When We Were Young & Brave

by Hazel Gaynor

  Edward smiled. “Oh, they’ll know all right. The China Inland Mission HQ in Shanghai will have alerted them. Besides, the government knows everything. They have spies and all sorts of secret intelligence. They won’t leave us under enemy guard for long. It isn’t the British way.”

  For once, I didn’t mind Edward showing off. I was glad that someone seemed to know what was happening. The soldiers had already confiscated the big wireless cabinet, and had also banned production and circulation of the school newspaper, so we really didn’t have the foggiest what was going on beyond the school walls. Sprout said we were probably better off not knowing.

  “Even if the Navy do come to rescue us, the guards won’t let us go without a fight,” she said as she shoved in beside me. Sprout, Winnie, and Mouse had made a beeline for us as soon as they’d seen Larry sitting beside me. “We’re prisoners now. Enemy nationals.”

  Edward scoffed at the notion. “Most of the so-called guards are part of the puppet regime. They’re only there as a deterrent. If push comes to shove, they’ll be about as useful as melted ice.” Sprout shrugged. She didn’t say anything else. “There’s a former British naval base not too far up the coast at Weihaiwei,” Edward continued, enjoying the little audience that had gathered. “The Navy still patrol the waters there. Their aircraft carrier Eagle is the pride of the fleet. It would be quite something if that came to our rescue. And anyway, we’re not prisoners,” he added. “David Balfour was a prisoner in Kidnapped. We’re just ‘temporarily inconvenienced.’ Master Harris said so.”

  The idea of being part of a dramatic rescue was quite exciting, but one thing still worried me.

  “If we are rescued in a secret operation and taken away from the school, how will our parents know where to find us?” I asked. “What if it’s safer for us to stay where we are than it is for us to leave?”

  Nobody had an answer for that. Not even Edward.

  * * *

  The attack we’d witnessed on Poor Miss Butterworth (as she was now generally known) remained a favorite topic of conversation among us. Her face was still horribly bruised and looked like a rotten old apple.

  “I wouldn’t have let the soldier put a sticker on the desk either,” Sprout said as we made our beds that evening. “Miss Butterworth was terrifically brave to stand up to him. Still, if they can do that with their bare hands, imagine the damage they could do with those bamboo sticks and swords they carry around,” she added.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” I said. “I’d rather not imagine it, thank you very much.”

  “There’s no point pretending it isn’t happening, Plum. We’re the enemy now.”

  Sprout sat cross-legged on her bed, having given up on the hospital corners we were trying to master as part of our House Orderly badges for Brownies. Brown Owl had made it look easy during her demonstration. “Forty-five-degree angles. Neat folds and smooth top sheets.” But it wasn’t easy, and most of us couldn’t get it right at all.

  Beyond the window, we could hear the familiar shouts of “Yah! Yah!” coming from the sports field, which the soldiers now used for military training and bayonet practice. We’d nicknamed their drills “Yah” drills, because of the noises they made as they lunged at each other.

  Mouse came over to my bed. She’d finished her hospital corners and offered to help me with mine, since I’d got into such a muddle.

  “Miss Kent says we have to look on the bright side,” she offered. “The soldiers will still be out there, lunging at each other with their sticks, whether we cry into our pillows or laugh our heads off.”

  Sprout looked at me, and I looked at Mouse, and we all burst out laughing because it was so unlike Mouse to be so outspoken.

  But with the guards at the gates and soldiers marching about with swords swinging at their hips, there weren’t too many bright sides to be found, whichever way you looked at it.

  * * *

  Despite the soldiers patrolling the school grounds and taking over our meeting room, Miss Kent insisted that Brownies would go ahead as usual. Nothing really felt usual anymore, but it was a nice change from all the talk of war.

  We were instructed to meet in Miss Vincent’s music room. After tidying away the music stands, tambourines, and triangles, we sang our Six songs and said the Brownie Promise. When Brown Owl inspected our hands and uniforms, I was pleased to get a special mention for my neat fingernails. Mouse was complimented on how neatly she’d tied her scarf. I smiled at her and whispered, “Well done.”

  “Tawny Owl and I are aware that several of the older girls amongst you are eager to fly up to Girl Guides, and are ready for new challenges,” Brown Owl announced as we sat in our Sixes. “As a result, we plan to form a new Girl Guides patrol after Christmas.”

  The announcement caused a great deal of excitement. I couldn’t wait to fly up to Girl Guides and sew my Brownie Wings badge onto the sleeve of my blue shirt. My nut-brown cotton dress, which had fallen well below my knees at my first meeting of Brownies, was now on the short side, and my once-bright buttercup-yellow scarf was faded from the sun and too many boil-washes. I couldn’t wait to wear the blue Girl Guide uniform instead. “We’ll look just like the royal princesses,” I whispered to Sprout. “They’re members of the First Buckingham Palace Company. It was formed especially so they could become Girl Guides.”

  Sprout thought it was funny the way I always went on about Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret. They didn’t have princesses in America, which I thought was an awful shame.

  “In preparation for the new patrol, you should all read the Girl Guide Handbook and learn your new Promise and the Guide Law,” Brown Owl continued. “You’ll also need to know your knots, and the history of the Union Jack and other flags, ready for the investiture ceremony. We would also like you to come up with ideas for the patrol name and emblem.”

  As we worked on our ideas, and drew pictures of the wildflowers and birds we’d each chosen for the emblem, we sang rounds of “Kookaburra” and “Oh You’ll Never Get to Heaven,” and for a while I felt content and forgot all about the war and the disappointment of Christmas without my parents.

  Brown Owl then told us how Brownies and Girl Guides in Britain were being awarded special War Service badges.

  “They’re doing their bit for the war effort,” she said. “Knitting socks and mittens and balaclavas to send out to the troops, collecting sphagnum moss, which is used to dress wounds, singing in the bomb shelters to keep everyone’s spirits up, and collecting cotton reels, and other household items the Ministry has a use for. Those living in the country are also helping with the evacuees,” she explained. “Some of the city children have never seen cows and sheep before and find country life quite strange. It must be very difficult for them being parted from their parents.”

  “I suppose we’re a bit like evacuees, aren’t we,” Sprout remarked. “Except we see water buffalo and cranes instead of sheep and cows.”

  Brown Owl smiled. “Well, I rather think we’ve been a little less disrupted, Dorothy. And thankfully there’s no need for gas masks here.”

  As ever, we were reminded that no matter how strange or challenging our own situation, there were always others dealing with much worse. I felt for Miss Kent’s handkerchief in my pinafore pocket and recalled what she’d said to me as we’d sailed away from Shanghai harbor. We must always look forward, Nancy, never back. Eyes on the horizon, that’s the ticket.

  I was distracted during the rest of the meeting. I couldn’t stop thinking about the Brownies and Guides back in Britain, and wishing we could do something to help the war effort, too.

  “They’re all doing brave and important things,” I said as we tidied up. “All we’re doing is cutting out snowflakes for the windows, and drawing pictures of kingfishers and primroses.”

  Winnie Morris disagreed with me. As usual.

  “Who’d want to be stuck in an Anderson shelter with a stinky old gas mask waiting for the air-raid sirens to soun
d the all-clear. I’d much rather be here, away from Hitler’s bombs, thank you very much. Even with soldiers at the school gates.”

  I hated to admit that she was right, but it probably was better to be in China, even if it meant being away from our parents, and that birthdays and Christmases came and went without so much as a candle to blow out or a stocking to hang on the fireplace.

  “Excellent work tonight, girls,” Brown Owl said as the meeting came to a close. “It has been a very difficult week, and I’m pleased to see you’re all putting your best foot forward and getting on with it.”

  We stood together in a circle to sing “Brownie Bells” to end the meeting. The melody really did have the rhythm of church bells, the tone moving up and down, like a gentle chime. “Oh Lord, our God / Thy children call / Grant us Thy peace / And bless us all / Good night, Good night.” The final two good nights were sung soft and slow, the last note spreading around us like the warm glow from a fire. We finished by saying, “Good night, Brown Owl. Good night, Tawny Owl,” even though Tawny Owl (Miss Butterworth) wasn’t there.

  Brown Owl replied with, “Good night, Brownies,” and for a moment, despite the war and the stony-faced soldiers outside, I felt that nothing bad would happen as long as I had my friends beside me and good thoughts in my heart.

  But, as I was starting to realize, things can change very quickly in a war, and where one moment can make you feel safe and hopeful, another can just as easily make you feel terribly alone and afraid.

  As we made our way back to the dorm, Sprout grabbed my hand, and I grabbed Mouse’s, and we swung our arms wildly back and forth as we skipped along the corridor. It wasn’t possible to be homesick and worried all the time, and it was nice to forget about the seriousness of everything for a while. But we came to a sudden stop as we saw Shu Lan waiting at the dormitory door, and walked the rest of the way. I presumed she’d come to tell us off about the mess we’d left it in, but as we got closer, I could see she was dreadfully upset.

  “What’s the matter?” Sprout asked. She was always so forthright. Sometimes she sounded a little heartless, although she didn’t mean to.

  “I come to say goodbye.” Shu Lan kept her gaze fixed on the floor as she spoke.

  “Goodbye?” Sprout turned to face me, a smile spreading across her face. “We’re going home, Plum! The Navy must be here! Edward was right!”

  Shu Lan shook her head. “You will stay. I go.”

  Sprout’s excitement faded, and mine with it.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “All servants must leave. Soldiers’ orders. We go back to our villages and farms.” She looked afraid as she spoke, but a hesitant smile formed on her lips. “I miss you. Chefoo is my family.”

  Before we could say anything else, she turned and rushed off down the corridor, her long plait swinging down her back.

  We walked into the dorm without saying another word. The rest of the girls, having caught up, followed behind. A small gasp from Sprout broke the silence as we stood together in the middle of the room. A paper lotus flower had been placed on each of our pillows, and the windows were decorated with dozens of delicate paper snowflakes.

  I let go of Sprout’s hand and sank onto my bed. My legs dangled over the side, my feet still not quite able to reach the floor. For the first time since the soldiers had marched into the school, I understood just how serious the situation was. I closed the shutters over the window, pausing for just a moment to watch the snowflakes that danced and swirled in the dark, but the sight of them didn’t fill me with excitement as usual. It only made me envy their freedom.

  That night, nobody whispered into the dark after lights-out. We lay in silence with our own worries and fears. I closed my eyes and searched through my memories, looking for Mummy among the crowds on the wharf, but all I could see was her dress fading from view until she was a blue dot, and I was all alone, sailing out of Shanghai harbor toward an uncertain future.

  I was a feather, cruelly plucked from its wing. A kingfisher, trapped in a metalsmith’s net.

  The Guide Law: A Guide’s Duty Is to Be Useful and to Help Others

  If it is a question of being a help to the rest of the world, or a burden on it, a Girl Guide is always to be found among the helpers.

  Chapter 6

  Elspeth

  The awful news that the servants had been ordered to leave the school was shared at the staff meeting that evening.

  “It’s a worrying development,” Charlie Harris admitted. “For them, and for us.”

  “Are they being taken somewhere, or will they be allowed to go back to their families?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” he confirmed. “Let’s hope it’s the latter.”

  “Yes, let’s hope for the best,” I replied, although I couldn’t help but fear the worst.

  “We’ll have to make arrangements for managing the chores,” Minnie added, practical as ever. I was glad she was now feeling well enough to join our daily staff meetings. “Perhaps Elspeth and I could work out a roster? We should include the children, where possible. Our Brownies will certainly be keen to lend a hand. With all hands to the pump, I’m sure we’ll manage.”

  But would we manage? The servants had kept everything running smoothly at the school, from lighting the lamps at dusk to cleaning, gardening, cooking, and any number of other chores we probably weren’t even aware of. Whether we chose to acknowledge it or not, we’d taken them for granted. I was ashamed of how easily I’d become accustomed to having servants; how quickly I’d forgotten my sense of unease as the rickshaw puller had transported me from Chefoo harbor, his bamboo hat bobbing up and down as he ran on like a faithful packhorse.

  After the meeting, I went to find Shu Lan. Teaching staff didn’t usually mix with the servants, let alone visit their accommodation, but we were living through curious times, and nothing about our situation was usual anymore.

  “You are to leave us,” I said when I found her. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Shu Lan was a very private young woman. The events in Nanking had left her understandably wounded and distrustful. Her reluctance to interact was often mistaken for rudeness, and she wasn’t much liked among the teachers, or the children. But I saw a strength in her that I greatly admired.

  She kept her eyes down as she spoke. “Yes, we go.”

  “Where?” I asked, aware that she didn’t have any immediate family to return to. “Where will you go?”

  “To my cousin’s farm, not far from the school,” she said, eventually lifting her gaze to look at me. “She has a baby coming. She will be glad of my help.”

  “And Wei Huan?”

  She smiled shyly at his name. I knew they planned to marry in the spring. That much she had told me in a rare moment of confidence.

  “To his brother,” she said. “In the spring, we travel to his uncle, in Weihsien. Near Tsingtao.”

  The names and locations meant nothing to me. Despite living in China for two years, I’d traveled no farther than Chefoo.

  “I will keep telling the children your stories,” I assured her. “So that they will know about your country, and your culture.”

  “You are a good woman, Miss Elspeth,” she said. “You will keep the children safe.”

  I only wished I could be so sure.

  She asked me to wait a moment as she stepped inside the accommodation block.

  “For you,” she said as she returned and pressed a book into my hands. “The Sanzang. Buddhist scriptures. I mark the pages for you.”

  I took the small leather-bound book from her. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t treasure. Learn.” She pressed her hands to mine. “Take it inside, like food for the spirit.”

  I promised I would.

  We exchanged polite smiles that barely concealed our despair. What else could we do? Despite the awful circumstances we found ourselves in, the boundaries of servant a
nd teacher, of West and East, prevailed.

  * * *

  The news about the servants’ expulsion was soon followed by more worrying developments.

  “There’s something I think you should all know,” Charlie announced at the staff meeting the next evening. He hesitated before he carried on. “I had a quiet word earlier with one of the more sympathetic guards. He told me Allied civilian enemies of Japan are being sent away.”

  I couldn’t get used to the idea that we were the Allied civilian enemies. Such words belonged in spy novels, not to someone like me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Sent away where?”

  Charlie took a deep breath. “To so-called Civilian Assembly Centers. Otherwise known as internment camps.”

  I loosened the top button at my collar as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the small staff room. We’d heard about Jews being rounded up in Europe and taken to Nazi-run work camps in Poland and Germany. Some reports suggested that children were separated from their parents, and husbands from their wives. I couldn’t believe we might find ourselves in a similar situation.

  “Where are these . . . camps?” I asked.

  “Most appear to be in various locations around Shanghai. There are also several large camps in Hong Kong.” He paused. “And there’s one other. In northern China. In Weihsien.”

  I repeated the name. “Wey-shen.” It was familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember why.

  “I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but it would certainly be possible for us to be moved there in a few days by boat and train,” Charlie added. “I think we should be prepared.”

  “Surely they wouldn’t uproot the entire school,” I remarked. “There are over a hundred children here! It would be a logistical nightmare.” The awful thought also occurred to me that if we were moved, how would we ever let the children’s parents know where we were?