by Ellie Dean
Ordering a long, cold drink, she lit a cigarette and watched the comings and goings of people she didn’t know, overhearing snatches of conversation that worried her deeply. She finally came to realise that all her plans and dreams added up to nothing in the light of what Elsa had told her, and that she’d been foolish in the extreme to think otherwise.
She shouldn’t have come – and certainly shouldn’t have insisted upon her girls making this long, hopeless journey. For the first time in her life, Sybil Fuller felt out of place, utterly useless and very much alone.
Much later that evening, Jim stood on the front steps of Raffles and gave a deep sigh as he watched Sybil climb into Elsa Bristow’s car and be driven away. He felt very sorry for her and the situation she’d found herself in, but he was actually quite glad to see the back of her after a very long, difficult day. His life was fraught enough without the added burden of having Sybil to look after.
Very much against his advice, she’d insisted he take her to the hospital, but the scenes of so much suffering had horrified her, and she’d hurried away, unable to contemplate spending another minute there, or in the overcrowded clinic and makeshift camps that had been set up for the returning prisoners. When he’d suggested she might help Elsa in some way, she’d confessed she wouldn’t know where to start as she’d never worked – let alone in an office.
Jim lit a cigarette, remembering how overwhelmed she’d become with it all, to the point where she’d been fighting back tears by the time he’d brought her back to Raffles. Sybil had clearly led a pampered, sheltered life, never having to lift a finger to anything or face anything more trying than what to wear for a party. Now she found herself adrift here, with few skills to be of any use to anyone, and carrying the very real fear that her husband might not have survived. She was most definitely a woman on edge, and he suspected she was only just beginning to realise what a mistake it had been to come.
He wished he could have given her some hope, but that was a dangerous thing to do in these circumstances, and he was dreading the moment she would be forced to face the inevitable outcome of Jock and Philip’s imprisonment. In a way, he thought sadly, it would be better if they’d both died in captivity. At least then Sybil and her girls wouldn’t have to witness the harsh reality of what three years of starvation and brutality could do to a once fit, healthy man.
He finished the cigarette, noted it had at last stopped raining and determinedly turned his thoughts to other things as he stepped down from the veranda. Hailing a rickshaw to take him back to his billet, he sank back into the cushions and closed his eyes. He felt he could sleep for a week, but he very much doubted he’d be allowed to, for he was sharing a room with Jumbo.
Jumbo had discovered that his little Welsh nurse, Myfanwy, was now working at the main hospital, and if she was on duty, he would spend the evening extolling her beauty and rabbiting on about what a brilliant and caring nurse she was, and how she could sing like a lark and kiss like an angel.
Jim gave a wry smile as the man pulled him along through streets that were crowded even at this time of evening. Jumbo had got it bad, and now he’d found love, it seemed he was hell-bent on marrying the girl. What she would think of marrying a man who lived in a bothy on an isolated island was something that didn’t bear thinking about – and Jim was bracing himself against the fallout should she turn him down.
18
Calcutta
Sarah and Jane had become restless and very anxious over the past four days. With only brief contact from their mother and no news of Jock or Philip, each day had seemed to drag interminably. Even the luxury of the hotel had begun to pall, and they’d grown weary of making polite conversation with the other passengers, and feeling like prisoners in this gaudy palace.
‘I simply can’t take another day of this,’ said Jane, flinging a magazine to one side. ‘To heck with our guide’s advice. Let’s go and see something of the city. These walls are closing in on me.’
‘I feel the same way,’ said Sarah. ‘But I don’t know if it would be wise to go out there on our own. The guide was adamant we should hire an escort.’
‘That’s only because he wants to make more money out of us,’ said Jane, snatching up her handbag to riffle through it for a comb and lipstick.
Sarah realised her sister was determined to go out, so went to find sturdier shoes and a lightweight shawl. ‘It’s probably best if we leave all our valuables and passports in the safe behind reception,’ she said. ‘Just take enough money for a bit of shopping, and a scarf or something to cover our heads.’
‘A headscarf in this heat?’ gasped Jane.
‘If there is ill-feeling out there, then we must be careful and show respect for their different culture by covering up a bit.’
Jane gave an exasperated sigh, snatched up a scarf and headed out of the room.
Sarah followed her and they went down into the lobby to have their valuables stowed away. Slipping the key to the security box into her handbag, Sarah draped the thin shawl over her head and shoulders and stepped outside onto the veranda.
It was raining again, so she took one of the umbrellas from the nearby stand and unfurled it before going down the steps and heading for the gate. She paused for Jane to catch up. ‘Which way, do you think?’
Jane fumbled with the street map the hotel had provided and quickly made up her mind. ‘That way,’ she said. ‘There’s a market, an old palace and a couple of temples I’d like to visit. The guidebook said they’d be well worth it.’
They set off down the unpaved street, swerving to avoid the puddles in the deep potholes and watchful stray dogs, and trying not to notice the human waste floating in the stinking roadside ditch. Within seconds they were bombarded by a pack of demanding street urchins who pulled and tugged at their clothes and tried to snatch at their handbags.
The further they walked the more they were harassed as men in long, filthy thawbs pressed their wares on them, throwing scarves over their shoulders or thrusting carved ornaments against them, all the while jabbering and gesticulating in their faces.
Jane and Sarah knew better than to make eye contact, and tried to ignore them, tossing away the unwanted wares and clutching their handbags to their chests as they hurried along, desperate to escape.
Sarah saw a doorway into a shop and pulled Jane in after her. But there was to be no respite, for the owner loomed out at them from the dark interior and began to badger them with his sales talk.
They both sensed an underlying danger as they noticed the sly, dark glares from the knot of men at the back of the shop, and as they stood there not knowing what to do they were roughly jostled by two of them. A couple of scrawny dogs started to bark and snarl, and the men who’d jostled them were now barring the doorway.
Sarah was all too aware of the threat of the situation and tried to pull Jane out of the shop, but the owner grabbed her hand and yanked her back in, insisting she buy the set of copper bowls on display.
The dogs were now barking furiously, a crowd had gathered, and the men by the entrance were closing in.
Truly frightened now, Sarah wrenched her hand from his grip and reached for Jane. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re not buying today. We want to leave.’
He’d roughly grabbed her arm when a man’s voice boomed out. ‘The lady said no. Let her go.’
Sarah’s arm was quickly freed, and the advancing men melted into the shadows as the shopkeeper glared with naked hostility at the intruder. She spun round to see that their saviour was their Australian pilot, but she didn’t have time to thank him, for now he was pulling them both past the surly men, and through the muttering, hostile crowd of watchers.
She and Jane found themselves being propelled along the street at a fast pace as the storekeeper yelled after them, the vicious-looking dogs ran beside them, and the horde of jeering and mud-slinging urchins followed.
They finally reached the shelter of the hotel veranda, and the pilot released his hold on their
arms. ‘Sorry about that, but I needed to get you out of there before things turned really nasty.’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Jane breathlessly. ‘I really thought we were done for.’
‘What the blue blazes were you doing there in the first place?’ he roared. ‘Weren’t you warned never to go out alone?’
‘Well, yes, we were,’ Jane admitted, ‘but we got so bored just sitting about in the hotel, we thought we’d explore.’
He expelled an exasperated breath. ‘Strewth, lady, don’t you realise how close you both came to being seriously molested? I’d stick to being bored if I were you. It’s a flaming sight safer.’
‘There’s no need to be quite so rude,’ said Sarah, dredging up the last of her dignity.
‘Rude?’ he barked. ‘You’ve seen nothing yet, lady. Now get indoors and dry off.’
Jane giggled. ‘Gosh, you are cross, aren’t you? Would saying sorry for putting you to so much inconvenience make you feel better?’
He relaxed his shoulders and the furious expression softened into a rueful smile. ‘I reckon I might have come on a bit strong,’ he drawled. ‘But the guide warned you for a reason, and you should have taken notice of it.’
‘We realise that now,’ said Sarah. ‘And won’t be leaving the hotel again, I promise.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Sarah Fuller and this is my sister, Jane.’
‘Captain Joe Hamilton,’ he replied, shaking their hands. He glanced across at the wide-eyed servants who were standing by the doors. ‘Let’s get inside before we draw any more attention to ourselves.’
Sarah caught sight of them all in one of the vast mirrors and realised why the servants had looked at them with such shock. She broke into a chuckle. ‘Good heavens,’ she managed. ‘We all look like drowned rats.’ It was then that she realised in horror they’d lost the umbrellas they’d borrowed from the hotel.
‘No worries,’ drawled Joe. ‘They’re ten a penny and probably won’t be missed. Can I get you ladies a pot of tea or something stronger?’
‘I think we’d better go upstairs to wash and change,’ said Jane. ‘But thank you anyway. Will we see you later?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not staying here. I only came to tell everyone that we’ll be flying out tomorrow morning, eight sharp. The last of the storms have shot through and the forecast is good.’
‘Oh, that is a relief,’ sighed Sarah. ‘Our poor mother must be wondering what’s happened to us.’
They shook his hand again and hurried up to their room to discover that the mud the boys had thrown had stained their clothes, the sleeve of Jane’s blouse had been torn, and that they looked as if they’d been dragged through a water-mill.
Stripping off, they rang down for hot water and a very large pot of tea, then slumped down onto one of the beds wrapped in dressing gowns. The reaction set in and both started to tremble at the thought of what might have happened if Joe hadn’t stepped in. Linking hands, they huddled together, profoundly thankful that they would be leaving India in the morning.
Singapore
Sybil had now been in Singapore for almost a week and was getting very bored and on edge. She had become used to the long, dry days of summer heat in Australia, as well as the steady downpours during ‘the wet’, but she’d forgotten how much it rained in Singapore with its two seasons of monsoon and ninety per cent humidity. She stood at the window of Elsa’s bungalow dabbing the perspiration from her brow and watched the downpour that filled the storm drains and sent the water rushing downhill. Would it never cease?
Turning from the window, she wandered aimlessly through the bungalow, wishing she had something useful to do. Elsa was all hustle and bustle and clearly in her element now she was involved with RAPWI, but Sybil just couldn’t dredge up the energy to do anything. Raffles wasn’t the same, all the people she’d known had been scattered to the four corners of the world, and there were no decent shops. As for the sights and sounds of the hospital, the clinics and those awful respite camps for the returned prisoners, she could no more go there again than fly to the moon. She was stuck here, with no one to talk to and no servants to do the housework or organise the evening meals and food shopping.
Elsa had told her where to go for the best produce, but everything had changed so much, she’d lost her way in the labyrinth of the back streets, and fled back to the bungalow empty-handed and in panic. This had infuriated Elsa and made things very awkward between them, to the point where Sybil wished she could find somewhere else to live. But there was nowhere to go except the house in the rubber plantation – and that was a day’s drive away which would make her more isolated than ever.
It wasn’t that she was ungrateful to have a roof over her head and somewhere for the girls to come when they finally arrived, but Elsa had been an army wife, and she still had the rather disconcerting habit of issuing orders and expecting them to be obeyed to the letter.
Sybil looked at the telephone, wondering if she could call Jim Reilly and ask him if there was any further news on when the girls might arrive. Then she realised she would just be a nuisance to the poor man, for he had quite enough on his plate already. No doubt if there was another telegram, Raffles would either tell Elsa or ring here.
She lit a cigarette and watched the birds preening their feathers in the trees as the rain dripped down on them. She wished she could feel cool, but the humidity was so high that the ceiling fans were really struggling, and Elsa had warned her against taking too many cold baths because despite the rain, clean water was at a premium now the island was so highly populated.
Reaching for a magazine she’d already read from cover to cover, she contemplated having a long gin and tonic – but it wasn’t yet eleven, and she knew how easy it would be to get into the habit of drowning her sorrows. She gave a deep sigh and discarded the magazine. If only there was news of Jock, or Philip. This waiting was agonising.
The tapping on the door was so light she almost missed it. Getting to her feet, she hurried to answer it hoping it was Jim Reilly – or anyone who could relieve this stifling boredom.
She opened the door and was met by the sight of a large black umbrella shielding a tiny, barefoot figure in a mud-stained sari. Thinking it must be some child coming to beg, she was about to send her away when the umbrella was tilted back to reveal a pair of intelligent brown eyes in a face lined with age and painful experience.
‘Oh, Mem , I’m so very glad to see you,’ the old woman said tremulously.
‘Amah?’ Sybil gasped, taking in the withered arms and the thinning grey hair that had once been so abundant and silky.
She put her hands together and bowed her head. ‘Yes, Mem . It is your Amah come to find you.’
Sybil tenderly drew her in out of the rain and, wary of brittle bones and a body so frail a strong wind might blow it away, embraced her. ‘Oh, Amah,’ she breathed. ‘It’s so very good to see you. The girls will be thrilled to know that you’re all right.’
‘Are they here?’ the elderly woman asked eagerly.
‘Not yet. They’ve been held up in Calcutta for several days because of the tropical storms. But I’m hoping they’ll be on their way very soon.’ She took the umbrella and stood it in the hallway, then led her into the sitting room, noting with horror that her bare feet were gnarled with arthritis and absolutely filthy.
Settling her onto the couch, she kept hold of her bony hand. ‘How did you find me, Amah?’
‘Sahib Reilly told me you were here. He gave me the umbrella and money for rickshaw.’
‘Thank goodness he did,’ breathed Sybil. ‘You couldn’t possibly walk this far in such awful weather.’ She paused, noting how exhausted Amah looked. ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she said. ‘There’s a bathroom through there with plenty of towels if you want to dry off or wash.’
Amah dipped her chin, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I am sorry I come to you like this, Mem . The shame of you seeing me this way breaks my heart. I should go.’
�
�You’re not going anywhere, Amah,’ replied Sybil, gently pressing her back down into the cushions. ‘You looked after me and my girls with such love and care, and now it’s my turn to help you. Sit there and rest while I make tea, and then you can tell me what happened to you after we left.’
Sybil dashed into the kitchen and fidgeted with impatience as the kettle seemed to take an age to boil. She blinked back her tears. It had come as a terrible shock to see the woman she’d come to love and trust over many years in such an awful state. She’d always had long, thick white hair twisted into a plait that hung to her waist, and her face had been smooth and serene, her movements as supple and graceful as those of a much younger woman. Now she was aged almost beyond recognition, bowed and bent, and so thin she was almost skeletal – and her feet – oh, dear God, her poor feet. What had this war done to her?
Sybil dashed away her tears knowing they would only humiliate Amah further – but what must it have taken for her to bury her pride and turn up here looking for help? Not that she would ever ask for it, but it was clear it was what she desperately needed. Hunting out some biscuits, she made the tea and carried it all on a tray into the sitting room.
Amah was curled into the cushions of the couch, fast asleep, her feet tucked into the folds of her bedraggled, mud-stained sari.
Sybil’s heart ached as she quietly placed the tray on the table and sat in the chair opposite. This was the woman who’d massaged her back and combed her hair when she was feeling out of sorts or suffering with one of her pregnancies. This was the loving, patient little guardian of her babies, and the wise, gentle counsellor who’d always known how to soothe Jane’s tantrums and Sarah’s worries. The girls adored her, and so did Sybil – and even Jock regarded her as a much loved and respected member of the family.
They’d all been heartbroken to have to leave her behind, but the ship’s captain had refused to let her on board, and the last sighting Sybil had had of her was on the docks waving goodbye before she left Jock’s side and melted into the crowds.
