When We Were Young & Brave

by Hazel Gaynor

  I thought of poor Sprout, lying in the hospital, and suddenly missed her terribly. No matter how much I prayed, she wasn’t getting any better. I secretly worried if she ever would; if we would ever play skipping games again, or whisper and giggle after lights-out, or if I would ever get to visit her in New England in the fall, like we’d agreed.

  “How is your friend? Sprout, isn’t it?” Mrs. T asked, as if she could read my thoughts.

  “No better,” I said.

  Mrs. T put her hand on mine and squeezed it before she stood up. “Bloody wars,” she said. “Dreadful business altogether.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Churchill, and mentioned it to Mouse that evening.

  “Don’t you think he would be much happier flying free with the other birds?” I said.

  Mouse agreed. “We could always leave his cage door open, by accident,” she said, which was exactly what I’d been thinking but hadn’t dared to say.

  “We couldn’t.” I sighed. “Mrs. Trevellyan would be heartbroken. Still, it would be lovely to set at least one of us free.”

  Mouse wondered if we might be able to tie a message to Churchill’s leg, like the carrier pigeons Mrs. T had told us about, who’d carried important messages during the Great War, but I wasn’t sure rice birds were good at flying long distances.

  “How would Churchill know where to deliver the message anyway?”

  We concluded that it was a bad idea, and that he was probably better off in his cage with Mrs. Trevellyan singing to him.

  * * *

  Despite everyone’s very best efforts to be helpful and organized, our first few months at Weihsien were a strange and, at times, frightening experience. We all put a brave face on things during the day, but when the amber sun set at night, I often heard the telltale sniff and snuffle of someone crying themselves to sleep. I wished our parents could see the horrid little room we slept in and the awful food we had to eat. I wished my mother could know that the frightened little girl who’d watched her disappear beneath a sea of paper parasols now slept in a room surrounded by barbed wire and high walls and armed guards.

  I still missed her terribly, and without my tea caddy or her letters, I felt farther away from her than ever. I hadn’t seen her, or heard her voice, or felt her arms around me for four whole years now. How would she ever understand what I’d been through? At least my logbooks from Brownies and Kingfisher Patrol were a careful record of my progress. When I showed her—when I told her about all this—I knew she would be sorry she’d ever put me on a boat from Shanghai, and gone off into China to do her missionary work. Now, when I thought about her, I didn’t always feel sad. I often felt angry with her for leaving me, for being so far away when I needed her to be close.

  We’d now been under Japanese occupation for so long I could hardly remember what life had been like before. Like Churchill in his cage, life in captivity was what I now knew, and although I longed for the war to be over and for the Allies to be victorious, I also worried about what would happen then. What, and who, would be waiting for me beyond the gates?

  Sometimes, when I thought about liberation, about leaving Mouse and Sprout and Miss Kent and everyone I knew here, it felt as if the cage was on the other side of the compound walls, waiting to trap me all over again.

  Chapter 25

  Elspeth

  November 1943

  I felt empty during our first months at Weihsien. Like a dishcloth wrung dry, or a pen run out of ink, I was drained of all purpose; too exhausted to do anything but unquestioningly comply. I hadn’t given up, but part of me had given in. We were surrounded by a thousand strangers and entirely on our own, cut off from the safe, comfortable world we’d known. I was weak with hunger, and the immense effort of shepherding the children safely from Temple Hill had also taken its toll. I worried endlessly about Dorothy, who really was very poorly, and I felt Alfie’s absence more than ever. The awful agony of not knowing what had happened to him, or where in the world he was, dragged along beside me, tripping me up without warning, nagging at me and interrupting me, so that I was liable to burst into tears at any moment.

  “I know it’s unbearable not to hear, Els, but try not to lose hope,” Minnie offered when I explained the reason for my sudden tears as we walked to the school building. I’d heard the Salvation Army band playing a chorus of “Abide with Me,” which was one of Alfie’s favorites. “No news is good news, after all.”

  Minnie did her best to administer a regular dose of comfort and reassurance. I was grateful for it, although it really didn’t make me feel any better.

  “It’s like everyone back home has just vanished,” I said. “No letters, no telegrams. Just, nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “I imagine they feel the same way about us,” Minnie replied. “It must be agony for the children’s parents, separated from them for so long. I just hope some of the Red Cross forms get through to them.”

  The short Red Cross forms, which allowed for basic personal details—in good health, going along nicely, missing you terribly—were filled in by the children now and again, but I doubted very much whether they ever left the commandant’s office. Even if they did, the chances of them reaching the intended recipients were slim.

  As the mellow colors of autumn decorated the plane trees along Main Street, and the specter of my lost wedding days came and went again, I felt more trapped than ever.

  “I’m thirty-five years old, Minnie, and look where I am.” I waved my arms around, at our dismal little room, at the bars at the windows, at the guards patrolling the watchtowers. “I came to China to find a freedom that had eluded me in England. And look at me. As captive as a mouse in a trap.” I sank into a chair. “Maybe I should have married Reggie and settled in York. He really wasn’t the worst.”

  “Why didn’t you marry him?” Minnie asked, sensing a rare opportunity to ask me about my past.

  “I thought life would be boring!” I laughed at the irony. “What I wouldn’t give to be bored Mrs. Elspeth Smith right now.” I sighed wistfully, imagining another me; another life. “I woke up that morning and realized I couldn’t give half of myself to someone I didn’t love. My mother said love didn’t come into it, and that I should marry Reggie and settle down. I think she was right.”

  “Pish, Elspeth. One settles into a comfortable chair, not into the rest of one’s life. We should leap enthusiastically into marriage, or not at all.” Minnie sat beside me. “Coming to China wasn’t a mistake, but marrying a man you didn’t love most certainly would have been. Don’t give up now, Els. Not after everything we’ve been through. The children need you more than ever. Keep going for them, even if you can’t keep going for yourself.”

  * * *

  Although many things had changed over the past two years, Brownies and Guides had remained the one reassuring constant, every Thursday, without fail. The immense effort required to put the war aside for an hour and find the necessary enthusiasm for the meetings wasn’t always easy, and increasingly felt impossible, but the reward of the girls’ eagerness kept us going, and our meetings of Kingfisher Patrol punctuated the long weeks. While we didn’t know how many more weeks lay ahead, we always remembered to be grateful for the weeks that were now behind us.

  Our Tenderfoot Girl Guides of Kingfisher Patrol had already passed their Second Class tests with flying colors and were ready to become First Class Guides. Before even trying for their badges, they were proficient in many of the skills required for the next stage of their Guiding journey. In the most peculiar circumstances imaginable, their internment had ensured they were capable beyond their years.

  We designed tests for the girls to bring together their experiences of camp life, and to emphasize the importance of all the new skills they’d learned. For a special award, which we named the Weihsien Star, they were tested on camp rules, camp danger spots, where the doctors lived, which wells were condemned for drinking water, and when and where distilled water could be obta
ined. For daily tasks, the girls took turns on shower room duty during children’s hour where they helped to wash the little ones. They also carefully cleaned the eggshells from which we made calcium powder. Even fly swatting was set as a serious task, since sanitation was one of our biggest problems and there were still regular outbreaks of dysentery, cholera, and typhoid.

  But the girls’ development wasn’t measured only in the number of Guiding badges sewn onto their shirtsleeves. The reedy young things who’d walked out of Chefoo with the wind in their plump little cheeks and a song on their lips were maturing into young women. There was no denying the physical changes. The older boys certainly noticed it and, more worryingly, so did the guards. It was subtle enough at first. A protracted glimpse at roll call, a turn of the head as we walked past on our way to the sports field. But the attention increased as once-strange faces became familiar, and the girls’ initial fear of the new guards dissolved into something more akin to a distant wariness.

  Connie Hinshaw was a particular focus of the guards’ attention. They whistled and called out to her whenever she walked past. Her deep discomfort and humiliation was clear to see in the flood of color that rushed to her cheeks. She was an undeniably attractive girl who’d somehow managed to keep her curves when other girls had never developed any in the first place, or lost them to hunger. Connie was at an awkward age for any young woman, but the added complication of going through puberty beneath the gaze of leering men, and while worrying about her sister, was a lot for her young shoulders. I kept a close eye on her, especially when I noticed how Trouble acted around her. He stood uncomfortably close to her at roll call and made no effort to conceal his desire as his eyes settled on her breasts.

  Charlie Harris noticed it, too. We’d started to walk to and from Kitchen 1 together at mealtimes, sharing our concerns and observations about camp life. I wasn’t sure who had first waited for whom, but it had become a pleasant arrangement. I enjoyed talking to a man for a change, rather than to Minnie. Terribly fond of her though I was, Minnie had a rather particular outlook on life that I couldn’t always get along with.

  “I would keep a close eye on Connie, and the older girls,” he warned as we walked back from supper together. “If they offer the slightest hint of encouragement, there could be . . . well . . . liberties taken.”

  “Do you think I should mention it to the headmaster? Perhaps he could raise our concerns with the commandant.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine it will make any difference, and might only make things worse. Retribution for a complaint made to their superiors may be far worse than a roving eye.” We walked on in silence for a moment. “Anyway, that’s enough about the girls. How are you getting on, Elspeth?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes! You!” He stopped. “I know we all do our best and keep up appearances for the children’s sake, but I also know how damned exhausting this all is. I also know your brother is missing. I just wondered how you’re doing. I wondered, actually, if anyone had ever asked?”

  I could have wept. I could have crumbled to the filthy dusty ground, right there beside the latrines, just to know that someone had thought about me as a person, not just as a teacher or a figure of authority.

  “I’m doing okay.” I sighed. “I think we’re all doing remarkably well, considering.” I laughed lightly, but there was no real mirth in it. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  “For what?”

  “For asking.”

  He looked at me, a puzzled frown on his face. “Would you mind awfully if I asked again? Not all the time, but every now and then. Just to check in? Make sure?”

  I smiled, this time without effort, or force. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’d like that. Very much.”

  Having thought further about the situation with Connie and the soldiers, and conceding that Charlie was probably right, I decided to tackle the situation head-on and speak to Trouble myself before anything unpleasant happened. Given our history, it wasn’t without worry or caution that I approached him, but the girls’ safety was my utmost priority, and I knew I would never forgive myself if something happened to Connie because I’d been too afraid to speak up.

  I steeled myself as I made my way to the guards’ house after visiting Dorothy in the hospital the following afternoon. As I knew he would be, I found Trouble drinking tea and smoking with some of the other guards. I recognized Home Run and Charlie Chaplin, but if they recognized me, they didn’t show it. They acted differently around Trouble. Everybody did.

  “I wondered if I might have a word?” I asked, addressing nobody in particular. “About the children.”

  Trouble took a long drag on his cigarette and stared at me indifferently.

  I cleared my throat and tipped my chin. “We would prefer it if you didn’t stare or jeer at the older girls. The attention isn’t appropriate, or desired.”

  Trouble tossed his cigarette to the ground, and stood up.

  “She is jealous,” he sneered, addressing the other guards. “You are an old woman and get no attention from men!” He put down his cup and stalked over to me. I swallowed hard as he stood too close and looked directly into my eyes. “You still have a gift for me, Elspeth Kent.” He flicked the hem of my skirt with his stick. “Shall I unwrap it?”

  I hoped he couldn’t see how I trembled. Ignoring his remarks, I pressed on.

  “I don’t wish to cause any trouble. I am merely concerned for the girls’ welfare. I am their teacher. They are my responsibility.”

  He laughed in my face, turned around and walked back inside the guards’ house, slamming the door behind him.

  Nevertheless, he didn’t stand as close to Connie at roll call the next morning.

  “What did you do, Elspeth?” Charlie asked as we walked to breakfast. “I hope you didn’t do anything silly.”

  “Nothing silly. I merely asked them to stop leering at the girls. It would appear that they listened for once.”

  I felt rather pleased with myself, but I should have known better.

  The following evening, as I made my way back from visiting Dorothy in the hospital, I heard a kerfuffle near the guards’ accommodation block, and went to investigate. As I turned the corner, I was horrified to find Trouble pressing Connie against the wall. She was clearly struggling, trying to push him away and begging him to stop.

  “Stop!” I called as I ran toward them. “Stop it! Leave her alone.”

  As he pushed Connie roughly away, I noticed Trouble’s trousers were unbuttoned, and there was a tear on the sleeve of Connie’s blouse. She was trembling and pale-faced, her narrow shoulders heaving with sobs.

  “It’s all right now. Come and sit down.” I took the crook of her arm and led her to the steps at the back of the building. It took her a few minutes to compose herself as I passed her a handkerchief. “It’s all right. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  “He said he liked me, but he only wanted to . . .”

  She sobbed, too ashamed and embarrassed to say the words. She stared at me with enormous frightened eyes, and I wanted to wrap her up and take her far away. I wanted to take them all away. This was no place for children.

  “It’s my fault, Miss,” she continued. “I should have ignored him.”

  “It is most certainly not your fault, Connie. Not at all. You mustn’t talk to him again. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  Only then did I realize Trouble was still there, watching us, listening to us.

  “You should not interfere, Elspeth Kent,” he snarled as he walked toward us, a hard look on his face. “A man will have what he wants. A soldier will take what he wants from his enemy.”

  “You’re a bully,” I said, my anger getting the better of me as I grabbed Connie’s hand and encouraged her to stand up. “We are not the property of your emperor.”

  He turned to Connie. “Go!” he snapped. “Leave us, English bitch.”

  She flinched at his words.

  “Go
, Connie,” I said, firmly. “Do as he says.”

  “But, Miss . . .”

  I smiled to show her I wasn’t worried. “I’ll be along in a minute. And not a word about this to anyone.”

  She nodded and left the two of us alone.

  I tried not to look at the knife that hung from Trouble’s belt as he lunged toward me and took my chin roughly in his hands, his fingernails pressing into my skin. With a jerk, he tilted my neck, forcing me to look at him.

  “You are a teacher,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “You will give me a lesson now, Elspeth Kent.”

  He leaned forward and licked my skin, slowly, from my throat to my chin. I stood rigid, too shocked and repulsed to move as he pushed me against the wall, his hand fumbling awkwardly at his trousers.

  Suddenly, he stopped and pushed me away from him.

  I opened my eyes to see Home Run approaching us. He said something to Trouble.

  “English filth,” Trouble hissed as he spat at my feet, and stalked away.

  I leaned against the wall, head spinning as I tried to compose myself. After a minute or two, I set off in the direction of the accommodation block. With blood pumping through my ears, I ran, stumbled and staggered behind the trees where I retched violently, my hands braced against a trunk, my knees shaking beneath me as my body purged itself of fear and revulsion.

  “Are you poorly, Miss?”

  I lifted my head to see Joan watching me.

  My heart sank. “Joan? What are you doing here?” She stared at me. “Just a bit of an upset tummy,” I said, righting myself as I offered a weak smile. “Something I ate, no doubt.”

  Her face was pale and concerned. “Should I fetch someone?”

  “I’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about. Off you go now.” I waved her on. “I’ll be along in a minute or two.”

  As I watched her walk away, I wondered how long she’d been there. I wondered how much she’d seen, and who she might tell. But mostly, I wondered when Trouble would come looking for me again.