The Harmony Silk Factory

The house was dark and cool as I stepped inside. I passed through the anteroom into the large sitting room. T. K. Soong sat at the piano, his fingers moving lithely over the keyboard. He played a Chopin nocturne, gently and easily, without any hesitation or restraint.

“I thought you didn’t play the piano,” I said.

He did not turn around. “A little. We all have our secrets.”

I stood motionless, listening to him play. He remained looking into the shiny black face of the upright.

“Your daughter,” I said. “May I see her?”

“Snow is,” he said, over the sad, playful notes, “not here.”

I stayed for a while, listening to him finish the nocturne and proceed seamlessly into the next one. And then I left the house. I walked down the steps and crossed the dusty yard into the plantation. The rubber trees on either side of the path stood unmoving in the windless afternoon. I passed into their shade and looked up; not a single leaf quivered. Where there was a gap in the trees sunlight fell in deep bright pools, bathing me luminous white. I walked like this, through shadows and light, until I reached the main road back to the rest house.

“There you are!” a voice called as a car juddered to a halt next to me. It was Gerald and Una Madoc, the couple I had met at the party. “We heard you were back, but no one knew where you were,” Gerald said, out of breath as if recently returned from a long walk.

“I’ve been — I haven’t been well, you see.”

“Well, you could have told one of us, what with all this going on.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know there was such a fuss about things.”

“Such a fuss?” he said. “Good God, man, haven’t you heard what’s happening?”

“Yes,” I said, “yes, I have.”

“Come on,” Una cried, her face flushed and agitated by the heat, “just get in the car. We have to be quick.”

“Good boy,” Madoc said as I climbed in. “We’re rounding up the stragglers and taking everyone down to Kuala Lumpur. The plan’s to get to Singapore. There’ll be boats back to Blighty. We’ll stop to get your things. Don’t take everything — just the essentials. Be quick.”

I knew exactly what to take, and soon we were speeding away from the rest house. In town the shops were closed, their painted concertina doors drawn firmly shut. A few people walked briskly in the street, and a lorry was being loaded with sacks of rice, but otherwise the main street was quiet. On the outskirts we found ourselves caught behind a herd of cattle. They milled indolently in the road, ignoring the harsh barks of the cowherd. We fell into a slow crawl behind them, Madoc furiously gesticulating at the skinny half-naked boy who flailed pathetically at the cows with his rattan whip.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Una said quietly, “I just couldn’t believe it. The Prince of Wales, my God. Could you?”

“No,” I said, clutching my satchel to my belly.

The road began to widen, curving towards the river, and the cattle broke into a lazy trot.

“A lot of us were hit hard when we heard the news,” Madoc said. “We couldn’t believe the Japs could do that to us. One of the chaps was at the naval base in Singapore when the Prince of Wales docked, and he said it was unsinkable.”

A small row of whitewashed houses appeared before us, sheltered by a colossal banyan tree; I remembered that I had been here before, with Johnny. I remembered that we sat on the riverbank and talked about how he would make this his new home. He talked about where he would position his bed — facing the window, looking out onto the wide sweep of the river, so that Snow would be able to rise to this view every morning. His eyes shone when I suggested filling the courtyard with earthenware pots decorated with dragons, with lilies and goldfish. He laughed when I asked him about children. “When I have a son,” he said, “he will inherit this place. He will inherit the home that I built. No, that you built.” And then he threw back his head and chirruped with laughter.

Johnny was standing in front of this house as the car crept past. The sight of him did not surprise me, for in truth I was expecting him. Boxes were piled high at the entrance, and all the doors and windows lay open. Johnny stood shirtless in conversation with a few labourers. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he spoke.

“Bloody animals,” Madoc cursed through his moustache, the car slowing to a halt.

Johnny was pointing to a spot on the façade, making wide circling sweeps with his arms, and the workers were nodding acquiescently. He turned around and looked at the car, and for one dreadful second caught my eye. His openmouthed face fell silent, the light in his widened eyes dying even as it flickered to life. I allowed my eyes to glaze over, fixing my gaze at some point in the distance, as if I had not seen him. And then I bowed my head and turned away.

“At last,” said Una. The cattle were beginning to scatter across the widening road, and the car picked up speed.