Always in My Heart (16 page)

‘I’ll make arrangements for them to be stored safely somewhere,’ he soothed. ‘But I would advise you take your jewellery – you might need it to sell if I can’t get money to you.’

Appalled, Sybil stared back at him. ‘Most of it was my grandmother’s,’ she said, ‘and I would
never
sell it.’ She rose from the chair, clearly flustered. ‘Really, Jock,’ she muttered, ‘you’re upsetting me with all this talk of running out of money.’

He caught her hand and held it to his lips. ‘I’m being cautious, Sybil,’ he murmured. ‘None of us knows how long we’ll be parted – and you’ll need money in England to see you and the girls through.’ He put his arm round her thickened waist. ‘I’ve arranged with our bank here to telegraph its counterpart in Cliffehaven and then start to transfer money into my father’s old account which he’d set up years ago. I’ve also sent telegrams to Cordelia and Amelia, warning them of your impending arrival.’

Sybil nodded. ‘We’ll also need cash for the journey,’ she murmured. ‘Do you think we’ll be going ashore anywhere on the way? Only we’re going to need warm clothes in England, for none of us owns anything warmer than a thin cardigan.’

‘I really don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ll see if I can exchange some Malay dollars into pounds sterling.’

Sybil dabbed her hot face with a scrap of handkerchief, and rubbed the reddened lumps on her arm.
‘I must tell Amah what’s happening and prepare her for the journey. I do hope—’

‘I’m sorry, Sybil,’ Jock said as he stilled her hand. ‘Amah isn’t allowed to go with you.’

‘But she must,’ Jane protested. ‘She’s part of the family, and we can’t leave her here.’

‘I’m sorry, my darlings,’ he replied, ‘but Amah isn’t a British subject. She will not be allowed to sail with you.’ As the three of them began to argue with him rather forcefully, he held up his hands for silence. ‘I will see that she is safe and well provided for,’ he said firmly. ‘Amah is as important to me as she is to you, and I promise I will look after her.’

‘I have family in Singapore,’ said the tiny woman in the doorway. ‘They will shelter me. Thank you,
Tuan
.’ She put her hands together and bowed low. ‘If you would excuse, please, I must help
Mems
to pack.’

That night and the following day were spent packing – and her mother was right, for no matter how careful she was, Sarah still couldn’t get all she wanted into the large leather case. She looked in despair at all the pretty frocks and hand-sewn nightwear and blouses she had to leave behind and then sadly had to accept she needed the space for more precious things.

The silver-backed dressing-table set was wrapped in with her underwear; two pairs of light sandals were wedged in the corners of the case, and the photographs had been painstakingly taken from the heavy family albums and placed between the pages of
The
Jungle Book
, which had remained a great favourite since childhood. The framed photograph of her and Philip standing on the veranda the night they had celebrated their engagement had been tenderly placed within the folds of a hand-painted silk evening wrap. She possessed only a pearl necklace and studs in the way of jewellery, and these she would tuck in their velvet box and carry in her handbag when she wasn’t wearing them.

Sybil had come up with the bright idea that they should all wear as many clothes as possible to add to the amount of things they could take, and Sarah had three dresses, two lightweight cardigans, and a jacket, on hangers waiting for the following morning. She would also wear a hat and put spare gloves and some silk scarves in the jacket pocket.

Some of the clothing she would wear tomorrow held a secret, for Amah had set them all to sewing Sybil’s precious jewellery into the linings. At times like this it wasn’t wise to have such valuable things simply locked in a suitcase.

It was five in the afternoon on their last day in Singapore, and every time she heard a car engine, Sarah looked out of the bungalow window anxiously in the hope it might be Philip. To see him again, to know he was safe, was all she wanted. But their ship would leave in fourteen hours, and once it had sailed, it could be months before she discovered what had happened to him.

‘I know there’s no point in me telling you not to
worry about Philip,’ said Jock as he watched her pace the room. ‘But the minute I hear anything I’ll send you a telegraph. I promise.’

They both turned in surprise as Amah, usually so calm and quiet, came running into the room with a cry of distress. ‘It is
Mem
,’ she sobbed. ‘You must call doctor.’

They rushed into the big bedroom and found Sybil writhing on the bed, her hands clutching her head, her clothes soaked in perspiration as angry red spots flared on her neck and chest.

Jock scooped her up in his arms. ‘Get the car, Sarah. She needs to go to hospital.’

With Amah and Jane running after them, Jock and Sarah raced out of the bungalow. Sarah’s hands fumbled with the key as Jane and Amah climbed in beside her, and Jock clambered into the back with an extremely distressed Sybil still clasped in his arms.

‘Put your foot down, Sarah,’ Jock commanded.

The journey through the city to the General Hospital on the Outram Road was as fraught as always, with bicycles, rickshaws, cattle, goats, chickens and natives jostling for space alongside trucks, dilapidated taxis, and armoured cars.

Sarah drove as fast as she could, swerving recklessly to avoid small children who darted out from the crowd, and speeding when she could past the native foodstalls and open sewers, dodging potholes, skinny cats and stray dogs.

The sirens began to wail before they even had sight
of the hospital, and Sarah automatically slowed down.

‘Ignore them,’ ordered Jock. ‘Put your foot down and keep your hand on the horn. There isn’t a moment to waste.’

Sarah kept one hand on the horn, gripped the steering wheel and pressed her foot almost to the floor. Her way was now hampered by people rushing for shelter, but after a few hair-raising near misses, she managed to get to the huge hospital complex. She brought the car to a screeching halt outside the front entrance, and Jock was halfway out of the door before she could switch off the engine.

The bombers screamed overhead as she reached for Jane and Amah’s hands and they raced towards the front door. A hail of bullets spat across the hospital driveway, missing them by inches, and they almost fell through the doors and into the reception area.

There was no sign of Jock, and Sarah was shaking so much she could barely speak as she haltingly asked the cowering receptionist where he’d gone. The girl pointed and ducked down behind her desk as a bomb exploded in the distance, and Sarah grabbed the others and began to run.

Having never been inside the hospital, Sarah soon discovered that the place was built like a maze, with endless corridors and confusing twists and turns. Amah was struggling to keep up, and she waved them on, but as they turned yet another corner and stumbled into the European wing, they saw Jock pacing back and forth in front of a closed door.

They were all out of breath and Sarah had a stitch in her side, but the look on her father’s face squeezed her heart. ‘How is she?’ she panted. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

Jock didn’t stop pacing. ‘The doctor’s with her now,’ he muttered. ‘He thinks she’s got dengue fever.’

Sarah held Jane’s hand tightly as she tried to digest this awful news. Dengue fever could be fatal if it was one of the stronger strains of the virus – and with her mother’s pregnancy it would only complicate things. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but with Jane and Amah there, she didn’t dare.

They all turned as Dr Cook came through the screens, and he gave them a reassuring smile. ‘It is as I suspected,’ he said, ‘but there’s no cause for alarm. Mrs Fuller has one of the milder forms of the virus and it will not harm the baby. We’ve set up intravenous drips to rehydrate her and combat the effects of the fever.’

Jock plumped down into a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed. ‘I thought I was going to lose her.’

Dr Cook patted his shoulder. ‘She needs to rest and sleep now, but I’m hopeful that in three or four days she will be quite well again and ready to go home.’

‘But she and our daughters are booked on the
Monarch of the Glen
, which leaves early tomorrow,’ said Jock as he ran his hands distractedly through his hair. ‘Can’t you get her well enough to travel before then?’

Dr Cook shook his head. ‘That is a terrible dilemma, Mr Fuller, but it would be most unwise to move her until the fever has run its course. The medical facilities on board a troopship will be basic to say the least – and the risk to mother and baby would simply be too great.’

Jock got to his feet and turned to his anxious daughters, his face lined with anguish. ‘You will have to go without her,’ he said hoarsely. ‘But I promise I will stay with her until I can get her on another ship.’ He gathered them to him and looked once again at the doctor. ‘May they see her for a moment to say goodbye?’

‘Of course. But don’t expect too much from her. The fever is making her a little confused.’

Sarah was trembling as she led Jane through the screens. Sybil looked very vulnerable and small in the hospital bed, and her hand felt dry and hot as Sarah gently held it.

‘We’ve come to tell you we love you, Mummy,’ said Jane with admirable calm as she sat on the other side of the bed. ‘But Daddy says we have to go on the ship to England in the morning, so we want you to get better quickly so you can come later.’

‘Darling girls,’ murmured Sybil. ‘So sweet of you to come. Has Amah made the tea yet? I must dress for dinner.’ Her eyelids fluttered and she sank into oblivion.

Sarah was close to tears and so was Jane, but they sat holding their mother’s hands as she slept, each
treasuring these last few moments until they could all be together again.

There was very little sleep for any of them that night, for not only were they worried about Sybil, they had yet another enemy air raid to contend with – and the terrifying news that Kuala Lumpur had been taken by the Japanese. Jock had given Sarah a piece of paper with the addresses of the two great aunts, and she had tucked it carefully into her handbag. The sudden new responsibility for making sure that she and Jane reached their destination safely made it even harder for her to settle to sleep.

Bleary-eyed at three in the morning, they dragged on their layers of clothing in the darkness, picked up their cases and headed for the car. They stilled as they heard a series of deep booms in the distance. ‘What was that?’ asked Sarah sharply. ‘I didn’t hear the air-raid warning.’

Jock shook his head. ‘The military are blowing up the causeway to stop the Jap advance into Singapore,’ he said. ‘Now get in the car. We can’t afford to miss the ship.’

Amah sat between Sarah and Jane, patting their hands, kissing their fingers, and murmuring to them as she’d done when they were babies. It was a small comfort, but it simply emphasised the reality of their leaving, and by the time they reached the port, both Sarah and her sister were fighting back the tears.

The quayside was in chaos, for the night’s bombing
had hit a warehouse, the Nee Soon Barracks, and two of the oil refinery towers. Black smoke was drifting in the humid air as fire and ambulance bells jangled and sergeant majors bellowed out orders to their men. Women and children in their hundreds were milling about clutching their permitted single suitcase, while husbands and fathers tried to quell their fears and remain stoic in the face of this enforced parting.

Native porters carried great bundles of supplies from the ships as the stevedores orchestrated the unloading of armoured cars and tanks, their voices ringing out above the roar of engines and the general mayhem. And as Sarah and the others climbed out of the car they saw troops of young, fresh-faced soldiers pouring down the gangplanks of a nearby merchant ship to be marched off to the nearest assembly point.

As the sampans and Chinese junks bustled back and forth between the many inlets and estuaries, they were dwarfed by the huge ships that lay at anchor in the harbour or were tethered to the wharfs. The
Monarch of the Glen
had once been a luxury cruise liner, but it had been stripped of all the refinements when it had been seconded to the Royal Navy to carry troops and supplies to the Far East. Standing tall at the pier, its three funnels belched smoke into the already sulphurous air as the seamen swarmed over the decks like ants.

Sarah and Jane kept their hands tucked firmly round Jock’s arms as they headed out of the administration shed and slowly pushed their way through the jostling, milling crowd towards the iron gangway that led to
the ship’s lower deck. Amah was waiting for them, her sweet face shadowed with sorrow.

‘I will say goodbye now,’ she said. ‘And wait for
Tuan
in the car.’

As Sarah hugged her she felt the slender frailty of her, and breathed in the familiar and much loved scent of the oils she used on her skin and hair. ‘We’ll come back soon,’ she promised. ‘Just please take care of Mummy for us.’

Amah nodded and cupped her cheek. ‘Of course,’ she murmured, ‘and when this war is over you will all come home to Amah again.’

Sarah couldn’t watch as Jane tearfully said her own goodbyes, and she felt the knot of fear tighten in her stomach as the reality of what was happening began to sink in. She blinked away the tears, determined not to weaken – but she didn’t want to leave the only home she’d ever known – didn’t want to abandon her sick mother in the hospital, or Philip, wherever he might be – or Amah, who’d loved and cherished her all her life.

She watched the tiny figure walk away and become lost in the milling crowd, and then turned to her father and buried her face in his jacket. ‘I’m frightened, Daddy,’ she admitted.

He drew her head into his hands. ‘I’m frightened too,’ he said, ‘but the Fullers are made of strong stuff, and we’ll see this thing through.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Be brave, my beautiful girl – and remember that your mother and I love you very much.’