White Sands of Summer

by J. H. Fletcher

  Did she trust him? Truly trust him? She must, if she loved him. If she did not, the only option was to walk away.

  Except when he had something to say, Brandon didn’t talk much, but that was all right; she knew too many people who talked and had nothing to say.

  Back in her flat, Jess looked at the stained walls, the single window. Stirred by the sluggish fan, even the air in the little room was cramped. She opened the window and the wind entered, its smell ripe. Of drains and secrets? Of opportunities lost and won? No way to know; she shut the window again, shutting out the stink, shutting out the world.

  That night she lay in the hot darkness. Grace’s betrayal had left a void filled with her heart’s blood. Trust and love, once lost, were hard to regain.

  She was waiting for a sign, with no idea what it might be.

  In the darkness she felt the walls of the flat drawing tighter and tighter about her but, turning restlessly on her side, she saw through the window a flicker of lightning. A storm was on its way.

  It came at two in the morning, the dark hollows of the night fractured by the crackle and glare of lightning, the avalanche of thunder.

  Jess threw on some clothes and went out into the rain. Within seconds she was drenched. The streets were empty of people, the monsoon drains swirling torrents. Fall into one in a storm like this and you’d drown, but Jess was unafraid. She turned and turned again, arms outstretched, exulting in the storm she could feel lifting the lid off her world.

  It was time to move on, not from the flat but from her present self, to start sculpting the clay of her future life. She would not be graduating for another three months but beyond the confines of her present existence challenge loomed. Its voice was louder than the thunder yet still she held back. It was indeed time but she would wait. Brandon filled every horizon of her life, but she would wait.

  You are frightened to commit, she told herself. You need reassurance.

  Singapore might be only a few miles north of the equator but the torrential downpour had still chilled her. She stood under a hot shower until she was warm, towelled herself dry and went to bed. She was asleep within minutes.

  A thunderous knocking on the flat’s only door woke her.

  Every day of the year in Singapore, it got light at seven o’clock. It was just getting light, therefore just before seven, when she slipped on a robe and went to see who had woken her.

  It was Brandon. He said: ‘I think we should get married. What do you think?’

  Brandon told her that he loved his job but had hated his life. Yes, there had been women, but they didn’t matter. What mattered was today and tomorrow, and for a long time they had been dark.

  ‘I was not meant to be alone,’ he said.

  Yet he also told her that because of things that had happened to him in the past he had trained himself to be cautious, not to trust too easily, for fear that he might find himself once again like an empty glass in a dry room.

  To hear Brandon talk like this moved her almost beyond bearing, a fellow-feeling that removed her lingering doubts and left her naked before him, willing and indeed grateful for the chance to revisit the realm of love and trust she had thought denied to her forever.

  If he had not accepted the invitation to the New Year party; if she had not seen him by the fountain in Mr Tan’s house or at the café (she’d never told him she’d hunted him down); if she had not poured water into the empty glass…

  If, if, if.

  ‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…’ he said. A song of hope, of trust renewed. He was not religious, he told her, but liked the music of the words. ‘I would like you to share that music with me,’ he said.

  ‘I would like that,’ she said. ‘And of course I want to marry you. But I’d sooner wait until I graduate. That’ll be at the end of the year.’

  ‘For you I’ll wait forever.’

  He spoke in such a way, half-laughing, that she couldn’t be sure whether he was serious or not. And it mattered; she was startled to discover how much.

  ‘It’s only a few months,’ she said. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  That startled her, too, that she who had been determined to give her heart to nobody should now be so anxious not to offend. Yet it did not trouble her; there was happiness, too, in submission.

  ‘Mind? I’m delighted. You’ll graduate with honours, land a top job and keep me in luxury the rest of my days. A kept man,’ Brandon said with relish. ‘That’s what I’ve always wanted.’

  Which didn’t stop her moving in with him after first paying a visit to a doctor in Raffles Place to obtain advice on contraception. She found it an embarrassing, unpleasant business, but nevertheless a necessary one. Better safe than sorry was a good motto where unwanted pregnancies were concerned.

  Ever since Jess had arrived in Singapore, she and Shannon had made a point of writing to each other every month: friendly, gossipy letters, not saying much but important because it kept them in touch with each other. Now Jess had something to tell her sister and did so, not in a letter but a telegram.

  Shannon’s response came by return.

  Congratulations. So happy for you. When is the date of the wedding?

  Jess wrote Shannon a long letter, saying how she and Brandon had met and how they didn’t intend to get married until the new year.

  I want to get graduation out of the way first, she wrote.

  She said nothing of her plans after getting married. Since the company had sponsored her she wouldn’t have blamed Shannon for wanting her back in Australia straightaway but she was trying to avoid making a commitment. Madeleine Tan – the only person who was in the know about Brandon Graham – had mentioned that her father had asked to be informed how well Jess did in the final examination.

  ‘Why should he care about my results?’

  ‘I do not know. But my father does nothing without a reason.’

  ‘You’ll graduate with honours,’ Brandon had said, and she did.

  She finished the course, completed the final challenge – the selection and preparation of a seven-course Cantonese banquet for a panel of leading Chinese chefs – and on 31 January 1951 was informed she had pipped Madeleine for the top spot in a graduation class of twenty-three.

  1951–52

  Jess

  Jess Harcourt and Brandon Graham were married on Saturday 14 April 1951 at ten-thirty in the morning at St George’s Church in Minden Road, Singapore. Work had just begun on replacing the church’s stained-glass windows, missing since the Japanese occupation of the island, and guests had to weave their way past scaffolding in order to reach their seats.

  ‘Chaos,’ said Brandon, who had become more vocal since the engagement and was sensitive to such concerns. ‘People will think it’s a joke. That we’re a joke. They’ll laugh when they remember.’

  ‘I prefer to think of it as triumph in the face of adversity,’ Jess said.

  To Jess, none of that mattered. The first most important thing was that she was getting married; the second that Shannon and Hal had flown up on the Constellation flight out of Darwin to be with her on her big day.

  ‘So wonderful you were able to make it,’ Jess said. ‘I never thought you’d be able to spare the time.’

  ‘For my sister’s wedding? How could I miss that?’

  It had been Shannon’s first flight.

  ‘How did you find it?’ asked Jess, an old hand who had made the trip up and back three times by then.

  ‘Noisy and uncomfortable. But there was a party feeling about it, which was nice. And the buffet meal was great.’

  They had booked in at Raffles Hotel, which was convenient, because that was where the reception was being held, in a private room that Brandon had arranged.

  ‘What are your plans?’ Shannon with a glass of champagne in her hand.

  ‘A short honeymoon, then back to work.’

  ‘Back to work where?’

  ‘I always assumed you’d want me
in Australia. You sponsored me, after all.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Shannon said. ‘Aaron was talking about Hong Kong but we won’t be ready to move there for years, if ever. But the word is that planning restrictions will soon be eased on the south coast. If that happens, we’ll be starting large-scale development of the land we own down there. There’ll be one hotel, possibly two, and I’d like you to get involved in the restaurant design. But we’re talking at least two years down the track and it occurred to me it might be a good idea in the meantime if you could get some hands-on experience at an up-market Chinese restaurant, here in Singapore. What d’you think?’

  ‘A Chinese restaurant in a Chinese city… Why would they want an Australian chef?’

  ‘Because you graduated top of your class at the culinary school.’

  ‘I suppose I could ask around,’ Jess said.

  Perhaps she could have a word with Madeleine, she thought. Maybe her dad could find a place for her in one of his hotel restaurants. But she could not think why he should do that if he knew – as he surely must – that eventually she would be heading back to Australia.

  Well, she could but ask. Madeleine was at the reception so she had a word with her before heading out. Madeleine made no promises but said she would speak to her father.

  Bride and groom enjoyed a brief honeymoon in a villa at the far end of the Upper Thompson road. The villa belonged to one of Brandon’s friends and overlooked the waters of the Straits. They spent three happy days and nights there before heading back to the city, Brandon to return to work, Jess hoping to find a message from Madeleine.

  There was no message.

  Jess wasn’t sure what to do. She waited twenty-four hours, then rang Madeleine at home.

  She could hear the smile in Madeleine’s voice as she asked whether Jess had had a good time. Jess knew her friend was anxious to hear everything she was willing to tell her. Spilling secrets, especially forbidden secrets – what were close friends for? But in reality there was nothing much Jess could tell her; there were certain experiences in life that one could find out only for oneself.

  ‘Words can’t describe it,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to wait until it’s your turn.’

  She asked if Madeleine had spoken to her father.

  ‘He’s been away. I talked to him last night. He said to tell you he would send a man to bring you to him.’

  ‘Did he say when?’

  ‘I did not dare ask,’ Madeleine said. ‘When he is ready, he will send.’

  Two days later Jess was sitting by the stone fountain in the hotel garden. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and hot, and the sound of the fountain brought a delusion of coolness to the humid air.

  A waiter came.

  ‘A man is asking for you.’

  She walked through to the reception area where a Chinese man was waiting. He was elderly, little and deferential, and said he had come to take her to Towkay Tan Yew Kim at his office. A car was waiting.

  The car was large, black and shiny with polish. The elderly man sat next to the driver with Jess in the back. The car turned right out of the hotel along Beach Road, drove to Raffles Place and down Chulia Street towards the canal. The air was ripe with the smell of decaying matter as they turned into a side alley and drew up before an inconspicuous door in a row of shophouses.

  Whatever Jess had been expecting, it was not this.

  The elderly man got out and knocked on the door, which opened to reveal two tough-looking men wearing white singlets, with guns strapped to their waists. They gave Jess a look-over before waving her through. The elderly man leading, they climbed a flight of steep stairs to another door behind which was a large office with numerous white-shirted clerks working at desks. An abacus clicked. A young woman wearing a cheongsam led Jess to an inner office and indicated by signs that she should wait.

  Alone in the empty room Jess sat down and looked about her. The room was plain, paint peeling in one corner, and simply furnished. No pictures on the wall or on the plain desk. A filing cabinet and two straight-backed chairs, the wooden floor uncarpeted. Through a narrow window came the harsh cries of street vendors.

  The door opened. Madeleine’s father was as she had seen him before: spare in build and of medium height, with a firm-fleshed face and watchful eyes. Once again he was wearing a long-sleeved, open-necked blue shirt and grey pants and had a large turquoise ring on the middle finger of his right hand. He brought with him an aura of silent power, of command. He walked to the chair behind his desk and sat down. He gave Jess a hard look.

  ‘My daughter tells me you would like to work in one of my restaurants. Why is that?’

  ‘I believe it will be useful for me to gain hands-on experience in an actual restaurant.’

  ‘No doubt it would. But what does your sister have to say about that?’

  ‘She favours the idea.’

  ‘And you believe this hands-on experience will be useful to you when you go back to Australia?’

  ‘I think it will be useful to me wherever I am.’

  ‘And why should I be willing to employ you, to give you the experience you say you need, if you intend to leave me and go back to Australia?’

  Jess’s eyes met his. ‘Because I graduated top of my year at the culinary school?’

  ‘Well, well. We shall see if the school did you any good.’ Mr Tan sat back in his chair. ‘Two hundred dollar a week,’ he said.

  ‘I was thinking three-fifty.’

  ‘Two hundred dollar. End of year, look again at situation. Maybe pay more, maybe not. Maybe get rid of you.’ His eyes were implacable. ‘Take or leave,’ he said.

  Mr Tan had said he would review her situation at the end of the year but after six months in the kitchen at one of his smaller restaurants he called her in, said that the reports on her work had been uniformly favourable. He was planning to open a Cantonese restaurant at the Mandarin, his flagship hotel in Orchard Road, and needed an assistant chef.

  ‘We are intending to build an international image so you would be ideally suited to the job. We can discuss terms, should you agree. Please let me know within two days whether you are available.’

  ‘I must speak to my sister first.’

  ‘She make decisions for you?’

  ‘No, but I am indebted to her.’

  ‘If you join me it must be for two year minimum,’ Mr Tan said.

  ‘I’ll tell her.’

  Madeleine came to see her at Raffles. She’d heard the news from her father and was delighted, both for Jess and herself.

  ‘It’s not definite yet,’ Jess said. ‘I must get Shannon’s OK first.’

  ‘I am certain your sister will agree.’

  ‘I hope so. I’d welcome the challenge. But what I don’t understand is why he hasn’t offered you the job.’

  ‘My father intends I should marry a man he knows in Malaya. My father plans to set him up in business. He believes he will be the right husband for me.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘I don’t know. Good man, I hope. I’ve never met him.’ She looked at Jess shyly. ‘I was just wondering what it is like to give your heart to a man?’

  ‘You don’t. You can’t. My heart is still here, in my body, still beating. If it stops beating you die. You can’t give it away.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Yes, she knew. Madeleine wasn’t really thinking about giving her heart, or the sexual act, either – everybody knew about that – but the emotional and physical response that came with it. The trouble was it was an intensely personal experience, impossible to describe, and there was no guarantee Madeleine would feel the same, anyway. As she’d told her before, she would have to find out for herself.

  As far as the job was concerned, it sounded as close to perfection as she could get. It would fit in well with Brandon’s ambitions, too, with his hoping to become general manager of Raffles Hotel one day.

  Everything depended on how Shann
on thought about things, so she phoned her that night and told her about Mr Tan’s offer.

  ‘How do you feel about it?’ Shannon asked.

  ‘I’d like to do it. I’d learn a lot. But I’m committed to you, Shannon. If you want me to come home, I will.’

  ‘Don’t do that. Is Brandon OK with your staying on?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘Two years, you say? I think that would fit in with our plans quite well.’

  ‘Then I’ll do it.’

  ‘Good. And keep in touch. Let me know how things go.’

  Jess phoned Mr Tan in the morning and told him she’d take the job. ‘Provided we can agree terms,’ she said. She was keen to do it but not so keen that she’d be willing to do it for nothing.

  ‘Speak to Mr Chew,’ Mr Tan said. ‘He is Mandarin Hotel manager. He will arrange to meet you at a mutually convenient time. You can discuss terms with him.’

  She agreed terms with Mr Chew and started work on 27 January 1952, the first day of the year of the water dragon. According to Mr Chew this was a most auspicious day for Jess to begin her duties, since the water dragon was recognised as being both far-sighted and hard-working.

  Shannon

  At last.

  The state government and local councils had been arguing the toss for months. Even the federal government was supposed to have got in on the act but now the decision had been made. Planning restrictions in Queensland would soon become a thing of the past.

  Shannon had been preparing for this moment for twelve months, when she’d picked up the first rumours that the controls were on their way out.

  She’d interviewed several applicants for the position of deputy manager at the Regency, a post that would become essential once she got involved with the south coast development.

  She had settled on twenty-six-year-old Norma Hardwick for the role.

  ‘A bit young?’ Hal wondered.

  ‘She’s six years younger than I am. And I’ve been running the place since we re-opened in 1944. Which means she’s a year older than I was then.’

  ‘You had Arthur to advise you. And Aaron ever since.’

  ‘Aaron has been a huge help,’ Shannon said. ‘Absolutely huge. But now things are running smoothly I think he’s wasted here. If your dad agrees, I’d like him to get involved in the south coast development, when approval comes through.’