The Pearl of Penang

Chapter 2-3

Evie, however, was certain she would love him at once. How could she not? Over the years, the memory of that waltz together had never faded. It was a moment frozen in time. The feel of his hand in the small of her back, the warm touch of his smooth fingers, the way he had led her so that she hadn’t felt at all clumsy, but light and graceful. Even though it had been the occasion of his marriage to the beautiful Felicity and Evie had known he was merely playing the part expected of him, she had treasured the way he had made her feel. That dance had marked her transition from childhood and her hope for the possibilities ahead of her. Maybe it was a foolish fantasy – a little girl’s dream of a handsome prince – but this dream was coming true.

She would do her utmost to be a good wife to Douglas, to make him happy, to give him cause to love her. She would be different from Felicity. Life in Malaya might prove a challenge but she was determined to adapt to it. Hot weather wasn’t going to get her down. And anyway, people did acclimatise eventually – the Leightons certainly had. But she reminded herself they’d lived in Africa beforehand, so they would have been used to the heat.

As she stood at last on the dockside, Evie’s heart jumped in her chest and she struggled to breathe. Douglas Barrington wasn’t there to meet her. A Malayan man moved towards her purposefully. She swallowed her disappointment and forced a smile. He introduced himself as Benny and told her he was Douglas’s syce in George Town.

‘I look after motor car and house of Mister Ballington when he in George Town. Not much time. He not here today, Mem. He busy. In Singapore. Come. Bags in car.’

Evie was crushed. After the long sea voyage, and building herself up for meeting Douglas at last, it was all for nothing. She was stung. Since he was travelling down to Singapore, why hadn’t he suggested she stay on board and meet him there? Common courtesy dictated that, when she’d come so far and risked so much. For him to have been unwilling to spare the time to greet her in person was a humiliation. Her resolve to be a supportive and compliant partner evaporated. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she struggled to prevent her emotions showing on her face, and followed a smiling Benny to the waiting car.

Once inside the vehicle, which thankfully had been parked in the shade, Evie leaned back and took a couple of deep breaths, while Benny loaded her modest amount of luggage into the boot. Calm down, she told herself. Maybe Douglas has good reason not to be here. Some kind of crisis? Perhaps he’s as nervous as I am. Don’t get off on the wrong foot. Don’t spoil things by being moody.

Grateful for a breeze through the open car window, she wiped her face with a handkerchief. It was so hot and humid that the perspiration was running down her brow, the salt stinging her eyes. She’d never been so hot in her life. Veronica had been right – the heat was bestial.

She leaned forward to speak to Benny. ‘Is it always this hot?’

‘Yes, Mem. We say here there is three season. Hot, Hotter and Hottest.’ He looked over his shoulder and beamed at her.

‘Which one is it now?’

‘Only Hot.’ He made a little giggling sound.

She leaned back against the burning leather, her poplin dress already damp and clammy.

‘Use fan, Mem. In back of seat.’

She found a finely carved wooden fan in the pouch of the seat and taking it out waved it vigorously in front of her face. How was she going to bear it if every day was like this?

She gazed through the open window, curious about what would be her permanent home. George Town was charming, with its classical Georgian buildings dating back to the days of the East India Company, and its Chinese shop-houses with stores at street level and balconied dwellings above. There were also newer, grander houses, many set in large grounds looking onto the sea. Arthur had told her wealthy Chinese traders had settled here, as well as the colonial Dutch and French before the British had seen them off. Today it was a mixture of races and nationalities – native Malays, immigrant Chinese and Indians, British and other European nations. The island was a centre for the production of silks and spices as well as the rubber for which Malaya was renowned throughout the world.

On first impressions, the island captivated Evie. The land rose to high uplands in the centre with sandy beaches, fringed with palms, around its perimeter. If it weren’t for this ghastly clammy heat, she might even go so far as describing it as a glimpse of paradise. Arthur had been right when he’d said it was magical.

They turned onto a narrow road which took them away from the seafront. The houses here were smaller town houses, mixed in among Chinese-style villas. Pulling up outside an ugly box-like building, more fitting the Home Counties than the Orient, Benny said, ‘Here we are. Dis it.’ She tried not to be disappointed that it was not a pretty Georgian house or a large mansion in its own expansive grounds. Don’t rush to judgement, she told herself.

Inside the house, the rooms were dim behind shuttered windows, but thankfully cooler than out in the full sun. It was larger than it appeared from outside. In the centre of the ground floor was an open area of double height, the upper floor landing overlooking it on three sides, so that it formed a kind of internal balcony, defined by open lattice working, with narrow supporting columns. A ceiling fan whirred above her head.

The other members of the household were lined up waiting to greet her. Benny first introduced a woman – evidently the housekeeper – as ‘Aunty’ Mimi. A tiny Chinese woman, thin and fragile in appearance, Aunty Mimi had short black hair, streaked with grey and was elderly but evidently still agile. Another Chinese, a smiling toothless man, was introduced as ‘Cookie’. Evie guessed they were married to each other, but was afraid to ask and no one enlightened her. Finally, there was a young Malay man, who was introduced merely as The Boy and evidently considered unworthy of the dignity of a name.

Benny said, ‘Only Aunty Mimi and me speak English. You soon learn speak Malay, Mem. Also two kebuns to work in garden.

Overwhelmed, the prospect of ever speaking even basic Malay felt beyond Evie. She was exhausted. Perhaps once she’d freshened up and had a sleep, things would be less daunting.

Aunty Mimi led Evie upstairs into another darkened room. Opening one shutter she showed her a large rear garden, where the sunlight was filtered by a collection of tall trees. Evie could hear the tinkling of water but couldn’t see its source. Around an expansive lawn was a vibrant display of colourful flowers that lifted her spirits a little.

A large low bed stood in the centre of the room, draped with mosquito nets. Something else to get used to. There was a ceiling fan above the bed, but it was motionless. Aunty Mimi pointed to the bathroom beyond, where, as well as a ’thunder box’ raised up on a shallow platform like a throne, there was a bath tub and a separate shower area, with a tall Shanghai jar, filled with water to flush the toilet and dip into for cold showers. Fresh towels were laid out on a wooden table beside a dish of soap. Someone had placed a hibiscus flower on top of the towels. Smiling at this touch, Evie noticed a huge centipede scuttling across the floor and shuddered.

The woman placed her palms together and bowed solemnly over her hands, then turned to leave.

‘Wait a moment! When do you expect Mr Barrington to come home?’

Aunty Mimi shook her head. ‘Tuan not come here many time. He live in other place.’

‘Do you know when I will go to this other place?’

The old lady with the smallest movement of her head indicated it was a question she couldn’t answer. ‘Benny bring up bags. When you ready I make tea.’ With that, she left the room.

Torn between the need for a cup of tea, a good sleep – and possibly a good cry – Evie chose to have a shower first. She stepped out of her damp cotton frock, rolled down her stockings – she certainly wasn’t going to be wearing stockings again, unless she absolutely had to – and peeled off her soaking wet underwear. Pouring the cool water over her hot skin was a shock, but also a blessed relief, and the soap was scented with what she thought was jasmine. When she’d finished her ablutions, she returned to the bedroom, noticing her suitcase and holdall had been placed on top of the wardrobe and, while she’d been taking her shower, someone, presumably Aunty Mimi, had unpacked her clothes and put them away.

Her spirits low, she went downstairs, hoping a cup of tea might revive them. So far everything was telling her she had made a terrible mistake.