The Orchid Tree

by Siobhan Daiko

  I’ll miss her.

  She’s become important to him. If a day goes by without seeing her, the relentless drudgery of the camp becomes a hundred times more unbearable.

  Footsteps sound on the stony path. Bob arrives, perspiration running down his face.

  ‘I had to send Lai packing,’ Charles whispers. ‘He wanted money. I hope he doesn’t spill the beans.’

  ‘That would implicate him as well. I’ll let you in on a secret. I’ve been in touch with the BAAG on me radio. They might be able ta’ help me mates in the prison.’

  ‘What’s the BAAG?’

  ‘The British Army Aid Group. They smuggle medicines and other supplies in and out of the camps and gather intelligence for the Allied Forces. They’re in cahoots with the anti-Japanese guerrillas and even manage ta’ get escapees from the POW camps into Free China.’ Bob glances around and lowers his voice even further. ‘Have ta’ be careful, though. There’re spies in our midst.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m telling you because you’ve helped us out. And you never know when the information might come in handy.’

  Charles puts a finger to his lips.

  ***

  It’s roll-call, and Charles is standing next to Kate, surrounded by the sullen faces of their fellow prisoners. ‘Come on, Japs have finished registering us.’ He takes hold of her hand. ‘Let’s get away from here!’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Ruth?’

  ‘I’d rather it were just the two of us.’

  People mill around and he leads her away. Where to take her but the hill above the cemetery? Even though her mother is buried below a rough-hewn headstone, there’s nowhere else they can be alone. He leads Kate past the graves, and she keeps her eyes fixed on the path ahead.

  He finds a patch of dry grass under an orchid tree and gently pulls her down. Kate leans back on her arms and looks at him. He averts his gaze from the hip bones jutting through the thin material of her shorts, and focuses his attention on two men sculling their sampans across the bay. A tanker has lain half-sunken in the water for as long as they’ve been in the camp, and its dark hulk floats like a surfaced whale. The tide is out and the reek of seaweed fills the air. ‘God, I can’t wait for this war to end,’ he groans. ‘I’m fed up with being hungry all the time.’

  ‘Me too. I sometimes think it will never end. We’ve been here forever. No one cares about us. No one has come to rescue us. The whole world has forgotten us.’

  Her hand is close to his; he could move his little finger and touch it if he let himself. He looks at her profile; she has the prettiest nose: narrow and just the right length for her face. The corners of her bow-shaped mouth, which always used to be upturned as if she was about to explode into one of her irrepressible giggles, are now turned downwards. How to cheer her up?

  ‘The Japs are suffering a real hiding at the moment.’

  Kate tucks a curl behind her ear. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I’ve got a radio hidden in the wall of our room.’

  ‘Charles!’ She frowns. ‘That’s terribly risky.’

  ‘Pa and I listen to the overseas news when we can manage it. We’re very careful. No one else knows.’

  ‘Even so. I think you should get rid of it.’

  ‘But how else would we know what’s going on in the outside world? The Hong Kong News is full of lies.’ He takes a breath. ‘I found out that the Allies have practically defeated the Japs in New Guinea.’

  ‘That’s miles away from us.’

  ‘I expect they’ll go from island to island until they eventually get here.’

  ‘It could take years. In the meantime, if the guards catch you with that radio, they’ll put you in the prison.’ She blinks. ‘Or worse.’

  ‘Bob has a transmitter. He receives messages in Morse from people who’ve escaped to China.’

  ‘Gosh! What he’s doing is even more dangerous. We must tell him to stop.’

  ‘Don’t worry!’ Kate’s amber eyes fix on his, the golden lights in them distracting him. Best change the subject. ‘What are your plans for when we get out of here?’

  ‘Boarding school, I suppose. My father would like to go to Australia. He thinks it’s a better place than England to recover his health. What about you?’

  ‘We’ll probably end up in London. An uncle on Pa’s side of the family will take us in. A letter came from him via the Red Cross. I fancy studying law.’

  ‘I think you’ll make a wonderful lawyer. You’re good with people and you’re terribly clever.’

  ‘Not true. I didn’t realise you’d be going to Australia. Somehow I imagined you’d end up in England like me. I’ll miss you.’

  ‘And I’ll miss you too.’

  He moves closer to her, lifts his hand, and strokes her cheek. He can’t help himself; it’s so warm and lovely. Then he leans in and kisses her gently on the mouth. She pulls back, clearly surprised.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs, appalled at himself.

  ‘It was nice.’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘I mean, wonderful.’

  He takes her hand. ‘Shall we do it again?’

  ‘Please.’

  He inclines his head towards hers and meets her lips. So soft and sweet. A rustling sound, and Ruth skips towards them. ‘There you are,’ he says with false enthusiasm. ‘We couldn’t find you earlier.’

  12

  It’s a week after Charles kissed me, and I’m sitting on a rock next to the path leading around the headland. I’ve only seen him briefly at roll-call or in the supper queue since, and we’ve exchanged shy smiles but haven’t managed to be alone together. Stanley is over-crowded; even married couples have few private moments. I wish we could be together more; I’m torn between wanting to shout my feelings to the world and the need to find out if Charles feels the same.

  Dejection washes through me. The Japanese have just broken the promise they made a few weeks ago when they said they’d repatriate all the women, children, old people and those who are ill as an act of goodwill. Instead, they only repatriated the Canadians, and those lucky people left yesterday. Papa explained repatriation meant you had to have an exchange of prisoners. The only Japanese available to be exchanged with the British are some pearl fishermen caught in Australia, and the Aussies have turned their noses up at a bunch of half-starved, malaria-ridden people from Hong Kong. Someone said it was because the fishermen are familiar with the Australian coastline and they don’t want them reporting back to Japan. Hopefully, that’s the real reason. And I bet the internment camp in Australia is nicer than Stanley . . .

  I hug my knees and stroke the cool stone of my jade bangle. Nearly a week ago, the American bombers returned and now they come back every day to bombard the harbour. I was filled with hope, thinking the war was bound to end and I’d be able to go home. Yet the days have worn on and now I feel even lower than before.

  I’ve tried to keep cheerful. The adults hold regular concerts and perform plays, but the good times are few and far between. Sometimes, I take a pin and push it into the back of my leg to keep the guilt for Mama’s death at bay. If I’d realised how ill she was, I wouldn’t have resented having to do all the washing and cleaning. I would have been nicer to her and not have answered back all the time.

  Shutting my eyes, I think about that terrible night when I held Mama’s hand and said goodbye to her. The pain of the loss is as strong as if it happened yesterday. I can’t bear to remember Mama’s face, so still and white. I can’t bear to visit her grave. I can’t bear to think of my mother’s body rotting in the earth.

  Getting up from the rock, I dust down my shorts then traipse towards the Indian Quarters. There’s Charles, standing in the middle of the village green, surrounded by a group of children, Ruth’s friends, playing cowboys and Indians. I wave at him. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

  Charles spreads his arms out wide. ‘Sorry. Later maybe. Why don’t you give me a hand?’

  I glance at the k
ids. Generally, they run around playing games and I don’t have much to do with them except when they dive-bomb me and shout, ‘Ratatata!’ Charles has become a sort of stand-in uncle and seems to enjoy supervising them, but I prefer to stay detached. I have no experience with young children.

  Once, I spied Ruth doing her business behind a bush. It was revolting: worms wiggled among the turds. ‘Make sure she washes her hands before eating,’ I said to Charles. Then I told myself off for sounding like a prig.

  I smile at him now; it would be rude to refuse. And, anyway, I’d do anything for him. ‘All right.’

  ‘We’ve captured Charles and we’re about to scalp him,’ Ruth shouts; she turns to her brother. ‘Surrender, paleface!’

  Charles gives me a helpless glance. ‘Rescue me, please!’

  I march towards him, children hanging onto me. By the time I reach him, I’ve started to laugh. I’ve been wading through a sea of infants and he looks so out of place stranded in the middle, his hands tied behind his back, his face anxious.

  Collapsing on the ground, I clutch my belly as the giggles escape. ‘I have you in my power. Yield!’

  ‘All right, I give up.’ Charles grins and shakes his head.

  I want to push back the hair flopping across his forehead, and kiss him right here in front of everyone. I untie him and our eyes meet. But the children pile on top of us in a scrum and spoil the moment. ‘Come on! We can go for that walk now.’

  On the path leading up from the Indian Quarters, I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in his musky citrus smell. I lift my head and his mouth covers mine. I kiss him until the numbness goes. I drink him in, love for him flooding through me.

  A new sensation takes hold. His hand moves slowly down my body. My heart hammers, but I don’t stop him. I want his touch.

  Footsteps echo. ‘Hello, you two,’ Jessica Chambers says brightly. ‘That’s a shamefaced look if ever I saw one.’ Laughing, she makes her way towards the blocks of flats.

  I give her back a withering look. ‘Let’s go to the cemetery, Charles. We can find a spot where no one will see us.’

  Under the orchid tree, well away from Mama’s grave, he gathers me to him. Gently, his hands explore the hollows of my back. Our kisses become more urgent and our breathing deepens.

  A sudden cry from below. ‘Kate, your father wants you to go home straight away,’ Jessica shrills. ‘He’s been coughing blood.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ I leap up and run down the hill.

  ***

  ‘Have you been with that Eurasian boy?’ Papa asks.

  I nod.

  ‘You’re spending far too much time with him. It can’t continue. People will talk.’

  ‘Never mind about that. I’ve been begging you to see a doctor about that cough, but you’ve been too stubborn to do anything about it.’

  ‘You know how much I hate quacks. Ever since my TB.’

  ‘I hope it hasn’t come back. What am I going to do with you?’

  I wipe my sweaty hands on my shorts. There’re other cases of TB in the camp, and the patients are isolated in a makeshift sanatorium behind the hospital. What if the doctors put Papa in there? How will he survive?

  Papa coughs and sponges his moustache with his thread-bare handkerchief, leaving a tell-tail trail of pink sputum. ‘It might not be TB.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to see the doctors. I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow.’

  ‘Getting back to that boy you’ve got involved with.’ Papa clears his throat. ‘I can’t have you making a spectacle of yourself. It won’t do your reputation any good, dear girl. You’re growing up and you’ll be seventeen soon.’

  ‘Charles is just a friend. There’s nothing going on between us.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  I cross my fingers behind my back. ‘Absolutely. Don’t worry!’

  ***

  The doctors have put Papa in a side ward and keep him under observation. I’m free to spend as much time with Charles as our lack of privacy allows. Today, I’m sitting with him under the orchid tree, his arm around me. There’s movement down on the beach. The Camp Commandant’s Assistant is swinging a baseball bat, and shouting at a gang of European men unloading a consignment of supplies from a boat. I nudge Charles and point.

  ‘He goes around slapping people’s faces and laying into them with that paddle if they don’t toe the line,’ he says, taking my hand.

  ‘Did you hear about his theories on eating grass?’

  ‘He’s been telling people they should live on it like Japanese soldiers hundreds of years ago.’

  ‘Mr Chambers and Professor Morris have started making grass stews.’

  ‘That can’t be good for their stomachs. Human beings aren’t able to digest the stuff. We’re not cows,’ Charles groans. ‘The war has got to end one of these days, you know. And all this will just be a memory.’

  ‘A bad one, I’m afraid.’

  ‘All bad?’ He smiles.

  ‘Not you, of course. You make it bearable.’

  I run my fingers through my tangled curls and push them back from my face. ‘The Japanese are losing the war, though, aren’t they?’

  ‘Of course they are, bit by bit. We have to be patient.’

  ‘But what if we all die of starvation before the Allies can get here?’

  ‘We won’t.’ Charles puts his arms around me again.

  I relax and snuggle against him. ‘I love you.’ The words spill out of my mouth before I’ve even thought about them. I hold my breath and wait for his response.

  ‘I love you too. I want us to be together for always.’ His mouth comes down on mine and I melt into him.

  A shout from lower down the hill. ‘Kate,’ Jessica calls out. ‘Time to queue for supper . . .’

  I wish she would leave us alone.

  ***

  ‘Your father asked me to keep an eye on you,’ Jessica says. ‘He doesn’t approve of your friendship with that young man.’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Charles Pearce is neither one thing nor the other. He’s not Chinese and he’s not English.’

  ‘Well, I think he’s very lucky to have two cultures.’

  ‘That’s the problem, don’t you see? The Chinese and the expatriates don’t mix. We respect each other, of course, and we work together quite happily, but our backgrounds are too different. If the races inter-marry they become part of the Eurasian community, which isn’t accepted by either side.’

  ‘I don’t see why we have to take sides. I really love my amah and her son is like a brother to me.’

  ‘That’s because they lived in your house and there were barriers, only you were just too young to notice them.’

  ‘There aren’t any barriers here in Stanley.’

  ‘We won’t be here much longer.’

  ‘I hope not. Yet sometimes I think we will be, and we should live for now as we don’t know what the future will bring.’

  Jessica stands back and studies me with stern eyes. ‘You have an old head on young shoulders, my dear. Just be careful!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you started your periods yet?’

  ‘Of course. But they stopped a few months after we got here. Mama said it was due to lack of food.’

  ‘Don’t let him take advantage of you, Kate. You’re still very innocent and your mother isn’t here to warn you.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Jessica looks away. ‘Take care not to lose your heart completely, that’s all. We don’t want you getting hurt.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Charles would never hurt me. We talk about anything and everything, and, with him it’s as if I’ve found the other part of myself, the part I didn’t know existed. I can guess what Jessica was on about, but Charles is a gentleman and would never do anything I didn’t want him to do. Trouble is, whenever he touches me I don’t ever want him to stop . . .

  13

  Japanese voices jangle
from just outside the door. I’m perched opposite Papa at the piled-up suitcases we use as a low table, sipping tepid water and nibbling from a bowl of cold rice. I’m wearing a cotton slip, but the summer air is so wet it drips down my skin and collects in the bends of my arms and behind my knees. I wipe my hands and get to my feet. What’s going on?

  Two officers are standing on the threshold, swords hanging from their waists. Three more men in white suits and Panama hats come up from behind them. My breath catches. Kempeitai.

  Papa raises himself slowly from his mattress and bows. He’s still weak; he was only discharged from the hospital yesterday. The blood he coughed up wasn’t TB in the end. Just a severe case of bronchitis.

  ‘You got radio?’ a short, tubby man asks.

  ‘No,’ Papa says firmly.

  ‘We do search.’

  There isn’t enough room for Papa and me, let alone for the contingent of Japanese. The officer gives a cursory glance around then mutters something incomprehensible. The rest of the Japanese laugh and back out of the door, still laughing.

  Papa sits down heavily and I go to the window. The Japanese are heading off towards the Police Block. It’s too late to warn Bob. I have to find Charles.

  Within minutes I’m running up the stairs to his room. It’s empty except for Ruth, who is sitting on a camp-bed, scooping congee from the bottom of her breakfast bowl. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asks.

  ‘The Japanese are prowling around looking for radios.’

  ‘Well, they won’t find any here.’

  Legs shaking, I collapse on the bed. ‘Are you sure?’

  Ruth gives me a puzzled glance. ‘Why?’

  ‘No reason, kiddo.’

  ‘I think my parents and Charles have gone to the canteen. Let’s catch up with them.’

  I link arms with Ruth and we walk up the main road. If only I could share my concern with her, but Charles told me Ruth doesn’t know about the radio. Up ahead, I spot Derek Higgins approaching from the opposite direction.