Read Online The Other Side of Paradise by Margaret Mayhew - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Mayhew
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Perfectly all right.’
‘I fetch something for you?’
‘No, thanks.’
She could feel him watching her anxiously as she steered a careful course for the stairs. For once, she forgot to rub the glass Buddha’s tummy as she passed him by.
Lady Battersby said in frigid tones, ‘Are you criticizing the Governor, Mrs Cotton?’
‘Not exactly. He’s very charming, of course, only I just feel it would be an advantage to have someone a bit more dynamic at the helm in these difficult times.’
‘Difficult times? What is difficult about them?’
‘Well, with the war in Europe and the Japs being such a threat to us.’
‘The European war is being dealt with very competently by our military experts at home. As for Malaya, our troops are standing to arms across the length and breadth of the peninsula and Singapore Island is a fortress. The Japanese are inferior beings, quite incapable of presenting any serious threat to us.’
‘But my husband thinks there’s a danger of them bombing Singapore. He says we should be building air raid shelters and digging trenches. Just in case.’
‘Really? May I ask how long you and your husband have been in the Far East, Mrs Cotton?’
‘About three years.’
‘Most of us have been here for a great deal longer than that. My husband and I have lived in Malaya for nearly thirty and I consider that we are in a rather better position to judge the situation. I might add that the Governor and his wife are personal friends of ours. We find him excellent in every respect.’
Mrs Cotton, flushed with embarrassment, mumbled her apologies.
Susan had enjoyed the exchange. Usually her mother’s ladies’ luncheons were ditchwater dull and she avoided them whenever possible. Lady B. had livened things up.
She listened to Mrs Jennings whose husband was something to do with surveying, grumbling about her cook who had, apparently, walked out on her without a moment’s notice.
‘Mind you,’ Mrs Jennings went on, ‘he was thoroughly lazy and dishonest, so I’m glad to be rid of him. You can never really trust any of the natives, can you?’
Amith was removing her plate as she spoke, his face expressionless.
Lady Battersby stared across the table. ‘We have never had the slightest trouble with any of our servants, Mrs Jennings. It all depends on how one treats them. Ours have been in our employ for many years.’
Three cheers for Lady B. for that put-down, Susan thought. The new
mems
like Mrs Jennings – probably from Surbiton – were always finding fault with their servants.
The lunch dragged on. At the pudding stage she excused herself with a headache and escaped. Her mother would be furious with her, but she didn’t care. Anyway, the headache was real after the evening with Denys.
She slept until nearly dinnertime, missing tea on the lawn, showered, dressed and went downstairs. There had been another monsoon downpour while she’d been asleep and the air felt beautifully fresh and cool. Her parents were having drinks out on the west verandah and her father had brought two men back for dinner. She had already met fat Mr Forster many times. He was also in the rubber business. His wife had gone to England, taking their son to school, and he was one of Singapore’s grass widowers – the
tuans
left alone consoling themselves with drink and native mistresses. The other man was unknown to her.
‘Lawrence Trent,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Your father and I met in England many years ago.’ He was a thin man with a beaky nose and sharp eyes.
Her father said, ‘Mr Trent arrived in Singapore recently. He’s a correspondent for a London newspaper.’
She gave him an arch smile. ‘Have you come to report on us?’
He smiled in return. ‘Something like that.’
Her mother said, ‘Do tell us all about London, Mr Trent. How are things there?’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mrs Roper, but I’m afraid I haven’t been in London for a long time. I’ve spent the past
‘I fetch something for you?’
‘No, thanks.’
She could feel him watching her anxiously as she steered a careful course for the stairs. For once, she forgot to rub the glass Buddha’s tummy as she passed him by.
Lady Battersby said in frigid tones, ‘Are you criticizing the Governor, Mrs Cotton?’
‘Not exactly. He’s very charming, of course, only I just feel it would be an advantage to have someone a bit more dynamic at the helm in these difficult times.’
‘Difficult times? What is difficult about them?’
‘Well, with the war in Europe and the Japs being such a threat to us.’
‘The European war is being dealt with very competently by our military experts at home. As for Malaya, our troops are standing to arms across the length and breadth of the peninsula and Singapore Island is a fortress. The Japanese are inferior beings, quite incapable of presenting any serious threat to us.’
‘But my husband thinks there’s a danger of them bombing Singapore. He says we should be building air raid shelters and digging trenches. Just in case.’
‘Really? May I ask how long you and your husband have been in the Far East, Mrs Cotton?’
‘About three years.’
‘Most of us have been here for a great deal longer than that. My husband and I have lived in Malaya for nearly thirty and I consider that we are in a rather better position to judge the situation. I might add that the Governor and his wife are personal friends of ours. We find him excellent in every respect.’
Mrs Cotton, flushed with embarrassment, mumbled her apologies.
Susan had enjoyed the exchange. Usually her mother’s ladies’ luncheons were ditchwater dull and she avoided them whenever possible. Lady B. had livened things up.
She listened to Mrs Jennings whose husband was something to do with surveying, grumbling about her cook who had, apparently, walked out on her without a moment’s notice.
‘Mind you,’ Mrs Jennings went on, ‘he was thoroughly lazy and dishonest, so I’m glad to be rid of him. You can never really trust any of the natives, can you?’
Amith was removing her plate as she spoke, his face expressionless.
Lady Battersby stared across the table. ‘We have never had the slightest trouble with any of our servants, Mrs Jennings. It all depends on how one treats them. Ours have been in our employ for many years.’
Three cheers for Lady B. for that put-down, Susan thought. The new
mems
like Mrs Jennings – probably from Surbiton – were always finding fault with their servants.
The lunch dragged on. At the pudding stage she excused herself with a headache and escaped. Her mother would be furious with her, but she didn’t care. Anyway, the headache was real after the evening with Denys.
She slept until nearly dinnertime, missing tea on the lawn, showered, dressed and went downstairs. There had been another monsoon downpour while she’d been asleep and the air felt beautifully fresh and cool. Her parents were having drinks out on the west verandah and her father had brought two men back for dinner. She had already met fat Mr Forster many times. He was also in the rubber business. His wife had gone to England, taking their son to school, and he was one of Singapore’s grass widowers – the
tuans
left alone consoling themselves with drink and native mistresses. The other man was unknown to her.
‘Lawrence Trent,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Your father and I met in England many years ago.’ He was a thin man with a beaky nose and sharp eyes.
Her father said, ‘Mr Trent arrived in Singapore recently. He’s a correspondent for a London newspaper.’
She gave him an arch smile. ‘Have you come to report on us?’
He smiled in return. ‘Something like that.’
Her mother said, ‘Do tell us all about London, Mr Trent. How are things there?’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mrs Roper, but I’m afraid I haven’t been in London for a long time. I’ve spent the past
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