The Other Side of Paradise Read Online Free

Learning the ropes, so to speak. Singapore’s an amazing place, isn’t it? Terribly exotic. I’ve spent most of my life in Esher … not counting school, of course, and the army.’
    ‘Esher?’
    ‘In Surrey. The parents live there. Very quiet. Nothing like Singapore. Actually, this is my first time abroad. I missed the whole show in Belgium and France. Just as well, really. I’d probably be a POW now, or dead.’
    He smiled, as though it was all rather a joke. She felt a bit sorry for him; he was a long way from home and Esher. His face was pink from the sun and the white skin on his body was turning red like part-cooked meat. If he wasn’t careful, he’d burn.
    ‘And you’ve come all the way out from England to help protect us from the Japs? How frightfully brave!’
    He went even pinker. ‘Actually, it doesn’t seem as though you need much help. The island’s absolutely stiff with troops. Safe as houses. The Japs would never get anywhere
near
here.’ He wiped the back of his hand across his damp brow. ‘I say, it’s most awfully hot, isn’t it?’
    ‘Why don’t you go in for a swim?’
    ‘Jolly good idea. I think I’ll do that. Cool off a bit.’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘Any chance of you coming in as well?’
    ‘Not just now. I’m going home in a minute.’
    ‘Oh … what a shame. Another time, then?’
    She said kindly, ‘We’re bound to run into each other. Go and have your swim.’ If she’d had a ball, she’d have thrown it in the water for him to go fetch.
    She watched him run and dive into the deep end. Rather a good dive – he’d probably been in the school team – and he was rather sweet, but he could become a bit of a nuisance. It was amusing to have so many of them fighting over you, but it could get quite boring at times. Some were really hard to shake off and she’d had three marriage proposals in the last two weeks. She watched him swimming the length of the pool – a fast crawl that she knew, like the dive, was being done for her benefit. Men always showed off, even the sweet ones. They couldn’t help it. As he reached the shallow end and flip-turned to come back, she gathered up her things and made her way to the changing rooms. When she was dressed, she stopped by the card room. Her father was still playing bridge and it looked like it was going to be ages before he was ready to leave. At the front entrance, the Indian
jaga
who knew every member’s car and number plate sent a boy off on his bike to fetch Ghani. The
syce
brought the Buick round to the club steps.
    ‘
Tuan
not come,
missee
?’
    She answered in Malay. ‘Not yet. You can take me home and come back for him.’
    On the way she told him to stop the car.
    ‘I’ll drive now, Ghani. I need to practise.’
    He slowed the car reluctantly. ‘The
tuan
not pleased if he knows. The
tuan
very cross with me.’
    ‘He won’t know, I promise.’
    She got out of the back and took over the wheel. The
syce
sat beside her on the bench seat, his brown moon-face creased with anxiety. At sixteen she’d bullied him into teaching her to drive and practising whenever there was the chance – another secret, like the Cantonese lessons from Nana. She’d been asking for a car of her own for months – something fun to whizz about in, not a great heavy thing like the Buick – but for once her father had refused her.
    She drove around the back roads for a bit, taking some of the corners quite fast.
    ‘
Missee
go too fast. Not safe.’
    ‘Nonsense, Ghani. I’m only doing forty miles an hour.’
    She put her foot down still further and the needle crept round to forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.
    Ghani clutched at the velvet
songkok
on his head. ‘Slower, please,
missee
. Very dangerous.
Berenti! Berenti!
’
    She took pity on him and braked to a stop. ‘You can drive now, Ghani. If you like.’
    She climbed into the back again and the
syce
drove on sedately, his neck stiff with