by Emma Fraser
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte
1984
Georgina sighed. ‘Little did we know most of us wouldn’t make it and for the rest of us, it would be four long years before we saw home again.’
My great-aunt looked completely drained, as if she’d relived every moment of that horrible experience. At times during her story, Georgina had almost faltered, her words coming in short gasps.
We sat in silence for a while listening to the wind, the ticking of the clock, the creaking of the house.
‘The Edith you see now is not the woman she was back then,’ Georgina said sadly. ‘I wish you could have known her then. She was so brave, almost fearless. She risked her life repeatedly to save countless lives. And mine.’ There was a note of wonder in her voice. ‘And for years she held on to that courage.’
I did wish I could have met that Edith. I was finally beginning to understand why she always appeared so fearful. I vowed to be less impatient with her.
‘You were brave too,’ I said. ‘You saved that little boy’s life. I’m not sure I would have been as brave.’
Her face flushed. ‘You must listen to the rest of the story before you make up your mind. I doubt you’ll feel much admiration for me by the time I’ve finished. I’m only telling you how it was so you understand what we both went through and why we made the choices we did.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘And perhaps, part of me wants you to know I wasn’t all bad.’
‘I would never think that!’ And I meant it. Whatever wrong Georgina thought she had done she, like Edith, had risked her life to save others. She’d been bombed, strafed by the Japanese, endured being shipwrecked. No one could have gone through what she and Edith had and remained unaffected. Any normal person would have been sent over the edge, but Georgina was clearly made of sterner stuff. It was impossible not to admire her for it – and Edith for that matter. I had two exceptional women as great-aunts.
‘What about the little boy? Jack, I think you said?’
Georgina’s face clouded. ‘I hope he made it. I like to think he did. I never saw him or his mother again.’
‘Shall I pour us a sherry?’ I asked. ‘Or make some more tea?’
‘No, thank you. I’m all right. I’d rather plough on. Get through the next bit. If you can bear to listen? It doesn’t get much better I’m afraid.’
‘You can tell me as much, or as little as you want to,’ I re-assured her.
Georgina took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. ‘We soon learned that everything we’d heard and seen of the Japanese army was only the beginning. All of us who made it onto that beach were one thing the evening we fled from Singapore, and by the end of the war, something else completely.’
‘You were captured?’
She nodded. ‘If we’d known what was to happen to us, we would have taken our chances in the jungle.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Georgina
1942
Before they left the beach, Georgina opened the suitcases that hadn’t been claimed. She’d lost her luggage and shoes and all she had was the dress she was wearing which had dried to a cardboard-like texture from the salt water.
Ignoring the appalled looks some sent her way, she pillaged everything she thought might be useful; dresses, shorts, hats, medicines. Nevertheless, the nurses accepted the medicines she had gathered – that was for the common use after all – and Edith took a pair of shorts and a top, pulling them on over her brassiere and pants. Georgina changed out of the dress she was wearing and into a flower-sprigged frock that was a little too big for her, but all right once she’d found a belt to tie around her waist. She also found a scarf which she wound around her head to protect her scalp from the fierce rays of the sun. Disappointingly, there were no shoes that fitted. She bundled the remaining items into a shawl and slung it over her shoulder.
They headed inland, a scraggly bunch of stunned survivors. Some could barely move from lack of food and water or shock and their wounds. They walked the whole day, the men using whatever they could to hack their way through the jungle, stopping only to rest for short periods. It was dusk before they finally stumbled across a small village. They waited until they were certain there were no Japanese about before they approached.
As Georgina was the only one with more than a few words of Malay, she was elected spokesman. The village elder was frightened and wanted them to go, but eventually, reluctantly, probably because there were women and children in the group in a bad way, he agreed they could stay, but only for the night. They would have to leave in the morning.
The villagers shared what food they had with them. The survivors were all so exhausted they ate in silence. The mothers with children were given a hut to sleep in while everyone else had to make do with a patch of hard ground under the huts. They made themselves as comfortable as they could and went to sleep.
At dawn they were woken by shouts, cries and the firing of guns. They scrambled out from their make-shift beds to find to their horror, that they were surrounded by Japanese. The villagers streamed out of their huts and some tried to run into the jungle. Two were shot before they made it to safety.
Most of the soldiers were on foot or on bicycles, stained with sweat, their faces grimy from battle. In front was a jeep with an officer in a pristine uniform. He was about fifty with greying hair and a small moustache. There was almost something avuncular about him. Little did Georgina know then that he would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
The soldiers prodded everyone into line with the tips of their bayonets. They were made to stand to one side, the villagers to another. The mothers shielded their children’s faces, wrapping their arms around them and whispering soothing words. The rest stood ramrod straight. Edith was next to Georgina and they shared sad smiles before grasping hands. So once again they faced death. They held tight, trying to give each other courage. The sun was up by this time and Georgina believed she’d just seen her last sunrise.
The Japanese officer exchanged a few words with the elder who had dropped to his knees in front of him, pleading for the lives of the villagers – saying if anyone had to be blamed for sheltering the Europeans it should be him. It made no difference. The officer barked a command and the Japanese soldiers set upon the villagers. They bayoneted them all.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Charlotte
1984
Georgina’s voice cracked and a spasm ran through her. ‘I don’t think any of us could believe what was happening. One of the crewmen tried to intervene but he was restrained. After all the villagers were slaughtered, the Japanese officer made the sailor take off all his clothes and kneel naked in front of him. He took his sword from his belt and sliced the sailor’s head from his neck. Then the soldiers set the village alight. We could smell it burning for a long time.’
She stood. Her face was ashen in the gathering dark, her eyes enormous. She passed a hand over her face. ‘I’m sorry. It’s all rather taken it out of me. Would you mind if I left off here?’
Appalled and sickened by her story, I was nevertheless desperate to know what happened next and what it had to do with the help they imagined they needed now. But I could see the toll the telling of her story had taken on her. ‘Of course,’ I said softly. ‘I’m a little tired myself. I’ll take Tiger out and then I think I’ll head for bed.’
The truth was Georgina’s account had left me feeling drained and nauseous, as if all oxygen had been sucked from the room and the house was closing in on me.
‘In that case, I’ll bid you goodnight.’
A lump in my throat, I watched her walk away, stiff backed and proud, apart from the slight stoop to her shoulders, the ever-present pencil jammed in her hair. This woman – these two aunts – had faced death with courage I doubted I possessed. Whatever they’d done in the past, I was proud to be their grand niece.
Outside, I drew in deep lungfuls of air. The rain had cleared as had most of the clouds and the mo
on was a ragged disc in the sky. With no need for a torch in the moonlight, I headed towards the shore, following the path Georgina had taken me – was it really only three days ago? From there I knew I would be able to see the lights of Balcreen and, in particular, Jamie’s cottage. I had a need to connect with him, even though he was on the other side of the water.
Just then a movement caught my eye. A figure was in front of me, too far from me to see who it was, also moving towards the west side of the island.
It had to be Edith again. Not wanting to call out lest I frighten her, I hurried to catch up with her, Tiger at my heels. I slipped through the gap in the rhododendrons but despite moving as fast as I dared without the light of a torch to guide me, she had disappeared by the time I emerged. I peered into the shadowy darkness.
She could be anywhere; amongst the copse of trees, down by the shore, she might even be making her way towards the farm. I had no way of knowing. I hesitated, straining to catch a glimpse of her, wondering what to do. If I went back to the house to find Georgina it might be too late. Although Georgina had told me she and Edith knew Kerista like the back of their hands, the ground underfoot was overgrown and uneven. Edith could stumble and fall, her thin bones snapping like twigs.
‘Where is she, Tiger?’ I said, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.
Tiger looked up at me and whined. Then, as if she knew what I wanted her to do, she put her nose to the ground and set off, checking behind her to make sure I was following.
We found Edith at the shore’s edge, close to the rocks and staring out over the water towards the distant lights of Balcreen. Suppressing a shiver of apprehension, I moved towards her and came to stand next to her. Although she didn’t acknowledge my presence she seemed aware of me.
‘Shall we go back in, Aunt Edith?’ I murmured, putting my hand very gently on her shoulder.
When she didn’t reply, I drew her towards me, tucked her arm into mine and very carefully led her back to the house.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I slept badly. Every time I closed my eyes my head was filled with images of the dead and dying; of body parts floating in the sea, of mothers desperate to protect their children from exploding bombs and raining bullets or the blade of a bayonet. Could there be anything more terrible than being unable to protect your child? My thoughts kept straying to Alfred Corrigle, Lucy’s father, and how he must have sat next to his daughter in hospital, terrified she would die.
I was relieved when the chorus of the birds alerted me that it was almost daylight and I could reasonably get up.
I washed and dressed quickly, wondering whether Edith had remained in bed for the rest of the night or if she’d spent it roaming the house, searching for who knew what but most likely freedom from the nightmares that must surely plague her.
I found Georgina in the kitchen, stirring a pot of porridge on the stove.
She turned and smiled at me but I couldn’t help but notice that the tender area beneath her eyes was dark as if she too had spent most of the night awake.
‘Tea?’ she asked.
‘I’ll make it.’ I spooned tea leaves into a china pot and upended two mugs I found on the draining board. ‘Is Edith okay this morning?’
Georgina’s smile was replaced by a frown. ‘As far as I’m aware. Why do you ask?’
‘When I went outside, after we’d said goodnight, I saw Edith heading towards the shore. I worried she was sleepwalking again so followed her. I caught up with her at the shore where there’s those big rocks. You know which ones I mean? She woke up when we got back to the house. She didn’t seem to be surprised, just said goodnight and went off to bed.’
I was unprepared for Georgina’s reaction. All the blood drained from her face and she swayed on her feet, grabbing the back of a kitchen chair for support.
‘By the shore? By Sarah’s rocks?’ she whispered. ‘Oh, no.’ She sank into the chair.
‘I thought Edith sleepwalked regularly?’
Surely Georgina was used it by now?
‘Yes. But…’
‘What is it, Georgina?’
She scraped back her chair and returned to the stove where she crouched, fiddling with the dampers. By the time she turned to face me she seemed more composed.
‘Edith started sleepwalking when we first came back to Greyfriars.’ She ran a tongue over her lips. ‘Then…’ She cleared her throat. ‘She stopped. When your mother came… it started again. And now! Oh, dear!’
Georgina tugged at the buttons on her cardigan, more agitated than I’d ever seen her.
‘Do you think it’s my being here that’s unsettling her?’
She was quiet for a while as if holding a silent conversation with herself and I had the impression that she was turning something over in her mind, debating whether to share it with me.
‘We are so unused to people these days,’ she said eventually. Her wan smile seemed to cost her a great deal of effort. ‘We haven’t had guests since your mother. People frighten Edith. It’s understandable, after everything she went through.’
After what they’d both been through, surely? Georgina could have hardly been unaffected. ‘If you feel it would help I could take a room at the inn at Balcreen.’
‘No. Please don’t. I’d like you to stay,’ I offered.
‘In that case, is there anything I can do for you or Edith? I’m supposed to be meeting Jamie but would you prefer if I didn’t go? I could cancel. Stay here for the day?’
‘No! Really. Don’t let us get in the way of your plans. Leave Tiger here if you like. But now I should…’ she looked up at the ceiling ‘… see to things. Please excuse me. I need to go…’ And before I could say another word, she hurried from the kitchen with Tiger at her heels.
I left a short while later and found Jamie waiting for me down at the pier with his boat, a small yacht, tied up alongside.
When he smiled at me, my heart thumped crazily.
‘The weather didn’t put you off?’ he said, offering me his hand for support as I stepped on board. It was drizzling again.
‘Not at all.’ If there had been a force twelve storm I would have come anyway.
He handed me a life vest, insisting I put it on. As he helped me with the ties his knuckles brushed against my stomach, making my insides swoop.
‘I’ll take her out. Are you up to handling the jib?’
‘Sure, as long as you show me how to.’
He explained what I needed to do to adjust the sails. ‘I’ll let you know when.’ The air smelled of the sea, rotting seaweed and freedom.
Soon the island was barely visible, the houses in Balcreen matchstick size on the horizon. We talked of little of consequence but each glance between us was charged and every time our hands met, my whole body tingled.
It was almost noon before he sailed the boat into Oban Bay. Once inside he turned its nose into the wind, grabbed the painter and tied it to a rock. A flock of seagulls hovered overhead making a racket. We removed our life vests and stored them.
Jamie pointed to a large house overlooking the bay. ‘That’s Mum’s. It’s a bit of a climb.’
We took a shortcut up a steep, rocky path and came out at the bottom of a driveway. Jamie took my hand and squeezed it. ‘You okay?’
I had only time to nod before the front door opened and a stout woman hurried towards us with a wide smile that was almost an exact replica of Jamie’s.
‘Jamie! You’re here. At last!’
He picked her up and swung her round. ‘Don’t act as if it’s been years instead of days since you saw me, Mum.’
She laughed down at him. ‘It feels like years. You know how much I miss you.’
Four other women – his sisters I assumed, judging by their similarities to Jamie – came out to join us.
‘Mum, girls, this is Charlotte Friel. She is staying with her aunts in Greyfriars.’
Their greetings were perfectly warm and friendly but I felt myself warned. Do n
ot hurt him. Their body language couldn’t have been clearer had they said the words out loud.
‘Charlotte.’ Jamie’s mother took my hands in hers as if we’d known each other all our lives. ‘It is so lovely to meet you. Come inside and have a drink.’
Still with my hand in hers, she led me towards the house as the four sisters enveloped Jamie in hugs and kisses. I glanced over my shoulder to see him laughing as he pushed them away, before flinging an arm around two of them. Behind me I heard a cacophony of chatter and questions.
