‘How could it be?’ Blanche asked, suddenly alerted by the sound of a vehicle sounding a horn for the front gates to be opened by the guards. ‘Unless,’ she added, on her feet and making for the door, ‘it was that boy who was stationed with us. Alan somebody. I never caught the name of any of the others.’

‘Cresswell,’ Liz added quietly to her mother’s back as she went out to meet Aubrey.

Joan stood looking at her, then stooped and caught her hands. ‘Oh, my dear! I thought it was the major who had caught your eye. He seemed to think so — you’ve certainly caught his!’ She glanced after Blanche. ‘Your mother doesn’t know,’ she surmised, searching the girl’s face. ‘N-o-o.’ The negative included both the knowledge that Blanche would definitely not approve and that she saw the same implacable determination in Liz.

‘An approaching impasse, I think.’ She patted Liz’s hands and whispered, ‘Don’t look so awful, darling, we’ll find out about your Alan Cresswell.’ She stood up to greet her husband as he and Blanche came back into the room.

‘Aubrey, darling! All right?’ Joan kissed her husband on the cheek.

He nodded and, looking searchingly both at his wife and all around the room, asked, ‘And here?’

‘Perfectly fine, darling. No enemy activity and all the tappers are in, everything secure. We’re just hanging on what you have to tell us.’

He tossed his hat on to the table and helped himself to a stiff gin and tonic.

‘Did you see the high commissioner?’ Blanche asked.

He shook his head. ‘No, he’s away, next in command, but it was apparently arranged to take George to KL because he’ll have a better chance of his case coming up much quicker and there will be less chance of any local prejudice against him.’

‘Local prejudice! What the hell do they mean?’

‘Blanche, you have to understand this girl is of a family who have worked for the Bukit Kinta mine for years, generations! That a girl like this should accuse him is very emotive. If it had been a stranger ... ’

‘I don’t see it makes any difference. If the little tart is a prostitute, anyone could have beaten her up.’

‘The trouble is, my dear, that there is absolutely no evidence that she is or ever was a prostitute. There is no record of George receiving a message begging him to go to that house of ill repute in Ipoh. It’s just George’s word against all the evidence, which I have to tell you is pretty damning.’

‘The evidence is a put-up job, isn’t it? George Harfield has been a thorn in the side — ’ she paused momentarily and tut-ted at her own cliché — ‘of the communists ever since the war. He told them he’d bury them up to their necks if he found any of them caching away English arms supplies then and he’s been the target for all kinds of attacks. Look at his headman, Rasa, look what they did to him!’

‘M’dear, this is what makes it so much worse for him. His barrister says the prosecution are likely to bring these things up and use them as evidence to say how damned unlikely it would be for a girl born and brought up at Kampong Kinta to be a communist sympathiser.’

‘I don’t see that counts. All youngsters kick against the parental traces however they’re brought up!’ Blanche argued.

‘Not sure that’s politically true,’ Joan said, shaking her head. ‘Generations of our village folk back home used to vote Conservative whether it was a lord or a cabbage who stood in their constituency.’

‘This is more about ideals, isn’t it? About fairer shares for all,’ Liz said quietly.

‘For God’s sake!’ Blanche exploded. ‘What it’s about is a man being set up by some fanatic who’s prepared to let herself be beaten up to trap an enemy to her cause.’

‘Her cause is her ideal,’ Liz emphasised. ‘People have to have ideals to be prepared to suffer.’

‘Probably sees herself as a martyr,’ Joan confirmed.

‘But we all agree the evidence is contrived.’ Blanche was pacing the floor now, throwing her arms wide to appeal to her audience.

‘But,’ Aubrey said with infinite patience, ‘it is difficult to deny that evidence when it was the police who were in fact the ones who found George at the girl’s side, actually with his hand on her shoulder.’

‘He was sent for urgently — the girl had been missing.’

‘Yes, yes, we know this because it is what Harfield says — but it all seems to work against the man. It seems the girl was in the same room all the time she was “missing” and a white man was seen going in and out — and there are witnesses prepared to say it was Harfield they saw.’

‘Paid witness!’ Blanche asserted.

‘Possibly,’ he began and as Blanche glared at him, amended, ‘Most probably, even most certainly — but I saw the photographs of the girl’s injuries.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t see any jury doubting the attack or the rape.’

‘Well, George Harfield didn’t do it! I’d stake my life on that,’

‘What makes it worse is that in her statement the girl says she always thought of Mr Harfield as a second father or a favourite uncle. She trusted him.’ He rose and sighed deeply, taking Blanche’s glass from the table and his own for a refill. ‘I saw George, you know. He says she’s a damned convincing actress.’

‘The girl!’ Blanche suddenly shouted. ‘The girl! What is her bloody name anyway?’

‘Li Min,’ Aubrey told her quietly.

‘Li,’ Blanche repeated, ‘that’s appropriate anyway.’

‘I’m afraid I agree with Harfield’s advocate; unless we can find some evidence that definitely links the girl with the communists, the man’s defence is very thin.’

‘We will then,’ Blanche said as if to herself. ‘We will then.’

‘I wondered if you heard anything more about Major Sturgess’s last jungle operation?’ Liz asked. Her voice sounded high, thin, quite unnatural. ‘There’s so little in the paper.’

‘He’s safe, saw him briefly. Called at Ipoh on the way, why I’m late really. He’s helping interrogate prisoners, and ... er, he does have a funeral, unfortunately. One of his own unit, I understand.’

Liz felt as if someone had swept her whole world away. ‘Do you know who it was?’ she asked, voice no more than a whisper.

‘Sorry, I never asked. Did you think you might know ... ?’

‘Liz wondered if it might be any of the men who were stationed at Rinsey, that was all.’ Joan came to her rescue.

‘Possibly,’ Aubrey said. ‘Quite possibly.’

‘Could we find out?’ Joan asked and, as Aubrey opened his mouth again, caught Liz’s eye and added sharply, ‘Don’t say “possibly”, darling, I don’t think our nerves could stand it. Just tell me if you could find out?’

‘I suppose ... ’ he said languidly.

‘We’d better make tracks,’ Blanche said. ‘come on, Liz. I’ll see what I can find out at Bukit Kinta and be in touch. Thanks for everything.’

‘I’ll tell your man you’re ready.’ Aubrey went to find the crack-shot Malay tapper they had brought with them as guard.

‘Remember, don’t stop for anyone or anything,’ Joan reiterated the emergency code of safety, ‘and, darling — ’ she caught Liz’s hand — ‘I’ll make him get through to KL as soon as you’ve gone, and the second I find out anything I’ll let you know.’

Aubrey went to the barbed-wire gates and helped his guard open them, waving their guests on their way. Joan stood on the verandah waiting. Aubrey came and slipped his arm around her waist.

‘Two unhappy people,’ she commented.

‘Umm. Neville, bad show, coming out and never seeing him again.’

‘Don’t think I meant Neville, really, darling. Young Liz has a crush on that young guardsman, the signaller you remember they had billeted on them at the time Neville’s body was found. Could be a problem if her mother has to know.’

‘Not sure it will,’ Aubrey said thoughtfully. ‘He’s either the one killed or the one missing. I particularly remember Sturgess mentioning his signaller, seemed to be preying on his mind a bit.’

‘Oh; dear!’