Captain Broderick Flashman, second son of Baronet Harold Flashman sat in the smoky shadows of the dive off Kowloon Street. He was in ‘mufti’ and a bit perplexed. Where were his fellow drinkers? Normally, certainly for the last month they had been regular companions and very willing to ‘stand their rounds’ - even to the point of forgetting ‘Roddy’’s’ round never seemed to come.
It was early morning and being on duty in a few hours Roddy really should have been asleep ready for his stint at HMNB Singapore - another tedious day of filling in endless chits, forms and signing meaningless flimsies. What a boring, and more importantly, unrewarding existence. The pay of a Captain really was little enough to settle the bar bills, and any more adventurous developments of his career - in whatever sphere - was hampered by this impecunious existence.
Such was his current life that he was in serious danger of being asked to settle his mess bill - without the money to do so - and the Barnonet ahd made it plain after his last little ‘scrape’ that he was on his own from now on - tight skinflint - must be the Scottish blood. So, his perturbation at the non appearance of his oriental friends.
Tom and Dick , as he called them for he had no way of making sense of their names, were rich chinese businessmen who were keen to tender for any work that might come from the need to develop the resevoir at Singapore, or to strengthen any bridges and landing points bewteen the island and the mainland. They had found Roddy’s knowledge very helpful as his discussion and sketches were most appreciated, often with brown enveleopes with some ready cash in them. Tonight had been a meeting for a large ‘thank you’ envelope, but they had not shown.
He had asked Pearl, one of the ‘ladies’ of the establishment if she had seen the Chinese, and her reply - oh you mean your Japanese friends - had puzzled him further - he was sure they had said they were Chinese. He was also puzzled at the white man sitting alone by the bar who occasionally glanced in his direction. He had been carefully sipping his drink for, it seemed, all night. Roddy wondered if he was a ‘matelot’ - that might explain his surreptitious looks. Well ‘matey’ just you try anything thought Roddy - I don’t swing that way at all, no, no no… well not since boarding school anyway and that was just boyish exhuberance that time…….
What the hell, he thought, another snifter and maybe things will feel better, he wondered what rate Pearl was offering as the business was slow and maybe it was a ‘cut price’ night….
He called her over for a chat……
; Julia Child