The Other Side of Paradise

by Margaret Mayhew

‘I’m still waiting for an answer from our Australian colleagues. You must understand, Miss Roper, that you’re not alone in your situation. We have a great many similar cases on our hands.’

  ‘How about Hua?’

  ‘The Chinese girl you are looking after? Well, strictly speaking she’s not our responsibility. It seems most unlikely that we shall be able to trace any member of her family. I think it would be far more sensible to approach one of the city orphanages. The nuns have a lot of experience in dealing with such cases.’

  ‘She’s not a Roman Catholic. She’s been brought up Buddhist.’

  He sighed. ‘Does it really matter, Miss Roper? So long as she goes somewhere?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think it does, rather. And the Singapore Chinese are very much our responsibility. We’ve already let them down once when we allowed the Japs to take Singapore. I don’t intend to abandon Hua.’

  He looked at her coldly. ‘Very commendable, of course. But all we have to go on is that she has an aunt called Su – a very common Chinese name. Do you have any idea how many Chinese there are in Singapore, Miss Roper?’ His tone was sarcastic now.

  ‘Yes, I do, actually. Over four hundred thousand. At least there used to be, before the Japs started murdering them.’

  ‘Quite. Well, it’s still a large number, so, as I said, it won’t be easy.’ He had stopped sounding quite so sarcastic. ‘We’ll do what we can.’

  She said, ‘Hua has remembered something else that might help. She thinks her aunt may have worked in a shop. She once gave her a jade bracelet that might have come from there.’

  The sarcastic note came back. ‘I imagine a great many Chinese shops sell jade, Miss Roper.’

  He was quite right, unfortunately.

  A few days before this she had taken Hua to the coconut grove by Tiong Bahri Road, where she had once lived. They had stood beside the ditch that had sheltered Susan from the bombs and looked across at the burned-out remains of the settlement, now smothered by jungle greenery. An old Chinese man had shuffled by and Susan had greeted him politely and asked if he had lived there. He had stared at her blankly, without answering. She had pulled Hua forward. Did he recognize her? She had lived in the settlement with her mother and her name was Hua. Her mother had been killed by the bombs. Had he perhaps known her? It had been hopeless. Hua looked nothing like the former doll-like little girl with the fat cheeks and short black hair. She was skinny and her hair was long and she was dressed in Western clothes – navy-blue shorts, a blouse, brown Clarks sandals. The old man had again stared blankly for a moment, and then turned and shuffled away.

  She had said to Hua, ‘Do you remember anything about living here? Anything that might give us a clue?’

  ‘I remember the coconut palms.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  Hua had shaken her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What about your aunt – the one called Su?’

  ‘She came to visit sometimes. She was very nice. I remember that she used to bring presents.’

  ‘What sort of presents?’

  ‘I remember that she gave me a bracelet for my birthday – made of something smooth and green.’

  ‘Jade?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it was a lovely green.’ Hua had frowned. ‘I think she might have owned a shop or perhaps she worked in one. I’m not sure.’

  ‘You mean a shop that sold jewellery? Like the bracelet?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps. Maybe she bought it somewhere else. Anyway, it got lost. And I remember that she wore a green dragon brooch. The dragon had red eyes that shone.’

  ‘That may be a help.’

  ‘If we don’t find her,’ Hua had said, ‘can I stay with you? Can I come to Australia with you, if you go there?’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘Can Peter come too?’

  ‘Peter will probably go back to England with his father, as soon as he’s found. He has a grandfather in England, too.’

  ‘I wish we could always stay together.’

  ‘My God! Susan! It is you, isn’t it? My God!’

  She had almost collided with the officer in the foyer at Raffles.

  ‘Hallo, Denys. Fancy seeing you here.’

  ‘My God!’ he said again. ‘I can’t believe it. You survived.’

  ‘There’s no need to look so shocked, Denys.’

  ‘I’m not shocked, but I’m very surprised. And relieved and delighted. How on earth did you manage it?’

  ‘To survive? It wasn’t easy. First I was shipwrecked, then I spent the next few years in Jap prison camps. Then some Aussie diggers rescued us in Sumatra and we were brought here. The old place isn’t quite what it used to be, is it?’

  ‘No, it’s rather gone downhill. But you can still get a decent drink at the bar.’ He crooked his arm for her to take. ‘Let’s go and celebrate our dual survival.’

  A man was sitting at the piano in the bar – an American army officer who was playing ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ rather well. The ghosts were there in the shadows, listening.

  ‘Two Singapore Slings,’ Denys said breezily to the bartender. ‘Nothing less will do.’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  She was impressed. ‘There’s supposed to be a terrible shortage.’

  ‘Oh, I know this chap. He was here in the good old days.’

  ‘When you were on the scrounge?’

  ‘Absolutely. Thanks to Raffles I never went totally without. Cigarette?’

  When he had lit it for her, she said, ‘Don’t ask me about the camps, if you don’t mind. I’d sooner not talk about them.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

  He wasn’t staring like the others exactly, but he was taking careful stock of her.

  ‘I look pretty awful, don’t I?’

  He put his head on one side. ‘Well, the clothes are certainly different, sweetie. Not really your style.’

  ‘We were given them by the Red Cross.’

  ‘That explains it. You must get some others as soon as you can. And you’re much, much too thin – but that won’t last, fortunately. You’ll soon fatten up. Apart from that, I rather like the New You. Very grown-up.’

  ‘You mean old and haggard?’

  ‘No. I mean grown-up. Ah, here come our drinks.’

  They clinked glasses.

  ‘I haven’t had one of these for years, Denys. It’s delicious.’

  ‘Nor have I, actually.’

  ‘So, what have you been doing? You don’t look as though you’ve been languishing in Changi, or some other similar place.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘How did you manage to avoid it? Did you hide in a cupboard, or something?’

  ‘I took myself off. It seemed a good idea.’

  ‘Took yourself off?’

  ‘Off the island.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Across to the peninsula.’

  ‘But it was overrun by the Japs.’

  ‘You could avoid bumping into them, if you knew the drill. There were quite a few of us chaps, actually. And a whole lot of Chinese who didn’t like the Nips at all. They were rather rough types. You wouldn’t have cared for them. No manners.’

  She stared at him. ‘You mean you became a guerrilla?’

  ‘They’re monkeys, aren’t they?’

  ‘Don’t be tiresome, Denys. You know very well what I mean.’ She’d heard about the guerrilla bands operating in the jungle against the Japs. Cutthroats, brigands, thugs. Looking at Denys leaning languidly against the bar, Singapore Sling in one hand, cigarette drooping from the fingers of the other, ginger toothbrush moustache, innocent blue eyes … it was impossible to imagine him as some sort of Malayan Scarlet Pimpernel.

  ‘You’re making it up, Denys.’

  He pretended to be hurt. ‘How could you doubt me?’

  ‘Easily. You always made things up. Tell me more and I might believe you.’

  ‘Sorry. My lips are seale
d.’

  ‘Then I don’t believe you.’

  ‘OK. Let’s talk about you instead.’

  ‘Not the camps, please.’

  ‘Not them,’ he agreed. ‘How about your family? Tell me how they are.’

  She told him about her father dying in Changi and about her mother and grandmother.

  ‘The RAPWI people have finally managed to track them down in Perth. I’m supposed to be going to join them, as soon as I can get on a boat.’

  ‘You don’t seem exactly thrilled about it, sweetie. Why don’t you stay here in Malaya?’

  She said, ‘Once upon a time nothing would have dragged me away, but I feel differently now.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Everything’s changed, Denys. And there are too many ghosts. Don’t you feel that?’

  ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  The American piano player had switched to ‘I Only Have Eyes For You’. She had danced to it so many times. ‘They’re everywhere – specially here in the hotel. Ghosts from the past. Can’t you feel them?’

  ‘No, I can’t say I can.’

  He was taking stock of her again. Probably thinking she’d gone completely barmy. Maybe she had.

  ‘Anyway, what are you going to do, Denys? Go back home to England, as you always planned to do?’

  He downed some more from his glass. ‘I’ve rather changed my mind about things, like you. I fancy the Old Country could seem a bit tame now. I think I’ll stick around Malaya for a bit longer. See how things go.’

  ‘In the Straits Police?’

  ‘Might as well. It’s not a bad career. Why don’t you stay on with me?’

  ‘You asked me that once before.’

  ‘Actually, I asked you to go back to England with me. Now I’m asking you to stay on in Malaya.’

  ‘The answer’s the same. I told you, Denys … I just don’t want to stay here any more.’

  ‘You’ll think differently when you get to Australia. You’ll hate living upside down.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘They eat their peas with their knives, you know.’

  ‘It won’t worry me. I ate with my fingers for three and a half years.’

  ‘Good Lord, did you really? Fancy that.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Do you remember when you took me to the Governor’s bedchamber, Denys?’

  ‘How could I forget? You were sick over the verandah.’

  ‘Because you gave me all that filthy drink. It wasn’t very gentlemanly of you.’

  ‘But I wasn’t a gentleman, sweetie. I was a cad from Cads’ Alley. Remember?’

  ‘You were good fun, though.’

  ‘I hope I still am.’ He beckoned to the bartender. ‘I think that calls for another drink.’

  A letter arrived from her mother and she took it into a corner of the hotel gardens. She sat on a bench in the shade of a palm tree, staring at the envelope and the familiar writing before she opened it and began to read.

  The news about poor Daddy was the most terrible blow. Your grandmother and I had prayed that you and he had somehow survived in Singapore, even though we had received no news of either of you. We had almost given up hope. Thank God that you, at least, survived.

  Whatever possessed you to get off the ship, Susan? You could have been safe here in Australia with us. You caused us such anxiety and grief. The authorities say that a passage will be arranged for you as soon as possible so that you can join us in Perth. There’s no point in our returning to England until things have improved. I hear that everything is still rationed there.

  It has been very hard adjusting to life in Australia. We have had to exist on very little money and the climate here is even worse than in Malaya. It is extremely hot in summer and very dusty and the flies drive us mad. There are no servants and the Australians don’t approve at all of Grandmother having Zhu and say so. Of course, she takes no notice. She has every intention of returning to Penang as soon as possible and none at all of coming to England.

  You will be very sad about Daddy. I know how much you adored him and, of course, he adored you. He could so easily have come to Australia with us but, as you know, he would never have deserted his beloved Malaya. I shall never really understand why.

  ‘Miss Roper?’

  She looked up. The man must have approached very quietly because he was standing only a few feet away. A tall, fair-haired man – very thin and dressed in the ill-fitting, mismatched garments of a liberated prisoner.

  She folded the letter and put it away in her pocket.

  ‘Yes, I’m Susan Roper.’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry to disturb you, but they told me at the desk that I might find you in the gardens. We’ve never met. You don’t know me at all, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said. ‘You’re Peter’s father.’

  ‘How on earth did you guess?’

  ‘Because you look so much like him. Or he looks so much like you.’

  He smiled, with Peter’s quiet smile. ‘So people have always said. How is he?’

  ‘He’s fine. You’ll find he’s grown a lot. He’s quite the young man now.’

  He said, ‘I’m not sure yet how it happened but I understand that you looked after Peter in a Jap internment camp, after my wife died in a bombing raid on Singapore. I can never ever thank you enough.’

  ‘It’s a long story. Peter will tell you all about it himself one day, I expect.’

  ‘I gather he’s here, at the hotel. Could I possibly see him?’

  ‘Of course. He’s playing cricket with some of the other boys. I’ll show you where.’

  Peter was standing at the crease preparing to bat, but when she called his name he turned round. She watched from a tactful distance as John Travers walked on alone across the lallang grass towards his son.

  Seventeen

  IT WAS A different bartender and no Denys was present to work his magic with the Singapore Slings. He had mysteriously disappeared. Taken himself off, as he would doubtless have put it.

  ‘Sorry about that, Stella.’

  ‘No worries, Susie. I’ll settle for barley water.’ Stella looked around the bar. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever set foot in here. It must have been quite something.’

  ‘It was.’

  They lit cigarettes. Stella said, ‘Any news of them getting you a passage?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Nothing doing at the hospital either. We’re getting pretty fed up over there, I can tell you. It’s the middle of October, for heaven’s sake. The Yanks have all gone home weeks ago, but we’re still waiting. The men are all saying that RAPWI stands for Retain All Prisoners of War Indefinitely. Anyway, it’s wonderful news about Peter’s father turning up.’

  ‘Yes, wonderful.’

  ‘I’ll bet you’ll miss Peter, though.’

  ‘Very much.’

  She had almost cried saying goodbye, but you didn’t make a blubbing spectacle of yourself with English boys of eleven years old and embarrass them. You kept a stiff upper lip and pinned a smile firmly on your face, even though saying goodbye was breaking your heart.

  ‘Goodbye, Peter,’ she’d said brightly. ‘Good luck at the school in England.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘If I send you my new address, will you write sometimes?’

  ‘Rather!’

  He’d forget her, of course he would, once he started his new life. With any luck, he’d forget most of the war. The camps would become just a hazy memory.

  ‘Well, bon voyage.’

  He’d said quietly, ‘Thanks awfully for everything.’

  She’d smiled at him. ‘We had some adventures, didn’t we? But we survived. We made it in the end.’

  ‘Yes, we jolly well did.’

  As he’d walked away with his father, he’d looked back once over his shoulder, smiled and waved again. She’d kept on waving and smiling, too, until he was out of sight.

  Stella said, ‘What about Hua? Any progres
s there?’

  ‘Not a thing. I’ve promised to take her with me to Perth if we don’t find her family.’

  ‘Maybe that would be best for her. Give her a brand-new start.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Most people would probably agree with Stella, but would they be right? Hua was Chinese. Would she be welcomed in Australia? Would the Australians even let her in? Would she be happy there if they did? Didn’t she belong with her own people?

  Stella said, ‘I went to see some big shot in the army the other day. Told him all about what happened to the other nurses – the way the Japs murdered them in cold blood. He asked me if I’d mind giving evidence at a War Crimes Tribunal. Mind! What a joke! It’s the one thing that kept me alive in those bloody camps – thinking about those bastards paying for what they did.’

  Susan thought, I’m not really like Stella. I don’t feel her hatred or thirst for revenge. I don’t feel anything much at the moment, and I’m not sure that I ever will again. She sat staring blankly at the spiral of smoke rising from her cigarette, while Stella went on talking. She was saying something about one of the ex-POWs whom she’d been helping to nurse at the hospital.

  ‘He’d been in a camp in Borneo and spiked his leg on bamboo doing forced labour. It turned into one of those huge tropical ulcers – I remember a Dutchwoman having one like it in our camp. The flesh rots away right down to the bone and the whole system gets poisoned. She died in the end, and this bloke thought he’d had it but one of the camp doctors saved his leg and his life. The same doc had saved a whole lot of other lives, too – worked wonders with all sorts of made-up instruments, invented clever ways to treat things. Of course, they hadn’t any medicines or proper equipment – same as us. He said the doc’s name was Harvey and that he was an Aussie. So I said, you mean Ray Harvey, and he said, yes, that was the one: Captain Ray Harvey. So Ray couldn’t have died at the hospital, like we always thought.’

  She stared at Stella. ‘Do you think it’s really true?’

  ‘I asked him, was he a tall bloke with brown hair and greenish eyes? He said yes, though he couldn’t remember the eyes. They were in this camp at Sandakan in Borneo where they were building an airfield for the Japs. Forced labour – like us, only much, much worse, by the sound of it. They died like flies. All the usual diseases. Beatings, starvation, torture, executions, worked to death …’ Stella shuddered. ‘I couldn’t believe some of the terrible things he told me and he said he hadn’t told me the half of it and none of the worst – not by a long chalk. He said Ray used to stick his neck out for them – defending them and trying to put a stop to the bad treatment and get things improved. He said the Japs punished him for it. They gave him a really bad time.’