Singapore Grip - J. G. Farrell [55]
They stepped through a small door cut in the massive wooden gates facing the road. After the heat and sunshine of the road it seemed dark and cool inside. Dust sparkled in a shaft of sunlight which blazed at their feet and cast a dim light back over the rest of the cavernous building, illuminating the bales of rubber which rose around them.
‘I used to think I’d bring Monty here one day but I doubt if he’d understand what the place means to me.’
They climbed a swaying ladder, Joan going first, to a dim ledge that hung in the shadows above them. As he followed her Walter noticed his daughter’s strong thighs beneath her frock and thought: ‘Yes, she’s a real Blackett. She has pluck. Her mother would never climb a ladder like that.’ When he had reached the ledge Walter led the way through a maze of rubber bales to a little store-keeper’s office with a window over the river. ‘Here we are,’ he announced. ‘This is my little nest. You have the chair. I’ll sit on the table. Well, my dear, the reason I asked you to come here isn’t only sentimental, though that may be part of it. The fact is that the business is at a crossroads now that Mr Webb is dead and I am going to need your help. As you know, Matthew Webb who is due out here shortly will inherit his father’s share of the business. Well, we don’t know what he’s like exactly but as far as I can make out he’s a somewhat muddled person. We don’t want him rocking the boat, therefore … No, Joan, just let me finish … therefore it would suit me, putting it in a nut-shell, and I hope you won’t mind me suggesting this … it would suit me if he found you as attractive as, let’s say, his chum Ehrendorf does … Yes, in a moment, Joan, but please let me have my say first. Now I want you to understand that I’m not asking you for anything more, though I shall be pleased if you find a good husband one of these days … Just make him find you attractive, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how although … and this is something that I have never told anyone, not even your mother … the one sure way that a woman can make a man lose his head is by blowing hot and cold, you know the sort of thing, loving one moment, indifferent the next, that sort of feminine way of carrying on is something, let me tell you straight, that a man finds irresistible Well, there you are, but before you give me your answer just let me repeat two things. Firstly, the business could well be vulnerable to foolish behaviour by Matthew Webb and, secondly, you don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to. It will be enough if you get him under your thumb for a couple of years. There!’
‘But Father!’ exclaimed Joan, laughing and jumping up from her chair to give her father a hug. ‘How old-fashioned you are to deliver such a speech! I took it for granted long ago that you’d want me to marry Matthew for the sake of the firm. And the answer is “yes”, of course. I don’t care what he’s like! You took such a long time to pop the question. I was beginning to think you’d never ask!’
Part Two
13
On account of the hazards of war-time, the convoys that were diverted without explanation, the passenger vessels that were commandeered for the movement of troops, the seats on aeroplanes usurped at the last moment by august officials, not to mention the spies that lurked everywhere and studied every mortal thing that moved on the face of the earth through field-glasses or kept their treacherous ears open while quaffing pints in dockside pubs, Matthew Webb had been frustrated again and again in his efforts to reach Singapore. The result was that the month of November was already well advanced before he found himself on the last stages of his journey. By that time, though his impending arrival had not been forgotten by the Blacketts (Walter brooded on it constantly and so, presumably, did Joan), it had assumed less momentous proportions than in the first days after Mr Webb’s death. Walter could see the matter now more in perspective, for the old man had been buried for almost