Looking past her reflection in the train window into the inky blackness beyond, Evie allowed herself to think of Arthur again in a way she’d forbidden herself from doing over the months since Doug’s accident. That soft brush of his lips against hers tonight had reignited a fire inside Evie that hadn’t burned since the afternoon on the beach in the weeks before war was declared. How long ago that seemed. Another era.

When she and Arthur had sat side-by-side under the casuarina trees, the idea of the British abandoning Malaya had been inconceivable. Now it was happening. By the same token, the once inconceivable possibility of her having a future with Arthur Leighton now seemed tangible. But they both had to get out of Malaya alive first – and the Axis Powers must be defeated before any future was possible. That felt like a faint hope. But hope was all she had left. Hope, and her two children.

Jasmine, sitting beside her, was sleeping, her head resting against Evie. Less than three years ago, Evie hadn’t even known this little girl existed. Now she loved her as completely as if she were her own child. That was another thing to be tackled in the future. She must formally adopt Jasmine. There must be no ambiguity about their relationship, no conditions attached to her love.

As the train reached its destination, officials entered the carriages and handed typewritten notices to every adult refugee. Evie read the printed words with growing alarm. The orders were stark. Childless women were to get off the train and remain in Singapore. Women with children, who were ungenerously described in civil service officialese as “ineffective”, were to remain on board. They were to be delivered straight to the waterfront and transferred onto a vessel bound for Australia.

This was too soon, too sudden. Evie couldn’t face the thought of being bundled with her children, as well as Susan and Stanford, onto a ship and sent off to a place she didn’t know at all. And most of all, she didn’t want to leave Mary. Not when her friend was grieving the loss of her fiancé. Mary needed all the love and support she could get. Evie didn’t want to be separated.

But it was no good. Mary and her mother were ushered off the train with all the other adult women without dependent children. Evie was angry yet powerless. She tried to get off too, but was ordered to remain on the train.

Arthur had been right. Veronica Leighton was indeed waiting on the platform. Wearing an uncharacteristically simple cotton frock, she exuded a business-like manner and clearly relished being in charge. Her fingernails were devoid of their signature red polish, her hair looked as though she’d dragged a comb through it and there was no trace of her usual immaculately applied makeup. She pushed her way through the crowds of passengers leaving the train and came to stand beneath the window where Evie was leaning out.