by Clare Flynn
‘The government’s stupid.’ Doug put his palms together and rested his chin on his fingertips. ‘They need to listen to us here on the ground. No one trusts the Nips – and the Chinks feel the same way we do about them. They’re not to be trusted. You know where you are with Chinamen – they want to strike a hard deal, outwit you if they can. But the Japs hate us to the core and the brutality of what they’ve been doing in the war in China over the past couple of years is a damned disgrace. Sheer brutality.’
The conversation was interrupted by the waiter bringing their main course of roast pheasant. Evie looked around the large restaurant and noticed that everyone appeared to be subdued. The sound level was lower than one might expect and several people were already leaving to return home. It seemed completely wrong to be sitting here drinking champagne – something that only Veronica appeared to be doing, the rest of them with untouched glasses.
Wanting to hear more about the political situation, Evie addressed her husband. ‘Why did you say you think the volunteer exercises are pointless?’ she asked. ‘They’ve been doing a lot of that kind of thing back in England.’
‘That’s the trouble. They’re only geared to train people in war, European style. What the devil use will that be if it comes to a war here, where we should be learning jungle warcraft?’
Arthur nodded. ‘I can’t argue with that, Doug.’
‘Maybe you need to start drumming it into the heads of your bosses.’
‘I do my best. The fundamental problem is that my lot and the military are at loggerheads. We understand the country. They think they understand war.’ Arthur pushed away his plate. ‘They’re so bloody over-confident. They think the peninsular’s impregnable and consider the Japanese inferior combatants. I just hope they won’t live to regret those massive assumptions.’
Veronica gave another groan. ‘For pity’s sake, will you two stop droning on about politics. This is meant to be a birthday party!’
As she spoke, the maitre d’ announced over the microphone that the resident orchestra would not be performing as it was judged inappropriate in the light of the events of the day. There was not so much as a murmur of disapproval, apart from Veronica, who confined her protest to a rolling of the eyes, then said, ‘It’s ludicrous to be cancelling things when there’s not yet been a shot fired.’
Arthur spoke, his voice chilly. ‘Hitler’s invaded Poland. Isn’t that reason enough for you, Veronica?’
‘That was actually a couple of days ago.’ She had a petulant expression on her face.
‘Chamberlain had to wait for the French.’ Arthur blotted his mouth with his napkin, then laid it beside his plate. ‘And I dare say he was doing everything possible to avoid war.’
‘Appeasing the Hun more like.’ Doug appeared to be still out of sorts.
‘Please forgive me but I’m going to skip the pudding,’ said Arthur. ‘I have to get to the office before nine as there’s a call coming in from Singapore. The Chief Minister has been meeting with the military chiefs. He’s going to give us a debriefing.’ He got up from the table. ‘Sorry, old chap. Not a great end to your birthday. If I take the car, will you be able to drop Veronica off?’ Then he was gone.
Evie felt a mixture of relief that Arthur had left, with a contradictory sense of loss. She glanced across at Veronica, who was occupied with the champagne, tipping her husband’s untouched drink into her glass.
‘Waste not want not!’ Veronica declared. ‘They’ll soon be telling us we’ve all got to be thrifty, so I’d better do my bit for the cause.’
Douglas got up from the table. ‘Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to talk to someone over there. I won’t have a pudding either, so go ahead and order yours without me.’ He moved away to the other side of the dining room to a table where two couples were drinking coffee and smoking. Evie saw him bending to talk to them and felt excluded and abandoned.
When she turned back, she realised Veronica was studying her.
‘You’re wearing that charming mauve frock again.’
Irritated, Evie said, ‘Douglas likes it.’
Eyebrows raised in disbelief, Veronica didn’t comment further. Instead she changed the subject. ‘I hear you were at the swimming club the other day.’
Evie felt her face turning crimson. Had she and Arthur been seen? Were those women in deckchairs cronies of Veronica? Had they spotted her walking off down the beach with Arthur? Her stomach flipped. ‘How did you know?’
‘Arthur told me.’
A shiver ran over Evie’s body, prickling her skin. What had he said? And why? It was a terrible betrayal.
‘He says you’re a strong swimmer.’
‘I love swimming.’
‘Yes. So does Arthur. I don’t at all.’ She gave a transparently fake smile to Evie. ‘But now the war’s here Arthur won’t have any time for that.’
‘Yes, I imagine he’s going to be very busy.’
Veronica slugged the rest of her champagne down, reached over to take Douglas’s flute and tipped that into hers, fixing Evie with a cold stare. ‘And even if he isn’t, he won’t have any time for that.’ She took another sip. ‘Any time for you. Do I make myself clear?’
Evie gaped, astonished. Before she could muster a response, Veronica rose from the table and waved at a couple walking towards the door.
Turning back to Evie, she said, ‘Tell Dougie I decided to get a lift with the Browns. They have to drive right past our house.’ She swept away, leaving Evie shocked and alone at the table.
15
The following morning, after Douglas had left for the Batu Lembah estate, Evie picked up his unread copy of the Straits Times. Glancing at the editorial, she was drawn into reading it. Evidently Britain’s declaration of war was to be interpreted as a cause for rejoicing. Remembering the conversation of the previous night about the complacency of the colonial government and the military, she read with disbelief:
‘At this safe distance from the scene of battle, with our defences perfected and Japanese participation in the struggle on the side of Germany an extremely remote possibility, Malaya has little to fear.’
She folded the newspaper and set it aside. It was impossible to concentrate. The war seemed very remote from her here, whereas what had happened the night before still caused her stomach to churn.
She knew she had no business thinking the way she did about another woman’s husband. Yet she couldn’t help herself. Arthur had taken her in his arms when they were in the sea, leaving her in no doubt that he desired her. he had also made it crystal clear that he was tied irrevocably to Veronica. He’d also made the importance of his career clear. Then Veronica’s revelation that she knew about the encounter on the beach, and her veiled threat, made Evie start to doubt her own reason.
It was hard not to conclude that the Leightons had some bizarre consensual ‘arrangement’. Mary’s revelation that Veronica had frequent extra-marital affairs and Arthur always accepted her back made Evie feel sickened. While she’d accepted his explanation about Veronica’s depressive behaviour and his obligation to her, the fact that he had told Veronica about their meeting at the beach made it hard not to construe that he had been using Evie in a retaliatory gesture to make his wife jealous.
Whatever the truth, Evie was completely out of her depth. She had never known anyone behave in the odd ways the Leightons and Douglas did. Perhaps it was the pressure of living for so long far away from one’s roots? Even her own mother, when she had committed adultery, had waited until her husband’s death before running off with her lover. But that wasn’t strictly true, was it? Evie had to acknowledge that it could well have been her mother’s intention to leave that had triggered her father’s crime and subsequent suicide.
So here she was, caught between an uncommunicative and often cold husband, and a man to whom she was strongly attracted but who had made it clear he would never act upon it. As the thought formed, she felt a frisson of guilt – surely she would
never act on it either? But the memory of that embrace in the sea wouldn’t leave her, and her thoughts kept returning to it and reliving it. Yet Arthur had betrayed her by telling Veronica. Somehow she couldn’t believe that to be the case. Veronica had to be lying. Surely? Was the woman playing mind games with her?
Even though Veronica’s words, if they were true, were evidence of Arthur’s perfidy, Evie couldn’t – wouldn’t – believe it. Just thinking about him made her breath shorten, her skin tingle and her heart race. A shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body from merely being in the same room as him. It was as if there was an unbreakable thread running between them, anchoring her, tethering her to him so that she couldn’t break away – didn’t want to. The mere thought of being close to him, across the same table filled her with a crazy joy. Crazy because there was no logic to it at all. Joy because her whole being sang. She and Arthur were meant to be together. Deep inside she felt an unshakeable certainty about that. But it was pointless. Futile. What cruel fate had determined they should be married to other people?
Over the weeks that followed, Evie went out of her way to avoid seeing the Leightons whenever possible and ensured she was never alone with Arthur. On the rare occasions when they did meet, his manner towards her was courteous but distant – yet often when she looked up suddenly, she caught him watching her, only for him to look away again immediately. Meanwhile her relationship with Doug continued in its odd seesawing fashion. Most of the time he was away at the estate and on the weekends when he was in George Town he was frequently involved in what he continued to maintain were pointless exercises with the Volunteers. Conversation between them was limited and driven entirely by Evie. But he continued to come to her bed. There, communication didn’t involve words. Evie was grateful it didn’t.
As the days and weeks after the declaration of war turned into months, the initial shock experienced by the expatriate Europeans that their countries were at war with Germany, turned into a atmosphere of ‘business as usual’. In fact, it seemed rather than that, it was ‘business is booming’, as the Straits Settlements enjoyed an unprecedented surge in demand for rubber, tin, iron ore and other minerals. The only cloud in the life of many of the expatriates was the shock of the sinking, in late November, of the former P&O liner, Rawalpindi, which had been well known to the numerous old India hands. The loss of the ship off Iceland, while on convoy escort duty, had brought the realities of the war closer.
As December arrived, Evie wondered what her first tropical Christmas would be like. She’d disliked the festive season since her father’s death. All it did was reinforce her own isolation and loneliness, especially in the knowledge that so many families were happy and rejoicing in each other’s company.
Mrs Shipley-Thomas had always spent Christmas at the home of a friend in Haslemere, leaving Evie to her own devices. Once Evie had got past feeling sorry for herself she’d at least enjoyed having the freedom of the house, able to please herself until her employer returned the day after Boxing Day.
But here in Penang, Evie had a husband and a child to spend the holiday with. She had extracted a promise from Douglas that he would be at the house in George Town for four days over the holiday season, and Jasmine was already showing growing excitement. For Evie it seemed bizarre to be talking to the little girl about the forthcoming arrival of Father Christmas, when the absence of winter, not to mention chimneys for Santa to climb down, made it a greater stretch of the imagination than would usually be required. In the end, she told Jasmine that the sleigh would land on the roof and Father Christmas would skim down the drainpipe and enter the house via the drawing room windows.
‘Isn’t the kid a bit old for all that?’ Douglas shrugged when she explained her strategy.
‘She’s only seven, Doug! Not exactly an adult yet.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose I’d better give you some extra money to buy her presents.’
‘What should we give her?’
Douglas shrugged again. ‘Your department. Don’t ask me.’ He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘Better get something nice for yourself too. Jewellery or something.’
Evie was about to protest. It summed up his attitude to her – unwilling to spare the time to get her something personal for Christmas. She felt her annoyance rising but bit her lip and looked away. She didn’t want him to see that she was hurt. It was almost five months since she’d arrived in Penang and in all that time he had shown not a sign of affection. That he had made it clear she wasn’t to expect it, when they had struck their bargain, didn’t alleviate the pain.
Once Douglas had gone, Evie decided to put on a brave face and enjoy spending his money to make Jasmine’s Christmas a special one. As to buying a piece of jewellery for herself, she would have none of it. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Should anyone enquire as to what her husband had given her as a Christmas gift, she’d tell them he hadn’t. In fact it was hard not to relish the thought of shaming him that way. And she wasn’t going to buy anything for him either.
Returning in the car with Benny, the seat beside her laden with gifts for Jasmine, Evie softened a little. The festive atmosphere had got through to her. She wasn’t going to use Douglas’s money to buy him a gift, but there was nothing to stop her making him one. It would be more personal. It would be a demonstration that while he might be uncaring of her, she was still trying her best to make the marriage work.
‘Pull over, please, Benny.’ They came to a stop outside a large Indian fabric store. ‘I won’t be long.’
Inside, it was an Aladdin’s cave of fabric. A vast array of saris, woven and embroidered silks, bright colourful cotton sarongs, bolts of linen, voiles and muslin, as well as khaki cotton for the shorts that all the European men wore.
She selected some plain white Egyptian cotton and a small piece of black silk, delicately embroidered with Chinese dragons. Adding a couple of skeins of embroidery thread and some silk cord, she went to the counter to have the fabric measured and cut, then paid for her purchases. She would work on her gifts in the evenings after Jasmine had gone to bed.
A few days later, Evie made a trip to the doctor’s. She had missed her period two or three times and it eventually dawned on her that she might be pregnant. Terrified that it might prove to be a false hope, she was a bag of nerves as she sat in the waiting room.
She’d never needed to visit a doctor before and was self-conscious about being examined by a strange man, but told herself if the news was good it would be worth it.
The news was good. Dr Oates, a jovial character with a shock of white hair and a broad smile, asked her a few questions, made a quick examination of her breasts and pronounced that she was indeed expecting a baby.
‘I’d say baby should be ready to greet the world in June or July next year.’
‘What happens now? Do I have to have plenty of rest?’
‘Only as much as you feel you need. I’m a great believer in the benefits of regular exercise – even for expectant mothers. Pregnancy is not an illness.’
Walking home – she had not wanted Benny to know about the visit to the doctor – Evie was euphoric. At last she could tell Douglas what he wanted to hear. For once he would have to acknowledge she had done something right.
She wanted to choose the right moment to tell him the news. Of course, that depended on him being in George Town.
In the run-up to Christmas, Penang was an endless whirl of parties, concerts and dinners. Evie was grateful that she could use the excuse of Doug’s absence to avoid most of them. Perhaps it was her condition, but she had lost any inclination for alcohol – not that she’d been a great drinker before. The festivities included several organised by Jasmine’s school – but these Evie had no wish to duck. Her telephone calls failed to persuade Douglas to come across from the mainland to watch all or any of the school concert, a recital by the choir in which Jasmine performed a solo, sports’ day and the obligatory nativity play, in which his
daughter was to play an angel. Evie knew if she told him about the baby he would probably come, but this was about Jasmine and she was irritated that he considered it too much trouble to witness his daughter’s performances.
Evie sat alone, applauding enthusiastically and trying to put on as bright a face as possible for the little girl, who was inevitably disappointed at her father’s absence.
In the school hall, looking round the room as the choir sang, Evie noticed there was a reasonable turnout of fathers. Attendance had been almost universal when it came to the sports day, with her husband one of the few absentees.
Douglas was never unkind towards Jasmine. It was more a case of benign neglect, paying her less attention than he paid to his dog, Badger. Occasionally Evie caught him looking at the child as if she were a curiosity. Maybe he was looking for similarities with her mother? Evie never dared ask. Most of the time though, he ignored the little girl, tolerating her chatter but rarely engaging with it.
There was one seasonal event that Douglas didn’t shirk. On Christmas Eve, a mixed doubles tournament took place each year at the tennis club. Evie discovered that the tradition was for husbands to partner their wives. She remembered that in order to duck out of a social engagement she had lied to Veronica that tennis wasn’t her game. Yes, she hadn’t played in years, but she had once been a formidable force on the court.
‘Do we have to play?’ she asked Douglas. It didn’t seem right that he was able to make time for this but not for any activities at Jasmine’s school.
‘It’s expected.’ He gave an audible sigh. ‘Don’t you play tennis?’
‘Yes. I can play. I just hate those clubby things.’
‘You can go home when we’re knocked out. I’ll have to stay for the prize-giving. My grandfather donated the trophy.’
