The Empire Trilogy Part 53

39.

Matthew sat down on the steps, rather disconsolately. Joan still had not returned. Perhaps this was just as well, for he was by no means sure that he was all that keen on marrying her, after all. It had certainly seemed a good idea earlier in the afternoon, though. Besides, he had gone to the trouble of shaving and putting on a new suit. 'Perhaps she will refuse,' he thought hopefully; that would settle the matter without his having to make a decision. (But no, there was no chance of her refusing.) He sighed, and for some reason felt as lonely and as unwanted as if she had had refused him. refused him.

Meanwhile, four bright eyes were surveying him from behind a dazzling cascade of bougainvillaea. One pair belonged to Kate Blackett, the other to a friend of Kate's called Melanie Langfield. This Melanie Langfield, who was of an age with Kate, belonged to the detested Langfield family and was, in fact, a grand-daughter of old Solomon Langfield, the mere thought of whom was enough to make the bristles on Walter's spine puff up with loathing. The raid which the two girls had just performed on the larder had been partly foiled by the vigilance of Abdul, the major-domo. Before being discovered, however, they had each managed to get a spoonful of Kate's 'Radio Malt' and Melanie had had the presence of mind to slip a jar of lemonade crystals into the pocket of her frock. Now she and Kate, hidden by the bougainvillaea, were alternately dipping moistened fingers into the jar and licking off the crystals that stuck to them, enjoying the tingling acid taste on their tongues.

What was a member of the hated Langfield family doing at the Blacketts' house? Kate and Melanie, as it happened, had been sent to the same school in England and neither of them had any other friends of her own age in Singapore. Since neither of their respective sets of parents could be convinced that the other children who abounded in the colony were quite the social equals of their own daughter both families had found themselves in a dilemma. The result was that though the Langfields and the Blacketts did not for a moment cease to speak ill of each other or to detest each other any the less heartily, they did sometimes grudgingly agree to the smaller children playing together 'unofficially'. This was fortunate because otherwise Kate and Melanie might have had to spend their childhood totally immured, as so many unhappy children do, behind their parents' sn.o.bbery. Kate and Melanie would be allowed to be friends for as long as they could be thought of as 'children'; in just such a way Monty and Joan had been allowed when small to play with little Langfields they would now scarcely acknowledge in the street even if the rickshaws they were travelling in happened to pull up alongside each other at a traffic light. Thanks to this fiction that a child did not exist or, at worst, like an immature wasp had not yet grown its sting, Walter could even, and often did, reach out a paternal hand to fondle Melanie's charming blonde curls and without suffering any ill effects whatsoever. But if you had insisted on telling him that this was not a child but a Langfield Langfield he would certainly have sprung back in horror. He would have been as likely then to stroke the slimy head of a toad as little Melanie's curls. he would certainly have sprung back in horror. He would have been as likely then to stroke the slimy head of a toad as little Melanie's curls.

Melanie, as it happened, was a pale little creature who looked younger than Kate though they were the same age. But her pallor concealed a powerful personality and a restless inventor of schemes. As for obeying rules, at school she had more than once spat in the eye of authority (she had practised spitting in the garden in Singapore). Rules were made to be broken, in Melanie's view. Yes, Langfield blood ran in her veins all right; if Walter could have read her school report he would have been in no doubt about that. But perhaps she had mellowed a little, had she not, in the course of the past few months as her body began the upsetting change from that of a child to that of a woman? Well, no, not really, no, she had not mellowed at all. All that had happened was that her preoccupations had begun to change, and Kate's with them: both girls had become more curious about men men. A few months earlier those four eyes observing Matthew would have pa.s.sed over him without really noticing him, as over a potted plant or a chest of drawers. But now they remained on him attentively as he sat on the steps with his head in his hands.

'Darling, whatever is the matter with the Human Bean?'

'Darling, I haven't the faintest.'

'Haven't you, darling? Let's go and ask him.'

Matthew was quite glad to see the girls, though surprised that Kate, who usually called him 'Matthew' should call him 'My dear darling Human Bean'. When she had introduced him to her dearest friend in the whole world, Melanie, he asked her to explain and she told him how Ehrendorf had called him a 'wonderful human bean'. 'Ah, poor Ehrendorf,' he thought. 'Where is he now, I wonder?'

While this was being settled Melanie's eyes had been examining Matthew's face in a way which was every bit as calculating as one might have expected even of a senior Langfield. And now she had a suggestion which to Kate seemed staggering in its audacity: the Human Bean should take them to the cinema! This was daring: neither girl was allowed to go to the cinema until she had forced her way through a veritable thicket of preconditions: an eternity of good behaviour was demanded, not to mention school reports which were favourable almost to the point of fawning ... and, most th.o.r.n.y of all, a preliminary inspection of the film by an adult member of the family.

But if Melanie's first suggestion was daring, her second was breathtaking in its temerity. For, fixing her bright, unblinking eyes on Matthew's face like a lizard watching a moth, she added: 'We want to go and see Robert Taylor in Waterloo Bridge Waterloo Bridge.' Kate grew very tense; she held her breath and her heart began to pound. She had difficulty in preventing herself from gasping at this. Waterloo Bridge Waterloo Bridge was a picture for grown-ups. It would never have qualified as suitable in a million years! It spoke (so they had been told by Mrs Langfield's Irish maid) of intimate and romantic relations between men and women. It was about all was a picture for grown-ups. It would never have qualified as suitable in a million years! It spoke (so they had been told by Mrs Langfield's Irish maid) of intimate and romantic relations between men and women. It was about all that that sort of thing (for Kate 'all that sort of thing' was a churning vat of dark and still mysterious experience from beneath whose tap-tapping lid there issued an occasional whiff of intoxicating steam). She suddenly began to feel rather sick with excitement and dread. One moment it had been an ordinary, rather boring afternoon, the next she was walking along the edge of a dizzy precipice with the gravel crumbling from under her feet. sort of thing (for Kate 'all that sort of thing' was a churning vat of dark and still mysterious experience from beneath whose tap-tapping lid there issued an occasional whiff of intoxicating steam). She suddenly began to feel rather sick with excitement and dread. One moment it had been an ordinary, rather boring afternoon, the next she was walking along the edge of a dizzy precipice with the gravel crumbling from under her feet.

Matthew, meanwhile, was looking rather bemused, like someone who has just been roused from a heavy afternoon nap. He looked vaguely at his watch, shook his wrist and looked at it again. But it was working, after all.

'Go on, be a sport,' said Melanie. 'We could go to the four o'clock show and be back for supper,' she added persuasively.

'No one would know,' put in Kate, and received a vicious, warning pinch from Melanie: she would arouse the Bean's suspicions by making stupid remarks like that.

Matthew was not all that keen, anyway. It was too hot to sit in a picture-house. 'I really came over to see Joan, you know. There was something I wanted to ask her.'

'She won't be back for ages ages!'

'Probably not before supper!'

'Oh, won't she?' Matthew looked rather baffled and again consulted his watch. 'Couldn't we go another time? Say, the day after tomorrow, for example?'

'But that's Sunday Sunday!' screamed Melanie. 'n.o.body goes to the pictures on Sunday Sunday. It's simply not done done!'

'Oh, well then ...' Matthew hesitated. He really wanted to return to the Mayfair to ponder his conversation with Walter and perhaps discuss it with the Major. 'You're sure Joan won't be back till supper?'

'Of course we're sure, you dumb-bell!' shouted Melanie, beside herself with excitement and frustration. By now she had sized Matthew up and she could see that he needed a firm hand firm hand.

'Wouldn't you like instead just to go and eat ices at John Little's?'

'No we b.l.o.o.d.y well wouldn't!' declared Melanie emphatically: she had noticed Kate brightening at the idea, just like a little girl, and knew it must be scotched immediately.

Matthew scratched his head uncertainly and looked around. Then he again looked at his watch but that still offered no a.s.sistance. The girls stood there like coiled springs.

'Well, in that case ...' he murmured and came to a stop again. Melanie rolled her eyes to heaven at these hesitations. 'All right then,' he said at last. 'I'll ask the Major if I can borrow his car.'

The girls gave a great whoop of delight.

'But you must bring your gas-mask cases.'

'Have we got to?' They had been issued, by some stroke of bureaucratic insensitivity, with (of all things!) Mickey Mouse gas-masks! As if they were little kids! It was too, too shaming! They tried to explain this to Matthew. They would rather be ga.s.sed ga.s.sed! But Matthew was adamant ... No gas-masks, no pictures. The girls were so overwhelmed, however, by the startling success of Melanie's boldness that in the end they were prepared to concede gas-masks. Curiously, as they dashed back into the house to get them they were holding hands tightly like two little children, having forgotten to be sophisticated in their excitement.

Accompanying Matthew back through the compound to the Mayfair, Kate and Melanie were inclined to be furtive at first. They were afraid of being spotted at the last moment by some interfering adult. But once they had plunged into the corridor of pili nut trees they considered themselves fairly safe, barring some coincidence. Mrs Blackett never ventured this far.

Unfortunately, while borrowing the keys of the Lagonda from the Major, Matthew could not resist mentioning the conversation he had just had with Walter about replanting. And the Major, who was also concerned about this matter, mentioned the interesting fact that two or three of the other small rubber companies manged by Blackett and Webb had attempted, in the interests of the War Effort, to stop this replanting in order to maintain the highest possible rate of tapping. But faced with Blackett and Webb's orders to the contrary they had been unable to do anything about it. Matthew was astonished. 'But that's absurd, Major! How can they stop a company doing what it wants? They only manage it, don't they? They don't own it.'

So, while the minutes ticked away and the girls grew fretful, the Major explained. Blackett and Webb were responsible not only for the daily management (buying of equipment and supplies, selling of produce, tapping policy, hiring of labour and so on) but for the investment of profits as well. For some years now they had made it their policy to invest the profits of one company in the shares of the other companies for which they acted as agents. The result of this incestuous investment as far as the Mayfair, to give an example, was concerned, was that the Mayfair's shares were concentrated in other companies controlled by Blackett and Webb, while the shares of each other company were held by the Mayfair and other Blackett companies. Thus, a revolt against Blackett and Webb's tapping policy by the directors of any single company could be easily quelled by marshalling proxy votes from the others. The only way in which Blackett and Webb's grip on the destinies of individual companies could be loosened would be by a simultaneous uprising, so to speak, of a majority of them acting in concert. But since the investment had taken place not only in rubber but in all sorts of other companies, shipping, trading, insurance and whatnot ... such a simultaneous uprising was naturally out of the question. The beauty of this system from Blackett and Webb's point of view was that they had not invested a penny in many of these companies and yet they lay as firmly in their grip as if they owned them lock, stock and barrel.

'Oh, do let's go!' pleaded Kate. 'We'll miss the beginning.'

'But good gracious! Can that be legal?'

'Perfectly, it appears.'

'Do get a move on. There's no time for all this talk talk!' Melanie seized the dazed Matthew by one arm and began to drag him physically towards the verandah door. But she was very slight and Matthew was very heavy: she only managed to drag him one or two reluctant paces.

'Well I must say ...' Matthew might have gone on standing there until they had missed the newsreel had not the Major noticed the girls' anxiety and said: 'But I can see these young ladies don't want me to waste any more of your time. What are you going to see, by the way?'

'Oh, wait,' said Matthew. 'Something or other called ...'

'A picture with Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh,' gabbled Melanie, interrupting him with the presence of mind for which Langfields were notorious in Singapore. 'Now we must go go!'

And go they did, at long last. Hardly had they turned out into the road than they pa.s.sed Joan's open Riley tourer just returning from the Cold Storage. Joan caught sight of them as they pa.s.sed and the girls saw her head turn. But by that time they were away. Matthew, who managed to be both a cautious and a reckless driver at the same time, was peering with grim concentration through his dusty spectacles at the road ahead. He did not see her.

40.

One hour, two hours pa.s.sed. The sun dipped towards Sumatra in the west. Now Matthew was once more peering at the road ahead with a grim expression but this time the Lagonda was going along Orchard Road in the opposite direction, to drop Melanie at the Langfields' elegant house on Na.s.sim Road. It was cooler. The city was bathed in a gentle golden light which, for a little while before sunset, came as a reprieve from the dazzling hours of daylight. But still, Matthew had the dazed and vulnerable feeling, the slight taste of ashes, which he always experienced when he came out of a cinema into daylight. The girls sat crammed together beside him, for the Lagonda was only a two-seater, each busy with her own thoughts. As far as Kate was concerned these had a somewhat apprehensive cast. She was afraid there might be a row when she got home. She was also afraid that she might have got Matthew into trouble by taking advantage of his innocence.

For the most part, however, Kate's thoughts were concerned with the film they had just seen. As they were coming out of the picture-house Melanie had whispered: 'Isn't he divine?' Kate had nodded vehemently, but with closed lips. She was not certain whether Melanie meant Matthew or Robert Taylor and was afraid of agreeing to the wrong one. But after a moment Melanie added condescendingly: 'She's not bad bad ... but I don't think that sort of woman is ... but I don't think that sort of woman is really really attractive, do you?' This time Kate shook her head vehemently, still with set lips. Melanie could only mean Vivien Leigh, that much was settled at least. But whether or not that sort of woman was 'really attractive' was something that Kate had not even considered. Nor was she even sure how to begin to have an opinion. Melanie was simply amazing! While she herself had been struggling to understand what was happening in the story (which had suddenly grown puzzling with Vivien Leigh dressed in a beret, a sweater and high-heeled shoes hanging around Waterloo Station and saying h.e.l.lo to soldiers for no obvious reason), Melanie had clearly been coming to the conclusion that if Robert Taylor had had to choose between her and Vivien Leigh he would have chosen Melanie! attractive, do you?' This time Kate shook her head vehemently, still with set lips. Melanie could only mean Vivien Leigh, that much was settled at least. But whether or not that sort of woman was 'really attractive' was something that Kate had not even considered. Nor was she even sure how to begin to have an opinion. Melanie was simply amazing! While she herself had been struggling to understand what was happening in the story (which had suddenly grown puzzling with Vivien Leigh dressed in a beret, a sweater and high-heeled shoes hanging around Waterloo Station and saying h.e.l.lo to soldiers for no obvious reason), Melanie had clearly been coming to the conclusion that if Robert Taylor had had to choose between her and Vivien Leigh he would have chosen Melanie!

Kate was also afraid that Melanie had been rather rude to Matthew. For Matthew had grown restless once the old news-reel was over (he had been gratified to see a hundred thousand Italian prisoners being marched along in North Africa by one British Tommy). He had sat placidly enough through the beginning when Robert Taylor in uniform said to his driver: 'To France ... to Waterloo Station,' and even through the air-raid on Waterloo Bridge when he b.u.mped into Vivien Leigh with the sirens going and the wardens blowing whistles and said: 'You little fool, are you tired of life?' and she had said, as they were walking to the air-raid shelter: 'Would it be too unmilitary if we were to run?' and gave him a good luck charm to stop him being killed, which seemed to be made of Bakelite.

During all that part Matthew had not been too bad: he had only begun to fidget during the scenes when the strict sort of headmistress who ran the ballet was being beastly to Vivien Leigh who wanted to flirt with Robert Taylor who had not had to go to France after all, but then he had had to go before they had time to get married. Matthew had fidgeted worse and worse during the scene in the Candlelight Club with all the violins when they danced to the 'Farewell Waltz' which sounded very like 'Auld Lang Syne', and worse still during the scene where Vivien Leigh, who had been sacked from the ballet and had run out of money, read in the paper that he had been killed, while she was waiting in the Ritz to have tea with his mother, Lady Margaret, who turned up late and found her drunk.

'Are you sure you want to stay for the rest?' Matthew had asked suddenly in a loud voice at about the time when Vivien Leigh had started hanging around Waterloo Station saying things like 'h.e.l.lo' and 'welcome home' to soldiers. It was at that moment that Melanie had asked him to be quiet, she was trying to concentrate, and a man in the row in front had said shush. Kate had turned once or twice to look at Matthew after that. He had sunk very low in his seat with his shoulders to his ears: she could tell by the light from the screen that he was unhappy.

Meanwhile, Vivien Leigh was getting more and more unhappy, too, and spending more and more time with her beret and handbag and high heels saying h.e.l.lo to soldiers even though it did not seem to agree with her. There was something wrong, that was obvious, but what was it? Kate had no idea but could not bring herself to ask Melanie. And when Robert Taylor had suddenly appeared again at the station with some other soldiers she was about to say h.e.l.lo to, instead of looking pleased to see him she had looked quite upset and had said: 'Oh Roy, you're alive,' and gone on acting in the same peculiar way. Even Robert Taylor did not seem to know what ailed her. He had taken her up to his castle in Scotland, and she had got on quite well this time with Lady Margaret and they were going to be married, but she still had moments of being peculiar and finally she had told Lady Margaret, who had become very understanding, that she had something to confess though without saying what it was. But Lady Margaret had seemed to guess (which was more than Kate could!) and said something like 'Oh my poor child' and then had seemed to agree that she should run away to London again which she did and then threw herself under a lorry on Waterloo Bridge and that was the end apart from some moping by Robert Taylor on Waterloo Bridge. Still, Kate, though she had not understood it, had found it a shattering experience. She only wished that Melanie had not been quite such a bully with Matthew. At the same time, in some strange way, a part of Kate did did know what the film was about ... the explanation, she knew, lay just below the surface of her mind, and when she uncovered it, it would seem perfectly familiar. know what the film was about ... the explanation, she knew, lay just below the surface of her mind, and when she uncovered it, it would seem perfectly familiar.

But now they had reached Melanie's house on Na.s.sim Road. Matthew would have driven up the drive and into this Langfield stronghold like some innocent wayfarer straying into a robber's den, had not Kate had her wits about her and stopped him at the gate. Melanie gabbled a quick formula of thanks at Matthew, turned her bright, beady eyes on Kate for a moment and then bolted up the drive. Kate somehow knew that if their visit to the cinema were discovered Melanie would be ready with a story to divert all blame from herself to Matthew or to the Blackett family. But then, what could one expect of a Langfield? Even Kate was not too young to have learned that it made as much sense to reproach a Langfield for treacherous behaviour as it would to condemn a fox for killing a chicken.

Unexpectedly, Kate and Matthew became cheerful once they had dropped Melanie, and although it was almost supper-time they decided to buy mango ice-creams at the California Sandwich Shoppe to eat on the way home. As she sat in the Lagonda beside Matthew trying not to let the ice-cream drip on to her frock, a profound feeling of happiness stole over Kate. At first she thought it was because of the ice-cream, but even when she had finished the ice-cream it persisted. Besides, it was not just happiness, it was a feeling of relief to find herself alone with Matthew: she felt that she had no need to explain anything to him, that he understood her immediately and that somehow he even understood her without her having to say anything at all. This feeling of being understood, though it only lasted for the ten minutes or so it took them to return to the Mayfair, came as a shock and a revelation to Kate. It abruptly opened up all sorts of new possibilities, not just with the Human Bean, of course, though now she understood why Joan wanted to marry him, but of a much more general kind. It was as if she had suddenly realized what human beans are for what human beans are for! To understand each other without speaking, that was what they were for! ... She felt she wanted to touch Matthew, but did not quite dare. As they reached the Mayfair she began to worry again about the row which might await her. How peaceful it was here beneath the green arching trees of Tanglin! She clutched her gas-mask case and hoped for the best.

The car had hardly come to a stop when they saw the Major signalling to them from the verandah. They could tell from his expression that something was wrong. Kate's heart sank: her parents must have found out already what she had been up to. But it turned out to be something else which was troubling the Major. He waited until they had got out of the car and come quite close. Then he said grimly: 'Penang has fallen. Francois has just got back from there. It seems incredible but I'm afraid there's no doubt about it.'

As Kate walked home through the compound she thought: 'With all the fuss n.o.body will worry about me going to the cinema, at any rate.'

When Matthew and the Major followed her to the Blacketts' house a few minutes later they found an atmosphere of despondency and alarm. Mrs Blackett was worried about her brother, Charlie, who had returned to his regiment only three days earlier after a spell of comparative safety in Singapore. Had there been a big defeat and, if so, had the Punjabis been involved in it? n.o.body knew, of course. For all anyone knew the Punjabis were still safely lodged in some barracks in Kuala Lumpur. Walter, though showing concern for his wife's anxiety, was less worried about Charlie than about the general situation: Penang was such a familiar part of his life in Malaya that it seemed inconceivable that it should fall to the j.a.panese. Moreover, he was indignant that he should have had no prior warning from the authorities that such a disaster might occur. As for Monty, he was worried about his own prospects: he was afraid that unless he was careful he might end up having to fight j.a.panese himself. Everything was going wrong these days. All this ghastly wedding furore and now Penang. He could hardly even find anyone to talk to! Even Sinclair Sinclair seemed determined to give up his staff job and rejoin his regiment, the Argylls, if he could w.a.n.gle it. Why he should want to go and get himself killed was more than Monty could fathom. Monty had been hoping that Sinclair might be able to use some influence on his behalf if the worst came to the worst, but he only seemed interested in getting shot at.

Of all the guests who a.s.sembled for supper at the Blacketts' only Dr Brownley and Dupigny did not seem dismayed by the fall of Penang. The former went around shaking hands with everyone politely and murmuring to them in a soothing voice, as if in the presence of a mortal illness. 'Sad news, I'm afraid,' he whispered to Matthew, who was startled to see him winking and nodding. But this was only a nervous idiosyncrasy, it appeared. The Doctor had entered accompanied by Dupigny whose wounds he had been dressing. Despite these wounds Dupigny seemed in good spirits. A dressing had been applied to one side of his face with sticking plaster and there was another dressing on the back of his skull where the hair had been partly shaved away to accommodate it. Nevertheless, his eyes glinted with malicious pleasure as he surveyed the despondent scene in the Blacketts' drawing-room. This was for two reasons: firstly, the Blacketts had behaved so condescendingly towards him since the fall of France that he found it agreeable to see them in a humbler frame of mind; secondly, it vindicated all the sombre predictions he had been making for the past few months concerning the j.a.panese to the general amus.e.m.e.nt of Singapore. Moreover, in a general way it reinforced all his deterministic beliefs about the way nations behave.

For Dupigny a nation resembled a very primitive human being: this human being consisted of, simply, an appet.i.te and some sort of mechanism for satisfying the appet.i.te. In the case of a nation the appet.i.te was usually, if not quite invariably, economic ... (now and again the national vanity which at intervals gripped nations like France and Britain would compel them to some act which made no sense economically: but in this respect, too, they resembled human beings). As for the mechanism for fulfilling the appet.i.te, what was that but a nation's armed forces? The more powerful the armed forces the better the prospects for satiating the appet.i.te; the more powerful the armed forces the more likely (indeed, inevitable, in Dupigny's view) that an attempt would be made would be made to satiate it; just as heavyweight boxers are more frequently involved in tavern brawls than, say, dentists, so the very existence of power demands that it should be used. His own failure in Indo-China had merely confirmed him in his cynical views. The League of Nations? Nothing but a pious waste of time! to satiate it; just as heavyweight boxers are more frequently involved in tavern brawls than, say, dentists, so the very existence of power demands that it should be used. His own failure in Indo-China had merely confirmed him in his cynical views. The League of Nations? Nothing but a pious waste of time!

'Never mind, he's had a good innings,' the Doctor observed soothingly to no one in particular, while Matthew, who was sitting on a sofa nearby, gazed at him baffled by this remark for which he could see no sane explanation. Joan came to sit beside him and he realized with a mild shock: 'People must now think we're a couple a couple!' He could not think of anything to say to her, however. She said in an undertone: 'Poor Monty, they keep trying to call him up for the F.M.S. Volunteers. But, of course, he's doing essential war work and can't possibly go. Besides, they can hardly be "volunteers" if they're forcing him to join, can they?' Matthew had to agree that, strictly speaking ... She ignored him, however, and went on: 'I do believe that Francois is wearing new clothes.'

It was true. After months of appearing in the threadbare suit he had managed to salvage in his flight from Saigon Dupigny was now smartly dressed in a new shirt, new trousers, and a new linen jacket, not to mention a splendid pair of gleaming shoes. This elegant attire he had succeeded, not without difficulty, in looting from a burning shop in George Town. The bandages which swathed the fingers and palms of both hands were the result of this gallant effort, though he did not say so when anyone remarked on them, implying diffidently instead that he had been obliged to rescue someone (himself, as it happened: he had spent too long searching for clothes that were the right size) from a blazing building where he had been trapped by a beam which had fallen across his foot. 'With the roof about to fall,' he was explaining modestly to Mrs Blackett as he gingerly accepted a pahit pahit from the Chinese boy's tray, 'it was necessary to pick it up with the bare hands, otherwise he would not have had a chance, the poor fellow.' from the Chinese boy's tray, 'it was necessary to pick it up with the bare hands, otherwise he would not have had a chance, the poor fellow.'

Walter, overhearing this, frowned at Dupigny, not because he disbelieved this story, but to indicate that he should speak guardedly in front of the 'boy'; because if news of the disaster which had befallen Penang, a town which had been British for centuries, should circulate among the natives, what would be the state of their morale? The Major noticed Walter's frown and knew what he was thinking. But he also knew that Walter's precaution was futile, for had not Cheong told him of the fall of Penang that morning before anyone else had heard of it? The Major was doubly distressed to think that the Europeans had been evacuated from Penang while the rest of the population had been left to make the best of it.

Joan's place beside Matthew on the sofa had been taken by Monty, who said gloomily: 'You've heard they're trying to shove me into the b.l.o.o.d.y Volunteers?'

'Joan just told me.'

'They're being frightfully sticky about it. And now all this about Penang. If you ask me they're making a complete mess of things.' Monty sighed, wondering if he could get himself sent on a trade mission to Australia or America. To think that a few days ago life had seemed perfectly OK!

Dupigny, surrounded by a sombre group, was describing the nightmare journey he had made from Penang to KL. The last fifty miles he had travelled in a lorry belonging to a Chinese rubber dealer who had been out collecting rubber from small-holdings. One of the drawbacks to this vehicle was that there had been nothing to screen the engine from themselves. It had been right there with them in the cab, so that every time the driver accelerated there had been great flashes of flame from the fuel chamber, not to mention spurts of water from the radiator. The only seat for both himself and the Chinese had been a plank on a wooden box. To make matters worse there was no way of fastening the door: at every turn he risked plunging out into the rainy jungle. From time to time, when the engine faltered on an incline, the Chinese had leaned forward to grope encouragingly in the entrails, putting his hand on the carburettor to supply a choke or pinning a raw wire against the metal of the cab to sound the horn. The wiring festooned everywhere had sparkled like a Christmas tree and every few miles he, Dupigny, had been obliged to cool his heels while the Chinese crawled into the lorry's intestines with a spanner to perform some major operation. By the time they had reached KL, thanks to the flames, the boiling water and the steam from the engine, he had been grilled, boiled and finally poached, like a Dieppe sole! How glad he had been to come upon young Ehrendorf having a drink by himself at the Majestic Hotel opposite the railway station.

'Did he say how the fighting was going?'

'He was not cheerful. But he did not say anything specific.'

'Well, we had better eat,' said Walter, ushering his guests towards the dining-room. 'Perhaps things are not quite as bad as they seem.'

Penang, after all, was almost five hundred miles away. There was still plenty of territory between themselves and the j.a.panese. Still, although of little importance commercially, Penang had always been a part of the Blacketts' world. Now they felt the ground beginning to shift under their feet.

The meal would have been lugubrious indeed if Dr Brownley had not been there. At first he had been uneasy, inclined to think: 'Good gracious, this makes it twenty-two times in a row that they've invited me here and I still haven't invited them back!' But he was a doctor, after all, and could see that this evening the Blacketts needed the comfort of some more familiar topic to occupy their minds. And what better than the Langfields? A long time ago he had discovered that there was nothing that could make a Blackett feel himself again so swiftly as a Langfield (or vice versa, of course, for both these eminent Singapore families were the Doctor's patients). Should a Blackett find himself suffering from depression, insomnia or loss of appet.i.te, it would usually take no more than a faintly disparaging remark about the Langfields' style of life, their furniture or curtains, say, to effect a cure. On other occasions, when a thorough quickening of the blood was indicated, as in cases of migraine, back-ache, severe constipation or the loss of concentration which Mrs Blackett increasingly suffered as she grew older, stronger meat was sometimes required. Then the Doctor would disclose some more serious matter, the Langfields' reluctance to pay their bills, or their attempts to claim they had paid when they had not, or requests for medical attention on social occasions. As he had dined regularly with both families over the years and with each had concluded that the only topic of conversation guaranteed to please was the other, he had, perhaps, not been as sparing with this drug as he should. It had come about, indeed, that nowadays, just to maintain the family in normal health, he felt it necessary as a matter of course to prepare one or two choice bits of gossip and bring them to the table, the way a zoo-keeper brings herrings in a bucket when he visits the sea-lions.

'Walter, you'd hardly believe the latest about a certain family (I won't say who, mind, but it's no secret they live on Na.s.sim Road)! Well, it seems that they've really outdone themselves this time!' And the Doctor chuckled conspiratorially, looking round the table. The Blacketts, shocked though they were by the loss of Penang, disturbed by thoughts of the future, felt nevertheless a slight alleviation of their burden. The Doctor cut away busily at his veal cutlet, taking his time but still chuckling, while the Blacketts put aside thoughts of Penang in flames and focused their attention on him. 'Yes,' thought the Doctor as he began to enlarge on an example of the Langfields' shortcomings, 'that's what they need. Something to take their minds off it.'

In no time at all one herring after another was describing a glistening arc over the dining-table to be deftly plucked out of the air by one whiskered Blackett head after another. Presently, only the Major, Dupigny and Matthew were sitting there without the head and tail of a fish protruding from their mouths. What was all this about? they wondered. And what did it have to do with Penang?

Matthew, in his excitement and concern over this serious news from Penang had not been paying proper attention to the amount of alcohol he had been drinking. He had been absent-mindedly swallowing one gla.s.s of wine after another and now he was far from sober. He was bored with the Doctor and his chat about the Langfields: it seemed to him ridiculous and unworthy that they should be chatting in such a suburban vein at this historic moment when great events were brewing all around them, when a new and terrible link was being forged in the chain of events which reached back to the first betrayal of justice at the League. Instead they should be talking about, well ... no matter what what, provided it expressed one's real feelings. This was a moment to discuss matters which one does not normally mention on social occasions for fear of making oneself ridiculous or embarra.s.sing one's friends; love and death, for example. Presently, inspired by Walter's claret, he decided that this might be a good moment in which to make the proposal of marriage to Joan which he had intended to make earlier in the afternoon. He looked at her: never had the modelling of her cheekbones seemed so exquisite! Never had her sable curls glowed more richly! He felt moved by her beauty, or perhaps it was simply by the wine and the spice of risk which had been added to life by the news from Penang. Suddenly, he pushed back his chair and stood up.

Silence fell around the table. The Blacketts gazed at him in surprise. He stood there for a moment without saying anything, leaning forward slightly with his knuckles on the polished surface of the table. 'A sad occasion,' muttered the Doctor at his side, looking rather put out, for Matthew had interrupted a choice anecdote by so boorishly rising to his feet. Matthew, while his audience waited, combed his mind for the various things he wanted to say ... he knew what they were (they had been there only a moment ago), and he knew he must say them from the heart.

'Monty has told me,' he began at last, 'that for the past few days certain plans for Joan's wedding have been discussed and that these plans have included me. Well, this evening, it seems to me, we should for once in our lives speak out about our innermost feelings ... And that's why I suddenly got up just now, I suppose it may have looked a bit odd, now I come to think of it ... I think we should say, well ... I think you see what I mean ...'

The Blacketts stirred uneasily, by no means sure that they did see what he meant. Besides, Matthew had plainly had a few drinks too many. But still, he did sound as if he might be on the right lines as far as the wedding was concerned. Until now he had seemed thoroughly apathetic about the whole business, indeed, had not mentioned it at all, and that had been a strain, particularly for Walter and Joan, who could not quite decide whether to go ahead with final arrangements on the strength of what had been agreed already, or whether to wait for a more positive sign from Matthew.

'To you sitting around this table who knew my father rather better than I did, I'm afraid ... I hope you don't mind if I call you "my dearest friends" ... Well, I just wanted to say ... and a.s.sure you that I do mean it ...' Matthew, who had got a bit muddled, had to pause for a moment to straighten out exactly what was in his mind, to run a hot iron over his thoughts and smooth out any final contradictions in them. This was not difficult. He had to say what he really felt about the prospect of marrying Joan. And so it was that a moment later, to his own surprise he heard a rather far-off voice saying: 'I suppose I should have spoken up before in order to prevent a misunderstanding but, although I like Joan very much. I don't really want to marry her, if you see what I mean. Well, that's all I wanted to say.' And with that he sat down, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Part Four

41.

I returned to Singapore on the morning of 20 December and shortly afterwards issued a paper containing information of the j.a.panese tactics and instructions as to how they should be countered. In this I stressed that the first essential was rigid discipline and absolute steadiness and secondly, that the enemy's out-flanking and infiltration tactics must not lead to withdrawals which should only take place on the order of higher authority. I suggested that the best method of defence might be for a holding group to be dug in astride the main artery of communication with striking forces on the flanks ready to attack as soon as the enemy made contact with the holding group. With a view to trying to curb the many wild rumours which were flying about, aggravated by the difficulty of finding out what really was happening, I ordered that the spreading of rumours and exaggerated reports of the enemy's efficiency must be rigidly suppressed.

Lieutenant-General A. E. Percival, The War in Malaya j.a.pANESE BURNING KORAN IN NORTH.

Refugees who have made their way out of Trengganu since the j.a.panese occupation bring a shocking story of sacrilege. They state that the j.a.panese broke into the Mohammedan religious school at Kuala Trengganu, capital of the state, ransacked it, threw the kitab-kitab (holy books) out of the window and desecrated the holy Koran. Further, they have set up their own idols in the Police Suran (place of worship) in Kuala Trengganu. This news, following on the bombing of the mosques in Penang and Kuala Lumpur, is causing Malays to recall bitterly that it is only a few weeks since the Tokio radio was broadcasting nightly a.s.surances of special solicitude for Muslims and Muslim places of worship in Malay and elsewhere.

LULL IN MALAYA: NEW RAF SUCCESS.

According to last night's official communique, the j.a.panese have not been able to maintain their pressure on the Perak front, where our patrols have been active.

RAIDS ON KUALA LUMPUR.

Since their first raid on Kuala Lumpur town on Friday the j.a.panese have returned regularly every day. On Tuesday there were five alerts. The raiders are always met by heavy ack-ack fire. As a result they have not dared appear directly over the town and have not dropped any bombs since last Friday.

Straits Times Thursday, 1 January 1942 Thursday, 1 January 1942 Now the New Year of 1942 began and life in Singapore underwent yet another frightening metamorphosis. Little by little people had grown accustomed to the darkness of the blacked-out streets and the military road-blocks, though they had not ceased to be an inconvenience. But now air-raids, sporadic at first and usually aimed at the docks and airfields, came to remind Singapore's inhabitants of the dangers they ran. And yet, when you thought about it, only a few days had pa.s.sed since Singapore had been still enjoying the comfort and security of peace-time. How far away those pleasant days already seemed! These days, unless your character was unusually imperturbable, you found it hard to enjoy dining on the lawn of Raffles Hotel in the tropical night surrounded by the fan-shaped silhouettes of travellers' palms. By now people preferred to dine inside: for one thing there was no light to read the menu by if you stayed outside; for another, although it was still just as enchanting to listen to the sighing of the warm breeze as it tossed the ruffled heads of the nibong palms against the stars high above you, you could no longer be quite sure that the dark shape of a j.a.panese bomber was not lurking like a panther in those tossing palms and watching you with yellow eyes as you put your spoon into a souffle au fromage souffle au fromage. Besides, sitting out there by yourself, could you be altogether certain that you would not find yourself sharing your souffle souffle with a j.a.panese parachutist? with a j.a.panese parachutist?

For Europeans, these days, work swallowed up everything. For no sooner had you finished at the office than you were obliged to report for an evening's training with the pa.s.sive defence and volunteer forces. If you were over the age of forty-one you now found yourself, unless exempted for some other essential work, serving with the volunteer police or firemen or with the Local Defence Corps. Nevertheless, it had taken Singapore's second air-raid on 29 December, and those that followed in ever more rapid succession, to make a real dent in Singapore's way of life. Sporting activities on the padang padang came to an end (to Matthew's inexperienced eye not the least astonishing thing about Singapore had been the sight of thirty grown men engaged in a violently energetic game of rugby a mere few miles from the equator): the munic.i.p.al engineering department had erected obstacles to deny such open s.p.a.ces to aircraft or paratroops. Supplies of tinned food were brought up and people began to improvise air-raid shelters in their gardens or in the less fragile parts of their homes. came to an end (to Matthew's inexperienced eye not the least astonishing thing about Singapore had been the sight of thirty grown men engaged in a violently energetic game of rugby a mere few miles from the equator): the munic.i.p.al engineering department had erected obstacles to deny such open s.p.a.ces to aircraft or paratroops. Supplies of tinned food were brought up and people began to improvise air-raid shelters in their gardens or in the less fragile parts of their homes.

Outwardly, perhaps, not so much had changed. You could still pause almost anywhere in the city, just as you had always done, and buy a refreshing slice of pineapple, or a bunch of tiny, delicious bananas no bigger than the fingers of your hand, or even, if you were adventurous, scoop out the fragrant, heavenly, alarming flesh of the durian. Some people, no less adventurous, occasionally managed a round of golf under the air-raids, at least until golf links and club-house were taken over to be fortified by the Military despite a gallant rear-guard action by the Club Committee to save it for its members. Others sported and splashed in the wavelets at Tanjong Rhu while j.a.panese bombers raided Keppel Harbour across the water. Was this bravado or simply an ill.u.s.tration of the time it takes to change from the reality of peace to the new reality of war? Well, you were probably no less safe and a great deal more comfortable having a swim during an air-raid than sweltering in an improvised shelter.

The Major took tiffin one day in the first week of January with Dr Brownley at the Adelphi Hotel and was surprised to find that the hotel's orchestra was still playing its usual lunchtime concert of old favourites. The only interruption to his conversation with the Doctor, whom he was trying to persuade to provide a mobile medical service for the Mayfair A.F.S. unit, came when a drunken Australian journalist blundered into their table, asked: 'How's the tucker?' and blundered away again. The Major later glimpsed him vomiting into some palms in the lobby while the Swiss manager wrung his hands nearby. Still, considering it was wartime, it was not too much to put up with.

One thing, however, did come as a shock to the Major. He had expected that resentment towards the Forces, endemic for the past few years among European civilians, would be dissipated immediately by the opening of hostilities on the mainland. But on the contrary, it grew even more acute. The Military, it was felt, who were supposed to be defending Singapore's commercial activities, vital as a source of produce for the Empire and for the earning of dollars from America, were doing everything to make business impossible by their high-handed requisitioning of land and property. If the Army had had its way it would have made off with a sizeable part of the labour force into the bargain, to build the camps and fortifications which they should be building for themselves! What indignation would presently be caused in Singapore when (in the third week of January) the Sunday Pictorial Sunday Pictorial in Britain published what the in Britain published what the Straits Times Straits Times called 'absurd allegations regarding whisky-swilling planters, indolent officials and greedy businessmen who refused to pay taxes.' called 'absurd allegations regarding whisky-swilling planters, indolent officials and greedy businessmen who refused to pay taxes.'

But as January pursues its course the civilians and the Military are at least united in one pastime in the increasingly devastated and dangerous city ... they go to the cinema. They go to see Private Affairs Private Affairs with Nancy Kelly and Robert c.u.mmings at the Cathay, or with Nancy Kelly and Robert c.u.mmings at the Cathay, or Bad Men of Missouri Bad Men of Missouri at the Alhambra, or Charlie Chaplin in at the Alhambra, or Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator The Great Dictator at the Roxy. Battered troops from up-country or new arrivals from Britain, Australia and India watch John Wayne in at the Roxy. Battered troops from up-country or new arrivals from Britain, Australia and India watch John Wayne in Dark Command Dark Command at the Empire beside anxious and forlorn refugees from Penang and Kuala Lumpur. Together in the hot darkness they watch Joe E. Brown in at the Empire beside anxious and forlorn refugees from Penang and Kuala Lumpur. Together in the hot darkness they watch Joe E. Brown in So You Won't Talk?, Mata Hari So You Won't Talk?, Mata Hari with Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro, and Henry Fonda in with Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro, and Henry Fonda in The Return of Frank James The Return of Frank James which, despite the boom and thud of bombs and anti-aircraft guns filtering into the cinema, has had all traces of gun-play removed by the Singapore censor in order not to give ideas to the city's Chinese gangsters. Perhaps as they sit there they are a little rea.s.sured by 'the first drama of Uncle Sam's new jump fighters': which, despite the boom and thud of bombs and anti-aircraft guns filtering into the cinema, has had all traces of gun-play removed by the Singapore censor in order not to give ideas to the city's Chinese gangsters. Perhaps as they sit there they are a little rea.s.sured by 'the first drama of Uncle Sam's new jump fighters': Parachute Battalion Parachute Battalion with Robert Preston and Edmund O'Brien ... but no doubt they find parachutes too close to reality and prefer Loretta Young in with Robert Preston and Edmund O'Brien ... but no doubt they find parachutes too close to reality and prefer Loretta Young in The Lady from Cheyenne The Lady from Cheyenne: 'It was a man's world until a low-cut gown took over the town.' They watch in silence with the light from the screen flickering on their strained faces. The week it is shown (by that time people will be wearing steel helmets in the stalls during air-raids) will see, on Tuesday, a ma.s.sive raid by eighty-one j.a.panese Navy bombers on the Tanglin and Orchard. Road district and, on Wednesday, an even more devastating raid on Beach Road.

'Pakai angku punia sarong muka! Put on your gas-masks! Put on your gas-masks! Jangan tembak sampai depat huk.u.m! Jangan tembak sampai depat huk.u.m! Don't fire until you receive orders!' exclaimed the Major, stifling a yawn that threatened to have its way with him. ' Don't fire until you receive orders!' exclaimed the Major, stifling a yawn that threatened to have its way with him. 'Jaga itu periok api ... bedil itu sudah letup. Beware of bombs: the sh.e.l.l has exploded!' Such was the heat and humidity that a prodigious effort was required merely to keep one's eyes open. His head began to droop once more on to his chest. He forced himself to straighten up and say: 'Gali parit untok lima kaki tinggi. Kapal terbang tedak boleh naik sabab musim ribot 'Gali parit untok lima kaki tinggi. Kapal terbang tedak boleh naik sabab musim ribot. Dig a trench about five feet high. The aeroplanes can't go up owing to stormy weather ...' Again his head began to droop. There was a sudden crash and he sat up with a start. Dupigny had just hurled a book across the room at a fat, ginger c.o.c.kroach which was making its way, glistening with health and horribly alert, across the wall of the outer office where they were sitting. The book had missed, however, and the c.o.c.kroach darted away at an unnatural speed.

Revived by the noise, the Major put down the list of useful Malay phrases he had been trying to master and walked across to the window. The rain was pelting down on the broad, green banana leaves and sweeping down the drive in a river towards the storm-drain.

'Listen to this, Brendan,' chuckled Dupigny, who was sprawled in a rattan chair reading the Straits Times Straits Times. ' "Newly arrived. Sandbags! Only a limited quant.i.ty available. Apply Hagemeyer Trading Company Ltd.' They have a vigorous commercial instinct, the people of Singapore!'

'Undoubtedly, Francois, the j.a.panese have gained some initial advantage,' said the Major who had been following his own train of thought. 'But I doubt if they will get much further.'