The Hills of Singapore by Dawn Farnham

day was hot but the wind from the sea cooled them, and Charlotte had chosen to walk home. They wandered through the shady gardens of the Institution slowly, Charlotte asking Zan questions about his day, Zan filled with the excitement of school and learning and friends.
    Then there was a small squeal behind them, a girlish squeal, and they stopped and turned. A pretty little girl, brown-eyed with dark ringlets shining and jumping round her face, came running down the path, followed by a young woman. Charlotte’s eyes were taking in the girl, pretty now of course, but whom she could see would be a great beauty, so it was some moments before she looked up and with a certain shock, recognised the face of Shilah, Robert’s nyai .
    Shilah too, was in a state of some confusion. The children had quickly joined hands and gone to chase some squirrels which were racing around the big trees. It was obvious that they knew each other. Charlotte remembered that there was a girl’s school in the central part of the building. There were only eleven students, six boarders and five day students. This girl was a day student, obviously.
    Charlotte had not seen Shilah for years. A silence developed, unbidden, as they watched the children. “Her name is Amber,” Shilah said finally.
    Charlotte opened her eyes very wide. Amber! It was an unusual name, so very unusual, yet it was the English way of saying the name of her own mother, Ambre, the Mauritian Creole woman who had married her Scottish father. Amber! How could she be called Amber … unless … She looked intently at Shilah and Shilah nodded.
    â€œYes, Robert’s daughter. He did not tell you.” She smiled ruefully. “They are cousins.”
    Charlotte was astounded, absolutely. A daughter! Robbie had a child, and he had not told her. She could not believe it. Since his marriage Robert had not talked of Shilah. But not to reveal this! It was incredible.
    Charlotte looked again at Shilah. She was unchanged, still a very lovely woman, but something different about her eyes. Charlotte knew she had seen sadness. Robert’s marriage, of course, it must have caused profound pain. She felt her heart go to this woman but Shilah was guarded and showed no emotion.
    â€œI …” Charlotte faltered, feeling the injustice of this relationship which Robbie had begun, feeling the guilt of a sister. Shilah said nothing, watching her, watching with one eye the children playing.
    â€œI am sorry,” Charlotte said finally. “Sorry for this trouble Robert has caused you.”
    Shilah did not move. It was some minutes until she spoke, “I would like the children to be friends, cousins, to know each other. Robert has recognised her legally, you know.” Shilah looked up, into Charlotte’s eyes. “He has recognised her as his daughter. She has his name and he supports us. He is a good man. His wife will soon have her baby but she too knows about Amber. Do not blame him. My life is of my making, I wanted your brother.”
    Charlotte looked down at her shoes. Shilah took a step forward and put her hand onto Charlotte’s. “Do not blame him please,” Shilah said. “He loves Amber, remembers your mother in her name. It pleases him I think; he does what he can. This is the world we live in. I would ask only that Amber, Alexander and Adam can be friends, cousins. Is that possible?”
    Charlotte looked at Shilah’s hand on hers. She remembered everything Robbie had told her of this woman. Shilah had been the illegitimate and unwanted result of a momentary encounter between an English soldier and an Indian convict woman, both gone or dead before she was six months old. George Coleman had taken her into his house and given her an education, taught her English and to read and write, but she had known no true mother or father. He had sought a husband for her, but she had fallen in love with Robert, and that had been that. She