27

Jasmine was at school and Evie was sitting in the garden, staring into space. Now that Douglas had been laid to rest, the shock of his death and its manner was receding, to be replaced by a numbness and a feeling of being cast adrift. Even though Douglas had rarely been present at the George Town house, the knowledge that he would never return made her feel as if she no longer had any right to be there.

Before the funeral, Arthur had assured her that there was plenty of money in the bank, and the income from the two rubber estates, and from an inheritance from Douglas’s late mother, meant that she and the children would be well-provided for. Money was the last thing she needed to worry about.

Hugh was sleeping in a bassinet beside her, in a shaded part of the garden. She gazed at his perfectly formed face and wondered how she was going to manage to raise the child in a way that Doug would have approved. How was he to grow up without the guidance and support of a father? How was she going to make the right choices for her son – the choices that Douglas would have made?

And she missed Douglas. Yes, he had often been cold and distant, but he had cared for her in his own clumsy way. Her week no longer had a focus now he would no longer be returning to George Town for the weekends. In the big bed, she felt lonely and lost and longed to have him beside her. She missed the intimacy of making love, the feel of his body against hers, the physical pleasure they had enjoyed.

She examined her little boy’s face, trying to identify any feature of Douglas. He had inherited his father’s dark hair, and his eyes were the same blue, but it was impossible to detect anything more. Evie told herself that something would become apparent as the baby grew up. Besides, there was no discernible evidence of her in the baby either. She hoped Hugh would grow up to look exactly like Douglas – those dark good looks would stand him in good stead – but not that he would inherit his father’s melancholia or his inability to express his feelings. No, she had to make sure of that.

The heat was oppressive, with no breeze. Evie had a sudden overwhelming need to get away from the house, to escape the tragic air that Aunty Mimi and Benny were projecting, to escape the constant reminder that Doug would never again stand on the veranda outside the drawing room with a stengah in his hand. She picked up the bassinet and went inside where she transferred Hugh into his pram, and told Aunty Mimi she was going out for a while.

As she went to open the front door, there was a knock. It was Arthur Leighton.

‘You’re going out?’ he said. ‘I came to say goodbye. I’m driving back to Singapore today.’