大象传媒

Born March 1933 of British parents, in Kuching, Sarawak, the Land of the White Rajah. September 1939 found us on leave in London. Father made sure I listened to what became those famous speeches by Chamberlain and Churchill. 'This is a history' he would say. Having served in the first World War, he knew a lot more history could 1ie a head.

Summer 1940 we had a few weeks holiday with a maternal uncle who was a cattle farmer in Co.Tyrone. He also headed the local Home Guard Unit. I loved to spend time with neighbours, especially if they had horses. Many were Republicans who questioned me about my uncle鈥檚 gun. Always I pleaded ignorance.

In fact I had discovered the gun鈥檚 clever hiding place one meal time I dropped a spoon. Being 1itt1e, I was quickly down under the table to retrieve it. Suspicion was aroused as two grown-ups had dived down after me. Looking up I spied the long rifle in a specially built cradle, ready for speedy removal as needed. If my
uncle thought I had seen it he would have to move it, so I resumed my seat with a carefully blank face, while noting the furtive questioning looks being exchanged by the adults. It was many years later before I told that dearly loved uncle that even lassies - who are only seven years - old can keep secrets.

The London of black outs and bombs was a scary place. Best not to look too closely at demolished buildings, much less think of the poor people who had lived in them. Best concentrate on finding the best hunks of shrapnel, great for swaps with other children.

To cheer us up there were the wonderful concerts given by Myra Hessin in the the National Ga11ery. My mother was a very talented pianist and I had so missed hearing her playing her grand piano.

Late summer Father took us to Regents Park Zoo. When the siren sounded we were ushered in to a long tunnel which had seats and benches along the sides. The ladies were always prepared with knitting and sewing to occupy them. The men drifted outside, in spite of, or perhaps because of, the great racket going on over-head. I could see my 6ft 3in Daddy's head over the other men. In no time he found a litt1e hand being slipped into his. He looked down, torn, knowing he should send me back to shelter, but this was history. We craned our necks to watch the aerial dog fightsover our heads, planes spiraling down in flames, luckily none near us. It was terrifying, yet thrilling, as we cheered on our gallant air men . . . in what was a definitive day, the Battle of
Britain.

Father had to get back to his job in Malaya. Liners were being requisitioned as troop ships, so eventually we sailed with an Atlantic convoy from Liverpool, in a sma11 cargo boat, the Port Huan, in December 194O. We were escorted by warships, and there were many alarms. To this day I get goose-bumps when singing, 鈥淔or those in peril on the sea鈥�.

We sailed nearly to Iceland before leaving the convoy and heading south, zigzagging all the way to Capetown, hoping to dodge the dangers now lurking below rather than raining down from above. The Port Huan had six passengers, a baby and me. The crew was the most wonderful, kind, thoughtful men. Some were maybe dads missing their own kids, so seemed to enjoy having a bouncy little extrovert on board. 鈥楳y鈥� swimming pool was created out of canvas, 鈥楥hips ' the carpenter made a beautiful money - box, the First Mate entertained me with his violin. It seems incredible how I was given the freedom of the ship.

The Galley welcomed . . . with ice - cream as we hit warm waters 鈥�.., the Engine room, AND the Bridge, which was out of bounds to other passengers. I got to take the great wheel (with a very large sailor standing behind me). I thrilled to it all, and thought how
my big brother would have loved it, but the was marooned at home in boarding school, I was always about to be sent to boarding school, but one of the two Hs, Hitler or Hirohito, moved us on!

After three months at sea, we were nearing journey鈥檚 end at Freemantle, Australia. A concert was prepared. The crew was so delighted to find they had only to hum their chosen songs for my Mama to be able to accompany them beautifull1y on the piano. I was the surprise item as the sailors taught me the 鈥楳aori Farewell', many years before Kiri Te Kanawa made it famous.

I was heartbroken at parting from my special friends. Many years later I was able to find out that the Port Huan had ended her days in a Japanese breaker鈥檚 yard, so hopefully those 1ove1y men all survived the war.

Father and I had enjoyed our 1itt1e cargo boat, even when she pitched so badly that most passengers stuck to their bunks, and we would be handed a bowl and spoon at meals, as crockery would go flying. Great fun for us, but Mother was someone who only enjoyed being at sea while in the Suez Canal, so had to endure a rough three months.

At Freemantle we transferred to a liner, and Father took the Royal suite, to compensate Mama for the previous cramped cabin, which was shared by all three of us. Now we had luxury. But in no time some idiot, not thinking about why the portholes were all
blacked out, left one open while showing a 1ight. Al1 portholes were sealed shut. In the Hold were hundreds of sheep - the stench hit us as soon as we came below deck, and our hearts ached for the poor animals penned in the searing heat.

The dri1l in those days was that when starting a new three-year tour of duty, the incumbent would be provided with a large house. This he had to decorate and furnish. At the end of the posting everything, from dining table to teaspoons, would be crated up and deposited in great Godowns (warehouses) by the Docks.

On arrival in Singapore our house was not ready, so the firm put us up in Raffles Hotel, but then in to a furnished bungalow, our goods remaining in store . . . both important for later in my story.

Between my ages of three and six we had lived in Kuala Lumpur, capita1 of the Federated Malay States. My earliest memory is of being handed out of the train which had brought us up country in to the arms of Aque, my new Amah. She was to have a demanding time with a charge who seemed to get into lots of scrapes, and had, as her best friend, a litt1e gibbon, Pixie, who came and went as he pleased, but who got very angry if anyone raised their voice in anger at me - what a pa1

Aque showed her value very early on, she sent me, bathed and pyjamed to say goodnight to the parents in the garden, Mama in a big lounger, Father trying out his new golf club. Unaware of the smal1 person approaching from behind, he swung the club, and as it connected with my left eyebrow, it lifted me in to the air and broke off the head of the new club. At my howls of pain, Aque came rushing out to take in the scene: decapitated c1ub, distraught parents, distressed child with a rapidly blackening face. She appeared to flee the field, much to the disgust of the parents, but she had only gone to boil an egg 鈥� in fact, three eggs. In no time she was back, bearing a little bowl with three bantam鈥檚 eggs (as we found out.)

Amahs then wore smart white jackets and baggy black trousers, all the better for securing a squirming, wailing child between her knees. Deftly she peeled an egg and, with it still hot, began to roll it firmly over my bruised face. When it was cool and black she peeled another, then the third. When finished, the parents said the bruising had gone from my face. I know the pain was almost gone, and three little black eggs lay in Amah鈥檚 little bowl 鈥� what a cure, what a lady.

Now Aque was invited to stay with us in Singapore. I was so happy to see her again, and we all enjoyed the sightseeing, especially the amazing Tiger balm Gardens. At the end Father said he was prepared to take her back with us to the UK as the Japs were in China, where her relations were, but she refused. After the war we were unable to get news of our dear Aque.

After two years of freedom, I was at school, Kings. There were lots of Americans, and, with their usual grasp of foreign affairs, one great bully assumed from my surname that I was pro - German. In a fury I ran at him, head-butting him in the stomach. As he fe1l
he boxed my ears, and I ended in hospital queried as needing a mastoid operation. That night, with Father u p-country, Mother awoke suddenly, to hear scuffling noises on the porch. Going to investigate, {she found Hetam, the cice (chauffeur), trying to get himself comfortable. He explained that, not knowing if Mother could drive, and perhaps needed at the hospital for the 鈥�1itt1e one鈥�, he wished to be available for her. So typical of the kind, truly gentlemanly Malays.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.