The Other Side of Paradise

by Margaret Mayhew

  She stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan and wondering what to wear that evening at the Bensons. Not a full-scale party, just supper and a bit of dancing afterwards to gramophone records. It would be mostly the same old crowd, Milly had said, so no need to dress up or make much of an effort. The blue and white cotton would do and now that she’d grown her hair longer she could sweep it up at the sides with combs. The new Elizabeth Arden lipstick would go rather well and she could paint her fingernails with the matching polish. What about shoes? The white peep-toe platforms, or the navy courts? The peep-toes were much more fun but they were tricky to walk in and they hurt.

  She slept for about an hour and then got up and took a cool shower. In the end, she decided on the peep-toes and found some big ear clips like outsize white buttons to match. The hair combs looked rather good and so did the scarlet lipstick. She painted her nails the same colour and dabbed her favourite scent, Je Reviens, behind her ears and on her wrists.

  Soft-footed, genie-like Soojal appeared as she went down the stairs.

  ‘The tuan send message, missee. He stay at Tanglin for dinner. Not home till late.’

  ‘Is Ghani here?’

  ‘Yes, missee. He stay after the tuan telephone. Later he go to the club to fetch the tuan.’

  ‘Tell him I’d like him to drive me over to Colonel and Mrs Benson’s house.’

  ‘Yes, missee. You want at once?’

  ‘At once.’

  ‘I tell him. Looks like rain is coming. Sky very black.’

  As she waited on the front steps for Ghani to bring the car round, the first drops were splashing heavily on to the ground.

  The Bensons lived on Winchester Road, Alexandra Park, in one of the black and white, red-roofed houses built for senior army officers. Susan liked Colonel Benson – he wasn’t pompous like some of the other older servicemen – and Mrs Benson was nice too. The two sons had been packed off to school in England, but Milly Benson had gone to St Nicholas’s convent and was one of her best friends.

  Ghani stopped the car under the portico outside the front door.

  ‘What time you leave, missee?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll probably get a lift back with somebody.’

  ‘The tuan does not like this. Please telephone when you are ready, missee.’

  What a silly old fusspot he was! ‘I’ll see.’

  The Bensons’ Chinese houseboy opened the door and they had a little chat in Cantonese.

  ‘How are you today, Meng?’

  ‘Very good, thank you, missee. I hope you are well too.’

  ‘I’m fine. Is it going to be a good party?’

  He grinned. ‘Always a good party in this house, missee. Everybody has a good time.’

  ‘Anybody new?’

  ‘Some Australian officers, missee.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Oh, God.’

  Aussie soldiers were an uncouth lot. They rolled up their shorts, turned up the brim of their awful bush hats and saluted as though they were flapping away flies. And they spoke with a sort of horrible cockney twang.

  She said hallo to Colonel and Mrs Benson and several army chaps immediately clustered round, offering cigarette cases, flicking lighters under her nose. She could see with one glance that she was easily the prettiest girl in the room. Milly came up. Poor Milly, she’d put on even more weight but she never seemed to care a row of beans what she looked like.

  ‘Come and meet some Australians, Susie.’

  ‘Must I?’

  ‘They’re very nice. They’re army doctors at the Alexandra. I met them when I was working on one of the wards and they were doing the rounds.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘The rounds. You know, looking at the patients. I was trailing along behind.’

  Milly was always vague about her voluntary duties at the Alexandra Hospital. She helped with this and that, she said. Carried things, held things, fetched things, tidied things, made herself useful to the real nurses.

  ‘Then I ran across them again in the canteen. We got talking and I asked them along this evening. Come and say hallo.’

  She was dragged over to three men standing together on the other side of the room. They were in khaki uniform and she would have known from the steak-fed, sun-bronzed, outback look of them that they were Aussies – even before they opened their mouths. One was called Geoff, the next Vincent, the last, Ray. The first two seemed all right but she wasn’t so sure about the third one. He didn’t smile admiringly at her like the other two.

  She made gracious conversation, as one did to colonials. How long had they been in Singapore? The answer was one week. Where did they come from in Australia? Geoff and Vincent both came from Brisbane, Ray came from Sydney.

  ‘How nice,’ she said, thinking how absolutely ghastly … the ends of the earth. ‘And I gather you’re doctors at the Alexandra. How long will you be staying?’

  Ray answered. ‘As long as we’re needed.’

  She looked at him, noticing the captain’s pips on his shoulder for the first time. Australian ranks probably weren’t quite the equivalent of English ones. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves while you’re here. Singapore’s the most wonderful fun.’

  He said, ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed how busy everyone is, having fun. They’re not too worried about the war.’

  ‘The war’s thousands of miles away in Europe.’

  ‘It’s not the war with the Germans that I’m talking about, Miss Roper. It’s the one with the Japs.’

  ‘The Japs? We’re not at war with them.’

  ‘We soon will be.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. What can they do?’

  ‘Take Singapore.’

  ‘Singapore belongs to the British Empire.’

  ‘The Nips might not think so.’

  ‘We don’t actually care what they think.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that too.’

  Milly stepped between them. She said brightly, ‘I hear there’s a marvellous new film on at the Capitol. Has anyone seen it?’

  Supper was served. The Bensons’ Indian cook had made a wonderful biryani, served with sambar and big rounds of roti prata. Susan steered well clear of the Australian doctors – there were plenty of other people to talk to. A sunburned rubber planter down for a few days’ jolly in Singapore introduced himself. He was from the north of the peninsula, he told her – about thirty miles east of Betong. He’d come out from England two years ago and gone straight there. He liked the work but it was good to get back to civilization for a break. His aunt was an old schoolfriend of Mrs Benson, so he’d wangled an invitation.

  He took a swig from his glass. ‘I’m a bit out of touch, to tell the truth, but Singapore looks much the same. A lot more troops around, of course, but that’s not a bad thing. Good idea to wave the flag, just in case the Japs get any silly ideas.’

  She said impatiently, tired of the subject, ‘What do you mean, silly ideas?’

  ‘Well, Singapore’s pretty important, isn’t it? Commanding position, gateway to the East, jewel of the Empire, and all that. The Japs would give their eye teeth for it. But of course, the Royal Navy’s got the sea approaches well covered. If the Nips try anything they won’t get very far with those big guns pointing straight at them.’

  ‘Can we talk about something else? It’s awfully boring.’

  ‘Sorry. Would you care to take a spin?’

  Milly had put a record on the gramophone and people were dancing to ‘Faithful Forever’. ‘With a Smile and a Song’ was probably on the other side; Milly had the whole Snow White set. Personally, she thought all the tunes were rather sickly.

  The rubber planter had two left feet and both of them kept landing on her peep-toes. Afterwards she danced with some of the army chaps, who were better, and then a man who had something to do with building bridges and droned on about tensile strength and soil resistance and pressure tables. ‘Really?’ she kept saying, looking over his shoulder at Milly capering about happily with Geoff.
‘Really? How fascinating!’

  Her feet were killing her, thanks to the rubber planter and the uncomfortable shoes. She hobbled out on to the verandah, sat down, undid the ankle straps and rubbed her toes. The rain was coming down in torrents, cascading like a waterfall off the eaves and drowning out ‘When You Wish Upon a Star’ playing in the other room. Something to be grateful for.

  ‘Having trouble?’

  She turned her head. It was the Australian: the one called Ray. He was leaning against the door-post, arms folded – very outback.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I reckon it’s the shoes. You could come to grief in those.’

  ‘You’re an expert on ladies’ shoes?’

  ‘Not shoes, but I know all about broken ankles and blisters.’

  ‘Well, I don’t need any medical advice, thank you.’

  ‘Fair enough. Have a cigarette instead.’ He held out a case that looked as if it was made out of an old tin; the cigarettes inside were squashed flat.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Mind if I do?’

  ‘Carry on.’

  She watched him produce a box of matches and fire up one with his thumbnail. Not even a lighter, let alone a decent cigarette case.

  ‘Sorry if I spoke out of turn before.’

  ‘You certainly did.’

  He drew on the squashed cigarette. ‘The trouble is I can’t understand the way things are here. It’s weird. Nobody seems to see the danger this island’s in. Everyone believes Singapore’s an impregnable fortress.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So you all keep saying. But it strikes me that’s not true. It’s a myth. The truth is the island’s nothing like a fortress. It’s a reclaimed mangrove swamp with no natural defences.’

  She stopped massaging her feet and stared at him.

  ‘The Royal Navy’s the most powerful in the world and our naval base here is the biggest and best there is. And we’ve got thousands of troops here and plenty of air force planes. They can easily take care of those silly little yellow men – if they were ever stupid enough to try anything.’

  ‘The Japs aren’t stupid, Miss Roper. They’re very bright.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re an expert on Japs as well, are you?’

  ‘I spent three months in Japan and I learned something about the way their minds tick. They don’t take kindly to being looked down on or having their economy sabotaged. The whites think the Japs are inferior but the Japs reckon it’s the other way round. They believe they’re descended from a sun goddess.’

  ‘Which shows that they must be very stupid.’

  ‘Underestimating them is what’s stupid. They’ve spent more than four years practising war on the Chinese. And there are eighty million of them.’

  What a hideous accent it was! Far worse than American. ‘Really? Have you counted?’

  ‘Maybe your Government ought to start doing some counting. Since the Japs marched into Indo-China they’re a thousand miles nearer to Malaya. Doesn’t anybody realize that?’

  She hadn’t. But so what? They were still a long way away. ‘Do we have to talk about them? It’s all so tedious.’

  He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. What’ll we talk about instead?’

  ‘Personally, I can’t think of a single thing.’

  ‘How about the weather? That’s nice and safe and English. Does it often rain like this here?’

  ‘This is nothing. When the monsoon gets going properly, in a few weeks’ time, it’ll pour for three months.’

  ‘My word! Still, you must have been used to bad weather in England.’

  ‘I’ve never lived in England. I was born in Malaya and I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve only been to England once.’

  He said, surprised, ‘I’d never have guessed it. You’re very English, same as all the expatriates here. They’ve brought the Old Country out with them, haven’t they? Transported it lock, stock and barrel – except for the weather. They had the sense to leave that behind.’ He drew on the cigarette again. ‘What do you do, Miss Roper – when you’re not having fun at parties like this?’

  ‘A secretarial course.’

  ‘Somehow, I can’t see you as a secretary.’

  She said sarcastically, ‘Really? What else do you suggest I should do?’

  ‘Well, if you’ve got any spare time, they need more volunteers at the Alexandra.’

  ‘You mean rolling bandages and running errands? Like Milly?’

  ‘No, not like Milly. You’d be no good on the wards.’

  ‘Why not, pray?’

  ‘You’re not the type. Can you drive?’

  ‘As it happens, I can.’

  ‘Could you drive an ambulance?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I should think so.’

  ‘You could have a go.’

  The rubber planter appeared in the doorway, swaying and plainly the worse for gin slings. ‘Found you at last.’ He twirled his fingers. ‘How about another spin?’

  She put the shoes back on, fastened the ankle straps and stood up. ‘I’d love to.’

  Milly said later, ‘I saw you on the verandah with Ray. Rather dishy, isn’t he?’

  ‘Dishy? Him?’

  ‘Don’t you think so?’

  ‘No, I don’t. He’s awful. Look, Milly, I think I’ll head off now, if you don’t mind. I’m a bit tired. Could you tell Meng to send for Ghani?’

  ‘No need. Osman will take you back.’

  She sat in the back of the Bensons’ Ford while their syce drove her home. The rain was drumming on the car roof, the windscreen wipers swishing to and fro. She undid her shoes again and kicked them off, wiggling her toes. What utter piffle that Australian had talked! Singapore was a fortress – everybody said so. Impassable jungle on one side and the huge Royal Navy guns guarding the other. Safe as houses, as the nice Roger had put it, and the left-footed planter had agreed. And what did Australians know about anything – descended from convicts and living upside down at the bottom of the world?

  Soojal was waiting. ‘Missee had nice evening?’

  ‘Not really. It was rather dull. Is the tuan back?’

  ‘No, missee. Not yet. Missee need anything?’

  ‘No, thank you, Soojal. I’m going to bed.’

  A bow. A smile. ‘Goodnight, missee.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  She walked barefoot across the tiles, swinging the peep-toes by their ankle straps. As she passed the green glass Buddha, she rubbed his tummy – for luck, and to ward off any evil spirits that might be lurking in the shadows.

  Two

  EARLY MORNING WAS the best time of day, especially after rain when everything looked washed and clean. The air was cool and fresh, the lallang emerald green, the flowers smelled honey-sweet, and a golden mist still held the heat of the sun at bay. It was also the time when she and her father had breakfast alone together.

  He was sitting at the table on the verandah, eating his boiled egg and toast while he read the Straits Times. Rex was stationed patiently under the table, hoping for crumbs to fall. She kissed the top of her father’s head and took her place next to him. The number two houseboy, Amith, fetched her papaya fruit and orange juice and poured out her coffee.

  ‘How did your bridge go, Daddy?’

  He smiled at her over the newspaper. ‘Badly. Too many good players at the club these days. Did you have a nice evening with the Bensons, poppet?’

  It was always poppet, never Susan – unless he was angry with her, which was very rare.

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘Meet anyone interesting?’

  ‘They’d invited some Australian army doctors from the Alexandra but I wouldn’t call them interesting. One of them was extremely rude. According to him, we’re all having far too much fun when we ought to be worrying about the Japs attacking us. I told him they’d never dare.’

  ‘Oh, I think the Japs would dare anything, but it doesn’t seem likely that they could succeed.’

  ‘Mr Know-
All thought they could. According to him, they’re very clever and we underestimate them.’

  ‘He might have a point there.’

  ‘He also said that the English have transported England to Singapore. Lock, stock and barrel, were the words he used. Except for the weather.’

  Her father smiled. ‘Well, it’s true, I’m afraid. It wasn’t like that in the early days but with more and more white memsahibs coming out here, Singapore’s getting rather like Surbiton. We’re losing touch with the native Singapore and that’s a great pity.’

  ‘Surbiton?’

  ‘A suburban district on the edge of London. I used to stay there with an aged aunt in the school holidays sometimes. You’d think it was a very boring place, poppet. I did.’

  ‘Is it anywhere near Esher?’

  ‘Yes, very near. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered. I met someone who came from there.’ She started on the papaya. ‘Anything in the newspaper?’

  ‘Nothing good. Moscow’s still under siege. I hope to God the Russians manage to hold out against the Germans. It’s bitterly cold there and deep snow. Poor wretches, fighting in those conditions. It must be hell for any soldier, whichever side he’s on.’

  Amith was moving softly about with dishes, the birds were twittering and tweeting in their cages, the mynahs chattering in the trees, cicadas in full chorus, Arjun, the kebun, rhythmically scything the lallang and the sun beginning to break through the mist to heat the day. The snows of Russia were a million miles away. Unimaginable.

  Her father folded the newspaper and tossed the last piece of toast to Rex, who caught and devoured it with one snap of his jaws.

  ‘I must go. I’ve got an early meeting. Ghani will be back to take you to the college.’