‘Do you think we should go with her?’ asked Jane.

‘No, leave her be,’ replied Sarah. ‘Let’s see what the house is like inside, and if the Japs left anything useful behind.’

She left Amah happily chattering to the Malay women and climbed the stairs to the door that opened onto the broad veranda. A thin layer of dust covered the teak floor, and all the bamboo furniture was in such a terrible state, it was fit only for the bonfire. The brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling were tarnished, the two large fans were broken, and there were desiccated plants in the flowerpots.

With a tremulous sigh, Sarah followed her sister into the house and gasped in astonishment. All the furniture was still there, right down to the nest of small tables and the painted bamboo screen that had always hidden the damp patch in the corner. She peeked behind it and turned to grin at Jane. ‘The damp’s still there.’

‘Pop’s favourite painting has gone along with all Mother’s silver trinkets,’ said Jane. ‘And there’s hardly any of the crystal glasses and decanters left.’ She opened the door on the intricately carved dresser and triumphantly pulled out a bottle of whisky. ‘But they’ve left this,’ she said, holding it high.

‘We could all certainly do with something to bolster our spirits,’ said Sybil, coming in with a wilting Amah. ‘Are the beds still here? Only Amah’s exhausted and needs to lie down.’

They found the bedrooms almost as they’d left them but for the mosquito nets, the clothes, pictures and rugs. The linen was filthy, so they stripped it off, discarded the disgusting sweat-stained pillows and covered the dirty mattress with a curtain. Sarah fetched a cushion from the sitting room so Amah could rest her head comfortably.

Once they were certain Amah was asleep, Sarah and Jane continued their exploration of the house with Sybil trailing along behind them. There were things missing or broken, and Pop’s study had been ransacked, all his carefully collected maps and history books nowhere to be seen. The kitchen was in a terrible state, with grease coating everything, rubbish piled in the corners, and clear evidence of rat and bug infestation.

Sybil shuddered and closed the door on it. ‘Jim did warn me, but I never thought I’d see it like this. We’ll prepare our meals in the dining room and eat there.’

‘Where is Jim, by the way?’ asked Jane.

‘I’ve sent him and Jeremy off to organise the digging,’ she said. ‘It’s a good thing there are enough natives to help. The ground is rock hard and full of tree roots.’ Somehow, Jeremy had broken down her resistance with his quiet sympathy and understanding of what needed to be done, so that she had already accepted his presence as one of the family.

Sarah and Jane exchanged knowing looks. It seemed that Sybil had eased effortlessly back into being the memsahib, but at least this return home had lifted her from her misery.