“We can walk to the next place,” said Mr Leng. “It’s the Royal Lake Club.” This turned out to be an old colonial-type bungalow, surrounded by trees and water. The sun was starting to go down, swirling vivid purple and orange streaks through the sky that, judging by Mr Leng’s nonchalance, was absolutely standard for this part of the world. As they climbed the cracked stone steps to the entrance, Mr Leng said cheerfully, “In the old days we wouldn’t have been able to step inside here, you know. Especially not you. No women or locals.”

The man they were there to meet looked like he rather missed those days, thought Revathi uncharitably. He introduced himself as Sergeant Cameron, late of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, now retired and staying on in Malaya. (For the rest of the conversation, Revathi took mild pleasure in saying “Malaysia”, and watching him twitch and pointedly stick to the old name.)

“Mr Cameron kindly agreed to answer some questions. He was here during the Emergency.”

Revathi smiled as charmingly as she could, considering she hadn’t slept at all on the plane and was feeling fairly woozy, though that could also have been the gin and tonic the sergeant gallantly ordered her without asking what she wanted.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to do much talking at all. Even before she’d got her notebook out, he was regaling her with stories of the old days, the lawless frontier of the jungle and how his strapping British lads had restored order to the place. This was clearly a screed that got delivered at regular intervals, the anecdotes polished from repetition. Mr Leng melted into the background and let them get on with it.

“We were meant to be protecting the natives, but the natives were in on it. It was a mess, none of it made any sense. We locked them up in these camps, the rural people, the squatters—they lost all the land they had before, pigs and everything, right, we locked them up and they had to find a new way to keep going, where they ended up. And still they were helping the bandits. There were too many to keep track of. We searched them, but you’re always going to miss a few grains of rice in someone’s shoe, pills under someone’s tongue. They told them things, where our defences were weak.”

Revathi nodded. She’d heard this happened, and why.