Oriental Hotel

by Janet Tanner

  She watched him out of sight, then turned to see Su Ming standing a little apart; the smooth-featured face was expressionless but there was something about her which made her look as vulnerable and abandoned as Elise felt, and impulsively she caught her arm, drawing the girl closer.

  ‘Don’t worry, Su Ming. We are all together. And Gordon will be back.’

  Su Ming nodded, her black hair bouncing against her neck. But the bleak look in her eyes remained.

  It was a look Elise was to grow accustomed to during the nightmare to follow.

  For two days she watched and waited for Gordon’s return. For two days she was constantly on the alert. But he did not come and with every passing hour her fear for him grew more intense.

  Gordon was nothing if not reliable. He had said he would come back and she did not for one moment doubt that he would – if he was able. But the news that filtered in to the Peninsula from time to time was not cheering. Apart from the actual fighting on the Gin Drinkers Line, there was dangerous work to be done – guns and ammunition moved and mustered, dockyards and oil installations to be destroyed before they could fall into enemy hands. And all under attack from an enemy who no longer seemed foolish but rather carried all the aces in an unevenly dealt hand.

  Determined to remain calm for the sake of Alex and, to a lesser extent, Su Ming, she tried not to dwell on what was going on outside, or even to wonder what had become of Gordon. Too much thinking could change dormant panic to hysteria. So she comforted Alex, talked to Su Ming and swapped confidences with the other refugees, while keeping up a mask of cheerful determination she was far from feeling.

  They were a motley bunch – an American journalist, two English girls, the wives and children of some service personnel and the families of a large number of Peninsula Hotel employees.

  They ate together and slept – when they could – fully clothed and huddled together for comfort. When spirits fell they sang – brave patriotic songs which caused the Chinese to cast strange looks at them; the strains of ‘There’ll Always be an England’re-echoed around the lobby and the ballroom where carpets and curtains had been piled at one end as a cushion against blast.

  But there was an undercurrent of constant fear beneath the defiance, and the singing could not drown out the sounds of battle – the drone of bombers, the sirens, the distant but unmistakable gun-fire.

  In quiet moments Elise thought also of Brit.

  It was almost nine months now since she had seen him and there were times when she accepted the unlikelihood of ever seeing him again. But this did not prevent her longing for him, neither did it stop her from worrying and wondering about him.

  He had gone to China as planned, she was convinced, and if he had done so then the likelihood was that he had been taken prisoner. For an English agent to remain free with the Japanese on the ascendant seemed a sheer impossibility. But if he had been captured, then it would follow that he was dead, and it was inconceivable to her even now that he should be dead and she would not be aware of it.

  On the second night she lay awake in the bleak darkness conscious of the baby heavy within her, torn apart by the torture of her thoughts.

  They could both be dead, the men she loved, for she acknowledged that she loved them both in different ways. Gordon, gentle, a replacement figure for the father she had loved and lost; never – except in his jealousy – anything but solicitous for her welfare. Yes, she loved him in a dependent, almost childlike way which could, given the chance, have deepened to maturity.

  And Brit, young, brave, equally dependable in a totally different way, who had awakened in her emotions of which she had never believed herself capable.

  Her men, each of whom had fathered a child. Neither of whom was here now.

  This is my punishment, she thought: to lose them both. Perhaps never to know what has become of either of them.

  The thought was so agonising that she twisted on the makeshift bed and disturbed Alex.

  ‘Mummy? What is it? What’s happening?’

  She pulled him down again, smoothing his hair and feeling his face warm against her shoulder.

  ‘Nothing, darling. Go to sleep.’

  He wriggled and twisted for a moment, then she felt his small, compact body relax as his breathing grew even again.

  Love, fierce and protective, washed over her in a warm tide and she thought ‘Whatever happens I must make sure Alex is all right, and the baby, too. I’m on my own again now. It’s all up to me. Please, God, give me the wisdom to know what to do and the strength to see it through. But don’t let them suffer for my mistakes.’

  But the gunfire sounded louder and closer and beside her one of the English girls asked softly, ‘Are you awake, Elise?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered back.

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that, do you?’

  ‘Maybe the wind’s in this direction. Or perhaps it’s just that it sounds louder at night.’

  ‘It hasn’t been that loud before.’

  ‘No. But Gordon said the Gin Drinkers Line could hold out for a week.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. Someone said yesterday that a lot of the troops are going down with malaria – those on Tai Mo Shan Mountain, whoever they are – Royal Scots, I think they said.’

  ‘Oh lord!’

  ‘And sick men can’t fight, can they? If the Nips make a really strong attack, goodness only knows what will happen.

  Elise was silent, but despite the sounds of distant battle, and despite knowing the area of Tai Mo Shan Mountain reasonably well, she was unable to conjure up a mental picture of what might be happening there. It simply defied imagination. This was her adopted country – the little, fat bespectacled men who had always been a source of amusement couldn’t be running roughshod over it, bombing, shooting, bayoneting anything or anyone in their path.

  ‘I think we ought to try to get some sleep, Sally,’ she said.

  The other girl laughed, a soft, bitter sound. ‘Some hopes! I’m scared out of my wits.’

  ‘We all are,’ Elise said flatly.

  ‘I just wish I had taken off for home months ago – even to join the Women’s Land Army. Just think, I could have been milking cows, collecting fresh eggs, rolling round in a haystack with some off-duty soldier, sailor or airman – instead of which I’m waiting here to be raped at bayonet point by some stinking little yellow men!’

  ‘Stop it!’ Elise said. ‘ Thinking like that won’t do any good.’

  ‘It might. At least I should be prepared.’

  ‘Go to sleep.’

  But it was advice Elise was unable to heed herself. And as the night wore slowly on, the rumble of the guns and bombs seemed to become a background to all her thoughts.

  They came next day, thundering on the doors which had been bolted against looters: the dirty, bedraggled remains of a company of soldiers, bringing the news that the Gin Drinkers Line had been broken, taken by surprise on the Shingnun Redoubt by Major-General Sano’s crack 38th Division. The fighting had been fierce but futile. The Army was in retreat and the whole of Kowloon – the Peninsula Hotel included – was to be evacuated.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Sally muttered ominously as Elise struggled to calm Alex. ‘We’ve had it now!’

  ‘Rubbish! We shall be all right on Hong Kong Island,’ Elise said, but the remark was mere lip-service to optimism. If they could take Kowloon, they could take the island also. It was only a matter of time.

  And where was Gordon? He must know what had happened. So why did he not come for them? If he was here, at least she could rely on him a little and not have to make all the decisions herself. Where was he?

  As the Peninsula doors opened to let out the first of the crush who were anxious to make the crossing to Hong Kong Island, black smoke poured in and the rumble of explosions sounded loud and close. But Elise hung back with Alex and Su Ming, unwilling to leave the one place where Gordon would know where to find her.

  But she searched the millin
g crowds in the lobby in vain. Everyone was here, it seemed, but Gordon. And everywhere was chaos.

  A party of rough-looking Chinese burst through the doors when they were opened again. They were driven back, but the scuffle increased her claustrophobic panic. There was no knowing how a mob would behave in a crisis situation.

  ‘I think we ought to go with the others,’ she said to Su Ming.

  ‘But what about Mr Sanderson?’ Su Ming, like Elise, had been banking on Gordon’s return.

  ‘I don’t know what has happened to him, Su Ming.’ She had to raise her voice a little to make herself heard. ‘But I don’t think we can wait any longer. It could be the Japs coming through that door next, and we can’t be here then. Come on, we must leave.’

  Between them they picked up the belongings they could easily carry. Even Alex carried a small bundle, so that Elise had a free hand for holding on to him.

  Outside the hotel the full horror overwhelmed them. The noise was deafening: shouting, horns blaring, screams, explosions, gunfire. The air was thick with swirling black smoke which blanketed the waterfront, acrid and choking, stinging their throats and bringing streaming tears to their eyes.

  My God, it really is the end, Elise thought. Everything in Kowloon is burning. In fact, the worst of the smoke came from the dockyards, the power station and the cement works which were all being destroyed before they could fall into enemy hands, but Elise was not to know that.

  Holding tightly to Alex’s hand, she fought her way along the waterfront in the direction of the Star Ferry Terminal. At times they were jostled from behind and almost swept off their feet, then they would meet a crush coming from the opposite direction which blocked their way as effectively as a brick wall.

  Her back ached, her stomach felt heavy and sharp niggling pains seemed to extend right down the insides of her thighs, but she pushed on with gritted teeth, trying not to choke on the smoke.

  Alex was grizzling constantly. He had dropped his bundle – it had long since been trampled underfoot by the shoving crowd – and was rubbing at his stinging eyes with his sleeve and the back of his hand. Because he was not looking where he was going his feet kept dragging, and once or twice Elise had only just managed to prevent him from falling.

  On one occasion they became separated from Su Ming and Elise felt the nightmare sensation rising again as she looked around for the girl. She didn’t care for Su Ming, but she did feel responsible for her. They had to stay together; it was their only chance. But after a moment Su Ming was there again, sobbing and hanging on to Elise.

  ‘A man – he got hold of me … he tried to take me …’

  A few weeks – a few days ago, even – Elise would have said it was impossible that such a thing could happen in a main Kowloon street. Now she did not even query it. For every ordinary person running in fear before the Japanese, there seemed to be half-a-dozen angry thugs: the lowest, the most craven. Part of the chaos now was the repeated smashing of glass and she knew they were looting.

  ‘Don’t let them take me, Mrs Sanderson! Please don’t let them!’ Su Ming sobbed and Elise felt as if the troubles of the world were being heaped upon her shoulders.

  ‘For goodness sake, Su Ming, how can I stop them?’ she snapped. Then, feeling guilty for the ease with which she had turned on the frightened girl, she went on, ‘All right, just stay very close to me.’

  Su Ming did as she was told, hanging on to Elise’s arm so that she felt weighed down on both sides.

  As they approached the Terminal, they saw that not only were the green Star Ferries shuttling back and forth across the darkly sparkling water of the harbour, but there was also a fleer of motor sampans, skippered by their Hong Kong Chinese owners. Some carried stores and ammunition, others refugees and wounded soldiers. She was glad that Alex was’ too small to be able to see them.

  Here the crush was much worse, as people fought and scrambled to be at the head of the queue to cross the harbour. But the Chinese had never known how to queue and the British seemed temporarily to have forgotten. The entrance to the Ferry Terminal was a sea of people jostling uncaringly, pushing towards the waterfront. A ferry pulled in, the crowd surged forward and Elise lost her grip of her son’s hand.

  ‘Alex!’ she cried, as he was carried along by the crowd, but she might as well have saved her breath. ‘ Alex!’

  Frantically she tried to push after him against the milling crush of bodies. He could be trampled and killed – or swept on to the ferry and she would never be able to find him again!

  Then as the crush cleared slightly, she saw him, pushed up against one of the ramparts on the wooden pier, his small face a picture of terror.

  ‘Alex!’

  She grabbed him, then stood simply holding him to her and watching the ferry fill up before her eyes. Both decks were crowded, but it listed unhealthily to one side.

  A fresh cloud of black smoke blew through the terminal, obscuring vision and making her cough. Then, as it shifted a little a figure amongst the crowd on the opposite walkway caught her eye – a head taller then most of the Chinese, broad, holding his own in spite of the crush and all the while looking about him.

  She froze, eyes wide, hope surging through disbelief. It just couldn’t be. So many times she had imagined she had seen him and been mistaken. Now, in the midst of all this terror and chaos …

  But she was not mistaken.

  ‘Brit!’ she shouted. ‘ Brit!’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Her voice was lost in the uproar and he had not seen her. He was moving on, still looking around.

  Oh God, to see him now, to be so close and then to lose him …

  ‘Brit!’

  He could not possibly have heard her; her voice was just one of many in the clamour. But somehow, miraculously, he was looking in her direction. She dragged her arm free of Su Ming’s grip, waving wildly.

  ‘Brit – Brit!’

  And he saw her. She knew the moment he recognised her and almost fainted with the overwhelming relief.

  Brit – Brit – you’re here. And I need you so much. Oh, how I need you!

  The tears were gathering in her eyes now; by the time he had fought his way through the crowd they were pouring down her cheeks. She swayed towards him, forgetting Alex and Su Ming and the pushing, noisy Chinese and Europeans, forgetting even that she was pregnant with his baby and he did not even know it.

  Only when she saw his expression of surprise did it occur to her, and then, ridiculously, she was laughing.

  ‘Oh Brit, I don’t believe it! I don’t believe you’re here!’

  ‘Come on, let’s get you out of this crush.’ He picked up Alex and pushed Elise and Su Ming bodily back up the sloping jetty, against the oncoming tide of refugees.

  ‘But we’ve got to get to Hong Kong Island!’ she protested.

  ‘Not that way!’ As he led them along the quayside he asked roughly, ‘ Where’s Gordon?’

  ‘I don’t know. He had to go with the Reservists. Don’t look like that – he had to go, Brit.’

  He did not bother to answer; he was busy calling out in Cantonese to the skipper of a sampan which was approaching the harbour wall. The air rattled with the heavy engines of Japanese bombers, shells whistled down through the clear still air and the earth trembled beneath their feet.

  The skipper called back. Elise would not have understood, even if she could have heard, but he brought the sampan round, steadying it against the wall with his wiry brown arms.

  ‘Come on.’ Brit handed Alex to the Chinese, then climbed down himself and took Elise’s hand. She stepped down unsteadily, her weight sending her off-balance and her legs almost collapsing as she reached the rocking base of the sampan. Su Ming followed and the boatman cast off.

  The water of the harbour was choppy, churned up by the scurrying craft. A Japanese plane droned overhead and she ducked automatically, putting her head against Brit and pulling Alex close to her. But the dreaded sound of falling bombs did no
t come; nor, to her surprise, the crackle of anti-aircraft fire, though the plane headed towards the island.

  The harbour crossing, usually a few minutes’ calm enjoyment, seemed extended to nightmare length. One small boat with which they drew level was crammed with badly wounded men, watched over by a nurse who was also wounded.

  Elise had been clutching Alex closely to her in an effort to spare him the horror but when they landed on the island and looked back towards the mainland, there was no escaping it.

  Kowloon could have been a part of Dante’s inferno. The smoke, which had seemed a choking blanket when they had been on that side of the harbour, could be seen from here as a kaleidoscope of strange, swirling patterns, dense black and lighter shades of grey; through it and beyond licked the fearsome vermilion flames from the burning oil-tanks.

  They stared, overwhelmed by something close to disbelief. Was it possible that they had been there only ten minutes ago – in that hell? But it was so, and they would still be there but for Brit.

  ‘Come on!’ He swung Alex up into his arms again.

  ‘Where are you taking us?’

  Brit’s face was hard and set. He merely glanced over his shoulder as he answered, ‘As far away from this as possible. Quickly!’

  Hong Kong Central was only a little less chaotic than Kowloon. Refugees who had made the crossing milled about aimlessly, while troops who had been withdrawn grouped and re-formed.

  Brit pushed through them with his customary long strides and Elise and Su Ming almost had to run to keep up with him.

  Cormorant House stood beyond a broad band of green on the far side of the road which ran from east to west across the landward side of the island. It was a smart building which occupied a whole block, three storeys high and surrounded by a wide verandah. Above it the Cormorant pennant fluttered bravely and Elise was struck by the thought that it was unlikely to be there much longer. She had no breath to say anything, however – besides the ache in her back, a stitch was niggling in her side and her whole body felt racked with discomfort, requiring all her concentration to get through the next moment, and then the next.