Chapter 8
George looked closely at his reflection, pulled his forehead flat, stretching out the creases with his fingers. A c**k crowed in the distance. He moved to the window, looked down at their garden. Apart from the lack of apple trees, it could be England. Even the lawn was kept a vibrant green, a constant with all the colours in Malaya. He resumed soaping his face, and as he shaved slowly, thoughtfully, manoeuvring his razor over his chin, his face took on different expressions. Two hollows had appeared beneath his cheekbones where there was flesh before. He wondered whether Emma would prefer this new lean look. The time and distance between them had done nothing to stop his yearning. It was her figure lying n***d, head supported by her hand that continually hovered in his thoughts
