Not only the Chinese lunar, European solar, Moslem and Tamil years, months, and days were recorded in inch squares, one for each day, but also the Penang, Singapore, and Kuala Lumpur racing days, complete with microscopic picture of horse and rider for the illiterates’ convenience; the festivals of all five races in four languages, each with a picture; Deepavali, the lights and the roof of a Hindu temple; the fire-walking day, glowing with embers; Chinese New Year; the fasting Malay month of Puasa, when not even one’s own spit is swallowed during the long hot days; and Hari Raya, end of the fast, day of gorgeousness and Malay New Year; Christmas and Easter; the public and private holidays; the opening and closing term days of Malay, Chinese, Tamil, and English schools; the birthdays of the nine Sultans and of their fathers. Besides this compendium of knowledge the calendar was lavish with fruit and female figures; durian, mangosteen, jackfruit, mango, papaya, chiku, coconut accompanied dark-haired Malay, Chinese, and Indian maidens in sarongs, in tops and trousers, in slit and collared dress, in bathing suits. Each page was furthermore decorated with bats, balls, tennis rackets, racing cars, and golf clubs. Each month suggested, diffidently, a different sport; badminton or basket-ball, tennis or water skiing, cricket or ping-pong, boat-racing and football, underwater coral gazing, and of course fishing; gear and tackle for which could be had, cheap and good, at the Ever Handsome and Joyous, which was a Chinese enterprise.

Today was the 20th of May, 3rd of April, 16th of December, and 8th of March. We counted the days to the Festival.

‘Will Golden Orchid come back for the day?’ Whispering an inaudible goodbye Golden Orchid had left two weeks before. I felt the loss of her presence still.

‘I shall invite her,’ said Ah Mei.

Then it was night. Tender at ease the sky revolved its stars on the spinning wheel of time and space. Through the hours of darkness the earth decanted measured beauty, gleaned from moments of light; Fate dispensed her ends and her beginnings. With torches of woven coconut strands flaring bright fists of golden fire the fishermen now scoured the black mirror of the sea. On the ceiling and the walls the pink and green ‘chikchaks’, familiar lizards, ran their nightly rampage. Their jet Egyptian side eyes gleamed above sleek faces and their necks pulsated pinkly. Sometimes one would issue the startling wooden clapper chuckle which provided their name. Baby chikchaks, insecurely prehensile, dropped to the floor in a clatter of pitying chiks, chiks.