The Other Side of Paradise (10 page)

‘Foot down hard on the clutch.’

‘It
is
.’

He put his hand over hers and pushed the stick forward. ‘Get the revs up. Left foot down again.’ He pushed the stick across and further forward. ‘That’s in third now. More revs
quick
.’

Fourth was no easier. She drove on, crashing her way through gears, stalling the engine and having to restart and go through the whole exhausting process again. The steering, when she managed to get going at all, was hard to control and she had to keep correcting to avoid trees. Her left leg was trembling with the constant effort of stamping on the clutch, both arms ached and her left palm had been rubbed raw by the gearstick. Also, her church frock was soaked in sweat and her white gloves were black. At a sharp bend in the track, she braked, swerved and stalled. Almost burst into tears.

‘Start her up again.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes, you can.’ He took off her veiled hat and tossed it on the floor. ‘And you’ll see a lot better without that.’

She drove on sulkily, ignoring the shrieks of protest from the gearbox, until they reached a clearing at the end of the track.

‘Turn round here,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to reverse.’

‘How am I supposed to see behind me?’

‘Use the side mirrors. To get into reverse, lift the gearstick, push over and pull back towards you to the right.’

She pulled and pushed in vain, the sweat running down her face.

‘You might at least help.’

He reached across again and guided the stick, his hand over hers.

‘OK, you’re in reverse now.’

The clearing wasn’t very big and turning round meant going backwards and then forward, then backwards and forward again and then backwards and forward some more, the engine howling, the gears shrieking, the wheels spewing out great arcs of muddy water. She could hardly see a thing in the mirrors.

‘Well, at least you missed the trees,’ he said when they were finally facing the opposite way.

He took over when they reached the road, which meant changing places and him hauling her on board again. She rescued her hat and her handbag, checked her reflection in her compact mirror, wiped away the splatters of mud and got out her lipstick.

He was lighting one of his squashed cigarettes with a match. He blew the flame out and chucked the match over the side. ‘By the way, Susan, the patients won’t give a damn how you look. It’s how you drive that counts.’

She snapped the compact shut. ‘So, how was I?’

‘No flaming good. You’d never pass the test.’

‘Test? What test? You didn’t tell me anything about that.’

‘Well, you didn’t think you’d be let loose on the road without one, did you? It takes weeks to train an ambulance driver.’

‘
Weeks?
’

‘Only we don’t have that much time, so you’ll have to learn a lot quicker.’

‘I don’t
have
to do anything, thank you very much.’

‘That’s right, you don’t. You can go back to selling your society programmes, if you like.’

‘Yes, I certainly can.’

He drove her to Cavenagh Road and her anger simmered and bubbled like a volcano all the way. When he stopped outside the house, it erupted.

‘You’re a rotten stinking Aussie bastard, Ray Harvey. You never meant to give me a chance. You just wanted to make a fool of me.’

He shook his head. ‘You’ve got me wrong there, Susan. I thought you’d be a whole lot tougher. And I didn’t reckon on you giving up so easily.’

‘Who said anything about giving up?’

‘You did.’

‘I did
not
.’

‘It sounded just like it.’

‘Well, I’m not.’

She jumped down from the ambulance, straight into a muddy puddle. He leaned out.

‘Here, you forgot your handbag.’

He lobbed it over but she fumbled the catch and the bag fell into the puddle. She stood, fuming, as she watched the ambulance speeding away.

Five

‘GOOD MORNING,
MISSEE
.’

‘Good morning, Soojal. Good morning, Daddy.’

She took her place at the breakfast table; Rex was in his place, under it and waiting for titbits. Her father looked over the top of the
Straits Times
.

‘Sleep well, poppet?’

‘Not very. The storm woke me up.’

‘Yes, it was a bad one.’

As a rule she slept through thunderstorms, but the one last night had been unusually ferocious. Torrential rain, wind tearing at the chicks, blinding flashes of lightning, ear-splitting claps of thunder. This morning, though, everything was as calm and peaceful as a lotus pool: the sun filtering through the mist, trees and bushes and plants perfectly still, the only sounds sweet birdsong, cicadas and the clinking spades of the
kebuns
working over by the tennis court.

Soojal brought her coffee and a plate of fruit – slices of pineapple, mangosteens, rambutans, little bananas. She picked out a mangosteen, her favourite, and started to peel away the hard purple skin.

‘What are Arjun and Kumar doing?’

‘Digging a shelter.’

She stopped peeling. ‘A shelter? What on earth for?’

Her father turned a page. ‘Just a precaution, poppet. In case the Japs should take it into their heads to drop bombs on us.’

Her stomach fluttered – a chilly, silly little flutter of fear. ‘How could they? They’re thousands of miles away from Singapore.’

‘They might come nearer.’

‘But we could easily stop them if they tried, couldn’t we?’

‘I’m sure we could, but I think it’s sensible to be prepared.’

He smiled at her, making light of it, but she could tell that he was serious. He had believed Lawrence Trent. He must have done.

‘It’ll ruin the look of the tennis court. Can’t it go somewhere else, out of sight?’

‘It’s in a very good place up against the bank. And you can still have your tennis parties, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ The newspaper was lowered and folded firmly. ‘I’ve been thinking, poppet, that it might be sensible, too, if you and Mummy were to go somewhere safer – just for the time being.’

‘Where do you mean?’

‘Away from Singapore. And Malaya.’

‘But
why
? We’re perfectly safe here.’

‘We don’t know that for certain. I wouldn’t want to take the risk – not for you and Mummy.’

‘Where on earth would we go?’ She knew very well.

‘Well, I’d thought of you both going to England, but the voyage would be too long and too dangerous. Australia would be a better choice.’

They’d have to drag her, kicking and screaming, up the gangplank. Better not to say that, though. Better to think of a good reason for staying.

‘I could be quite useful here, actually. At the Alexandra Hospital.’

‘You mean like your friend Milly? I’ve no objection to your lending a hand there for the moment, if that’s what you want. In fact, I’m all for it.’

‘Not exactly like Milly. I’ve thought of volunteering as an ambulance driver. Remember I told you about that army chap who gave me some driving lessons?’

‘Very irresponsible of him – whoever he was.’

‘These other people give you proper lessons, apparently, and a test. Make sure you’re up to it. After all, you do your civil defence thing, Daddy. It’s only fair to let me do my bit too, don’t you think?’

She smiled at him sweetly – the same smile she had used ever since she had been a little girl, the one that usually got her what she wanted. It worked, but not completely.

‘Well, you can give it a try, if you like. For the time being. But I warn you, poppet, I’m serious about sending you and Mummy away. If things get any worse, you’ll go. Grandmother too.’

‘She’d never leave Penang.’

‘She might not have any choice.’

He gave Rex the last of his toast, patted her shoulder as he left the table. ‘Just remember what I’ve said.’

When she had finished breakfast she walked down the verandah steps and across the lawn towards the tennis court. Sweep appeared from nowhere particular to say hallo and wound himself round her ankles. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms; he purred loudly. A dozen or so cats had come and gone over the years – Persians, Siamese, Burmese, moggies of all colours and kinds – but Sweep, the stray, beat them all. Not for looks – he was still a skinny little thing – but for character. She had come across him, a miserable scrap of matted black fur crouched in a doorway, and when she had picked him up he had started purring at once in her arms. She had taken him home, fed him, bathed him, got rid of the fleas and the worms, combed the matted fur, given him a whole new life.

The
kebuns
looked up from their digging to smile their betel-nut-stained smiles. When she had been very small the sight had scared her because it looked like a mouthful of blood.

‘
Tuan
want earth house,
missee
. We dig big hole.’ Arjun pointed to sheets of corrugated iron lying beside the mound of soil. ‘We make very strong.’

Behind the smiles they were puzzled, but they would do exactly as the
tuan
had ordered; it wasn’t for them to question a white man’s whim. She set Sweep down and stared into the hole while the cat peered curiously over the edge. Water was already seeping in at the bottom. Singapore, after all, was built on a swamp.

Arjun spat out a gobbet of red. ‘We work very quick,
missee
.
Tuan
say very important.’

She left them digging and Sweep watching them.

The sun had broken through, the mist had vanished and the day was already hot. A lovely day with no clouds in the sky. No sign of another storm or more rain. Too nice to spend indoors pounding away at a typewriter and making squiggles. A swim at the club would be a much better idea and a lazy day lying by the pool, doing absolutely nothing. The Campbells were giving a party in the evening which might be quite fun. No need to think about the horrible shelter; no need to think about the horrible Japs; certainly no need to think about horrible Australia. The only thing she needed to think about was what to wear.

The examiner said sharply, ‘Slow down. You took that corner much too fast. You’ll have sick patients in the back, remember. If you drive like that, you’ll throw them about. You should treat them like eggs.’

Silly old duffer – he was even more of a fusspot than Ghani. Next time he ticked her off like that she’d stop dead, get out and stalk off.

After all, she was getting the hang of things much better. She could change gear quite smoothly now and she could reverse perfectly well. She’d proved it, backing round a corner and all the way up a side street.

‘Let’s see you stop and start on this hill – without running back an inch.’

It was a steep hill, the handbrake was a pig and there were three tons of ambulance to hold steady. Not easy. She made a mess of it: ran backwards at least two feet.

The examiner clicked his tongue. ‘That won’t do at all. You’ll have to do a lot better than that before I can pass you.’

She drove on, turning left and turning right, as he issued orders. Finally they were back where they’d started.

He looked at her with his cold fish eyes. ‘You’re not up to the required standard, I’m afraid. And frankly, I doubt you ever will be.’

She said indignantly, ‘What’s wrong with my driving?’

He opened the door between them and pointed to the drinking glass he had placed earlier on one of the bunks, filled to the brim with water. It was lying on its side, empty. ‘That’s what’s wrong with it, Miss Roper.’

Clive Godwin was at the Campbells’ party with a new girlfriend – a shy mouse who looked at him adoringly. Just the sort he needed. Denys was there too, which had been no surprise. She told him about failing the ambulance-driving test.

‘I shouldn’t worry about it, sweetie. It wasn’t your sort of thing, anyway.’

‘Oh, I’m not giving up, Denys. Not now.’

He invited her sailing – someone had lent him a boat.

‘The same person who lent you the MG?’

‘No, this is a different chap. One of those intrepid Volunteers. They’ve sent him off to play soldiers upcountry.’

He collected her in the MG and they drove out to the sailing club at Changi where the boat was moored – a rather smart little dinghy called
Kittiwake
.

She watched him fiddling about with the sail. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Denys.’

‘I was born and brought up by the sea, I’ll have you know. My misspent youth was spent going up and down the Solent.’

‘In England?’

‘Of course. The best country in the world, in my opinion.’

‘What made you come to Malaya, then?’

‘Adventure. Loot. The call of the mysterious East.’

‘But you’ll go back to England – in the end.’

‘Lord, yes. Eventually.’

‘Marry some nice girl and settle down?’

‘That’s the general idea.’ He pulled on a rope and the sail rose, billowing and flapping in the breeze. ‘You, I hope.’

‘Me? I wouldn’t do at all, Denys. I don’t like England. I’m staying put in Malaya.’

‘You’ll change your mind, mark my words. Hop in quick. We’re all set to go.’

They sailed along the east coast, weaving in and out of little islets that were no more than mangrove swamps. Denys, she soon saw, had spoken the truth about knowing how to sail. All she had to do was sit back, watch the scenery and duck her head whenever the boom went over.

‘That beach looks lovely, Denys. Can we go and swim there?’

‘Anything you say, O Princess. But you’ll have to take your clothes off.’

‘I’ve got my bathing costume on underneath.’

‘Drat.’

He ran
Kittiwake
gently on to the shore. The beach had pure-white sand edged with palms and the whispering casuarina trees, and it was completely deserted. They walked along its length and she kept stopping to pick up pretty shells. At the far end she shaded her eyes with her hand to look out across the shimmering sea.

‘My father’s convinced the Japs are going to drop bombs on us.’

‘Not much likelihood of that.’

‘I didn’t think so either. But some newspaper correspondent came to dinner the other night and I overheard him talking to my father afterwards.’