by Meira Chand
They thrust on across the stream, their bodies filled now by the pulse of the returning storm. Fingers of wind grew stronger, and lifted strands of hair, stroking their faces. Daniel was half running now, the weight of the woman a painful strain on his arms. Sister Elaine clung to him, whimpering. They reached the ladder and above it a tiny eye of light hovered like a glow worm.
‘I’m here.’ Arthur Wilcox’s voice came to them. ‘The others have gone ahead, they must already be safe.’ His pencil torch weaved about above them.
‘Thank God. Kenichi, quick, up you go,’ Daniel ordered the child. It was raining now, great flat spots. The wind moaned like an animal.
Arthur Wilcox reached down and pulled Kenichi up the last few ladder rungs. ‘Hurry. Hurry.’
‘Come on. Up you go, Sister Elaine. I’m here behind you. I’ll push you.’ Daniel lifted her onto the ladder.
The drag on her arms was unbearable, as if her body was being sucked out through them, twisted slowly by the sinews. The pain in her chest jabbed and sawed, her head throbbed and nausea filled her. With the pull of each effort upwards her head reeled, but she felt the support of Daniel’s shoulder beneath her hips as he pushed her upwards. Slowly, the top of the ladder and the road came nearer. Arthur Wilcox’s face leaned over, his arms reached down and gripped her, pulling her up. She cried out with the pain and fainted.
The wind played with the rain, whipping it angrily, then letting it fall quickly and flatly. The gale weaved about restlessly.
Daniel pulled himself over the edge of the ladder, and as if it waited for that moment the wind released itself suddenly, hard as a brick slammed down upon them. Daniel gasped and swayed back on the ladder. The rain emptied down in a solid sheet, thrashing against them, each drop sharp as flint.
‘Run, run,’ Arthur shouted. He picked up the unconscious woman, heaved her over his shoulder in a fireman’s clasp and galloped off ahead of them.
Rain and wind pushed against them now like an unrelenting board, nearly throwing them off balance.
‘Jesus,’ muttered Daniel over and over again. He put his hand on Kenichi’s shoulder as they ran to anchor him, afraid he might be blown away. They kept their bodies bent and low, thrusting their heads out before them. Ahead Arthur staggered on with his bundle. Sister Elaine’s arm swung free and limp like a pendulum.
A soggy remnant of newspaper slapped suddenly onto Daniel’s face, filling his mouth and nostrils with the wet stale taste of fish. He spat and tore it free, and lifting his head too high, was nearly blown over. A clump of dry shrub blew by and vanished. Somewhere near was the shatter of glass.
‘Hurry. Hurry,’ Arthur shouted back. They saw the house ahead of them now, the great automatic copper doors drawn back, open and waiting.
Behind the windows of the house was the comfort of candle glow. They struggled towards it and coming through the gate saw a mass of familiar faces clustered about the door. A great cry went up as they appeared; arms and tears received them. The copper gate swung shut with a clang. Kenichi began to cry.
1
Geraldine Cooper gave little screams of concern and hopped about in a bird-like way from one group of destitutes to another. She tried not to see the mud on her wall-to-wall beige carpet. She divided the twenty-five children between four marble bathrooms and ordered the wetter articles of clothing deposited in the bathtubs. Sister Elaine she relegated to the larger guestroom. She decided against the magnanimity of her own bed, after reviewing the state of the nun’s habit. She bustled them all upstairs and, throwing open her cupboards, produced towels enough for an army.
After mopping and inspection most children had lost an outer layer; the younger were divested of their under ones too, and stood shivering, knees knocking in the sudden cold. Geraldine stopped only to think, a finger to her cheek. She delved into closets and chests until she amassed an enormous pile of cardigans and sweaters.
‘I never throw out, there’s always a need,’ she said, her arms full, her chin holding steady a top-heavy pile of clothes, which she dumped on the parquet-floored landing. She hurried back for more. Soon the mezzanine and upper landings were crowded with children around the soft heap of Geraldine’s garments.
‘Come along. Take your pick.’ Geraldine spread her arms above the litter of her wardrobe. The children came forward hesitantly, fishing out colours and textures that appealed.
‘It smells nice.’ Emiko buried her nose in the sleeve of a cashmere sweater. Geraldine bent to confirm.
‘L ’Air du Temps. My favourite.’
‘This one smells too. I’m not a girl,’ Nobuo said in disgust. Geraldine bent again.
‘Je Reviens. Very expensive,’ she pronounced.
‘I said I’m not a girl.’ Nobuo threw down the sweater.
‘Nothing else, poppet. You’ll have to grin and bear it, after all this is an emergency.’ Geraldine moved to where Eiko Kubo pulled an angora tube over Ruriko’s head.
Soon the children were clothed and ran about in strange array, first-aid plaster patches adorning their naked legs. Yoshiko Mori and Eiko Kubo began to giggle. Nobuo’s head rose contemptuously above fluffy pink mohair and pearl buttons. One or two smaller children appeared to be handless within the droop of long sleeves.
Standing back, Geraldine surveyed the familiar bits of her wardrobe that seemed suddenly to have sprouted heads and short spindly legs and danced about as if brought to life in a nightmare. Occasionally a favourite piece skipped by, whose sacrifice she somewhat regretted. But she reminded herself of the emergency.
‘Come along, come along.’ She led them downstairs with the help of Yoshiko and Eiko. Eva and Akiko were attending to Sister Elaine.
But Toshio, numb and petrified with fear, stood helpless in a green cardigan. Kimiko clung to him, whimpering, equally shaken. Tami ran back ahead of Yoshiko, and picked up the silent Toshio, too terrified to cry. She hauled him across the floor.
‘Give him to me,’ said Yoshiko. ‘You can’t manage him, Tami, down those stairs. Here, take Ruriko’s hand.’
Fear was easing in the other children; some were buoyant with relief. They trooped behind Geraldine, feet vibrating on the stairs. They followed her into the lounge and quietened suddenly, subdued by that massive room with its wall of plate glass window, looking onto a pillared patio and colonnade. Inside, a huge three-cornered fireplace divided the open room from the dining area at a lower level.
Arthur and Daniel sipped drinks Nate Cooper had quickly given them. There were another three guests in the room, a woman and two men. In the middle of the lounge one of the men played upon a grand piano; a shower of notes cascaded from it. He stopped as Geraldine and the children came in.
‘Do go on, Dennis, I’m sure the children would enjoy the music,’ said Geraldine. ‘Maybe you know some nursery rhymes?’ The man looked apprehensive. Beside him, leaning against the piano stood Kyo, revived by a glass of whisky. She hummed a little tune during the pause in the music, the green lace dress and her hair were bedraggled, mud covered her legs and feet.
‘Who’s that?’ hissed Geraldine as Eva appeared suddenly in the lounge.
‘That’s Kyo. She was visiting us, she used to work in the orphanage.’ Eva hoped she had squashed all questions.
‘Not quite your usual type, is she, dear?’ Geraldine decided, and eyed Kyo disapprovingly.
‘A little drink, Dr Kraig? You all need a drop after such an ordeal. Or would you prefer something hot?’ Nate Cooper fussed over Eva, a hand familiarly on her arm.
‘I’ve already told the maid to get hot drinks and some food for the children. The poor loves must be exhausted, not to mention terrified,’ Geraldine told Eva.
‘Let me introduce you to our other guests, victims of the storm like you, Dr Kraig,’ Nate Cooper announced. ‘Now, this is Hartley Rover of Chase Manhattan. This is Annette Rouleau of the Rouleau Gallery, and at the piano is Dennis Denzel of the British Consulate.’ Hartley and Annette shook Eva’s hand, Dennis Denzel bow
ed from the piano which now released Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Some of the children already gathered about him, and he looked at Eva over their heads.
‘We’re all waifs of the storm, Dr Kraig. Thank God for the Coopers and their magnanimous shelter.’ Dennis Denzel gave Geraldine a solemn bow.
‘Oh a pleasure,’ trilled Geraldine. ‘They knew the typhoon was about, but hadn’t heard it was coming to Kobe, Eva.’
‘Well, few of them come this way. The usual course is Wakayama, across the bay,’ Annette put in. ‘We simply never thought. We had all been to a new fish restaurant Dennis had found somewhere in the wilds, I couldn’t even tell you where, Dennis always finds these places. They were shutting up when we arrived, because of the typhoon. They served us as a special favour. We thought we’d get back in time. It’s all Dennis’s fault,’ she said petulantly. ‘Hart and I were set for a cosy dinner together in my flat, before Dennis dragged us out.’ Annette put a possessive arm through Hartley’s. She spoke with an American accent in spite of her name. Her face was a slit in long blond hair and she puffed at a black Russian cigarette.
‘Well, we sure are proud to be here to welcome you at the end of your epic adventure,’ smiled Hartley Rover. His shirt was partly unbuttoned, a gold medallion and a chain nestled on his hairy chest. At his side Kimiko stopped staring at him and began to whimper again.
‘Oh no. There, there.’ Hartley bent and picked her up. ‘Hey, aren’t you cute? Isn’t she, Annette?’ Annette Rouleau backed away, placing a nervous hand on the assortment of silverware settled on the breast of her long silk caftan.
‘Now, Eva, what will you have to drink? A brandy, or a bourbon,’ Nate Cooper insisted.
‘Well I really don’t drink, but I would like a coffee. I came down because of Sister Elaine. She has broken some ribs, do you have anything I can bind her up with, an old sheet I can tear up would be best.’
‘A sheet? No problem, Eva dear,’ Geraldine cried. In the numerous lights of the ceiling, the pearls feasted at her neck.
‘Rip up the sheets? Now, that should loose a few inhibitions.’ Dennis Denzel left the piano and came to stand beside them. His eyes were reduced behind thick glasses, his voice was a thin nasal prong. He wore a purple velvet jacket, and a flamboyant flowered cravat.
Junko had begun to shift impatiently on her toes. She turned a couple of pirouettes about Dennis Denzel’s legs, then looked up at him obliquely.
‘Play the song about the crow,’ she ordered.
‘Crow ... well ... I don’t know any Japanese children’s songs, young lady. How does it go?’ He bent down to her as his glasses slipped forward on his nose.
‘Karasu naze naku no. Karasu wa yama ni ...’ Junko’s small voice rose to a high crescendo, and the children looked at Dennis hopefully.
‘Karasu ... yes ... well, I don’t actually know it. But we might be able to improvise something.’ Dennis walked back to the piano holding Junko’s hand and some of the smaller children followed. Dennis sat down and tried the keys. Junko nodded at the appropriate notes, and a few small voices began to sing.
‘A sing song. Say, how about that?’ Hartley questioned Kimiko, still in his arms. He glanced at Tami and Toshio standing to one side. ‘What’s your name?’ he said, looking at Toshio’s terrified face and the shiver that shook the child.
‘Toshio,’ Tami answered for him.
‘You know that song?’ Hartley asked him, the child nodded dumbly after a moment.
‘You’ll have to teach me. How does it go? Karasu ...’ Hartley stopped to take Toshio’s hand and still carrying Kimiko, turned to Dennis at the piano. He looked at Annette over his shoulder. ‘Come on now Annette, grab a child, can’t you? These kids have been through a lot.’
But Annette Rouleau just looked at him coldly. Hartley Rover shrugged, and walked off with the children to the piano. Eiko Kubo and Yoshiko Mori followed with the others. At the invasion Kyo retreated from the piano to a corner of the room, and drank down the rest of her whisky. Then she looked towards the open bottle Nate had left on the bamboo bar.
‘Just let me check the ptoceedings in the kitchen, then I’ll get you the sheet, Eva dear,’ said Geraldine. She turned to the group at the piano. ‘I’ve all kinds of treats I know I can find. Won’t it be fun now, a midnight feast in the middle of a typhoon,’ Geraldine told the children as she frisked about amongst them, her skirts lifted and her décolletage gaping. She threw herself into the principal role, her voice cracking sometimes in excitement.
Some children began to venture into the deeper regions of the room and gathered wonderingly about the three-faced fireplace with its token fire of smouldering logs.
‘It’s not winter yet; it’s not even cold,’ Mariko and Yumiko questioned each other.
‘It’s one of the advantages of air-conditioning, dear. We can have a fire in the middle of summer. I thought it would be so cosy in the typhoon, but the wind blows down the chimney. I couldn’t manage more than those two logs.’
Nate Cooper pulled forward a chair for Eva, as Geraldine hurried into the kitchen issuing orders loudly inside to the maid.
‘Beats me how all you folk managed not to hear of the typhoon. We’d been keeping track of it all day. I can tell you I’m nervous here on the sea front. Of course they warned me when I built. They would have evacuated us if the typhoon’s course had not changed so abruptly. When we realised it was too late to leave. I’m saying my prayers, I can tell you. The lights went a while back, but we’ve got a great stock of candles as you can see, and the house will see us through; we thought of everything when we built it. Guess you could say this little place is a veritable fortress, yes indeed.’ Nate Cooper took a quick sip from his drink.
Hiroshi ran up to the window and observed the machinations of the typhoon. In the bare walled garden facing the sea there was little by which to gauge the typhoon, compared to the wooded slope of the orphanage. Even the noise was turned down behind soundproofed walls. Hiroshi banged his plaster cast arm on the wall of glass.
‘It’ll be your plaster that breaks on that, kid,’ Nate Cooper said, amused. ‘Imported from Sweden, real thick plate glass. Stand up to anything.’ Hiroshi looked at Nate apprehensively, and then ran back to the group at the piano.
‘Karasu ...’ Hartley sang in unison with Dennis Denzel as the children’s voices rose about them. Eva smiled.
‘I’m terribly sorry about the mud stains on your carpet,’ she apologised to Nate.
‘Oh, come now,’ said Nate expansively. ‘What are a few mud stains between friends?’
About the piano the children relaxed. Even Toshio moved his lips to a few words of song under Tami’s dogged encouragement. On the perimeter of the dining area Jun and Takeo wheeled as nosediving aeroplanes and coughed up their lungs as they crashed from the step. Annette Rouleau huddled into a nearby chair looking pained, and puffed on her black cigarette. She hugged her glass for safety high upon her silverware.
‘Children ... children,’ Eva called to quieten them and apologised to Nate again. ‘It’s been such a ghastly night, they’re quite beside themselves.’
Geraldine came out of the kitchen. ‘Everything’s under control, now let’s see about that sheet.’
‘I could help in there, instead,’ Eiko Kubo said as Eva stood up, and went through into the kitchen.
Eva followed Geraldine to the stairs. At the window of the lounge Daniel flashed a strong torch out into the night. She saw the beam light up the lawn, boggy with water, littered with uprooted shrubs and dwarf trees. A pile of ornate iron garden furniture was stacked to one side of the patio; it collapsed with a crash as Eva watched. The voices of the singing children filled the lounge, but outside the sea rose up in white brimmed peaks some way beyond the garden wall, thrashing and pounding. A branch of flowering bush was thrown with a thud against the window in a shower of petals and soil. It fell and was swept up again, leaving muddy marks on the glass.
Eva looked away and hurried after Ger
aldine.
2
‘Geraldine,’ Maud Bingham called for her daughter.
It was the most terrible night. Old Maud Bingham shivered in her bed; she had never seen such a storm. The wind was like some heinous creature ploughing, invisible, into the house, hysterical because it could find no chink of entry. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the rain, so that she could see the whole mad woven pattern of it. Thank God, she thought, Nate had settled for a garden of stunted Japanese trees. She would not have liked to be up in the hills tonight, back in the old house, surrounded by pines and steep inclines. Nevertheless, here they had the sea. It foamed up in huge waves, crashing upon the sea-wall, flooding the road. And that was what she feared: flooding. For in that flash of lightning she had seen the waves rearing up, like great long-haired monsters from the deep. Several times the broken bodies of birds had slammed against the glass, and once a branch of the camellia bush, uprooted from the garden. Now as she watched some hard object was flung upon the window. The cracking thud of it beat in her head, and she cried out aloud.
‘Geraldine.’ The world moaned and screamed in answer.
It seemed her mind had also turned, for beyond the closed door the house was alive with unfamiliar noises. She heard a great pounding up and down the stairs of feet, and strange high voices that sounded like children, a senseless jumble of sound melting in her head with the monstrous storm. It was the evil night, that had awoken the spirits of the dead and sent them into the world of the living. Her throat dried in terror. ‘Geraldine. Geraldine.’
The door opened. It was Geraldine and a man. ‘Draw the curtains, Geraldine. Draw them, quick. For I cannot watch it any longer. Oh, how frightened I have been. Once I thought it over, everything stopped, it went quite calm. But it started again. Oh, so much worse, as if it would murder us all.’
‘Poor Mother,’ said Geraldine soothingly. ‘In all the excitement I quite forgot her. We have a whole orphanage here tonight, Mother. Eva Kraig’s orphanage, fled down from the hill and some dreadful things.’
