The Rose of Singapore (27 page)

“For a while I lived in a stinking shack full of rats, big brown rats that were not afraid of me; and after some time, I was not afraid of them. They became almost like pets. At least I could talk to them without a foul answer. The rain came in through the roof, the floor was muddy, and I had nothing except the clothes I stood up in. I had sold everything else to pay my bills. If my husband could have seen me, he would have taken me to heaven to join him there.

“Finally, through providence, I gave in to temptation. It was absolutely necessary. If I hadn't, my baby most probably would be dead by now.

“My life changed completely one day when, whilst begging outside the Raffles Hotel, a giant of a man came to my rescue and took pity on me. He gave me money and said I must buy food. When I thanked the man in English, he was surprised, and said, “You speak English?” and I answered, “Yes.” He then said that I might be of use to him as an interpreter, and that he was a businessman farmer from Australia. He asked if I would accompany him into the Raffles Hotel where he was staying. He bought me clothes and took me to dinner. What a great experience it was for me, to be treated so kindly by this foreigner. Over dinner he told me that he was a collector of tropical seeds and plants, rare orchids, even coconut plants. These he planned to take to Australia where he managed a botanical garden. He said he would like me as a companion whilst in Singapore and would pay me money to be his interpreter. I jumped at the offer. I stayed with him at the Raffles Hotel for a whole month, during which time we visited many places in Malaya; also I acted as his guide and interpreter here in Singapore. The man was very generous. One day, on learning of my son's illness, he gave me a cheque, which covered all of my son's outstanding hospital bills. In return, I gave him companionship and the sex he wanted. I gave it to him, as best I knew how, for I had never before been with anyone other than my husband. Believe me, if that kind Australian had not asked me to have sex with him, I would have offered myself to him. That man saved both of us, my child and me. He was a married man, unfortunately, so I knew there could be no future for us. However, when he left Singapore, he gave me a generous gift of money, also enough to pay the rent at the Raffles for another month. He returned to Australia with a ship loaded with coconuts, plants and seeds. He was a fine young gentleman. But I never saw or heard from him again.”

Lai Ming saw that Peter was about to interrupt her. “No. Say nothing. Let me finish,” she said and continued with her narrative. “From that time on, I had to sell myself if my child and I was to survive. I gave the matter thought, but not too much thought. It had to be that way. I rented this place and immediately began bringing men here. It was easy, so many men wanted me, I had my pick. And those I take pay well. Really, Peter, you are lucky to have me for free.” Immediately she wished she had not made that last remark, but it was too late.

“I shan't come here again, Rose. If I do you'll only lose money.”

“Nonsense, Peter. Don't be silly. I want you and I need you. You are very special to me. If I didn't want you, you know that I would tell you so. But let me finish my story, although there is little else to tell. I hope my son will eventually be well again. Then, I shall have to rethink my plans. But for now, providing the man is clean, treats me well, pays me what I ask and is not drunk, I must carry on my business. It's as simple as that. I have become used to this lifestyle.”

Sickened and not knowing what to say, Peter remained quiet, his eyes closed.

“Believe me, I do have a goal,” continued Lai Ming. “My aim is to earn as much money as possible in the shortest period of time. To succeed, I must work for many more months, perhaps two or three years more, but I shall eventually succeed in my goal. Then, Peter, my dreams will come true. Have you any idea of my intentions? Don't you remember me telling you of the house in my dreams? I am saving money until I can buy not only one villa, but two, or even three villas away from the noisy city. I shall live with my son in one of those houses. It will be our very special home. The others I shall rent out as a means of livelihood. Those are my plans, and I cannot afford anyone to get in my way. I doubt if I shall marry again, but if I can become a mistress to someone good and kind like you, then I shall. If you stay with me now, Peter, and if you return to me after the RAF, I will be your mistress, always. We would be very happy together, you know that.”

“Yes, but it's too far ahead, Rose. It's the present that I'm thinking of. You and me, now.”

“Do you have questions for me?”

“No. You've explained enough. I try to understand but it's very difficult.”

“I am well aware of your feelings, Peter.”

“Why didn't you tell me all this when we first met?”

“I was afraid to tell you. I didn't want to lose you.”

“You should have explained everything to me. Perhaps I could have helped you.”

“No. I don't think so. Money is the only thing that can help my baby and me. Financially, you cannot help me.”

Peter remained silent, fully aware that she was speaking the truth. On his meager RAF pay he could not possibly help her. Eventually, he asked, “Why didn't you ask me for money, Rose, when you first brought me here? I am no different, neither better nor worse than other men who visit you.”

“Aren't you?” Lai Ming said softly, running a hand down over his body. “Aren't you?” she repeated. “You are different, Peter. You see, when we first met, you had no idea about me. You didn't know that I sold my body. You respected me. You thought I was just a nice Chinese girl whom you'd like to befriend and make happy. Perhaps you did have thoughts of sex when we first met, which is normal. I could not read your thoughts, but I could see by your actions and speech to know that you liked my company. You liked me. You were not thinking, as most men do, about what I have between my legs.

“You did not realize that I'm a business woman. You were not like the men I meet in nightclubs, cabarets, or on the streets. They know that I'm a prostitute. They ask how much I charge.” Lai Ming shrugged her shoulders, then brushed a long lock of hair aside that had fallen across her face. “They offer, and I refuse or accept. They may like me, but not love me. When their sexual desires are satisfied, I am no longer required. I don't give them love and affection as I give to you. My only interest is their money.”

“So I'm just a prostitute's boy, not living on your earnings, but enjoying you while others pay?”

“Don't be silly, Peter. It is wrong for you to speak in such a manner.”

“What else can you call it?” asked Peter, bitterness in his voice.

“Call it nothing. I can love as well as any other woman,” Lai Ming replied fiercely.

Outside, in the street, all was quiet. The street vendors had long gone home and the street-women had returned to their beds, with or without a customer. The military police had returned to Changi, to Seletar, the naval base, and to the several army camps. Now would be a waste of time for them to patrol the red-light districts, because the military boys who were out of bounds in those areas would have already found girlfriends and would be safely shacked up for the night in the girls' rooms. In the immediate area where Lai Ming lived, only a few mongrel dogs roamed the streets. At long last Singapore slept.

Part Three

16

And now, to conclude, I would like to propose a toast,” and lifting his glass of neat Scotch whisky, Flight Lieutenant Fordham shouted above the din, “To the catering officer, NCOs, cooks and to all the other members of the catering staff who have worked so hard to help make this day so memorable, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year for 1953. Thank you, everyone, for a job well done.”

With those words, Flight Lieutenant Fordham, the duty officer of the day, downed his Scotch, shook hands with the catering officer, exited the crowded ration store situated behind the airmens' mess kitchen and immediately headed for the crowded officers' mess bar where, undoubtably, he would imbibe further in celebrating this festive day.

In the huge ration store, the majority of the RAF airmens' mess cooks and other members of the catering section had congregated to relax and celebrate. Their work was indeed well done; fatigued but satisfied and happy, all were thankful that their busiest day of the year had ended. The great feast of Christmas luncheon, or tiffin as it is called in Singapore, was over. The tea meal starting at five would be a light meal consisting of cold meats, salads and fruits, prepared and served by the Chinese staff. Thus, the RAF cooks could finally relax, unwind, and drink lots of beer.

Luncheon had gone smoothly, every airman and airwoman who dined that day at RAF Changi was given a quart bottle of beer and a Christmas cracker to pull. Following Christmas tradition, officers and senior NCOs acted as waiters during the meal. First up was an appetizer of steamed fresh salmon on a bed of lettuce and cucumber. This was followed by tomato soup, rich, creamy and smooth to the palate. Then came the main course with a choice of three entrées: roast Norfolk turkey with chestnut stuffing and cranberry sauce; roast goose with plum or apple sauce; and sizzling hot whole loins of pork with sage and onion stuffing. There were four different kinds of potatoes to choose from: chateaux, duchess, croquette and plain boiled new potatoes imported from Australia. Buttered Brussels sprouts, garden peas, Vichy carrots and cauliflower Polonaise were offered as vegetables; and diners could help themselves from the pans of steaming hot, rich brown gravy. And after the main course there was much more to come: piping hot Christmas pudding liberally doused in brandied custard sauce, mince pies, glazed fruits, fresh fruits and nuts.

The whole meal had been cooked in time to meet the jubilant and hungry demands of more than two thousand airmen and over two hundred WRAFs, who, with knives, forks, and spoons at the ready, had queued up noisily outside the gateway leading into the serving area. Once served, they proceeded to the two dining halls to enjoy the festive occasion. Everyone who dined at Changi that day ate and drank their fill, so much so that there was little food left over in the hot plates, and most certainly no full bottles of beer remaining on the tables.

Eventually, though, with the luncheon over, the dining halls quietened down. The diners, in various stages of intoxication, had dispersed, many to their blocks, some to the NAAFI, and others to the Malcolm Club, to celebrate further. A few, the sun-worshippers and swimmers, had gone to Changi beach. The dining halls were again empty save for the Chinese clean-up staff, picking up and sweeping away the debris of empty bottles and dirty glasses, nutshells and orange peel, paper hats, menu cards and pulled crackers.

SAC Tom Bates of the fire section became so drunk he thought he could fly. “I'm a bird. I'm a bird. I can fly,” he shouted as he sprang with arms flapping from the upper balcony of the Malcolm Club. He was transported to Changi Hospital with two broken legs.

A squadron leader's car was stolen. With it went a case containing bottles of port, sherry, gin and fine Scottish whisky, also a case of Bass pale ale and a cooked stuffed turkey. The car was eventually found minus its contents, a scrawled thank-you note attached to the steering wheel.

With the main meal of the day over, a number of cooks and other members of the catering section were returning from their respective work places to block 128, many to enjoy a well-earned siesta, others to play cards and to drink more beer.

Playing cards at one bedside was Ginger Brent, the fat airmens' mess cook, Cleaver Jennings, the butcher, and two leading aircraftmen, drivers from the motor transport section. All four studied their cards and laughed and talked a lot whilst steadily consuming a whole case of Tiger beer. More cases of beer were stacked under the bed, compliments of the officers', aircrew and sergeants' messes.

WRAFs had come into the card players' conversation, when suddenly Ginger Brent got to his feet and announced, “I think I'll go over and wish them all a Merry Christmas.”

“Don't be daft! Sit down!” said Cleaver.

“Yeah! Sit down, shut up and drink your beer. You'll get thrown in gaol if you put one step inside that bird cage,” said one of the motor transport drivers.

“Rubbish! I'll bet you ten dollars apiece that I can walk right through their block and get away with it.” Whereupon, Ginger Brent put on his shorts, and before anyone could stop him he left the catering block and was next seen walking across the road, towards the WRAF block.

By now, several members of the catering section had gone to the verandah and were watching with bated breath as Ginger entered the WRAF block. Within moments, loud, high-pitched screams could be heard coming from the building.

Ginger Brent wished a “Merry Christmas” to the surprised young WRAF on guard duty at the entrance to the block, and then climbed a flight of stone steps that led to the second floor dormitory. Once there, he proceeded to saunter down between two rows of beds, many occupied by young women in various stages of undress.

“Merry Christmas, Jean. Merry Christmas, Joan. Merry Christmas, Mary. Happy New Year everybody,” Ginger sang out as he passed between the double row of astounded WRAFs. When he reached the end of the block, having wished at least twenty young ladies a Merry Christmas, he almost collided with the fat and jolly Flight Sergeant Maggy Smith, who had stepped out of the shower, naked and dripping wet.

“A Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you, Flight,” sang out Ginger Brent cheerfully to the surprised flight sergeant. Grinning, he handed her a bath towel, which, with an astonished look on her face, she accepted. “Don't catch a chill, Flight,” he cheekily said as he skirted around her. He then began a leisurely walk down the flight of stone stairs at the far end of the block and calmly exited the building.