by Anita Heiss
‘What’s that?’ he asks, breaking the spell Mary is under. ‘There.’ He points.
Mary sees the red glow of a lit cigarette in the distance and imagines it’s Claude still trying to hide the fact he smokes. She strains to see the figure more clearly and realises it’s her Uncle Kevin. The cigarette is moving in their direction.
‘We better go,’ she says, getting up quickly and running around to the opening of the bunker. ‘Quick,’ she urges Hiroshi. ‘Get back down there. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Hiroshi moves like a fox, just as he did the night he arrived here, and Mary catches her breath as she walks back to the hut, arriving there at the same time as Kevin.
‘What are you up to, Mary?’ he asks.
‘Nothing, Unc, just using the lav.’
‘I think you should get to bed,’ he says, looking towards the bunker.
Mary goes inside, hoping her Uncle didn’t see anything, doesn’t go down to see Hiroshi and doesn’t mention anything to her parents.
A week later, while Mary is dusting the bookcase at the Smiths’, she’s surprised to find a book of poetry by a woman, and wonders why Mrs Smith hadn’t given her this one to read. The poet’s name is Mary Gilmore. She reads the title of the volume to herself, Under the Wilgas. She assumes it means the wilga tree. Then she opens the book gently as if it is a precious gift, and it will be, a gift for Hiroshi. She turns the pages slowly, reading the names of the poems until she stops at the words ‘The Waradgery Tribe’. It sounds a lot like her tribe, even though her family spell it differently. This is a book about Aborigines, she thinks. This is a poetry book about us. She puts it in the band of her undergarments under her calico dress. I’m just borrowing it, she tells herself. I am not a thief.
There’s a knock at the door and Mary panics. The book is secure, but it looks a little bulky.
The grocery delivery boy Raymond is standing at the door when she opens it. ‘Hello, Mary,’ he says, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You look a little flushed, are you okay?’ He walks in with the box of food.
‘Yes, I’m fine thanks, just about to leave for the day, so I’ll unpack these before I go,’ she says, gesturing for him to get out of the kitchen. ‘I’ll tell Mrs Smith you were here, of course.’
‘Has Mrs Smith been baking, Mary? She usually gives me a biscuit.’ Raymond looks hopefully around the kitchen.
‘No, not this week,’ she says abruptly.
‘Oh, I really like her biscuits, Mary. That’s one of the reasons I like dropping off the Smiths’ groceries.’
‘Okay, well, you better get going, Raymond. I’m sure you’ve got other deliveries.’
Raymond doesn’t move. ‘No, this is my last delivery for the day. I can stay and talk if you like.’
‘I need to get Catherine and Carmichael from school,’ Mary says, walking to the front door. ‘Thank you for the groceries, see you next week.’
‘Oh, okay, I’ll see you next week,’ Raymond says.
Mary thinks he’s got a weird look on his face, but she’s just relieved the book hasn’t fallen to the floor while he was standing there.
After their stolen moment sharing the moon, Mary feels even more brave about taking Hiroshi out late at night, even though she’s still not sure whether her Uncle Kevin saw them or not. She wants Hiroshi to have more to his hidden days and nights than her brief visits. He can be protected, but he also needs to experience some of the land here, the country she loves so much.
‘Come,’ she says again.
‘Okay,’ Hiroshi says, without hesitation this time. ‘The moon?’
‘No, the river,’ she says. ‘Would you like to swim?’
‘Yes!’
They climb out quietly and run, hunched over, to the river, Mary leading the way along the well-worn path the kids use every day. It takes only a few minutes before they hit the riverbank.
‘We’re here,’ she whispers. ‘This is the Lachlan River.’
Hiroshi doesn’t hesitate to take his shirt and pants off. ‘This will be the first bath in years,’ he says, while Mary stares at the ground, blushing. She hears a splash and looks up to see her love in the water. He is laughing.
‘Shh,’ she says. ‘Don’t make too much noise, the mirris will come down.’
‘Oh,’ Hiroshi replies softly.
As he swims around and washes his body with only his hands and the fresh water, Mary sits on the bank, looking around to make sure no one sees them.
‘Are you coming in?’ he asks.
‘No, it’s safer if I stay here.’ Mary knows that if she bumps into her Uncle again, being outside at night will be a lot easier to explain if she is not dripping wet. She is happy that Hiroshi is experiencing the river and the life just being in it could bring.
‘It’s time to go,’ she says ten minutes later. ‘We should get back.’
Hiroshi is on the bank and dressed quickly, revitalised by such a simple yet risky act.
‘Do you feel better?’ Mary asks.
‘I feel like I have just been born again,’ he says. ‘Thank you!’
Mrs Smith tells Mary she can finish as soon as the laundry is done because the family is going to Bathurst to do some Christmas shopping. Mrs Smith says she’d rather live in Bathurst because it is nearly twice the size of Cowra and has more things to do – and obviously better shopping. Mary wishes the Smiths lived in Bathurst too, but today she’s just grateful they are there for the afternoon. She has already decided she will spend some time with Hiroshi. Seeing him more often and not telling her parents has become normal for her; she doesn’t see it as deceit, rather, she tells herself she is saving them from worrying.
As she descends the ladder, Hiroshi is surprised by the early visit but stands immediately, holding a piece of paper with both hands. He presents it to her as if it is an official document.
Mary is consumed by emotion before she has even read the words, then she whispers to herself:
Mary my angel
Nourishes my heart and soul
Gives me hope to live
As she pores over the Haiku she is overwhelmed, flooded with warmth and love for the man in front of her. She starts to cry. Hiroshi moves slowly closer to her and holds out his right hand. She takes it, holding the paper in the other. It’s the first time they have been so intimate. Their eyes lock, the powerful emotion of the moment so new and exciting for both of them.
Mary is not sure what to do. She does not know how to behave with a man when she has feelings like she’s never experienced before. She has never kissed a man.
Hiroshi doesn’t know this but guesses she is pure. Either way, she is an angel to him. The angel who gives him hope for the future.
The silence seems like an eternity, but neither can find the appropriate words to fit the moment they are caught in. They move towards each other. Hiroshi is only a little taller than Mary, and he places the softest kiss on her forehead, his heart beating like a taiko drum, though not for war. She smells like spring, he thinks, like the flowers he misses seeing and whose scent he misses breathing in. He places his arms around her, feeling how frail and thin she is; a waif hidden under the clothes that conceal his food each day.
Mary falls comfortably into his embrace. ‘You’re safe,’ she whispers in his ear. But she means she is safe too. There is a comfort in being held so close to another person who is not a family member, a different comfort that brings a new dimension to her life. She pulls back and looks slightly up into his eyes, and a single, dignified tear falls down the left side of her face.
Their first kiss is full of everything the war lacks: love, compassion, respect. It lasts only seconds but will linger with them both for a long time after.
The December sun is scorching. It’s stifling hot in Cowra, days are hitting one hundred degrees and everyone wants to spend the time lying around like the mirris, who find any shade under any tree or hut where they can collapse. Mrs Smith is too hot to do anything with her children so Mary is char
ged with taking them to the pictures or to the river to swim.
There are dances at Jubilee and Lyric Halls and Mary wonders what it might be like to go one day. When the war is over and Hiroshi is one of the community and they can live there together, will they both be able to go to the dances? She knows it’s a daydream, even if she dreams it in the night time. Mary now devotes the time she used to spend plaiting her younger sisters hair on herself instead; brushing her own hair one hundred times a night and wearing it out when she visits Hiroshi, removing the band from it as she walks down the yard.
Most nights now, Mary is happy to be in bed as early as possible after her visits. She pretends to be asleep and spends hours thinking about the kiss and about a future with Hiroshi. She desperately wants the war to be over so he can live above the ground like a human being and not some caged animal.
12
Over the next few days, Joan notices something is different about her daughter aside from Mary’s increased attention to her appearance. She is not as attentive at meal times, and eats barely anything of the meagre helpings she receives. She’s caught daydreaming and is forgetful about doing small chores: boiling water to bathe James; brushing Jessie’s hair; making sure the bedroom floor is swept spotless in case the Manager happens to come and check. Joan knows something is going on but says nothing until Mary drops an egg.
‘You silly girl,’ she says, bending down to tidy up the mess from the floor she had already scrubbed clean that morning.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mary says sincerely, getting on her knees to help, picking up fine pieces of eggshell as her mother mops up the egg yolk with a rag.
‘Sorry is not good enough.’ Joan raises her voice. She can’t remember the last time she was this angry with her daughter, with anyone. ‘We don’t have food to waste because you’re daydreaming, Mary. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing’s going on. Accidents happen, Mum,’ Mary says. She has never answered her mother back before.
‘Don’t take a tone with me; I know it’s that man you’re spending time with. You’ve changed, and I don’t like it.’
‘It’s not Hiroshi!’ Mary cries. ‘He hasn’t changed me. He’s very nice and smart and never raises his voice, and when the war is over and he can live up here and get to know everyone, you will see he is just like Dad and Uncle Kevin.’ Mary stops suddenly, knowing she has said too much.
‘Like Kevin! Dear Lord,’ Joan says, looking towards the heavens. Not only does she not want her daughter to be romantically interested in a Japanese soldier but she also doesn’t want Mary to fall for a womaniser like Kevin. ‘Mary, when the war is over, Hiroshi will go back to Japan. You know that, don’t you?’ She clutches her daughter by both arms. ‘He’s only here until it’s safe for him to leave. He won’t be staying here forever.’
Mary breaks free from her mother’s grip and runs out the door.
‘You’re not thinking clearly,’ Joan yells after her, distressed about their argument, concerned about her daughter’s welfare, and wondering how far her meetings with Hiroshi have gone.
When Mary returns, Joan has the food and a jar of water packaged up as usual. ‘Go into the bedroom, kids,’ she says grumpily. ‘Get out from under my legs, James, and go with your sisters.’ She pulls him away from her. ‘Now!’
‘What’s going on?’ Mary asks, glancing at her father.
Banjo looks up at his first born, his most trusted daughter, and feels pain at the knowledge she is growing up, but also that something untoward might have happened with Hiroshi.
Joan wishes both she and Banjo had gone down to Hiroshi earlier, but they hadn’t wanted to risk a trail of different people back forth; keeping it simple, one routine, one person, was the safest thing to do. Perhaps they have been too trusting of their daughter. And obviously had been too trusting of the man. Joan is angrier with herself and Banjo than with Mary. All the negatives about the Japanese are floating around in her mind and she feels sick at the thought that maybe the man they are protecting is as bad as Kevin had said. There is no proof of anything, only Joan’s hunch that something has happened between Mary and Hiroshi, but she is certain that her daughter has feelings, however naïve, for the man they are hiding. What had she and Banjo been thinking?
‘Mum?’ Mary asks. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ll take the food down to him tonight. I want to meet him and see why you’ve become so silly lately. All you were ever supposed to do was deliver the food. Keep him alive. We were just doing what good Christians would do. And now look.’
Mary looks at her father. ‘Dad?’
‘Do as your mother says, Mary, we’ve been waiting for you to come home so you can sit with the kids while I watch your mother. Now go into the children and keep them in there until she comes back.’
Joan is nervous as she walks out the back door. She hasn’t really thought about what she’s doing, of what Mary has done for months.
‘Be careful,’ Banjo whispers behind her.
Joan knows that she is supposed to be pretending to go to the lav, is supposed to look slyly at both sides of the backyard to see if anyone is watching. She is most concerned about Marj, who poses the biggest threat. It’s a hot night and there are flies around. Joan’s not as confident as she thought she’d be but she is determined to get to know the man she believes Mary is besotted with.
She slides the corrugated iron sheet across. It is still warm from the heat of the day. She’s noisier than she wants to be, and fears the sound will draw attention, but she can hear music in the distance and hopes that will drown it out. She climbs down the ladder carefully. When she reaches the last rung and has both feet firmly on the ground she can’t see anything and panics.
‘Oh no,’ is all she can say as she fumbles for the lantern.
Hiroshi sees it is not his angel and he panics too. Joan lights the lantern and they stand still, just looking at one another.
‘I am Joan,’ she says, struggling to be calm. ‘Mary’s mother.’ Joan is stern, she is angry with herself for even allowing her daughter to be alone with a man she doesn’t know.
Hiroshi just looks at her, confused.
‘Here’s your food, some damper and water. It is all we have tonight.’
Hiroshi takes the food and bows his head with respect. ‘Arigat-o, thank you,’ he says gently. ‘Thank you for everything.’
Joan stares at him. She watches him attempt to straighten his dirty clothes. He is unshaven and crumpled. She knows he has only been able to change clothes when she has given them to Mary and she is looking at him the same way Mary has been. She feels sorry for the man in front of her.
‘My mother will be very grateful that you have saved my life. I don’t know how I can ever repay you, but in my heart I am so thankful.’ Hiroshi is sincere, his words the most genuine of any stranger Joan has ever heard. She thinks of Hiroshi’s mother, and tries to imagine what she is going through, not only having sent a son to war but probably believing he is dead. She thinks of little James who never leaves her side, and as clingy as he is, and as sooky as many believe him to be, she hopes he never has to endure a war like that happening in the world today. It is the first time she has thought about Hiroshi and what they have been doing for him from the position of a mother.
Joan feels relaxed with Hiroshi and can see almost instantly how easy it would be for her daughter to be comfortable around him. And although she doesn’t want Mary to have an emotional attachment to him, she can understand the sympathy and caring her daughter must feel. ‘I must go,’ she says, making her way back up the ladder. She struggles to put the sheet across again and walks at speed up the yard. When she gets to the hut, Marj is there.
‘You’re out late,’ her neighbour says.
Joan fumbles and stammers, ‘Ah, so, so . . . are you.’
‘I saw you take off down the yard,’ Marj states with an official tone, ‘but it took me a few minutes to get out of my housedress and get my boots on. Everything okay?
’
Joan’s heart is racing, she’s not good at lying, and what could she possibly be doing in the dark outside for such a length of time?
‘I’m on my rags,’ she says, which is all she can think of. ‘Very heavy,’ she adds, hoping Marj doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Marj peers at her, distrusting. ‘Hmmmm, at least it means there’s not another one on the way, James never leaves your side as it is.’
‘Yes,’ Joan sighs.
‘Well, I hope you get a good night sleep, Joan.’
‘Yes, I am so tired, a big day at the convent and another one tomorrow, so I need to get to bed early. Good night.’ Before Marj has the chance to say anything else Joan is inside with the door shut, her heart beating frantically, and Banjo waiting anxiously.
‘What happened with Marj? I saw her out there but couldn’t do anything.’ Banjo puts a cup of tea in front of Joan as she sits down, exhausted from the stress of it all.
‘Marj is fine, I fixed that. But that man, he is not fine. I feel sorry for him.’
‘So you can understand why Mary is so concerned then?’
‘Oh no, Banjo, I am concerned like a mother,’ Joan says.
‘And Mary is concerned like a sister then,’ he says, seeking confirmation.
‘Perhaps she is, but I know that dreamy look, Banjo, and it’s not one a girl has for a man she thinks of as a brother.’
13
‘The goothas are talking about Santa coming, so we’ll have to do something for Christmas,’ Joan says to Banjo who is counting the endowment, knowing the three younger girls and James should have something from Santa. It’s two days before Christmas and times are tough. Gifts are rare and food is still rationed but he and Joan will do what they can. Banjo wants to provide for his family and has been lucky with the work he has had building barns for some new farms near town. He’s only half listening as his wife continues. ‘Father Patrick has promised me a chook to roast,’ she says, her mouth watering with anticipation. Christmas is the only time of the year they have chicken and it’s a treat for everyone. ‘There are some benefits for working at St Raphael’s, Banjo,’ she says matter-of-factly. Banjo doesn’t respond but she keeps talking, and as much as he loves his wife, he’d be happy for silence. ‘They have given me a lot of old clothes that I can mend and keep as well. You’ll have some new trousers next week, and there’s some for you know who,’ she says with a nod towards the back of the house. Banjo finally looks up and nods back, knowing she means Hiroshi.
