light of the breaking sky, the day’s last light, a spurt before darkness fell completely, with the innate fierceness with which he had applied himself to the destruction of the enemy. This was a most formidable talent in the Colonel, one that was highly respected among the Americans as well as the British military and for which he had been amply rewarded by one battlefield promotion after another.
It was-not, he felt, a purely Chinese face. This he derived not from any overt configuration of features but by the overall aspect. There was, for instance, nothing classic about that face. This the Colonel found utterly fascinating, not to mention charming. It was oval, longer than it was full. She had high cheekbones, very long almond-shaped eyes and a nose less flat than one might normally expect. Her lips were wide and full and, with those eyes, were her most expressive features. Later on, he would be able to tell any nuance of changing mood just by a glance at her lips.
Pi had pulled Cheong’s long hair back from her face and, having first endeavored to do away with the ragged ends, had tied it tightly back with a red satin ribbon so that it hung down across one shoulder in a long ponytail, so thick and gleaming that the Colonel thought of her more at that moment as some mythical creature come to life. She was, he felt, so densely oriental that it was if she were the living embodiment of that vast flat crowded land.
‘How are you feeling?’ He said this in Cantonese and, when he got no response, repeated the question in Mandarin.
Tine now. Thank you,’ she said, bowing.
It was the first time the Colonel had heard her speak and he was somewhat startled, never having heard such a beautiful and musical voice before. She was tall, almost five-nine, with a figure as slender as a willow but as shapely as any man could wish for.
‘It is most fortunate that I met you,’ she said, her gaze directed at the floor. She tried in vain to pronounce his last name. ‘I am most ashamed,’ she said, giving it up at last. ‘Pi coached me all through the bath. I am most humbly sorry.’ ‘Don’t be,’ the Colonel said. ‘Call me Denis.’ This she could manage, pronouncing the D sound in a way that had no analogue in the English language. She repeated it twice then said, ‘I shall not forget it, Denis.’ By that time, the Colonel knew that he was going to marry her.
When the Colonel received the request by American courier via British liaison to join the American SCAP - the occupation forces - Command in Tokyo as an adviser to General Douglas MacArthur, the first thing he thought of was how he was going to tell Cheong. There was no question of his not taking the assignment. Already he found himself chafing to be in Tokyo.
It was early in 1946 and this part of the world was still reeling from the emotional fall-out caused by the explosions at Hiroshima and Nagasaki; the effect was incalculable, the ramifications endless.
He had been married to Cheong for four months and she was three months pregnant. Still he had no second thoughts about abandoning Singapore, which he thought of as much his home as England ever was. Beside the fact that he felt it was his duty to take the assignment at SCAP headquarters, he further understood quite keenly the complex problems that had developed within Japan since its unconditional surrender, ending the war, last year and he was eager to immerse himself in what MacArthur had called ‘steering a bold new course for Japan’.
The Colonel deliberated only a moment before he called Danvers in and told him that he was leaving for the day; if anything important came up he could be reached at home.
He arrived at the house to find Cheong taking care of him personally, having shooed Pi away from the doorway at the first hint of the jeep turning into the driveway.
‘You are home early today, Denis,’ she said, smiling.
He climbed out of the Jeep, dismissed the driver. ‘I suppose now
It was-not, he felt, a purely Chinese face. This he derived not from any overt configuration of features but by the overall aspect. There was, for instance, nothing classic about that face. This the Colonel found utterly fascinating, not to mention charming. It was oval, longer than it was full. She had high cheekbones, very long almond-shaped eyes and a nose less flat than one might normally expect. Her lips were wide and full and, with those eyes, were her most expressive features. Later on, he would be able to tell any nuance of changing mood just by a glance at her lips.
Pi had pulled Cheong’s long hair back from her face and, having first endeavored to do away with the ragged ends, had tied it tightly back with a red satin ribbon so that it hung down across one shoulder in a long ponytail, so thick and gleaming that the Colonel thought of her more at that moment as some mythical creature come to life. She was, he felt, so densely oriental that it was if she were the living embodiment of that vast flat crowded land.
‘How are you feeling?’ He said this in Cantonese and, when he got no response, repeated the question in Mandarin.
Tine now. Thank you,’ she said, bowing.
It was the first time the Colonel had heard her speak and he was somewhat startled, never having heard such a beautiful and musical voice before. She was tall, almost five-nine, with a figure as slender as a willow but as shapely as any man could wish for.
‘It is most fortunate that I met you,’ she said, her gaze directed at the floor. She tried in vain to pronounce his last name. ‘I am most ashamed,’ she said, giving it up at last. ‘Pi coached me all through the bath. I am most humbly sorry.’ ‘Don’t be,’ the Colonel said. ‘Call me Denis.’ This she could manage, pronouncing the D sound in a way that had no analogue in the English language. She repeated it twice then said, ‘I shall not forget it, Denis.’ By that time, the Colonel knew that he was going to marry her.
When the Colonel received the request by American courier via British liaison to join the American SCAP - the occupation forces - Command in Tokyo as an adviser to General Douglas MacArthur, the first thing he thought of was how he was going to tell Cheong. There was no question of his not taking the assignment. Already he found himself chafing to be in Tokyo.
It was early in 1946 and this part of the world was still reeling from the emotional fall-out caused by the explosions at Hiroshima and Nagasaki; the effect was incalculable, the ramifications endless.
He had been married to Cheong for four months and she was three months pregnant. Still he had no second thoughts about abandoning Singapore, which he thought of as much his home as England ever was. Beside the fact that he felt it was his duty to take the assignment at SCAP headquarters, he further understood quite keenly the complex problems that had developed within Japan since its unconditional surrender, ending the war, last year and he was eager to immerse himself in what MacArthur had called ‘steering a bold new course for Japan’.
The Colonel deliberated only a moment before he called Danvers in and told him that he was leaving for the day; if anything important came up he could be reached at home.
He arrived at the house to find Cheong taking care of him personally, having shooed Pi away from the doorway at the first hint of the jeep turning into the driveway.
‘You are home early today, Denis,’ she said, smiling.
He climbed out of the Jeep, dismissed the driver. ‘I suppose now
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