The Rose of Singapore by Peter Neville

served as a desk, then perched himself on a corner edge of the table. “What’s up, Sarge?” he asked.
    â€œI’ll tell you what’s up, Pete, and it’s not pleasant. Remember those bumps which appeared on Wee Lim two or three weeks ago?”
    â€œWhat about them? At first I thought he had a bad heat rash from standing over the stove.”
    Wee Lim was the very dependable, hardworking number three cook who, though young, was excellent at his profession. Only a year older than Peter, he was of the same slight stature and of a gentle and friendly disposition. He and Peter had hit it off as friends right from the start. Also, during Peter’s first weeks at the sergeants’ mess, Wee Lim had taught him many cookery tips, as well as many words and phrases in Cantonese; and Wee Lim, who had known only a smattering of English, had constantly improved his knowledge of the language through conversing with Peter.
    Unusually grim of face, the sergeant said, “Get ready for a shock, Pete.”
    â€œWell, come on! Let’s hear it.”
    â€œLeprosy,” answered the grim-faced sergeant.
    â€œLeprosy?” said Peter incredulously.
    â€œYes. He’s got leprosy.”
    â€œMy God. I can’t believe it! So what happen’s now?”
    â€œI don’t know. I intended sacking old Lou Fook and making Wee Lim number two.”
    â€œHe would have been a good replacement, but that’s out of the question now. Where is he?”
    â€œHe’s at a leper colony in Singapore. I’ve written down the name of the place.” Sergeant Muldoon looked at a scratchpad on his desk. “The hospital is on Yio Chu Kang Road,” he said, reading off the name from the pad. “It’s an isolation hospital, for lepers only.”
    Peter shook his head in disbelief. “There’s no cure for leprosy is there, Sarge?”
    â€œI believe there is,” answered the sergeant. “It’s a long job though. The MO said that Wee Lim must remain at the colony for at least nine months. But he also said he expects it will be for a much longer period.”
    â€œI’d like to go and see him, Sarge.”
    â€œNo, Pete. It’s probably not allowed, and it wouldn’t be wise. Do you understand me?”
    â€œGosh, Sarge, I wish we could do something for him. Poor bugger, he must be in an awful state.”
    â€œThat’s for sure. I don’t know what we can do though. I’ll ask Charlie. He’s Wee Lim’s uncle. We could send him packets of biscuits and boiled sweets from the K ration boxes. We could even send him some tinned fruit.”
    â€œHow would we get the stuff to him?” asked Peter.
    â€œCharlie could take it. He’ll want to visit his nephew.”
    â€œIt’s a good idea, but it’s taking a big risk. It’s stealing as far as the RAF is concerned.”
    â€œI know. But I’m sure Charlie’s too smart to get caught. And if the police stop him, I’ll sort them out.”
    For the first time since arriving in the kitchen that morning, Peter almost felt like laughing. God help anyone who got in the way of the fiery little sergeant. He’d sort out anyone who crossed him. “It’s good of you, Sarge,” Peter said. “Wee Lim’s a good fellow and a damned good cook.”
    Then, thinking of the awful illness, he shivered with a chill of sudden fear. “Christ, Sarge, he’s been in close contact with everyone in the kitchen, and all the while he’s been cooking for the mess members. Is leprosy contagious?”
    â€œI don’t know,” the sergeant replied, but by his troubled looks, he too was fearful.
    â€œI bet there’ll be a hell of a panic if the mess members get wind of this. The sickquarters will be swamped with enquiries.”
    â€œThe less said the better,” said the sergeant.
    â€œThe less said the better about what?” boomed a