‘It’s the rubber they want, isn’t it?’ Dorothy asked. ‘Douglas is always saying how important it is to the war effort.’
‘Yes, exactly. Let’s face it, that’s why we were sent out here in the first place – McKinley’s knew that rubber would be the hot commodity during the war, hence my promotion to come out and expand the business. But the Japs will want the oil and tin as well. They’ll need us Brits out of the way in order to get them, but it just isn’t going to happen. I saw Shenton Thomas at the club the other night, “impregnable fortress” was the phrase he used for Singapore. So the Japs can huff and puff as much as they like; they won’t blow our house down!’ He chuckled at his joke. ‘And don’t worry about Douglas, darling, he’ll be absolutely fine. I know they’re training as if they’re actually going to war, but it’s highly unlikely that he’ll end up in harm’s way.’
Dorothy forced a smile and concentrated on her roast chicken. Despite the hero-worship to which he felt his new role entitled him, her husband had been a reluctant volunteer. He’d put it off for months, insisting that he would be far more useful to the war effort if he could concentrate all his efforts on the business. The demand for rubber was rocketing and McKinley’s were struggling to keep up with their orders. However, Dorothy had learned early on that keeping up appearances was important to her husband; he had to be seen to be doing the right thing. So, finally, as many of his colleagues and friends had done before him, Douglas had volunteered.
The servants came in and cleared the plates, then brought the dessert. It was pineapple flan, Dorothy’s favourite, but she had too much on her mind to enjoy it. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice light. ‘I do hope I can pop up and see Mummy before I go. She was asleep when I arrived. What did the doctor say?’
Anthony Templeton’s face turned serious and he laid down his spoon on the table. ‘She’s been asleep most of the day, she’s just exhausted all the time.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘She’s hardly eating anything. The doctor did some tests and prescribed total bed rest. We should get the results this week.’ He sighed. ‘I hope to God that she’s alright. I don’t know what I’d do if . . . ’ Anthony’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears as his voice broke off.
‘She’s going to be absolutely fine!’ Dorothy interrupted, smiling bravely at her father. She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. ‘She’s been working so hard lately with all her Red Cross fundraising and it’s been so awfully hot! I’m sure it’s probably just a combination of the two, it’s not surprising that she needs a good rest. Don’t worry, Daddy.’ The tables had turned and now it was her turn to be the reassuring one. ‘Everything will be alright.’
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. The only sound was the whirr of the ceiling fan above them, slowly moving the warm air around the dining room. Occasionally, a soft breeze made its way in through the open window and Dorothy enjoyed the cooling sensation against her skin.
‘Going back to the Japs,’ she pondered aloud as she stirred sugar into the cup of coffee that the servant had poured for her. ‘You’re absolutely sure there’s no way they can invade?’ Dorothy’s brow creased. She thought back to the newspaper articles she’d read about Japan’s invasion of China and of Daisy’s war-filled letters. Her friend’s tales of the London Blitz had made her blood run cold.
‘Oh, they might try.’ Her father chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t put it past them, that Hirohito is a sly old fox! But Singapore is a stronghold; we’re untouchable here. Don’t you worry, darling, you’ll see!’
As time ticked on, however, it seemed that the British government was taking no chances. Singapore’s defences were fortified and manpower increased as the Civil Defence recruitment drive upped its pace. People were encouraged to stockpile food and work began on building air-raid shelters, just like they had done in London. But the British insisted it was purely precautionary; nobody believed that a Japanese attack could ever be successful.
A couple of weeks later, Clara called round to Dorothy’s house unannounced after breakfast. Dorothy could sense a buzz of excitement in her friend and wondered if it might be anything to do with her blossoming romance with Cyril Cavendish.
‘I have some news,’ Clara began, as soon as they were seated in the garden, the coffee tray on the table between them. Her face broke into an excited smile and Dorothy got ready tocongratulate her friend. Cyril was a thoroughly decent chap and he idolised Clara. But she knew all too well that appearances could be deceptive and she hoped that their marriage would be more successful than her own.
‘I’ve decided to do my bit and help out at the hospital. They’re training volunteer nurses in case of an invasion. So I’m going to sign up!’
‘Oh!’ Dorothy gasped, unable to hide her surprise. ‘But Daddy says there isn’t going to be a . . . ’
‘Oh, wake up, Dorothy! Stop burying your head in the sand! Haven’t you been listening to the news? The Powers That Be can posture all they like, but it’s going to happen. Now that the Japs have a stronghold in French Indochina, they’re in prime striking position. And it’s been kept hush-hush, but Father said that Japanese planes have been spotted over Singapore, doubtless on reconnaissance missions.’
‘But . . . ’ Dorothy’s brow furrowed.
‘But what?’ Clara interrupted, her frustration clearly growing. ‘You think they just pop over to see if they fancy the look of Singapore’s beaches for their holidays?’ She gave a wry chuckle and shook her head at her friend. ‘They’re going to invade, Dorothy, there’s no doubt about it, and we need to be ready. So what do you say? Fancy joining me?’
For the second time that morning, Dorothy was wrong-footed. The idea of Clara training as a nurse had been surprising enough, but the fact that she wanted Dorothy to join her was even more unexpected.
‘Oh gosh, I don’t know,’ she blustered. ‘I’m not sure what Douglas would think . . . ’
‘Oh, hang Douglas!’ Clara snapped. Although Dorothy had deliberately avoided saying as much to her friend, Clara seemedto know that her marriage was proving a disappointment. She took a breath, then softened her tone. ‘I’m worried about you, you haven’t been yourself lately. I know how sad you were about losing the baby . . . ’
‘Babies,’ Dorothy whispered, pluralising the word without missing a beat.
Clara nodded solemnly, ‘Indeed; babies.’ She patted her friend’s hand. ‘I think a change of focus might be good for you; take you out of yourself, get you out of the house a bit! And let’s face it’ – she grinned mischievously at her friend – ‘what larks we’d have, doing our training together!’
Dorothy rolled her eyes at her friend’s enthusiastic persuasion tactics, but couldn’t help grinning back. Clara was right, she needed something new in her life. She was in danger of becoming a proverbial bored – and boring – housewife. With Douglas increasingly away on training exercises and no baby to prepare for, there was precious little to keep her at home. And, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy the sight of blood, she was sure that she could make herself useful in lots of other ways.
Just three days later, Dorothy found herself standing in line with Clara at the Alexandra Military Hospital. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the reality of her decision was now making her stomach do somersaults and her palms feel clammy. The Alexandra was an imposing building in the Queenstown area, on the western side of the city. Built by the British as a military hospital just three years earlier, it housed all the latest equipment and prided itself on keeping up with the very latest medical advances. It was a big place, with over 800 beds and 200 doctors and nurses, and catered for militaryand civilian patients alike. The hustle and bustle of people going about their business – medical staff, patients and visitors – was overwhelming to Dorothy, and the bitter scent of disinfectant was starting to cloy at the back of her throat.
Today was recruitment day for the nursing school and the two friends were halfway along a queue of ladies, all patiently waiting to hand in their forms to the registrar. Dorothy looked down the line and smiled nervously at a couple of British girls she recognised. But it wasn’t just Brits who had come, there were local ladies, too, all keen to come and do their bit.
‘Chin up!’ Clara had told Dorothy when she’d shared her nerves. ‘Worse things happen at sea!’ Then she had handed Dorothy a boiled sweet which helped ease the sensation in her stomach. She thought back to Douglas’s reaction and her resolve strengthened.
‘You, darling? A nurse?’ he had asked incredulously, as if the idea were completely alien to him. ‘It’d mean hard work and long shifts, plus you’ll see some pretty ghastly sights. Are you sure you’re up to it?’
Did he think so little of her? That she was so weak? His response had infuriated her. Well, she would show him. Rather than put her off, Douglas had made her even more determined. She didn’t want to be a delicate little wife at home, she wanted to make something happen.
Finally, a nurse called Dorothy’s name and Clara patted her arm with an affectionate ‘Good luck!’
Dorothy was led along the corridor and into a small, white office. The matronly-looking lady behind the desk introduced herself, with a tight Scottish burr, as Sister Jamieson. She fired through the preliminary interview questions in a brusque, no-nonsense sort of way and she gave little reaction to Dorothy’sanswers. Instead, she scribbled busily on the notepad in front of her in long, spidery handwriting. Dorothy felt as if she were being interviewed for the military. Was this what interrogation was like? Her stomach was in knots and she had no idea how she was holding up. After a while, she breathed in relief when Sister Jamieson concluded her questioning with a curt ‘Thank you, Mrs Llewellyn.’ Then she nodded to the gentleman on her left, it was his turn.
