Singapore Grip - J. G. Farrell [144]
‘Well, Walter, I’m not sure that I …’
‘The Governor and Lady Thomas will be personally grateful to you, I happen to know,’ said Walter, pressing his advantage as he saw the Major begin to weaken. ‘He sets particular store by having a mixture of races. What we must have above all is Europeans! That is crucial to the whole exercise. We’ve even considered having an additional slogan: “All in it together!”’
‘Well, I suppose, in that case …’
‘Good man! I knew I could depend on you … Well, Major, I think it should be a success but sometimes I do have the feeling that there’s something missing, that we still need a single float representing Singapore herself. We’ve thought of all the usual things, the Lion City and so on, but it’s weak, it’s been done before … We need to show Singapore in her relationship with the other trading centres of the Far East, holding them in a friendly grip. It’s deuced hard to think of anything suitable, I can tell you! All we’ve managed to think of so far is to have Singapore at the centre of a float as a sort of beneficial octopus with its tentacles in a friendly way encircling the necks of Shanghai, Hong Kong, Bombay, Colombo, Rangoon, Saigon and Batavia. Of course, the snag is that the octopus does not have a very good reputation whereas …’ Walter fell silent.
They were standing in the corridor. From a few feet away they could hear the springs of Matthew’s bed as he thrashed and muttered and groaned in his fever. From the dim depths of the floor The Human Condition peered up at Walter in perplexity with its bulging eyes. The Major cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me mentioning this, Walter, but I noticed a moment ago that you had a spot of something yellow on your chin … a spot of, well, egg, I suppose.’
‘What?’ cried Walter, clapping a hand to his chin in horror.
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said the Major hurriedly, taken aback by the effect of his words. ‘Just a spot of something … You can hardly see it.’ Walter spat on a handkerchief and began to rub his chin violently. Watching him at work the Major could not help thinking: ‘Walter is getting rather odd in some ways.’
32
Poor Matthew! What a terrible fever he had to endure! Every two or three hours he would be roused from his churning dreams and would find himself surrounded by a circle of Oriental faces, for Cheong had summoned assistance from his relatives. Then he would become aware of many hands hoisting him into the air while other hands dragged away the sodden sheets and replaced them with dry: these dry sheets would be wringing wet too, though, within a few moments. At intervals he would find a glass of cold liquid held to his lips: then he would gulp for his life, while faces flared up before his eyes. ‘Hello you!’ said Joan brightly, puffing away at a long cigarette holder, to be replaced in a moment by Charlie informing him that there was a huge demand for cheap coolie labour during the rice-milling season from January to May, or by an unknown doctor, an Englishman wearing a linen jacket and a striped tie. This man, he found, was talking to him cheerfully and evidently had been doing so for some time, encouraging him to swallow some white pills which lay in his yellowish, horny palm. As Matthew took them the doctor opened his mouth and gulped sympathetically, as if he too had some pills to swallow; then, satisfied, he beckoned Cheong forward with a pitcher of iced lemonade. Matthew gulped down glass after glass, before sinking back into his dreams … only to find a moment later that the Major’s worried countenance was looming over him. He could tell by the Major’s expression that something had gone dreadfully wrong. What was it he was trying to say to Dupigny on the other side of the