Once inside the vehicle, which thankfully had been parked in the shade, Evie leaned back and took a couple of deep breaths, while Benny loaded her modest amount of luggage into the boot. Calm down, she told herself. Maybe Douglas has good reason not to be here. Some kind of crisis? Perhaps he’s as nervous as I am. Don’t get off on the wrong foot. Don’t spoil things by being moody.

Grateful for a breeze through the open car window, she wiped her face with a handkerchief. It was so hot and humid that the perspiration was running down her brow, the salt stinging her eyes. She’d never been so hot in her life. Veronica had been right – the heat was bestial.

She leaned forward to speak to Benny. ‘Is it always this hot?’

‘Yes, Mem. We say here there is three season. Hot, Hotter and Hottest.’ He looked over his shoulder and beamed at her.

‘Which one is it now?’

‘Only Hot.’ He made a little giggling sound.

She leaned back against the burning leather, her poplin dress already damp and clammy.

‘Use fan, Mem. In back of seat.’

She found a finely carved wooden fan in the pouch of the seat and taking it out waved it vigorously in front of her face. How was she going to bear it if every day was like this?

She gazed through the open window, curious about what would be her permanent home. George Town was charming, with its classical Georgian buildings dating back to the days of the East India Company, and its Chinese shop-houses with stores at street level and balconied dwellings above. There were also newer, grander houses, many set in large grounds looking onto the sea. Arthur had told her wealthy Chinese traders had settled here, as well as the colonial Dutch and French before the British had seen them off. Today it was a mixture of races and nationalities – native Malays, immigrant Chinese and Indians, British and other European nations. The island was a centre for the production of silks and spices as well as the rubber for which Malaya was renowned throughout the world.

On first impressions, the island captivated Evie. The land rose to high uplands in the centre with sandy beaches, fringed with palms, around its perimeter. If it weren’t for this ghastly clammy heat, she might even go so far as describing it as a glimpse of paradise. Arthur had been right when he’d said it was magical.

They turned onto a narrow road which took them away from the seafront. The houses here were smaller town houses, mixed in among Chinese-style villas. Pulling up outside an ugly box-like building, more fitting the Home Counties than the Orient, Benny said, ‘Here we are. Dis it.’ She tried not to be disappointed that it was not a pretty Georgian house or a large mansion in its own expansive grounds. Don’t rush to judgement, she told herself.

Inside the house, the rooms were dim behind shuttered windows, but thankfully cooler than out in the full sun. It was larger than it appeared from outside. In the centre of the ground floor was an open area of double height, the upper floor landing overlooking it on three sides, so that it formed a kind of internal balcony, defined by open lattice working, with narrow supporting columns. A ceiling fan whirred above her head.