CHAPTER 15
Singapore
Dorothy stood in the shade of the Saga tree outside St Andrew’s Cathedral and took a deep breath.
Her heart was racing and, as she looked down at her bouquet of pink roses, she saw that her hands were trembling.
The last couple of months had been such a whirlwind and she had been swept along by the romance and excitement of it all.
But was she doing the right thing? She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow, steady breaths.
Her first two years in Singapore had flown by and so much had changed.
She had completed her training and now had a part-time position working as a secretary for the women’s page at a local newspaper, the Straits Times.
She loved the sense of purpose that she got from going out to work, not to mention the independence of earning her own money and not always relying on her parents.
Despite her initial misgivings about leaving London, Dorothy had adjusted to life in South East Asia relatively smoothly, largely thanks to her close friendship with Clara.
Her new friend didn’t have Daisy’s musical talents or dress-making skills, but she was always so much fun to be around and had introduced Dorothy to an exciting new set of friends.
Life had taken on a pleasant routine of cinema outings, shopping trips, tennis at the Tanglin Club, family picnics at the cricket on the Padang, and cocktails and dancing at the Raffles Hotel.
Slowly but surely, Dorothy had grown accustomed to the heat and had fallen in love with the lush tropical greenery of the island.
She spent much of her time at home outdoors, either on the veranda or in the garden, where these days not even the resident monitor lizard or monkeys could bother her.
She loved her family’s beautiful black and white home on Nassim Road and the kind, gentle staff who took care of them there.
She had grown close to Ah Ling, who had become something of a big sister and confidante to her.
It was an unlikely friendship, and one which her mother disapproved of, but Dorothy valued it greatly.
Part of her, however, still missed her old life in London and, now that England was at war with Germany, she worried terribly about her loved ones back home.
Life had not changed in Singapore; they were so far removed from the horrors of war and she felt guilty to be living in such a bubble of privileged safety.
But the newspapers were full of the relentless bombing attacks on the capital and the reports filled her with dread.
In Daisy’s most recent letter, she had written that a bomb had landed just three streets away, destroying a terrace of four houses.
Their school friend Maisie Brown and her whole family had been killed that night.
Dorothy prayed that they had all been asleep and had known nothing about it.
Daisy’s news wasn’t all bleak and Dorothy loved hearing about her new beau, Bert, as well as her new job as a seamstress at Barkers of Kensington department store.
She was so proud of her friend and the steadfast way in which she was just getting on with it all.
On top of working a full-time job, she had also started volunteering for fire-watching duties at night.
How did Daisy find the energy to do it all?
Despite the danger, part of Dorothy wished that she was still in London with her, going through the highs and lows of wartime together.
She missed her so much and wished with all her heart that she could have been here with her today.
But what would her childhood friend have made of it all?
She had written to tell her the news, but the post took so long to cross the thousands of miles between them that she had not yet received a reply.
Part of her knew that Daisy’s cautious nature would probably have advised differently.
But then she reminded herself, despite being the closest of friends, they had very different characters.
One big relief to Dorothy was that her brother, Thomas, had made it to Singapore in time.
He had recently finished his medical training, it having been expedited due to the onset of war.
On his return to London after the wedding, he would be due to start his military training, having been exempted from conscription while completing his studies.
Doctors were in high demand during wartime and he would, doubtless, soon be whisked off to patch up wounded soldiers in some far-flung danger zone.
She was so proud, but terrified about what might happen to him.
Dorothy loved having her brother here, even if they had argued terribly yesterday.
Dear Thomas, he was always looking out for her, but this time he had taken the ‘big brother’ responsibility too far.
It was time for him to accept she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.
But was it the right decision? She hoped with all her heart that it was.
And that meant hoping that her brother had been wrong.
‘Dorothy? Are you ready?’ her father’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She opened her eyes and looked up into his, hoping for some sort of guidance. But there was none. He glanced quickly at his wristwatch and tried to mask the sigh that followed. It was twenty minutes after the appointed hour. Anthony Templeton loved his daughter, but he hated tardiness.
‘I . . . ’ she began, but was interrupted by the photographer asking her to smile with her father. She obeyed, then watched her father move closer to the open door; a subtle hint that it was time to get the show on the road.
Ah Ling came over to smooth down her dress and spread it out on the ground behind her. Then she reached up to give her hair one final adjustment. She looked deep into Dorothy’s eyes and seemed to sense her churning emotions. She leaned in close, pretending to fix a hairclip.
‘Miss Dorothy, you no need do this,’ she whispered quickly. ‘You change mind if you no want do. Is no problem, I help you, will be OK.’
Mr Templeton looked over and cleared his throat, and the maid, suddenly a picture of innocence, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Dorothy’s ear.
‘And a photograph of you on your own please, Miss Templeton,’ the photographer called. He had been adjusting his equipment and was ready again.
Dorothy forced a nervous smile and pulled Ah Ling to her side before replying, ‘I’d like one with Ah Ling, please.’
The photographer raised his eyebrows at this, evidently finding this a little unusual, but followed the instruction and set up for the shot.
Dorothy wrapped her free hand around Ah Ling’s waist and they both smiled for the camera.
‘Cheese!’ Ah Ling said, making Dorothy smile at her knowledge of yet another unexpected Western practice. She was full of surprises.
Dorothy found such reassurance in Ah Ling’s presence.
Hearing her offer – so devotedly and bravely – to help her find a way out had made her realise that she did want to go through with it.
She had given her word and she would not go back on it; she would not let her family down.
And if she could put all her doubts to one side and quell the nagging thoughts in her head, she was excited.
She did love him, she felt sure of that.
She could make it work and they could be happy together, she was sure.
Sometimes, she thought to herself, you just had to take a leap of faith.
She gave Ah Ling a determined smile and nod before walking over to her father and taking hold of his arm. They stepped into the cool interior of the cathedral and the organ music began.
The church was packed. Despite their relatively short time on the island, the Templetons had made many friends and connections, and her mother had seen today as the perfect occasion to cement the family into Singapore society.
Her father squeezed her hand as they reached the front of the church and smiled down at her before stepping away.
She turned and looked up into her groom’s shining eyes and all her earlier doubts floated away.
In his dark morning suit with his hair neatly coiffed, she had never seen Douglas Llewellyn more handsome.
The wedding service passed in a blur. Later, all she would recall was the sound of the congregation as they sang out the hymns her mother had chosen, the racing of her heart as she made her vows and the delicious, weak-at-the-knees scent of Douglas’s cologne.
They made their way back down the aisle to the strains of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ as Mr and Mrs Llewellyn.
She had done it. There was no going back now.
The thought thrilled her and she was glad that she had managed to silence her nerves just in time.
Arm in arm with her new husband, Dorothy beamed as they passed rows of smiling faces in the congregation; their neighbours, her mother’s friends, Clara and her parents, their household staff, Douglas’s cricket mates, her father’s colleagues, some of her friends from the newspaper and then .
. . Dorothy’s smile faltered. Her. Why did she have to be here?
Dressed in an eye-catching, scarlet red swing dress and looking utterly gorgeous, Maria da Costa – now Pemberton – gave a wide smile as they passed.
But Dorothy noticed at the last moment that it was not for her; Maria’s eyes were locked onto Douglas’s.
Her stomach sank as the niggling doubts returned.
Could she ever really trust her new husband with this woman?