Jim stepped into the large reception area that was cooled somewhat by many ceiling fans, and realised that everyone else looked as hot and uncomfortable as he felt, and that the place seemed to be heaving with army officials, and rather harassed women who were dashing about with clipboards and armfuls of brown cardboard folders. As no one took any notice of him, he decided to have a wander about and see for himself why this place had made such a name for itself.

Having strolled through the crowded bar, the dining room which could seat five hundred people, the magnificent ballroom and elegantly appointed and hushed billiard room, he then made his way into the Palm Court. Looking at the lush palms, the silent-footed, bowing servants, the comfortable rattan furniture and fancy lighting, he could just imagine the rich and famous lolling about here, and got a glimpse of how it must have been for the wealthy ex-pats who’d come to socialise and be seen in these grand and luxurious surroundings. This was a world far removed from Beach View and Cliffehaven, and he finally understood how difficult Sarah and Jane must have found it to settle in after experiencing all this.

With that thought, he headed back to the reception area and asked the smiling Malay behind the desk where he could find the person in charge of repatriating the British POWs.

He followed the man’s directions and eventually found his way to the small back office and tapped on the door. Receiving a brisk response, he stepped inside and was met by a scene of utter chaos.

Files and folders were piled up on every flat surface and stood teetering on the floor. A ceiling fan distributed the muggy heat in a desultory fashion, and although there was a bamboo blind pulled down over the single open window, the sun’s glare easily penetrated the thin, damaged strips, sending shards of brilliant light across the mess.

The dark-haired woman behind the overloaded desk looked up at him over her glasses and gave an impatient tut. ‘I don’t know what you want, but I probably don’t have it,’ she said abruptly. ‘I hope you’re the assistant I’ve been promised, because if I don’t get help soon, I shall be buried beneath this lot, never to be found again.’

Jim took off his hat and smiled down at her, thinking that if she hadn’t looked so tired and fraught, she would have reminded him of Peggy. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m here for personal reasons,’ he said. ‘I’ve just come to ask about two British POWs.’

She sat back in the creaking chair and gave a sigh as she took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. ‘You and everyone else,’ she said sadly. ‘Look around you, Lieutenant. Every file here holds at least a dozen names, and unless the people you’re looking for were imprisoned here on the island or in Changi, I’m very much afraid I can’t help you.’