by Emma Fraser
‘Fair enough,’ Bill said. ‘Although we were just getting into our stride, weren’t we, darling?’
As the two men walked off, towels wrapped around their necks, Grace put her hand on Georgina’s arm. ‘I’m leaving for Australia next week,’ she said. ‘Bill says I must. Why don’t you come too? We’d be happy to put you up.’
‘Why now?’ Georgina asked. ‘Only last week you were saying you’d never leave. What’s changed? What has Bill told you?’
‘He just thinks it’s safer. There’s the children to think of. It’s not as if I’m needed here. And you aren’t either. Not really. ‘
Georgina suppressed a flash of annoyance. Despite what she’d been telling herself only a short while earlier, it was one thing to recognise one’s own limitations, quite another to have them pointed out. ‘I doubt we’ll be any safer on a ship.’ She dabbed the back of her neck with a towel before passing it to one of the waiters who had rushed over as soon as they’d noticed they’d finished their game. She took a glass of iced water from his tray and drank thirstily, her irritation melting as the cold drink worked its magic. ‘I can see why you feel you should go, Grace, but I think I’ll stay here for the time being.’ Georgina had no wish to go to Australia. If she was bored here, she’d be even more bored there. At least here she had her job – such that it was.
‘I’ll miss you, of course,’ she continued, ‘but your children will be delighted to have you back. They must miss you terribly.’ Grace and Bill’s boys, seven and nine, were in boarding school in Brisbane.
‘They probably won’t recognise me,’ Grace sighed. ‘I’m not even sure I’ll recognise them. Children change so much at that age.’
‘So it’s all settled then? You’re definitely leaving?’
It would be the third friend Georgina had lost in as many months. She tried to cheer herself with the knowledge that there were still enough people left on the island to keep the social life alive. But Grace! She would miss her the most. Of all her friends, she was the one who could be most depended on to have fun. Her and Bill’s parties were the best on the island, with everyone who was anyone invited. They always went on until the small hours and, fuelled with copious amounts of alcohol and good food, usually ended up with at least one person in the pool.
She felt a flash of shame. Why on earth was she thinking of parties when the rest of the world was being torn asunder? What sort of shallow bitch did that make her?
The sort of shallow bitch who’d ruined her sister’s life.
The men joined them a few moments later and ordered another round of drinks.
‘Grace tells me she’s leaving, Bill,’ Georgina said. ‘Do you really think Singapore is in danger?’
‘I don’t think it’s the fortress people think it is,’ he said, pausing as they watched a monkey swing from the trees and grab a sandwich from a plate before loping away with a pleased chatter.
‘There’s no way the Japs will ever be able to land on Singapore Island,’ Lawrence scoffed. ‘Not with the guns we have. First sight of their ships and we’d blow them to kingdom come. And if they do ever land on Malaya, there’s only jungle between them and us. It would be madness and quite impossible for them to even attempt it. But just in case, several regiments of British and Commonwealth soldiers have been sent up north. They’ll see those short-sighted, bandy-legged blighters off in hours.’
‘I’m not so certain,’ Bill said quietly. ‘I’d be happier if there was more of an RAF presence – just in case. Belts and buckles! Always better.’
‘Singapore Island is as safe as it’s possible to be. Trust me,’ Lawrence continued, with an annoyed glance at Bill. ‘No point in getting people all alarmed without good reason.’
That’s what everyone said. But Georgina couldn’t quite shake the niggling feeling that they said it too loudly and too often for it to be entirely convincing. If it were so safe, why was Bill insisting Grace left? Did he know something no one else did?
The waiters brought their drinks and Georgina took a long swallow, glancing around at the garden boys snipping away at the lawn with pairs of scissors, the waiters in their white jackets and impenetrable expressions, the other couples sipping their drinks, laughing and chatting.
No, Lawrence had to be right. Bill was just an overly cautious older man. Nothing bad could ever happen in Singapore. Nevertheless, she shivered. It was as if someone had walked across her grave.
A few hours later, feeling slightly worse for wear after two, or was it three, gin slings, Georgina left the club for home.
By the time the rickshaw pulled up in front of her house her head had begun to throb and the heat made her tongue cling to the roof of her mouth. A nap before dinner would sort her out.
On her way in, she noticed an envelope on top of the table in the hall. She recognised the writing straight away. It was from Agatha – Harriet’s friend. She took it into the sitting room, calling for the houseboy to bring her some coffee. The blinds had been drawn against the sun and the room was dark and cool, a welcome relief to the scorching heat outside.
She waited until the servant poured her coffee and had retreated before taking a letter opener from her writing desk and slitting the envelope open. It was dated the twelfth of May – almost two months ago.
Dear Georgina,
It is with heavy heart that I write to tell you that your sister Harriet and her husband Peter died in an air attack on London yesterday. Their home suffered a direct hit and was completely destroyed. We should find some comfort in the fact that they both died together and probably instantly.
As you know, your niece Olivia is at boarding school in Perthshire. The poor child is understandably distraught. Given you and Edith are both overseas and there are no other family members alive, I suggest Olivia stays at St Michael’s (I will, of course, continue to have her on weekends out) until such time you, or Edith, are in a position to care for her.
I am so very sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news. We all loved Harriet and Peter dearly – as we do Olivia.
Scotland, largely, has been spared the horror of what is happening in London, and you can be assured that in the meantime Olivia is safe and well cared for.
With deepest sympathy and fondest love,
Agatha
The letter fell from Georgina’s fingers and onto her lap. Harriet dead! And Peter too! She stumbled to her feet, waving away a concerned-looking houseboy and, on legs that felt boneless, climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She mustn’t cry, was all she could think. Not in front of the servants.
Tsing Tsing was in her bedroom putting away laundry.
‘Could you send a message to Major Lawrence and let him know I won’t be able to meet him for dinner tonight?’ Georgina said. Her lips felt frozen – her words sounding as if they came from a great distance.
‘What is it, Missy Gutrie? What has happened?’ As ever Tsing Tsing was attuned to her moods.
‘Not now, Tsing Tsing. Please, just do as I ask.’
Tsing Tsing hesitated.
‘Go! Now!’ It was the first time Georgina had ever snapped at her and Tsing Tsing’s face creased with distress before her usual impenetrable mask came down.
‘Of course. Straight away, Missy Gutrie. You rest.’
Georgina closed the shutters and lay down on her bed. As an image of the last time she’d seen Harriet flooded her mind – the horrible censure in her sister’s eyes – she covered her face with her hands and wept.
Night had fallen by the time she woke up. At first she couldn’t think where she was, but almost immediately the memory of the letter and its contents hit her like a mule kicking her chest.
She lay in the darkness for a while, crying some more, biting her pillow to muffle her sobs. Did Edith know? Had Agatha been able to contact her? Where had Harriet and Peter been buried? Agatha hadn’t said. She had to write back and ask. And poor little Olivia! To lose both her parents at the one time!
She forced herself out of bed. There were arran
gements to be made, matters that needed taken care of. She had to pull herself together. She studied her reflection in her dressing-table mirror. Her cheeks were creased and her eyes puffy from crying. She washed her face in the basin of tepid water on her nightstand and opened the shutters, letting what little breeze there was into the room. She stepped out onto the balcony where – was it only this morning? – she had stood, looking forward to her day with anticipation.
There was a gentle tap on the door and Tsing Tsing entered, bringing a tray of tea. ‘I know you said not to disturb – I will go – but you must have something to drink.’
‘Thank you, Tsing Tsing. You are very sweet.’
Tsing Tsing laid the tray on the table beside an armchair. ‘You have had bad news, I think?’
‘Yes. Very bad news. My sister and her husband.’ Georgina took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘They were killed in a bomb raid. Both of them. Together.’
‘I am sorry. Very sorry.’ Tsing Tsing paused, her hands folded in front of her. ‘Missy, Mr Lawrence downstairs. I told him you not to be disturbed, but he not listen. He say he wait.’
Dash Lawrence. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, not right now. However, she knew he wouldn’t go until she’d told him to leave herself.
She slipped out of her creased frock and into a clean one, automatically slicked some lipstick over her lips, adding a little to her cheeks and rubbing it in. Taking a deep breath she went downstairs.
He was waiting for her in the sitting room, pacing up and down, a tumbler of whisky in his hand.
‘Lawrence,’ she said. ‘I’m terribly sorry about this evening.’
‘What’s up, old thing? You were all right earlier. It’s not like you to cancel. I thought I should check up on you.’
She suppressed a flash of irritation. Couldn’t he have left her alone just this one evening?
‘I had some news from home,’ she said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. ‘My sister and her husband have been killed.’
‘Oh, my poor darling, I’m so terribly sorry. Here sit down.’ He took her hands in his. ‘You’re frozen.’
‘It was a dreadful shock.’
He poured her a G&T, lit a cigarette and handed both to her.
‘Darling, is there anything I can do? You just have to say the word.’
He really was very sweet. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him? But she didn’t want sweet. She wanted someone who would shout and swear at the stupid senseless waste of life – who wouldn’t be horrified if she did… Of course she couldn’t marry Lawrence. What on earth had made her ever imagine she could?
‘They had – have – a daughter.’
‘Poor child. Where is she?’
‘In Scotland. She’s boarding at a school in Scotland, near to friends of Harriet. She’s been there since war was declared.’
‘Will you go to her?’
‘I haven’t really thought that far. I should really speak to my sister Edith first, if I can contact her. In the meantime Olivia’s being well cared for. I can’t imagine that she’d wish an aunt she barely knows to swan in and take her —’ Take her where exactly? Back to Singapore? Make her risk a sea-journey when the ship she was travelling on might be bombed? Moreover, Georgina was hardly an appropriate person to care for a young girl. Besides, Olivia was at boarding school. Even if Georgina did go back to Britain, she would almost never see Olivia and what would Georgina do there anyway? She really had no idea. ‘No, I think she’s best left where she is for the moment.’
‘We could get married,’ Lawrence blurted. ‘Then she could live with us when we return to Britain.’ When Georgina stared at him aghast, he flushed. ‘Sorry, old thing. Wasn’t quite the way I intended to ask. Meant to go down on one knee – the whole bally shooting match.’ He looked at her with hopeful eyes. ‘You know I’m fond of you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘For God’s sake not just fond – I adore you. You must have guessed how I feel.’
Georgina put out her cigarette and walked over to him. She brushed her fingertips across his face. ‘And I am fond of you. But it’s not enough, is it? You are so sweet to ask me, so very generous to offer to take on a child you don’t even know, but I can’t accept your proposal.’
‘Is there any chance you’ll change your mind? You’ve just had the most frightful shock. I’m such an idiot.’
‘You’re not an idiot. You are a kind and generous man and if anyone’s a fool, it’s me. But no, Lawrence, I’m so sorry, but there is no hope at all.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte
1984
While Georgina had been speaking, the generator had given up, plunging the room into darkness. My great-aunt’s face was a ghostly disc in the dim light. She lit the oil lamp with trembling fingers.
‘Would you mind if I continued tomorrow? I’m feeling a little drained. All these memories…’
‘Of course. You go on up. I’ll just let Tiger out before I go to bed.’
Recognising her name being spoken, Tiger sprang to her feet and wagged her tail.
‘I’ll wait for you and take you up.’
‘There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll find my way.’
‘Please. I’d rather. Some of the floorboards are a little dodgy.’
We’d managed perfectly well earlier. ‘In that case, I won’t be long.’
Outside, the clouds and rain had vanished. It was almost pitch dark and silent except for the gentle grinding of waves against the shore. But the darkness made the light from the moon and the stars bright. I had never seen the Milky Way so clearly.
An owl hooted, flying so low it almost brushed my face, startling me.
At this time of night in London the streets would be brightly lit and thronged with people going to the theatre, tourists and cars, the pubs and wine bars packed. I would still be at chambers preparing for upcoming cases before walking back through the streets to my flat for more work, supper then bed. Some might say, Mum included, that it was a lonely, sterile existence. But my own company had never bothered me. I liked being on my own – doing what I wanted, when I wanted.
My thoughts turned to my conversation with Georgina. So it hadn’t been just a tipsy kiss as she wanted everyone to believe. She’d been in love with Findlay. I wonder if she realised she’d let her feelings for him slip when she’d been recounting her time in Singapore? How awful to fall for the man your sister hoped to marry. Despite the brief glimpses I’d seen, I couldn’t reconcile the woman she was now with the young, vivacious one my mother had so admired and that she’d been in Singapore. However, what did I know? As a person approached their seventies they were bound to slow down, to prefer the more sedentary pleasures of life. Yet, there were seventy-year-olds around who had better social lives than I did (admittedly not difficult) and who were as fit and active as many a thirty-year-old. And it was into this category I would have placed Georgina. Edith was a different matter.
Feeling an uneasy prickle on the back of my neck, I turned and looked up just in time to see flash of light at an upstairs window as if a curtain had been opened then quickly closed again. So Edith had been watching me.
If I had difficulty reconciling the older Georgina with the woman she’d once been, then it was so much more difficult to imagine the nervous, blank-eyed Edith with the aunt of my mother’s childhood. She was so slight, almost wraith-like. How did she fit in to whatever story Georgina had to tell? If she played a part at all? No doubt, I would find out soon enough.
I whistled for Tiger and turned and went back inside.
Georgina accompanied me all the way to my door, came in, lit my lamp for me and wished me goodnight.
I paid a visit to the chilly bathroom and had a stand-up wash, leaving my clothes on as I soaped under my armpits.
Back in my room, I undressed quickly, hurried into my pyjamas and slipped into bed. The sheets were freezing and damp, the bottle Georgina had placed there earlier now stone cold. She had forgotten her promise of a fres
h one (and I had forgotten to remind her). I tossed it out of the bed and on to the floor, put out the lamp and wriggled around trying to find some warmth.
With the light out the darkness was dense – almost suffocating. I was unable to see my hand even when I brought it to within an inch of my face.
Knowing I wouldn’t sleep as long as I was so cold, I gave up trying. I needed to put something on over my pyjamas. Not wanting to go through the palaver of lighting the lamp again to find what I wanted in my suitcase, I opened the curtains.
The clouds had vanished and the moon was a bright, white disc against an inky black sky studded with a thousand stars, their glow illuminating the room. I am the soft stars at night. I could hear Mum’s voice as clearly as if she were in the room with me. My heart gave a painful kick. ‘Maybe you are, Mum,’ I whispered aloud.