor.’

‘I still don’t like him.’

‘He’s tall, dark and handsome.’

‘He may be tall but he’s not particularly dark and he’s not at all handsome.’

‘
I
think he is. Haven’t you noticed his eyes?’

‘No.’

‘They’re a gorgeous colour. I think he’s jolly attractive.’

‘You’ve no taste in men, Milly. That’s your trouble.’

‘Well, anyway, Geoff’s super.’

‘He’s a colonial. He speaks with that ghastly twang.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I bet your parents do.’

‘Actually, they don’t. They like him a lot. And I think you’re being rather beastly, Susie.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t really mean it. I’m sure Geoff’s very nice.’

‘So you’ll come over for tennis?’

‘If you want.’

‘Thanks. Have a biscuit.’

She took a digestive, nibbled round the edge. ‘How’s it been at the hospital lately?’

‘Rather good fun, actually. There’s not much to do. Mostly malaria cases, or snake bites, or appendicitis, or cuts gone septic … that sort of thing. We had one soldier who’d shot his foot off by mistake – that was gruesome.’

‘Where do they all come from?’

‘Some from Singapore, but most of them from the peninsula. The one without the foot was stationed at Kota Bahru and we’ve had a few from Kuantan and Johore and several from Kuala Lumpur. They bring them down to Singapore by train and then ambulances pick them up from the station.’

‘Who drives the ambulances?’

‘Army chaps mostly. Sometimes it’s volunteers – you know, do-good
mems
. Why do you want to know?’

‘Just curious.’ She nibbled a bit more. ‘Milly, does your father ever talk about the Japs?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, does he think they’d ever attack Malaya?’

‘Oh no. He says it’s much too well defended. And the Jap soldiers aren’t any good at fighting. About as good as the Italians, he says. In other words, useless. Have another biscuit.’

‘I’m still eating this one. And you oughtn’t to have any more – you’ll put on even more weight.’

‘I don’t care. Geoff doesn’t like skinny women. He likes them with some fat on them. Did you know that Aussies call girls sheilas?’

‘They would.’

‘They’ve got different words for lots of things.’

‘I’m sure they have. It must be like a foreign language.’

‘But I’d love to go there one day. It sounds a wonderful country. Geoff says the outback’s amazing. You can drive for days and not see a single soul.’

‘How incredibly boring.’

‘You’re being beastly again, Susie.’

‘Well, it sounds awful.’

‘It isn’t. Not according to Geoff.’

‘He’s used to it.’

Lady B. had turned her head and the leghorn straw in their direction and was inclining it graciously. Susan smiled back very politely at the old trout. ‘Are you going to the Tanglin dance tonight, Milly?’

‘No. We’ve got people coming to dinner, worse luck. Friends of my parents. Are you?’

‘If my mother hasn’t got one of her heads.’

‘What are you going to wear?’

‘Haven’t decided yet. I’ve got a new dress I quite like. I might wear that.’

‘You’re so lucky, having so many lovely clothes.’

It was true: her wardrobe was crammed with them. The only problem was choosing.

* * *

Ghani stopped the Buick at the entrance in Stevens Road and the
jaga
opened the door, bowing. Susan was proud of the way her parents looked as they walked up the steps into the club. Her father, tall and handsome in his white dinner jacket, her mother elegant in a long grey georgette gown – all smiles and in one of her good moods.

Nick’s Tanglin Six were playing in the ballroom, people already dancing. It wasn’t long before some chap asked her. He was in mess kit and his face rang a bell, though she couldn’t remember his name.

‘Roger Clark,’ he said. ‘We met at the Chambers’ and then ran into each other by the pool here.’

The penny dropped. This was the eager puppy dog. ‘Yes, of course. How are you getting on?’

‘Rather well, actually.’

He’d lost his just-out-from-England pallor and he looked very hot. Men always suffered badly in evening dress if they weren’t used to the heat.

‘You come from Esher, don’t you?’

He seemed very pleased that she’d remembered. ‘That’s right. Though I must say it seems absolutely miles away.’

‘Ten thousand miles, more or less.’

‘It’s not the distance so much. It’s another world out here, isn’t it? Absolutely fascinating. I do think Singapore’s the most marvellous place.’

‘Have you been across to the peninsula yet?’

‘No. What’s it like?’

It was eight years since they had left the Malay mainland for Singapore but the memories were still vivid to her. The sprawling bungalow built on pillars; rooms leading out of rooms to more rooms. Shady verandahs, creaky fans, stone bathroom floors with a drain hole in the middle, washing water kept in big Shanghai jars, beer and soda kept cool down the well, the night cries of wild animals in the jungle beyond the garden, the slow-moving, muddy rivers, the distant view of mountains like castle ramparts against the sky.

She could remember her father taking her on visits to rubber plantations: acres upon acres of glossy-leaved rubber trees, planted in endless rows. Watching the Tamil tappers working the trees and cutting into the bark to harvest the sticky liquid. Attap native huts built on stilts, brown-skinned women squatting over open cooking fires, their children playing in the dust, their babies slung up in saris from beams. Goats, chickens, pariah dogs and the soft-eyed cattle. The scorching sun and hard-baked earth. Hot air pressing down like a blanket. The curry spice aroma of the cooking, the stench from the smokehouses of latex being turned into sheets of brown rubber. Swimming in a jungle pool beneath a waterfall and being shown tiger pawprints in the dirt close by. None of it very easily described to an Englishman from Esher.

She said, ‘Well, it’s different from Singapore. Mostly rainforest – except where it’s been cleared for the plantations and along the coasts. Lots of rivers, not many towns, and lots of
kampongs
.’

‘
Kampongs
?’

‘Native villages.’

‘Yes, of course. I hope they don’t mind us being around.’

‘The Malays are very gentle, peace-loving people. Very friendly.’

‘Well, I expect they know we’re here to defend them. I say, this is a jolly good band, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s very good.’

After a bit more dancing, he said, ‘I hope it’s not too much of a cheek but is there any chance of you coming out with me one evening?’

She felt rather sorry for him, so far away from England and Esher. And he was easy to deal with, unlike some men.

‘All right. If you like.’

He beamed at her. ‘That’s most awfully good of you.’

Another man came up and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

‘Excuse me.’

‘Sorry?’

‘This is an excuse-me dance, old boy. If you don’t mind.’

‘Gosh … is it? Sorry, I didn’t realize.’ Roger let go of her reluctantly. ‘See you later, then.’

She foxtrotted away with her new partner.

‘This isn’t an excuse-me at all, Denys, as you very well know.’

‘Desperate measures are required when there are so many of us chaps and so few of you lovely girls.’

She had first met Denys Vaughan at Raffles. She’d been dancing with an RAF pilot when he’d barged in with exactly the same lie. Gingery hair, toothbrush moustache and a lot of nerve. He was an officer in the Straits Settlement Police and one of the hordes of young bachelors who hung about hopefully at dances. At Raffles they congregated in a corridor off the ballroom known as Cads’ Alley, trying to grab a dance partner. He practically lived at Raffles, he’d told her, and had a splendid arrangement with the maître d’hôtel for any food leftovers to be wrapped up and handed discreetly to him at the end of an evening. Otherwise he survived from dinner party to dinner party. He had no private allowance and making ends meet was always a problem. Terrible pay, he complained, and a grim little house in the compound of Divisional Police Headquarters.

She said, ‘I haven’t seen you at a Tanglin dance before. Isn’t Raffles more your stamping ground?’

‘I came with the Governor’s ADC. He’s an old chum of mine from schooldays. There’s a party of us but none of the girls is a patch on you, so as soon as I spotted you here I made a beeline.’

If he had had long moustaches instead of the toothbrush, he would probably have twirled them. ‘Won’t the other girls be offended?’

‘Can’t help that.’

They danced a rhumba after the foxtrot. He danced energetically, regardless of the heat, and with a lot of complicated footwork. There were better dancers but they weren’t as amusing.

Towards the end of the evening everyone joined in a conga, led by the band round and round the ballroom in a long, snaking line, down the stairway, round the swimming pool and back up to the ballroom again for the last dance – ‘Goodnight Ladies’. It was followed by the roll of drums heralding God Save the King, when everybody stood to rigid attention.

Denys reappeared at her side. ‘We’re all going on to Government House. How about coming too?’

‘Government House? Are you serious?’

‘The ADC’s quarters there. I told you, he’s a chum of mine. Free drinks. Free fags. Midnight dip in the pool. Jolly good fun.’

‘What about the Governor?’

‘On an official visit upcountry.’ He winked. ‘The cat’s away, so the mice can play.’

‘I’m supposed to be going home with my parents.’

‘Tell them you’ve been invited to Government House. That’ll do the trick. And I’ll take you home later.’

‘In a rickshaw?’

‘Certainly not. A chap I know has lent me his car while he’s away.’

He went with her to find her parents and gave a faultless performance of a responsible, reliable young man.

‘I’ll see her safely home, sir. You can count on me.’

Her father frowned. ‘I think I’ll send Ghani.’

But her mother was on her side – Denys had made sure of that.

‘He’s promised he’ll escort her back, Tom. I’m sure we can trust him.’

In the borrowed MG, Denys said, ‘It’s the magic words Government House. Mothers love to hear them.’

‘You mean you often take daughters there?’

‘Whenever the occasion arises.’

‘When the cat’s away?’

‘Usually. But not always. The old boy’s rather decent about it, actually. So’s his missus. They turn a bit of a blind eye to us when they’re in residence. I even get invited to the odd dinner party there as well – to make up the numbers, so to speak, thanks to my old school chum. He sticks my name on the end of the list and I’m in. Free grub and booze. I make myself agreeable to the ladies and I know which knife and fork to use.’

They roared through the entrance gates, Denys waving cheerily at the guard, and followed the other cars up the carriageway towards the great white palace on the hill. Pediments, porticoes and colonnades, surmounted by a rooftop flagpole flying a huge Union Jack. They went in through a side door to the ADC’s sitting-room-cum-office on the ground floor, making quite a din.

‘Have a drink.’ Denys pressed a tall glass of something greenish into her hand.