by Clare Flynn
Late one afternoon, sitting on the aft boat deck as the ship made its stately progress across the Arabian Sea towards Bombay, a shadow fell across the book she was reading.
‘There you are, Evie.’ Arthur Leighton squinted at her, the sun in his eyes. ‘Have you been avoiding me? I haven’t clapped eyes on you for days. Were you unwell? I asked your steward but he said you were out and about. I’ve been searching the ship for you.’ His eyes looked concerned and not a little hurt.
Embarrassed, Evie said, ‘I was a bit under the weather. I didn’t think I’d make very cheerful company so I’ve been keeping out of the way for a while.’
‘May I?’ He gestured towards the deck chair next to hers, then sat, sideways on, so he could see her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Evie pursed her lips, then saw his face had such a kind and concerned expression that, before she could stop herself, she’d blurted out the truth. ‘Actually, I’ve had a bit of a wobble. Realised I’ve been a frightful chump in agreeing to come to Malaya and marry Douglas when I don’t really know him. I expect he made his offer without thinking through the implications and by now he’ll be wondering how to get out of it.’ She pleated the fabric of her dress through restless fingers. ‘I was wondering if I ought to get off the ship when we reach Bombay. Only I’ve no money to pay the passage home. What do you think I should do?’
Arthur frowned and shook his head. ‘Has Veronica been filling your head with nonsense? Sometimes she speaks out of turn. She seems to find it amusing, but it can be bloody hurtful.’ He looked uncharacteristically annoyed.
Blushing, Evie said, ‘No. I’ve not spoken to her in days. It’s just that the whole idea seems such a crazy enterprise that I can’t think why I ever agreed to it.’ She smoothed the creases out of her dress then gathered the fabric up again, rippling it nervously through her fingers. ‘My life had become so dull and predictable and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days reading aloud to Mrs Shipley-Thomas and, after her, a succession of old ladies, while life passes me by.’
She looked up at him, afraid he would think her foolish, but his face showed only attention and concern.
‘When Douglas Barrington’s letter arrived it was as if my prayers had been answered. It was an opportunity to start again, to see something of the world, to embark on an adventure, to do something unpredictable and spontaneous for the first time in years. It was the only way I could see to get out of my rut.’
‘I understand.’ Arthur nodded. ‘That all makes perfect sense. So, what’s made you change your mind?’
She hesitated then said, ‘If I’m honest I suppose I’m worried about what people will think. That they’ll say I’m a desperate spinster who’s grasped her only chance to hook a husband.’ She gave a dry laugh. ‘And they’d be right. ’
When Arthur said nothing, she stumbled on. ‘But more than that I’m worried that Mr Barrington – I mean Douglas – it seems odd to call him that when I barely know him. That he must surely be having second thoughts himself. I can’t imagine what would possess a man like him – successful, comfortably off, handsome – to ask someone like me to marry him when he must have the pick of the field. There. You have it.’ She bit her lip and waited for him to reply.
He reached out and took her hand, holding it in his for a just a brief moment. ‘I don’t know what you mean when you say someone like you. I happen to think Doug is a very fortunate man that you’re willing to become his wife. It shows you have pluck, Evie. You’re a brave girl. Fearless, in fact. Not many people would do what you’re doing and that’s to be admired. And you’re kind, intelligent, independent, interesting. All in all, you’re a very attractive woman and if you ask me, Doug is a very lucky chap.’
Evie felt a rush of gratitude mingled with disbelief. Was he just trying to be nice? Did he mean it? Would he later laugh about what he’d said with Veronica? ‘Thank you,’ she said, deciding to accept the compliment graciously. ‘That makes me feel better. I hope you don’t think I was fishing for compliments?’
‘You don’t need to fish for them, Evie. You deserve them.’ His mouth formed a smile but his eyes looked sad. ‘You do however need to go into this crazy enterprise, as you call it, with eyes wide open. Penang is a beautiful place. Quite magical. But Malaya’s not an easy country to live in if you’re not born to it. The climate in the Straits is hot and humid all year round and it can take a long time to adjust. Some people never do. Felicity certainly didn’t.’
Evie looked at him, shocked.
‘She struggled from the moment she arrived and never settled. It was a constant source of tension between the two of them. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think you’ve a right to know.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and offered her one. It was the only time she’d seen him smoke. She shook her head.
‘When Felicity married Doug she thought she’d signed up to a life in the Home Counties. Two years later Doug’s bachelor uncle died, leaving him the rubber estate on Penang island. He was determined to take it on. He hated his job in the City and the thought of owning land and making a living from it appealed. Like you, he wanted adventure.’ Arthur lit his cigarette and drew on it slowly. ‘Felicity took some persuading. She didn’t want to leave her friends and family, and was nervous about moving overseas. She was expecting Jasmine at the time which can’t have helped. But Doug can be very persuasive. He swept her up in his enthusiasm and they went off.’
Evie was rapt with attention, waiting as Arthur took a second slow draw on his cigarette before stubbing it out. ‘Trying to give the blessed things up,’ he said. ‘From the moment they arrived it was a disaster. Felicity hated Penang. She felt isolated on the rubber estate, so Doug bought a house in George Town for her to use when she wanted. But she disliked that even more. There may have been more for her to do in town but the humidity can be suffocating in the lowlands. She had a very difficult time with Jasmine’s birth and was in poor health from then on. She appeared to lose all her zest for life.’
None of this squared with the eulogy to Felicity that Veronica had given. She’d described her as a human dynamo, not a wilting flower.
Arthur swung his legs round and leaned back into the deckchair so Evie could no longer see his face. ‘Veronica and I were posted to Penang around the same time the Barringtons arrived. As we’re similar ages, naturally we became friends. It was sad to watch as Felicity faded away. She was always ill. One thing after another. Coping with a baby was too much for her so she left the care of Jasmine to a servant and grew more and more listless. It was as though she had no interest in anything or anyone. Almost as if she were willing herself to die. An extraordinary business. She contracted malaria and had no strength to fight it. Doug sent the child away to be cared for by the nuns and threw himself into running the business, so we rarely saw him in town any more. Jasmine was just three or four. ’
‘How awful for the poor child to lose her mother so young – and to be separated from her father.’
He nodded. ‘I think Doug would like her to be at home. I know that’s one of his reasons for wanting to re-marry. And from everything you’ve told me, Evie, I think he’s made a wise choice in you. I’m not saying you’ll find life there easy, but you’re made of stronger stuff than Felicity was.’
Evie stretched her mouth into a smile. ‘You’ve cheered me up, Arthur. Thank you. I don’t know how it will be, but rest assured I’ll give it my best effort.’
He got to his feet. ‘That’s the spirit.’ Giving her a mock salute, he added, ‘See you at dinner tonight?’
‘I’ll be there.’
When he’d gone, Evie hugged her knees, experiencing a new burst of energy. She wouldn’t let Veronica get under her skin again. Hadn’t Arthur himself said she enjoyed making trouble? Not for the first time she wondered how they’d come to be together. They were the most unlikely of couples. But people did say opposites attract.
With her first sight of
Penang, Evie was entranced. The island was covered with jungle and the coastline was rocky. As the ship sailed between the mainland on the port side and the island, the dense jungle gave way to breathtakingly beautiful sandy beaches. Then there was George Town, with its elegant colonial buildings. How had Arthur described it? The Pearl of the Orient. All around the strait there was shipping, from Peninsular and Oriental passenger liners, numerous cargo vessels and tramp steamers, ferries, junks and sampans.
After they docked in Penang, at Swettenham Pier, Evie said goodbye to the Leightons, who were travelling on to Singapore. They assured her they would be in George Town in a couple of weeks, after Arthur’s post-leave briefing session at his Singapore headquarters.
‘I’d rather come straight back to Penang, but Arthur needs me,’ Veronica told Evie. ‘He hates to travel without me.’ She put a hand proprietorially on his arm. ‘My darling boy won’t let me out of his sight. And he’s hopeless without me to organise him.’
Evie found this hard to believe. As a senior civil servant with extensive responsibilities, it seemed unlikely he’d have attained and retained such a position if he were disorganised. Arthur made no comment but his face showed his embarrassment.
The couple’s relationship mystified Evie. Arthur seemed too ordinary to be married to an exotic and beautiful creature like Veronica. There was nothing sleek and polished about him, with his tousled hair, constantly slipping spectacles, too-baggy trousers and frequently ink-stained fingers. Veronica, when in his company, was always on her best behaviour. When they were together, she touched him constantly – a hand on his arm, a palm brushed against his cheek, her arm slipped through his – demonstrating possession, and making clear to the world that they were a couple. Yet, on board, she spent much of her time in the bar, flirting with any available men. Evie had often viewed her from a distance, watching her preen, perform and soak up the admiration of her coterie of admirers as they jostled to buy her next drink. Veronica was a man-magnet. If she entered an empty room, within moments it was packed. Women, on the other hand, tended to give her a wide berth. Evie was glad to see the back of her, even if it was only for a matter of days. Having Veronica around while she was getting to know Douglas would have sapped her confidence.
As she prepared to go ashore, Evie’s nerves returned. Thanks to her conversation with Arthur, this time it was not due to self-doubt but nervous excitement. In a matter of days she would be married. At least she presumed she would. Other than the telegram to confirm the Leightons’ contact details in London and the departure date of the ship, she’d heard nothing more from Douglas. Would he expect her to call him Doug – or even Dougie as Veronica Leighton did? Was he as excited about what was happening as she was? Would he be as handsome as she remembered?
While Arthur Leighton seemed to believe her forthcoming marriage would be a successful and lasting one, it was nonetheless a marriage driven by convenience. Douglas Barrington needed a wife to keep his house, bring up his child and, hopefully, provide him with more children. While maybe in time he might grow to love her, it was too much to expect that he would feel that from the start.
Evie, however, was certain she would love him at once. How could she not? Over the years, the memory of that waltz together had never faded. It was a moment frozen in time. The feel of his hand in the small of her back, the warm touch of his smooth fingers, the way he had led her so that she hadn’t felt at all clumsy, but light and graceful. Even though it had been the occasion of his marriage to the beautiful Felicity and Evie had known he was merely playing the part expected of him, she had treasured the way he had made her feel. That dance had marked her transition from childhood and her hope for the possibilities ahead of her. Maybe it was a foolish fantasy – a little girl’s dream of a handsome prince – but this dream was coming true.
She would do her utmost to be a good wife to Douglas, to make him happy, to give him cause to love her. She would be different from Felicity. Life in Malaya might prove a challenge but she was determined to adapt to it. Hot weather wasn’t going to get her down. And anyway, people did acclimatise eventually – the Leightons certainly had. But she reminded herself they’d lived in Africa beforehand, so they would have been used to the heat.
As she stood at last on the dockside, Evie’s heart jumped in her chest and she struggled to breathe. Douglas Barrington wasn’t there to meet her. A Malayan man moved towards her purposefully. She swallowed her disappointment and forced a smile. He introduced himself as Benny and told her he was Douglas’s syce in George Town.
‘I look after motor car and house of Mister Ballington when he in George Town. Not much time. He not here today, Mem. He busy. In Singapore. Come. Bags in car.’
Evie was crushed. After the long sea voyage, and building herself up for meeting Douglas at last, it was all for nothing. She was stung. Since he was travelling down to Singapore, why hadn’t he suggested she stay on board and meet him there? Common courtesy dictated that, when she’d come so far and risked so much. For him to have been unwilling to spare the time to greet her in person was a humiliation. Her resolve to be a supportive and compliant partner evaporated. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she struggled to prevent her emotions showing on her face, and followed a smiling Benny to the waiting car.
Once inside the vehicle, which thankfully had been parked in the shade, Evie leaned back and took a couple of deep breaths, while Benny loaded her modest amount of luggage into the boot. Calm down, she told herself. Maybe Douglas has good reason not to be here. Some kind of crisis? Perhaps he’s as nervous as I am. Don’t get off on the wrong foot. Don’t spoil things by being moody.
Grateful for a breeze through the open car window, she wiped her face with a handkerchief. It was so hot and humid that the perspiration was running down her brow, the salt stinging her eyes. She’d never been so hot in her life. Veronica had been right – the heat was bestial.
She leaned forward to speak to Benny. ‘Is it always this hot?’
‘Yes, Mem. We say here there is three season. Hot, Hotter and Hottest.’ He looked over his shoulder and beamed at her.
‘Which one is it now?’
‘Only Hot.’ He made a little giggling sound.
She leaned back against the burning leather, her poplin dress already damp and clammy.
‘Use fan, Mem. In back of seat.’
She found a finely carved wooden fan in the pouch of the seat and taking it out waved it vigorously in front of her face. How was she going to bear it if every day was like this?
She gazed through the open window, curious about what would be her permanent home. George Town was charming, with its classical Georgian buildings dating back to the days of the East India Company, and its Chinese shop-houses with stores at street level and balconied dwellings above. There were also newer, grander houses, many set in large grounds looking onto the sea. Arthur had told her wealthy Chinese traders had settled here, as well as the colonial Dutch and French before the British had seen them off. Today it was a mixture of races and nationalities – native Malays, immigrant Chinese and Indians, British and other European nations. The island was a centre for the production of silks and spices as well as the rubber for which Malaya was renowned throughout the world.
On first impressions, the island captivated Evie. The land rose to high uplands in the centre with sandy beaches, fringed with palms, around its perimeter. If it weren’t for this ghastly clammy heat, she might even go so far as describing it as a glimpse of paradise. Arthur had been right when he’d said it was magical.
They turned onto a narrow road which took them away from the seafront. The houses here were smaller town houses, mixed in among Chinese-style villas. Pulling up outside an ugly box-like building, more fitting the Home Counties than the Orient, Benny said, ‘Here we are. Dis it.’ She tried not to be disappointed that it was not a pretty Georgian house or a large mansion in its own expansive grounds. Don’t rush to judgement, she told herself.
Inside
the house, the rooms were dim behind shuttered windows, but thankfully cooler than out in the full sun. It was larger than it appeared from outside. In the centre of the ground floor was an open area of double height, the upper floor landing overlooking it on three sides, so that it formed a kind of internal balcony, defined by open lattice working, with narrow supporting columns. A ceiling fan whirred above her head.
The other members of the household were lined up waiting to greet her. Benny first introduced a woman – evidently the housekeeper – as ‘Aunty’ Mimi. A tiny Chinese woman, thin and fragile in appearance, Aunty Mimi had short black hair, streaked with grey and was elderly but evidently still agile. Another Chinese, a smiling toothless man, was introduced as ‘Cookie’. Evie guessed they were married to each other, but was afraid to ask and no one enlightened her. Finally, there was a young Malay man, who was introduced merely as The Boy and evidently considered unworthy of the dignity of a name.
Benny said, ‘Only Aunty Mimi and me speak English. You soon learn speak Malay, Mem. Also two kebuns to work in garden.
Overwhelmed, the prospect of ever speaking even basic Malay felt beyond Evie. She was exhausted. Perhaps once she’d freshened up and had a sleep, things would be less daunting.
Aunty Mimi led Evie upstairs into another darkened room. Opening one shutter she showed her a large rear garden, where the sunlight was filtered by a collection of tall trees. Evie could hear the tinkling of water but couldn’t see its source. Around an expansive lawn was a vibrant display of colourful flowers that lifted her spirits a little.
