Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  ‘I think I’ll take my coffee outside,’ Sarah murmured as the two men crossed the room to the large map that Jock had almost covered in different coloured pins. ‘Why don’t you join me? It might be cooler there.’

  Sybil took her hand and struggled out of the deep chair as Jock continued to pontificate and jab at the map. ‘What a good idea,’ she said softly. ‘There’s enough hot air in here to launch an entire fleet of barrage balloons.’

  They both giggled as they walked arm-in-arm out onto the back veranda where more ceiling fans stirred the heat-laden air. The Malay houseboys had lit the oil lamps which swung from the rafters, and they scurried to bring the Mems more cushions and coffee before being shooed away by Sybil, who then settled into a chair, lit a cigarette and finally appeared to relax.

  Sarah remained standing by the railing, unable to settle after the talk of war had stirred her fears that the peninsula could come under attack. She’d seen the fortifications along the coast – the ugly barbed wire, the Bofors guns, pillboxes and civilian air-raid shelters – and had heard about the daily arrival of troopships in Singapore harbour. And despite the evidence to the contrary and her father’s reassurances, she shared her mother’s doubts as to just how safe they really were from an enemy attack.

  Unwilling to dwell on such dark thoughts, she peered through the sturdy mesh screens that protected the wrap-round veranda from flies and mosquitoes to the black stillness of the mountains and the jungle that sprawled over them and down to the very edges of the plantation. The orange flames in the oil lamps flickered in the breeze which still carried vestiges of the day’s heat in its dank, musty breath, and this smell of the jungle almost smothered the delicate scents of the orchids, jasmine and frangipani that grew in wild abundance amid the trees. Moths battered against the screens, mosquitoes whined, and tiny pinpricks of light from the fireflies blinked in the darkness as the deep bass hooting of macaque monkeys echoed into the night.

  Other jungle sounds drifted up to her as she stood there – the lonely howl of a wild dog, which always sent shivers up her spine; the scream of something small at the instant before death; and the constant click and tick of millions of insects and crickets. She’d been born to these sounds and scents and they were as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror – surely nothing as ugly as war would come and destroy them?

  Sybil must have sensed her daughter’s thoughts. ‘Your father’s right, darling,’ she murmured. ‘I was only trying to rile him for want of anything else to do. Naughty, I know, but there are times …’ She stubbed out her cigarette with unwarranted vigour. ‘We’ll be quite safe here, you’ll see. The only real danger is that we might all die of boredom.’

  ‘If you want something to do, then we could play cards,’ Sarah suggested reluctantly, ‘or finish the jigsaw puzzle we started last week.’

  Sybil didn’t seem too enamoured by the idea either, for she pulled a face, gave a vast yawn and swung her feet off the footstool. ‘I’m going to tuck Jane in and then I’m off to bed.’

  Sarah felt a stab of concern. ‘It’s still quite early. Are you feeling unwell?’

  Sybil pushed out of her chair and came to stand by Sarah, her good humour restored. ‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she replied. ‘But I’ve had enough for one day.’ She patted Sarah’s cheek and smiled. ‘I’ll rescue Philip from your father and send him out to you. Lord knows, he probably needs to escape by now, and you young things should have a quiet minute or two together.’

  Sarah blushed and dipped her chin. ‘That would be lovely, but you know how Pops is. He’ll insist on them listening to the news.’

  ‘I really don’t understand why,’ Sybil replied with a sigh. ‘It’s nothing but gloom and doom at the best of times.’ She kissed Sarah’s cheek and turned away, just as the elderly Amah emerged from the shadows further down the veranda, her bare feet silent on the varnished boards, her simple sarong outlining her tiny figure.

  ‘Come, Mem, it is time to rest,’ she murmured as she took Sybil’s arm. ‘I have sweet oils to massage your legs and back. You will sleep well tonight.’

  ‘First I must say goodnight to Jock and our guest, and look in on Jane,’ Sybil replied.

  Sarah watched them move back into the house. The little Malay woman had been looking after Sybil since before Sarah was born, and they all loved and relied upon her. No one knew how old she was, but her lined face and snow-white hair belied the almost youthful grace with which she carried herself and the elegance of her hands as she used them to illustrate a point. They knew very little about her despite the years she had been with them, but it was rumoured that she had family down in Singapore.

  Sarah took a cigarette from the silver box on the low table and lit it, not ready yet to go back indoors. There was still a chance that Philip would join her. But as she stood there, enfolded in the damp velvet of the tropical night, she heard the static coming from the large wireless and knew that her mother’s rescue mission had failed. There would be no escape for either of them now, for her father was a stickler for listening to the news and insisted that everyone still up and about should join him. But perhaps tonight he wouldn’t notice her absence while he had Philip there.

  His voice boomed out. ‘Sarah? Sarah, I know you’re out there. The news is about to begin.’

  She reluctantly stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and stepped back indoors. ‘It’s much cooler outside,’ she coaxed. ‘I thought Philip and I could—’

  ‘Not now, dear,’ he said, raising his hand for silence as the chimes of Big Ben announced the news.

  Sarah sank into a nearby chair and smiled at Philip, who was looking rather battered by the lecture he’d just had on the war. Poor Philip, he’d so longed to enlist, but his responsibilities at the plantation meant he was in a reserved occupation and could only join the part-time local defence volunteer unit alongside her father. Yet she knew he was well informed through his business contacts with the military and government officials, and probably knew more about the war than Jock did – but of course he was far too polite to argue, or to point out that many of Jock’s views were somewhat old-fashioned and short-sighted.

  With her father sitting forward in his chair, fully engrossed as he stared at the wireless, Sarah and Philip were able to gaze at one another longingly as they kept half an ear open to what the newsreader was saying.

  The news was just as gloomy as her mother had predicted. Rationing in Great Britain was tighter than ever; the military service call-up had been extended to include men and unencumbered women between the ages of eighteen and fifty-one; although an air raid on the east of England was reported to have done little damage. Slightly more encouraging was the news that the Russians were striking a major counter-offensive against the Germans in Moscow, and were actually making some headway.

  As the news came to an end, Philip got to his feet. ‘I must take my leave, sir,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m meeting Harris at the warehouses in Singapore early in the morning, and there are some papers I need to go through before we can send the shipment off.’

  ‘I was rather hoping we could discuss the Japanese question,’ rumbled Jock, ‘but I suppose it can wait.’ He must have noted the look that flickered between Sarah and Philip, for he suddenly broke into a broad smile. ‘I think I’ll turn in,’ he said. ‘Sarah can see you off.’

  Philip shook his hand, and when Jock had stumped out of the room, he turned to Sarah with a loving smile and laced his fingers through hers. They walked together into the heat of the night, and the music of an orchestra of crickets.

  Sarah silently moved into his embrace and gave herself up to his kiss, her body melting into his as the sensations began to overwhelm her. She had never known such intense emotion, and although she was finding it increasingly hard to resist the urgency to explore the sensations further, she knew she must.

  ‘Oh, Sarah,’ he breathed into her hair some time later. ‘I’ve waited all evening to kiss you.’ He drew back, still holdin
g her to him, as he looked into her upturned face. ‘I love you, my darling girl, and can’t imagine life without you.’ He became hesitant all of a sudden and drew back further.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked as his expression grew solemn and he reached for the inside of his tuxedo jacket.

  ‘I hope that what I’m about to do will not startle you, Sarah,’ he said in a rush. ‘Do you think – when all this madness is over – that you might – might consider …?’

  Her heart was pounding so hard she was certain he must hear it. ‘What are you trying to say?’ she coaxed softly.

  He dropped to one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Sarah?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘Will you make me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife?’

  She could barely breathe as she looked down at him. This was the moment she’d dreamed about, the words she’d thought she’d never hear, and tears of joy almost blinded her. ‘Oh, Philip,’ she breathed. ‘Yes. Of course I will.’

  He sprang to his feet, crushed her to him and smothered her face in kisses. And then he was opening a jewellery box and fumbling with the diamond ring that nestled within the velvet lining. ‘This was my mother’s,’ he said softly as he placed it on Sarah’s finger, ‘and I give it to you with all my heart.’

  ‘I will treasure it always,’ she breathed, noting how perfectly it fitted, and how simply beautiful the solitaire diamond was as it caught the light from the flickering lanterns. She looked back at him with rapture. ‘I want to tell the world,’ she said. ‘I want to wake up the whole house and shout it from the rooftops.’

  ‘Darling girl, so do I.’ Philip drew her back into his arms. ‘But I’ve yet to ask your father’s permission,’ he admitted. ‘Do you think he’ll mind awfully that I’ve rather jumped the gun?’

  Sarah shook her head and giggled, but any further words she might have uttered were smothered by his passionate kiss, and the rest of the troubled world seemed to fade away as they became lost in each other’s arms.

  Chapter Two

  They had agreed that Sarah should wear her ring on a slender gold chain around her neck until Philip had had the chance to ask her father’s permission. When Sarah eventually drifted off to sleep, she dreamed about her wedding day. Her dress was of the finest silk with an overlay of the same delicate lace that made up the long veil. Sybil’s diamonds sparkled in her ears and at her throat, and, as her father led her down the imposing aisle of St Andrew’s Cathedral, there, waiting at the altar, was Philip.

  But somewhere beneath the rousing organ music was another noise – one that shouldn’t have been there at all – and it seemed to be getting louder.

  The image of her special day disintegrated, the sound penetrating the soft cocoon of happiness that enfolded her until that too drifted away. She opened her eyes and frowned into the darkness beyond the gauzy drifts of mosquito netting as she tried to identify what could have woken her.

  And then she heard it again. It was unmistakeably the sound of a fast-approaching truck, its headlights flashing between the slats of the bamboo shutters as it followed the meandering, steep track through the plantation up to the house. ‘What on earth?’ she muttered as she sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. It was barely three-thirty in the morning – certainly not the time for people to come calling unless it was an emergency.

  Flinging back the mosquito net, she grabbed her Chinese silk wrapper from the chair, padded barefoot across to the window and quietly unlatched the shutters. She could tell it had been raining, for there was a heavy scent of wet earth and jungle in the air. Although the moon was bright between the skeins of thin cloud, the shadows were dense beneath the tree canopy, and she couldn’t see beneath the broad veranda to where the truck had slithered to a halt. A sudden fear chilled her. Something must be very wrong.

  She could barely draw breath as she heard the soft knock on the front door and the hushed voice of the senior houseboy turning sharp as he conversed with this unexpected visitor. Edging away from the window, Sarah crept to the door. Opening it a crack, she listened to the scurrying bare feet of the houseboy and his timid knock on Jock’s bedroom door. ‘So sorry wake you, Tuan,’ he said in a hoarse whisper before he closed the door.

  Sarah couldn’t make out what the boy was saying from her listening post, but she heard her mother’s sleepy voice asking what was happening, and her father’s soft command to go back to sleep – but it was the heavy tread of booted feet pacing back and forth in the drawing room that made her mouth dry and her pulse race, for whoever their caller was, he was clearly on edge.

  Sarah dodged out of sight as her father emerged from the next room resplendent in silk dressing gown and leather slippers. ‘This had better be important,’ he growled as he strode down the narrow hall and walked into the drawing room.

  ‘It is, sir. I assure you.’

  Sarah would have recognised Philip’s voice anywhere – but the sense of dark urgency in his tone only served to stoke her fear. Galvanised into action, she quickly dragged on underwear and a cotton frock. Not bothering to brush her hair or find a pair of shoes, she tucked the gold chain and her engagement ring out of sight beneath the collar of her dress, hurried out of her room and headed towards the sound of their muted voices.

  Philip was dressed in the makeshift uniform of the local defence volunteers, which consisted of khaki-coloured knee-length shorts and short-sleeved shirt, long socks and boots, and a slouch hat, the brim pinned up on one side with the unit’s insignia. The two men were standing almost head to head as Philip’s low voice urgently relayed the purpose of his visit. Their faces were grim, the tension in the room almost tangible.

  ‘What is it? What’s going on?’ Sybil appeared at Sarah’s side in her dressing gown, closely followed by the Amah and a wide-eyed Jane.

  Both men turned towards them, but it was Jock who responded to their sense of alarm. ‘This does not concern you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Go back to bed.’

  ‘I will do no such thing,’ retorted Sybil as she walked further into the room. ‘What is the meaning of this, Philip?’

  Jock’s expression was one of exasperation as he realised his wife was determined to stay. ‘Amah, take Jane back to her room and keep her there,’ he ordered with a sigh. Catching sight of the curious servants who’d come to see what had caused such an early disturbance, he shooed them away with orders to bring tea.

  As a protesting Jane was led rather forcibly away by a determined Amah, Jock’s gimlet gaze settled on Sarah momentarily and then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘You and your mother had better sit down. Philip’s news is rather disturbing.’

  At Sybil’s sharp intake of breath, Jock took her hand to steady her as she sank into a chair.

  Trying to gauge the severity of his news from his expression, Sarah could only see a tautness in Philip’s jaw, and a strange light of excitement in his dark eyes that made her feel decidedly uneasy. She perched on the edge of the chair by her mother, unable to quell the dread that lay coldly in the pit of her stomach.

  Philip took a deep breath and, after a curt nod from Jock, began to speak. ‘Just over three and a half hours ago, the British India troops patrolling the beaches at Kota Bharu on the north-eastern shore of Malaya spotted three Japanese ships drop anchor just off the coast. These ships were escorted by a fleet of light cruisers, destroyers, minesweepers and sub chasers. They began to bombard the coastline at about half-past midnight, and immediately launched their landing craft.’

  Sarah heard her mother gasp, but her own heartbeat was so rapid, her fear so sharp, she found she couldn’t move to console her as she stared in horror at Philip.

  ‘The seas were rough and a good many of the enemy landing craft capsized. The beaches were, of course, heavily fortified with landmines, barbed wire and pillboxes, but despite a spirited and heroic defence by the Eighth Infantry Brigade, the Indian Ninth, and the Thirteenth and Seventeenth Battalion Dogra Regiment – and the addition of four howitzers and heavy artillery – t
hey came in overwhelming numbers and managed to land on the beach.’

  He took a shallow, unsteady breath. ‘The latest news is that another Japanese landing has taken place in Siam at Singora, but the details are sketchy. At Kota Bharu there is hand-to-hand fighting on the estuaries that lead straight to the Allied airfields. Needless to say, the RAF and the RAAF are giving sterling air support to force the enemy into retreat.’

  ‘Thank God,’ breathed Sybil. ‘But how did they manage to get through our sea defences and radar posts so easily? Surely someone should have spotted a large fleet of warships offshore?’

  Philip cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on his boots. ‘They were seen yesterday,’ he admitted softly, ‘but the commanding officer of the British Forces in the Far East feared that the Japanese were merely trying to provoke a British reaction, and thus provide an excuse to go to war – so he delayed any operations overnight to see what would happen.’

  They sat in stunned silence, unable to voice their whirling thoughts and emotions as the servant poured tea and tried to look as if he wasn’t listening.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s more bad news,’ said Jock as he put his hand softly on Sybil’s shoulder. ‘An hour after the Japs tried to land in Malaya, their air force made a dawn lightning strike on the American Pacific Fleet which was lying at anchor in Pearl Harbor on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. Ships have been sunk and hundreds killed. There’s little doubt Roosevelt will soon declare war on Japan.’

  With a sense that her world was slowly unravelling, Sarah looked to Philip and her father for reassurance, but their grim expressions made fear crawl in cold fingers along her spine.