The Lost Keys

By Wendi McAleese

On the island of Singapore, Zacharia Pattara shares his lavish home in the suburbs with his five lively daughters and his beloved wife Anthoula. One fateful night in 1942 whilst they slept, the bombs of an invading Japanese Army signal the beginning of an uncertain future. With the clock ticking and the threat of advancing soldiers he does all he can to keep his family safe.

Forced to separate, Anthoula and three girls evacuate the crumbling city whilst his youngest daughters take refuge in the convent. Soon Singapore falls under ruthless Japanese rule and along with thousands of citizens, Zacharia is taken as a Prisoner of War and held in appalling conditions.

Haunted by regret and with limited food rations he gradually starves, awaiting news of his loved ones. With no end to the war in sight and with nothing but time, he has many questions. Did his wife escape unharmed from the island? Are his daughters safe in the convent? Will they ever be reunited, and can he survive the cruelty of his captors to see that day?

This heartfelt family saga full of twists and turns shows that during the darkest of times, the strength of the human spirit can overcome the worst hardships. The Pattara family were among thousands who lost so much to the Japanese occupation during World War II. Based on real events, this is a story of survival and bravery when all hope seems impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035859047

Wendi McAleese

Wendi Jackson lives in the peaceful Wiltshire countryside and enjoys long walks in nearby Longleat Forest. As a single working mother of three, she forgot her long-held ambition to document the survival story of her family during World War II. During a visit to a psychic medium, she was told about the importance of a family book, but it wasn’t until her grandmother, Thalia, passed away aged ninety-three, that her desire to write was rekindled. She joined a local Writing Circle and spent four years researching and crafting her debut novel in memory of her family.

Book preview

About the Author

Wendi Jackson lives in the peaceful Wiltshire countryside and enjoys long walks in nearby Longleat Forest. As a single working mother of three, she forgot her long-held ambition to document the survival story of her family during World War II. During a visit to a psychic medium, she was told about the importance of a family book, but it wasn’t until her grandmother, Thalia, passed away aged ninety-three, that her desire to write was rekindled. She joined a local Writing Circle and spent four years researching and crafting her debut novel in memory of her family.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my incredible grandmother, Thalia, who taught me that life isn’t easy, painful things happen, but it is how you navigate through those times that matters. Throughout her life, she remained positive, modest, and never referred to herself as a victim, complained about life’s misfortunes, or spoke with any malice for what she suffered. She glided through life with quiet strength and fortitude and for that, she has always been my hero. To my great-aunt, Terpie, without whose memoirs I couldn’t have pieced together the gaps in the story.

To my family members, Thetie and Clio, who tragically lost their lives too soon in the conflict, and to my great-grandparents, Anthoula and Zacharia, who I wish I had the opportunity to know. Although since sharing this intimate journey with you, I feel our lives are now entwined and I carry you all in my heart.

It’s been an honour to share your extraordinary story.

Copyright Information ©

Wendi McAleese 2024

The right of Wendi McAleese to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035859030 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035859047 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

The biggest thank you must go to my darling parents, who have supported me throughout this process and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Without their love and generosity this book would not have been possible. I’ll be forever grateful to them for being my biggest champions, reading endless edits and offering advice to turn my dream into a reality. To my long-suffering family and friends, who allowed me the space to disappear to focus on this project and for their ongoing encouragement. To Becca, for her guiding hand with proofreading, and to the Warminster Writing Circle members for providing honest feedback and helping me gain confidence and overcome the fear being vulnerable to share my work with others.

Prologue

The Shop

1911

A brand-new day peeks over the horizon on Singapore’s High Street, and Zacharia has been impatient for this moment for as long as he can remember. Today marks the beginning of his ambitious dream. Standing on the pavement, he takes a moment to savour the emotions, the tingling excitement rippling through his veins, and it feels as good as he imagined. From across the dusty street, he admires the sign bearing his name, and his chest swells with pride. A heavy set of newly cut keys is clutched tightly in his hand, and the brass is cool against his skin. He beams at his young wife beside him, before bounding towards the door of his first and very own shop.

Fast-forward thirty years—the treasured shop is being ravaged by fire. Ugly flames devour the silk dresses and Panama hats for which Zacharia has become famous. All the years of love and passion he’s devoted to creating his highly successful business fuels the flames. The front window explodes from the intense heat, littering the pavement with shards of glass, landing quietly on the thick carpet of fallen ash. His shop is just one of the millions of casualties of war.

In the early hours, whilst the city slept, Japanese fighter planes commanded the sky unchallenged, releasing a devastating air attack—the abandoned streets were filled with the sickening whine of air raid sirens and thundering explosions from enemy fire. No one was coming to their rescue.

Zacharia’s world has shifted—he has no way back.

Chapter One

Zacharia, November 1941

Zacharia glanced at his watch; he was late again. It was almost seven. By his wife’s standards, not being on time for dinner at six-thirty was deplorable. On the rare occasion, he missed it completely, he would receive her frosty furore until at least the following morning. The black Ford pulled onto the driveway and Lim turned off the ignition.

Tipping his Panama hat, he bid his driver goodnight and followed the melodic wind chimes tinkling on the veranda—a beacon guiding him to his haven. He staggered wearily over the crunchy stone driveway in the gloaming light, gravitating towards his home’s warm, welcoming glow. After a busy day, he was always thankful to return to his family on the hill. He knew he was hopeless with the boundaries of time and had a propensity for hard work, often taking precedence over his family life. Throughout the last forty years, he’d struggled to balance the two. He also silently carried ever-present guilt for rarely being at home. His white linen trousers clung to his legs in the sultry Singaporean evening air as he wearily ascended the grand, white staircase. He loved the bones of this house.

Over the years, he and his wife Anthoula had extended it to accommodate their growing family. It was a simple structure, unlike the elaborate colonial bungalows in the city built for the wealthy English expatriates and Europeans. He had always desired an authentic, modest house in the suburbs, believing his home should exist in harmony with nature. Surrounded by palm trees and giant wax-leafed shrubs, his house was built in the Malay tradition with locally sourced wood from the Chengal tree. Perching high above the ground, it relied on sturdy white concrete pillars to protect it from the inclement monsoon floods.

Shortly after they had moved here, he planted a bougainvillaea, which had matured with the occupants of the house and became an unruly burst of crimson blooms. A tangle of twisted vines adorns the double staircase leading to the ornately carved veranda, where he would sit most evenings to unwind.

Briefly, pausing his climb, he replayed a flashback from years ago, when he would sprint up these stairs and back down the other side, making all five of his daughters giggle and shriek with delight. They watched like gnomes sitting on upturned plant pots on the driveway, legs dangling with long white socks and shiny black patent shoes, cheering him on, ‘Again Pappa, again.’ Just the thought of it exhausted him. With each step, he leaned on the stone balustrade for support which radiated warmth from basking in the sun all day. The scent of the rambling buds momentarily transported him back to his childhood many miles from here.

A cascade of excited voices and ribbons of laughter drifted on the breeze, smothering the sound of humming cicadas and evening birdsong. All the girls must be home tonight. An occurrence which was a rarity these days. A wave of guilt swept him up. Have I missed an important event? He thought back to breakfast that morning. Anthoula had made no special request for him to be home promptly, had she? No, he would have remembered. Anthoula had a way about her, meaning you dared not forget when she instructed you.

Before entering his home, he briefly marvelled at the picturesque city skyline. From this elevated view on the hill, he enjoyed Singapore city’s splendour, radiantly lit in the amber glow of the distant houses and streetlights. The inky blackness of the ocean beyond was spattered with tiny pinholes of light from distant ships, flickering on the horizon. With the sun barely set, the louring sky promised rain before the night was out. The wooden boards creaked under his weight as he crossed the veranda, and like clockwork, he hung his hat and linen jacket on the stand, noting the satisfying jangle from the heavy bunch of shop keys inside his pocket. He removed his socks and shoes, preferring to be barefoot so the air could circulate between his toes, and he could feel the wood grain beneath his feet. He braced himself for his wife’s admonishment for his late arrival. Catching him by surprise, Thalia sped towards him out of nowhere with outstretched arms; her tight embrace made him feel warm inside, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.

‘Thalia, what a greeting! I’ve only been gone since this morning.’

‘Pappa, you’re late again. Come on, hurry. Terpie has wonderful news!’

Taking his hand, she led him to the large family room, with its high ceiling and rich, red-brown, polished meranti floor providing the illusion of grandeur and space. Delicate lace voile panels decorated the vast panoramic windows, bathing the room in golden sunlight during the day but preventing unwelcome flying insects at night. In the centre lay a fine Indian rug. Its colours, once vivid and bright, were now muted in dusky pinks and amber tones. From time to time, their loyal Amah, Shi Min, gave it a beating in the yard, the old-fashioned way. Various wicker chairs and a well-worn saggy couch faced the upright piano in the corner, where sheets of music were stored neatly in a wicker basket. Anthoula grew varieties of houseplants in jardinières, extending the garden into the home, which he appreciated. However, he tolerated the collection of china trinkets and ornaments on display for his wife’s sake, but to him, they were unnecessary clutter. The walls were bare except for a large mirror and two dominating portraits.

The first framed photograph was of the family, and the second featured his younger brother Sotiri. Suited and slick; before he bankrupted the family business by making bad investment choices. Despite his brother’s indiscretion, Zacharia still loved him. They hadn’t seen each other since Sotiri had shamefully returned home to their father in Greece, leaving Zacharia to rebuild his reputation and start again from scratch.

Upon entering, he was met with shrill laughter and the sight of three of his daughters excitedly fussing around Terpie, his second youngest. Officially named on her birth certificate as Terpsichore, but no one ever dared to call her by her full name unless they were prepared for the repercussions. Named after one of the nine muses in Greek mythology, the muse of poetry and dance. When the girls were born, Anthoula insisted their names reflected their heritage, a decision that wasn’t favoured by them all. Consequently, when they were younger, Zacharia referred to them as his Greek goddesses. He smiled across the room at Anthoula, who was sewing in her high-backed chair. Neat rows of coloured threads lay on the table beside her; as he approached, he searched her features for signs of irritation at his late arrival. Peering over her glasses, she smiled and put her sewing down, and he knew he had been absolved.

‘Good evening, family. What am I missing?’ Zacharia leaned on the back of the chair and bent to kiss his wife. Her face was now aged with fine lines, and her thick black hair was peppered with striations of grey, but she was still a fine-looking woman. ‘I’m sorry; am I late again? I had so much paperwork,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘I knew you would be. Don’t worry. I delayed dinner, so you didn’t miss it.’

‘Pappa, I was going to wait until you got home to announce it to everyone, but I couldn’t wait any longer and the others guessed, anyway. I’m hopeless with secrets.’ Terpie paused for a second, biting her bottom lip. ‘Benny asked me to marry him!’ she shrieked proudly, displaying her new accessory, which sparkled as brightly as her beaming smile.

‘Our daughter is engaged, Zac. Can you believe it? The first wedding in our family!’

‘I’m so pleased for you, darling. Wonderful news.’ Zacharia clapped his hands together.

‘I can’t believe she’s engaged. It’s so unfair. I should’ve been first.’ Clio nudged her sister Ino out of the way to slump heavily onto the couch.

‘Clio, that’s enough. What a thing to say.’ Anthoula scowled across the room. ‘Don’t ruin Terpie’s good fortune with your jealousy.’

‘I’m happy for her, but I should be married first, being the eldest.’

‘Ahem, I’m the eldest.’ Ino flicked her fringe out of her eyes. ‘Only by two minutes, but still. So what if Terpie ties the knot first? It’s not a competition.’

‘You know what I mean. I thought I’d have a husband and a home of my own by now, that’s all,’ Clio sighed.

‘Don’t be such a spoiled sourpuss. This isn’t about you. You’ll get your turn one day,’ said Thalia.

‘Girls, come on now. Clio, you’re still young; you’ll have plenty of time to settle down. Be happy for your sister and her good news,’ said Zacharia.

‘Sorry, Terpie. Ignore me.’ Clio hugged one of the cushions tightly, lowering her head sheepishly.

‘I know you didn’t mean it. Your time will come, Clio,’ replied Terpie.

‘All my friends are settling down and having babies, and I feel like it will never happen for me. Especially if we have a war, as people say, I’ll never meet anyone.’

‘Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t think like that. Anyway, life goes on even if we have a war,’ Anthoula said matter-of-factly.

‘Clio, we’re only twenty-eight. We’re not old maids yet. You talk like we’re doomed to a life of spinsterhood. I want to get married and have a family too, and we will one day,’ Ino shrugged.

‘I’m glad that’s not something I have to worry about. I’ll never get married,’ Thetie folded her arms.

‘That’s your choice. It’s definitely not mine,’ said Clio.

Changing the subject, Zacharia approached Terpie. ‘Your mother and I are proud and happy for you both.’ He hugged her tightly. ‘Benny is a good man. He’ll look after you and make a good husband.’ In their close embrace, Zacharia spoke softly, ‘Benny asked for my blessing, so I had an idea this was coming.’ He took her hand to examine the classic solitaire diamond. It was a fine piece of jewellery and must have cost Benny much of his teacher’s salary. Terpie awkwardly twisted the ring around her finger, not yet used to the feel of it or the attention it brought.

‘We haven’t chosen a specific date yet, but we don’t want to wait too long.’

‘It’ll be the best wedding celebration. No doubt your mother already has ideas, and your sisters will be scheming and planning a big fancy event,’ he kissed her on the forehead.

‘Pappa, I’d prefer to keep it small. Next year in March, maybe, when it’s warm but before the monsoon season starts.’

‘That’s only five months away! We’d better get planning then. Emily will be delighted.’

‘We’re going to pay her a visit later this week.’ Terpie flounced across the rug, her long skirt swishing and sat beside Thetie. Zacharia had never seen his daughter look so radiant. ‘I was saying before you came in, Pappa, that we’ve made plans for when the war in Europe is over.’

‘Let’s hear these big ideas, then.’ His stomach contracted slightly in anticipation.

‘Well … I know you won’t like it. Benny’s desperate to go home to introduce me to his family in Poland. I know the situation is terrible right now, but we’ll go when the war is over. We’re both saving every penny so we can travel around Europe.’

‘The war is far from over, my darling, so you’ll have quite a wait,’ said Anthoula gently. ‘Even then, I’m unsure how safe these countries will be for you.’

‘I know. The world has gone insane. Benny’s worried about his family since they hid after the Germans invaded.’

Zacharia bowed his head. ‘Poor Benny. It must be awful for him and his family. Of course, he wants to go home. It’s not safe for anyone there right now. I agree with your mother. Anywhere in Europe will be dangerous for quite some time. Let us help you with the wedding first, and if it’s meant to be, it will happen when the time is right.’ His words didn’t convey his true feelings, and he silently berated himself for being selfish. The only positive thing he could glean from the current unrest in Europe was his daughter’s delayed departure.

‘Benny said the same!’

‘He’s a sensible man, like your old pappa,’ he winked.

‘Maybe a grandchild will put an end to your travel plans,’ said Anthoula hopefully.

‘I doubt that very much, Mamma. I don’t want children. Well, certainly not until I’ve had the chance to travel. With the state of the world, I don’t think it’s right to bring a child into this chaos.’

‘Anyway, let’s not spoil the evening by talking about war. Will Benny be joining us tonight?’ Zacharia approved of Benny and was glad to welcome him into the family. He liked his steady influence on his impulsive daughter. Whilst she hankered for foreign travel, Benny would only allow it once the troubles were over, which comforted him. Yes, he was very content with her choice.

‘He should be here by now,’ Terpie glanced anxiously at the clock.

‘We can ask Shi Min to delay dinner if need be,’ said Anthoula.

‘Oh no; he’d be mortified to think he held up dinner. We’ll start without him.’

‘Thetie, why don’t you play us the new piece you’ve been practising whilst we wait? I’m sure your father would love to hear it.’ Anthoula slid her glasses back on and resumed her sewing.

Obediently, Thetie took her place at the piano and began playing; her lean fingers caressed the ebony and ivory keys with ease, and a Mozart masterpiece spiralled into the room, wafting through the air like vapour and seeping into the soft furnishings. Her audience fell silent and shared equilibrium.

Zacharia was already dreading the day when the piano would sit peacefully in the corner like a giant ornament, collecting dust. In only a few months, Thetie, his selfless and caring girl, would begin her new life as a Carmelite nun, a calling for which she was ideally suited. He knew the time would come when all his girls would leave the family home, which would hit him hard. For now, he cherished these nights when his daughters were together under his roof. These days, a dance, a charity ball, or a film at the cinema always seemed to lure them away. Thetie began another piece, and Thalia drifted out to the veranda. After a few minutes, Zacharia followed her to get some air.

Parents aren’t supposed to have favourites, and without question, he adored each of his girls, but his bond was stronger with Thalia. She entertained him with her quirky sense of humour, and they could talk about almost anything; he relished their one-to-one time. Perhaps because she was the baby of the family, he felt more protective over her and called her his little bird. She, like all the rest, would leave his nest one day.

Generally, his daughters had a closer relationship with their mother, except for Terpie, who distanced herself from the pack. Not only was Thalia different in personality, but also in appearance. Her four siblings were so similar that they could be mistaken for quadruplets; they reminded him of a set of Russian dolls. Clio was the tallest, and Thetie the shortest, barely reaching her sister’s shoulders. The girls shared the same olive skin colouring, large circular eyes, and dense ebony curls. Thalia looked nothing like them with her fairer skin tone and light caramel hair; the difference was striking. It had been a long-standing joke among them that a stork must have delivered Thalia to this family.

Zacharia joined Thalia on the bench, and they sat in silence, allowing the music to wash over them as they gazed out across the familiar landscape. A last stubborn streak of pink on the horizon stood out from the grey clouds, marking the end of the day. Thalia leaned forward, clutching the edge of the seat and staring upward, her eyes vacant. He wondered where she had disappeared to and whether he should try to reach her.

‘How was work today? Are you still enjoying it?’

Some strands on the arm of the cane seating had become loose, and she aggravated them further with her long fingernails. The scratching noise grated on him, but he chose to ignore it.

‘Look, I understand if you don’t want to. But you can talk to me about Charlie. I know you miss him.’ He studied her unyielding features for a slither of emotion and patiently waited as she continued scratching and brushed the loose pickings onto the floor. She never talked openly about her relationship, preferring to keep the subject close to her chest. Thalia was fiercely independent. She believed she could take on the world single-handedly and rarely asked for help. Zacharia, however, was a good listener; he would wait all night if he had to. Eventually, she turned towards him.

‘I didn’t know it would be this hard. Sometimes, I can put him out of my mind, and other days I miss him terribly. It’s driving me crazy, not knowing.’ Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears, but he watched her fight them off.

‘I know, my little bird.’ Zacharia wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder. ‘When did you last hear from him?’

‘It’s been almost two months now. One letter is all I need. I think the worst all the time.’

He wished—as he had so many times—that he could control all his girls’ fate and happiness. He wouldn’t have chosen for his youngest daughter to fall in love with an Australian pilot, but no amount of fatherly concern could change her mind, as he well knew.

‘I sincerely wish life was different for you, my darling. But I do know that you’re stronger than you think, Thalia. Sadly, life isn’t fair, and struggles will always arise for you to overcome. It’s how we get through those times that matters.’

‘I don’t feel strong right now, Pappa.’

‘It will pass, trust me.’ If he could soak up her sorrow and take it on himself, he would do it gladly. It pained him to see the agony and worry on her face day after day. She thought she had fooled everyone, but he could see through her smiles. He knew her too well. ‘I know it’s easy for me to say but try not to think the worst. No news is good news, hey?’ he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

‘If he doesn’t come back, I’ll never marry anyone else.’

‘Oh, Thalia. You have no idea where your life will take you and can’t possibly make decisions like that yet. You can’t imagine not loving him, but feelings change over time. Besides, he could be safe and well and return to you.’ Zacharia kissed the top of her head, and after a moment, he added: ‘Perhaps it would help to give yourself a timeline. You can’t wait for him forever; you have your whole life ahead of you. Let him go if you haven’t heard from him by your chosen date.’

‘Hmmm, I’ll think about it. He would still be here with me—if it wasn’t for this blasted war. I know you don’t like discussing war and politics at home, but do you think the troubles will get worse?’

He sighed. ‘I have a feeling this war will test us in many ways before it’s over, and yes, I think it’s heading our way. But don’t tell your mother I said so.’

‘Come, everyone. Dinner is ready,’ Shi Min’s voice drifted out to them in the warm evening air.

‘I’m not hungry,’ said Thalia.

‘Come on. You must eat. It’s a celebration meal, and besides, Charlie won’t want to cuddle a skeleton when he gets back, will he?’ She smiled and allowed him to persuade her to take her seat in the dining room with the rest of the family.

Shi Min had dressed the table with candles, flowers and the best crockery. As Zacharia took his place at the table, he realised he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. His stomach rumbled loudly at the mound of noodles and juicy prawns before him. The dish was Terpie’s favourite, which was a thoughtful gesture. Shi Min coasted around the table, filling their glasses with chilled champagne.

‘Why don’t you both come and join us? It’s a special evening,’ Zacharia asked as Shi Min poured.

‘Thank you. That’s kind, but it’s a family celebration, and besides, Lim and I have already eaten,’ said Shi Min.

Zacharia laughed. ‘You are part of our family. Well, come over for drinks later then. I insist.’

Shi Min agreed and scuttled back into the kitchen. Zacharia was incredibly fond of the elderly couple, who had worked for him for over twenty-five years and were like grandparents to the girls. With their home next door, they were as good as family.

Benny rushed in, apologising for his lateness. His face flushed red, his cotton shirt was damp with sweat, and his usually well-styled fringe stuck to his forehead.

‘I’m so sorry! My extra classes overran. I got here as fast as I could,’ he puffed.

Anthoula welcomed him in. ‘You’re here now; better late than never. Sit, sit!’ she commanded. He took his place beside his fiancé to a chorus of congratulations and cheers from around the table.

Whilst they ate, lively discussion and laughter bounced across the table. With his hunger satisfied, Zacharia rubbed his full belly and was grateful for his forgiving, elasticated waistband. Shi Min looked after him too well. Enjoying the relaxed feeling, he sat back, and his shoulders loosened whilst he listened to their discussions about wedding plans, dances the girls were going to, and music he had never heard of. He silently hitched a ride on their adventures as they talked, gaining immense pleasure from observing them.

As a first-time parent, he remembered his shock and terror when he learned they were expecting twins. Anthoula had been desperate for a son, so they kept trying, but after five girls, they realised it wasn’t to be. Back then, he was terrified of the responsibility of providing for the new lives which depended on him. Parenting was a job for life, and no matter his children’s age, was the source of his constant worry.

‘What is it, Pappa? You seem sad,’ Clio quizzed. All eyes turned to him.

‘Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. I’m not sad. Quite the opposite.’ He sat forward, placing his palms on the table. ‘I was enjoying listening to you all making plans. I know your paths will take you further from your mother and me.’ Anthoula placed her hand over his. ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s the natural order of things. You’re adults now and will become independent of us. First, Thetie will leave us, and no doubt these two lovebirds will set up a home together after they’re married.’ He nodded towards the handsome couple. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for a quiet house, that’s all.’

‘Aw, Pappa, you old softy,’ Terpie smiled.

Zachariah refilled the empty glasses around the table. ‘Enough of listening to your soppy old father!’ He raised his glass and beamed at the young faces staring back at him. ‘Join me and raise your glasses in a toast. To Terpie and Benny!’

Chapter Two

Terpie, January 1942

The warm evening air was comfortable, with a gentle sea breeze on the rooftop terrace at The Adelphi Hotel. Terpie didn’t need her pale lemon cardigan, but she wore it anyway to avoid her bare arms on show. Holding a full martini pitcher, she gazed at the stars, watching them sparkle against the black velvet sky. It was the perfect setting for a night of enchanted vaudeville, although Terpie would prefer to be a participant rather than a waitress. Up here, she enjoyed the uninterrupted view of the spire of St Andrews Cathedral piercing the sky. A chain of pale pink lights stretching across the courtyard swayed gently, and in each corner, large garden pots containing golden acers, lemon trees, and jasmine wafted their fresh scents of summer.

Only the city’s wealthiest patrons were invited to this evenings’ charity event, raising money for The Malaya Patriotic Fund. On an easel near the entrance, a large poster displayed the face of a young soldier with the tagline underneath He will thank you. Recently, the same image printed on postage stamps had become a familiar sight drumming up support for the troops. All local businesses donated generously, including Zacharias’s. In return for their goodwill, the affluent guests dined on mock turtle soup, pigeon fricassee, or a fillet of beef, followed by a selection of Swiss cheeses. Nevertheless, Zacharia politely declined his invitation as these social occasions filled him with dread and Anthoula more so.

In the previous month of December, the Imperial Japanese army launched a surprise attack on the American Pearl Harbour naval base near Honolulu. Shortly after, the Japanese declared war on the United States and the British Empire, intensifying the threat to the people of Singapore who lived under colonial rule. At the same time, in their conquest to gain control of the Pacific, the Japanese army invaded nearby Malaya. The province was already swarming with enemy soldiers heading south, and Singapore supported its neighbours as much as possible. As a safeguard, the military presence in Singapore increased, creating a sense of unease. Regardless of the growing threat, the authorities repeatedly reassured the public that the island was heavily defended and completely safe. Trusting what they were told, the people of Singapore went about their daily lives as normal.

Thalia sidled past Terpie with a tray of drinks raised high over her shoulder and winked.

‘Not long to go now; cheer up.’ She glided off to deliver her cargo to a table of rowdy, thirsty guests.

Their father suggested, or more accurately insisted, that both girls offered their services as hosts tonight claiming it would be an excellent experience. He allowed them each to choose a dress from his shop, which was a total bribe on his behalf, but a welcome outcome all the same. Terpie selected a simple wrap-around chiffon dress in canary yellow, and Thalia, bold as always, chose electric blue. Terpie assumed the other girls acting as hosts were not enthralled to be there either, judging by their sour faces and tedium expressed in yawns. Terpie empathised wholeheartedly. Please let this be over soon, her inner voice pleaded. Glancing around the terrace, she recognised the parents of girls she went to school with, colonial families who were all well connected.

The dolled-up women with sparkling gems wrapped around their necks, perfectly set hair, and overpowering perfume twittered effectually at the boorish men around the table. The men, loud and brash in smart dinner jackets, tossed their forthright opinions about the war to anyone who would listen, filling the air with pomposity and thick cigar smoke. By nine o’clock, the party was in full swing. Glass lanterns swayed, turning gently on the breeze, casting a kaleidoscope of colour, adding to the magical atmosphere. On the centre rostrum, the house band dressed in maroon velvet suits played jazz and swing numbers to entice revellers to the dance floor. Terpie watched in awe as couples danced and felt a sudden spike of jealousy as she had no rhythm at all. Her lack of coordination was proven when Clio tried to teach her, resulting in much hilarity to her family, as Terpie tripped, fumbled through the jitterbug and fell on the floor. She realised she would never impress Benny with fancy footwork, and dancing wasn’t a skill she possessed, despite her namesake. Terpie circulated between the decorated tables serving guests graciously with a saccharine smile, making perfunctory conversation when needed. Drifting from table to table, she admired the striking glass trumpet vases overflowing with white orchids. The flower’s sweet fragrance triggered memories of home as they were her mother’s favourite and a typical arrangement in their house.

Between refilling glasses, she glanced at her watch. No matter how much she willed it, the hour hand hadn’t moved. Terpie couldn’t wait to meet Benny once her shift ended, and her tummy flipped with anticipation. During the last year, their relationship had blossomed since he abandoned his ambition of joining the priesthood. The couple became inseparable, and she was delighted when Benny confessed that his love for her was more significant than his calling—the day Benny proposed had been perfect. After sharing a picnic beneath the shade of an old woody Banyan tree, he knelt before her with an enormous grin and a small black box in his outstretched hand. Realising immediately what it meant, she flung her arms around his neck, not caring that passers-by were staring. With the threat of war on their doorstep, Terpie was impatient for the wedding, and it couldn’t come soon enough. A silk dress embellished with pearls hung in her mother’s armoire, waiting for the twelfth of March. She prayed the next few months passed quickly. Benny had found them a small apartment to rent after the wedding before fulfilling their desire to travel, and Terpie spent many hours daydreaming about their future.

The band stopped playing, and the sudden silence jolted Terpie from her trance. A stout lady wearing a lavender twinset tapped a spoon firmly against her glass to grab everyone’s attention. It took a while for the boisterous crowd to settle enough for her to announce the prize winners of the raffle draw. Great, another step closer to the evening ending. Terpie was grateful these events didn’t drag on too late, and typically the diehards and drinkers continued their evening elsewhere, usually at exclusive clubs reserved for British members only for late-night tipples and poker games. A roar of applause and cheering signalled the end of the raffle, and finally, the guests began leaving. Some were more unsteady on their feet than others and stifling the urge to giggle, Terpie and the hosts ushered them towards the doors until only the staff remained. With the terrace empty and the band packing up their instruments, Terpie collected empty glasses. The stench of stale alcohol turned her stomach. Thalia approached with her usual buoyancy.

‘What are you still doing here? Go, I’ll stay behind and do your share.’ She flapped a cloth as if to shoo Terpie away.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind? I feel awful leaving you to clean up.’ Terpie wondered if there was a catch to her sister’s generosity.

‘I wouldn’t have offered if I minded. The other girls will help too.’ Thalia turned and smiled at a pale, thin girl she had befriended earlier. ‘Benny is probably pining for you like a lost puppy. Here,’ she giggled, handing her sister her handbag. ‘Besides, I know you would do the same for me.’

‘Thanks. Tell Pappa not to worry. Benny will bring me home. Don’t wait up,’ Terpie replied over her shoulder as she headed out the door. She flew down the stairs with her handbag swinging and her heart racing. Stopping briefly on the bottom step to fix her hair, squirt perfume, and smooth down her dress before bursting through the heavy hotel doors. Straight away, she spotted Benny standing under one of the hotel’s many ornate canopies with his back to her. Casually dressed in short-sleeved shirt and linen trousers, he stood stiffly bouncing from one foot to the other with his hands deep in his pockets. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Terpie’s heart beat a little faster. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her luck. Benny was a handsome man. Turning when he heard footsteps, he greeted her with a boyish grin. Benny embraced her, and she inhaled his musky aftershave, committing his smell to memory.

‘I thought the evening would never end.’ Terpie pulled away and saw his smile fade. Benny avoided her eye, and she knew something was wrong. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

With a stern frown, Benny grabbed her hand and started walking, still refusing to look at her.

‘Let’s walk. I’ve something to tell you.’

He was acting out of character, which unsettled her. Terpie didn’t like this feeling at all, and her thoughts raced. Was he breaking up with her? Had she done something to upset him? The last time they were together, everything had been fine. Terpie couldn’t think of a reason for his brittle demeanour. They walked the length of the hotel, which dominated the corner of Coleman Street with its intricately white stone-carved façade. Neither tried to engage in conversation, with only their footsteps on the concrete marking the silence. Eventually, unable to stand the void between them any longer, Terpie boldly made the first move.

‘Benny. What’s going on?’

Benny tightened his grip, rhythmically stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. His other hand remained in his pocket, jangling his keys.

‘Let’s walk for a bit. There’s nothing wrong between us. That’s not the issue.’ Benny stared ahead, and Terpie squeezed his hand as a reassuring prompt for him to continue.

‘What’s the problem then?’

‘I’ve been playing out this conversation for days. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while, but the timing was never right. I’ve no choice now,’ he mumbled clumsily.

Terpie registered his discomfort by the stiffening of his body and the way his hand felt rigid beneath her fingers. Could it be that he had to go back to Poland? She mentally prepared herself as there was no doubt in her mind that the news would be bad.

‘Let’s go down to the seafront first. Tell me about your night,’ Benny said, stalling for time. Terpie talked about her evening with scant detail, but she was too preoccupied with the looming conversation they were about to have. The couple passed the cricket club and were headed towards the Fullerton Building, which overlooked the bay. Terpie bristled with nervous energy, trying to guess what