The barked order was obviously not obeyed quickly enough. She heard a sharp thud but kept her eyes tightly shut. Cool air wafted across her face. She made the relevant murmurs of appreciation before slowly, very slowly, opening her eyes.
‘Was I dancing?’ she asked innocently.
‘Dancing?’ Madam Cherry looked puzzled.
A coolie was using his hat to fan her. He was also rubbing the side of his head. A tin ladle – no doubt the one from which she had drunk water and with which madam had clouted the man – hung from Madam Cherry’s hand. She snapped an order. Reluctantly, the coolie placed his hat lopsidedly on Nadine’s head.
The two guards were requisitioned to assist her onto the cool veranda.
A hint of French perfume escaped from the silk suit as Madam Cherry sat down. Her slender fingers reached for a silver cigarette case and a lighter. ‘You will sit with me in the shade.’
Her voice was enticing. Like a snake, thought Nadine. She glanced briefly at the others, the sun baking their backs.
The hat was on her head, not theirs. She was the picture of submissive innocence. Defiance did not get you what you wanted. It only got you killed.
She dared to speak. ‘Madam, I have seen pictures of geishas and other Japanese ladies and they are very pale indeed. Am I not correct in assuming that their menfolk prefer clear white complexions? Therefore, do you think it would make sense if the skins of your investment be preserved from the sun?’
Madam Cherry narrowed her eyes. Nadine read distrust in her expression, but also something else. The suggestion was being digested; the options weighed.
Nadine reeled from a sudden slap on her face.
‘That’s for your insolence!’ Springing to her feet, the elegantly attired woman barked an order that was immediately obeyed. The prospect of greater profits had won the day. The others were moved into the shade, their owner inspecting each one in turn to assess what damage had been done.
Whilst she was gone, Nadine glanced at the notebook she’d left lying on the table. Thanks to her friendship with Lucy and the need to barter with Chinese merchants in Singapore, she understood some of what was written there.
The first page listed the women and how much had been paid for them. A breeze lifted the page, flipping the details out of sight. She recognized a few words on the second page: medical supplies and each priced at exorbitantly high figures.
The shadow of madam fell over her. A drink was offered.
‘You said you are a dancer?’
Nadine nodded. ‘I was training to be a dancer back in India. I was very young. I still am.’
Madam Cherry narrowed her eyes. ‘You are indeed. That was one of the reasons you were chosen. Officers prefer girls who are like green sticks – unbroken. Why did you leave India?’ The smoke from yet another cigarette trailed out of the side of her mouth.
‘I was sent to school in Malaya. My father disapproved of my dancing.’ She made no mention of Martin.
One lie fell upon another. The Japanese, who had plucked her from the beach, had confiscated all valuables, including her wedding ring.
Some inner instinct urged her to emphasize her youth.
‘And this dancing… you danced in public? For money?’ The fascination in Madam Cherry’s voice was repeated in her face.
Nadine nodded. ‘I did indeed. I was much admired. Much copied too.’
She was telling half-truths, gradually weaving a web of lies and determined to keep doing so, if it keeps me alive…
Madam’s eyes were sparkling. ‘I too have danced… I danced in a theatre in Hanoi and also in Bangkok, Tokyo and even Hong Kong. Did you dance in a theatre too?’
Nadine shook her head. ‘I danced at private parties in the palaces of maharajahs.’
Madam Cherry’s eyes arched high into her forehead. ‘Princes! Real princes?’
‘Yes.’
She lied, but did so purposely. This was a woman impressed by power and she had intimated that they had common ground. Inadvertently, she had exposed weakness.
‘Hmmm!’ Smoke curled from flared nostrils and almond eyes narrowed as the woman gazed into the distance. ‘I think we need to talk some more. I have intimated to Commandant Yamamuchi that the officers might wish to be entertained with dance and music.’
Nadine kept her gaze fixed on the women sitting in the shade beneath a tamarind tree. Dancing would be much preferable to other duties.
‘You show no concern for your friend. I find that surprising.’
Swallowing the words she really wanted to say was incredibly difficult, but they had to be swallowed. To utter them would get her nowhere – nowhere at all.
Instead she said, ‘Is there anything I could have done to stop it?’
Madam Cherry tossed her head. ‘Nothing!’
The next question was even harder. ‘Is there anything I can do to stop it happening to me?’
She made a so-so noise. Nadine imagined that her head swam from side to side as she said it – like a puppet pulled by a master’s hand.
‘You will be proud to entertain Japanese officers.’
‘You could charge them more money if I were to dance for them. I guarantee my dancing will fascinate, intrigue and arouse them.’
Nadine felt the almond-shaped eyes fall on her. There was no warmth in them. Nothing except cold calculation.
‘You are very clever for one so young. Yes. Very clever.’
They both fell to silence. Nadine’s heart stopped fluttering. She had sowed a seed. Hopefully it would take root and produce a flower.
The sound of raucous laughter drifted from the direction of the bamboo bridge. The officers reappeared.
‘Ah! We are finished.’ Madam Cherry rose from her chair. ‘Now you may go back with your friends.’
She clapped her hands. ‘Line up. All line up. Bow,’ she said sharply. ‘Remember to bow to all members of Japanese army.’
Dutifully they bowed in the direction of the officers until the door of the main building had swung closed, noisily, behind them.
Two guards positioned themselves slightly behind and on either side of the elegantly dressed woman.
She clapped her hands again. ‘Now you will go to your quarters. You will be happy there. There is much comfort. Clean clothes, even soap.’
She sounded elated, as though she had gone out and bought the items herself: a woman of contradictions, thought Nadine, her mind buzzing with possibilities.
Madam Cherry’s voice suddenly sprang from sharpness to a deceiving smoothness. ‘Wash yourselves. Wash your clothes. Eat, drink and rest. Prepare yourselves for the officers. Prepare yourselves to be good karayuki.’
* * *
The Englishwoman named Rosalyn had hazel eyes, red hair and a small receding chin. Nadine hardly noticed her falling into step until the woman’s fist punched against her thigh.
‘You want to watch out making friends with the enemy like that.’
Nadine punched her back. ‘You should be grateful. I got you shifted into the shade.’
Rosalyn looked offended and far too superior for her own good. Her small eyes narrowed further. ‘That’s as may be, but I’ve lived in Bombay. I know what you natives are like. Treacherous. Ungrateful and not to be trusted – I’m going to be watching you!’
The tirade took Nadine totally by surprise.
‘Come on, girls, cut that out.’ Peggy pushed in between them.
Rosalyn swung aside, muttering something about bloody wogs.
‘Take no notice of her. Bloody cow!’
‘I won’t.’
Peggy frowned. ‘You look worried.’
Nadine had already decided which women she could trust. Besides Lucy, Peggy was top of the list. ‘From what that woman said it seems we will never buy our way out of this place.’
Peggy slumped down beside her. ‘Hmmm. You could be right.’
‘How many of us are likely to get malaria?’
‘All of us, probably.’
‘And with quinine at three dollars a time?’
Peggy threw her head back and closed her eyes. ‘Ah!’
‘Ah, indeed. Madam has no intention of letting us go.’
Other women had gathered round to listen. ‘Hey,’ said another new arrival, this one a Dutch woman from Macao, ‘how about the Geneva Convention?’
Nadine remembered Martin and his politicizing about the threatening situation before the fall of Singapore. ‘I don’t think they agreed to it.’
‘Great!’
A terrible silence descended. Some girls cried openly. Others pretended to be sniffing or clearing their throats. The mood was dark and worrying.
‘She’ll charge us for everything,’ said Nadine thoughtfully. ‘Everything has a price and she has it all for sale.’
‘Something will turn up,’ said Peggy, slapping her thighs as she got to her feet. ‘Something always does.’
‘I’ll pray for that,’ said Betty. ‘And I’m not in the habit of praying much.’
Nadine narrowed her eyes and watched a native trader pushing his cart towards the guardhouse steps. The eyes of off-duty guards looked up with interest.
As Nadine watched her mood lightened. ‘Unless we find things to sell too.’
‘Including sexual favours?’ said Peggy with a raising of her eyebrows.
‘If need be.’
Chapter Thirteen
The Australian nurses, together with Nadine and Kochi, the Indian girl, each took a corner of the mat Lucy was lying on and carried her through to the back of the hut.
They looked down at her, all grateful that they had not been picked out, even more grateful that they were not Chinese.
‘She’ll be fine here,’ said Betty, who was doing her best with the few medical supplies Madam Cherry had given her – though ‘given’ was the wrong word. The cost would be set against Lucy’s earnings.
A brooding silence persisted, a dull ache because they all knew what was to come. If they were treated better than Lucy they’d be lucky – extremely lucky.
Kochi broke down completely. ‘I’m so frightened.’
Nadine hugged her though she felt scared herself. ‘We’re safe for now. I’ve suggested to Madam Cherry that we entertain the men just like Japanese geishas. The colonel has agreed this should be so. Apparently he wishes to learn more about English-speaking women so he can take full advantage when the Japanese army march into London or New York.’
Peggy looked astounded. ‘Is he serious?’
Nadine shrugged. ‘Apparently so.’
Their moment of reckoning delayed, at least for the time being, their spirits and the atmosphere became less strained.
* * *
Madam Cherry showed them how to make tea – served without milk in tiny cups without handles, and bitter-tasting.
‘More of such supplies will be here soon,’ they were told.
She showed them how to serve sake in the same tiny cups they used for tea. ‘First you warm it.’ She also encouraged them to sing – one at a time. ‘Your officers wish for entertainment. Music is good and helps them relax and they will value you more.’
‘I’d sooner die,’ muttered Rosalyn, her hazel eyes hard as hazelnuts. ‘Music. This is ridiculous.’
Madam Cherry heard her. ‘What was that you said?’
All eyes turned in Rosalyn’s direction. She kept her head down, her eyes staring at the floor.
‘You!’ shouted Madam Cherry, pointing.
‘She said it makes sense,’ said Nadine, her desire to take advantage of the occasion outweighing her dislike of Rosalyn. ‘The British have a saying – music soothes the savage breast – exactly as you said, Madam. It helps even the most ferocious beast relax and become almost civilized.’
For a fraction of a second, Madam’s black pupils turned denser as she considered whether Nadine’s reference to beasts was meant as an insult. She decided it was not. ‘So young a head holding such wisdom – and as a dancer you would know this?’ Smiling, she patted her on the head as though she were a beloved child.
To those watching it seemed that way. Nadine controlled her shiver and the feeling that one day it could just as easily be patted by a very sharp sword.
‘Yes, Madam.’
‘Then dance for us.’
Nadine was taken by surprise. ‘There is no music.’
A red fingernail rested against Madam’s equally red lips as she thought about it. ‘Hum!’ she said at last. Her eyes swept over the assembled women. ‘Hum,’ she commanded. ‘Go on. Hum a tune.’
The women exchanged puzzled glances.
Rosalyn’s voice carried. ‘What tune?’
Peggy began humming the Funeral March.
Nadine’s whispered comment carried along the line. ‘This is getting us nowhere. We have to entertain these men. That is why we have been brought here. Let’s not make things more difficult for ourselves. Dancing and music could hold off the dreaded day…’
‘I’m not listening to a mere child – and a native one at that,’ muttered Rosalyn.
Peggy, typical of her countrymen, spoke louder and less discreetly. ‘Well, she’s a kid that talks good sense!’
‘Stop this!’ Madam Cherry signalled to one of the guards who up until now had been watching the proceedings. Peggy fell forward as a male hand swiped the back of her head. She dared to mutter, ‘Ouch. That hurt.’ And earned herself another one.
Nadine admired the Australian girl’s defiance. She saw Rosalyn look up at her with outright malice in her eyes – as though it had been her fault.
‘Right,’ said Madam Cherry, a fixed smile on her glossy lips. ‘Now we will sing a song so Nadine can dance for us. I will choose. Nadine, step out here.’ She pointed to a clear spot in the centre of the longhouse.
Nadine waited.
Madam Cherry came to a decision. ‘“La Vie en Rose”!’
The sharp delivery made everyone sit suddenly upright.
Seeing puzzlement on a lot of faces, Nadine made a suggestion. ‘Couldn’t we have something simpler?’
‘“Oranges and Lemons”? Just a thought,’ said Betty with a shrug of her shoulders.
Madam Cherry clapped her hands. ‘So! “Oranges and Lemons”!’
The familiar words of the old nursery rhyme stirred the air and their hearts, reminding them of times and people long gone.
Nadine danced, her arms waving like the reeds by the river, her heels digging into the floor, her toes pointing. As is the way of traditional Indian dance, she used her hands, her arms and her eyes to express emotion.
Lucy was never far from her thoughts; every so often her gaze strayed to the dropped reed curtain behind which Lucy lay battered and bleeding. How many more of us will end up like that? She determined to do whatever she could to make their ordeal more bearable.
Thoughts and emotions were dangerous. Through sheer willpower she curbed them from showing on her face. She must dance, smile and be pleasant. They all had to be pleasant. It might just keep them alive.
* * *
Some days later, the imminent arrival of the officers made the air tremble.
Madam Cherry had given the women a pep talk, though a warning harangue would be a better description.
‘This is not a common establishment. The colonel and his officers expect more for their money. They want clean girls – good-looking girls of different cultures who can help them adjust to the new order when Japan and her allies win the war.’
A strange sense of relief ran through them, though they were hardly in a good predicament themselves. Rumours on the ship had been rife of terrible places in which girls were forced to submit to twenty, thirty or more men a day.
The number of girls had swollen. There were fourteen of them now, new arrivals having been brought in from other islands and Burma. Fear made them all edgy and quarrels broke out o
ver the slightest thing.
‘Some girls will slit their wrists,’ said Peggy to Nadine.
Nadine didn’t ask whether she was being serious.
They’d been given time enough before the officers’ arrival to wash and change into silky sarongs and tightly fitting tops. There were also some pieces of jewellery and sandals. Some were stained with the blood of their previous owner. Arguments ensued over who was having what.
‘Listen to us. We sound like bloody schoolgirls about to go out on their first date,’ said one of the Australians.
There was muted laughter. Deep fear lingered beneath the apprehensive expressions.
‘At least we can get clean,’ said Bunty, a round-faced girl with a turned-up nose who Nadine couldn’t quite take to.
Their initial pleasure in sharing a bar of violet-perfumed soap and changing into clean clothes had been neutralized by Madam Cherry’s version of reality on the very first day.
‘The cost of your new clothes will be charged against your earnings.’
‘A fat profit for stolen clothes,’ remarked Nadine.
Rosalyn had decided that as a general’s daughter, she should be head of their little clan, totally oblivious to the fact that Nadine was already respected as leader.
‘I insist we should keep the same protocol as we do in the services – senior officers’ wives take precedence over those married to lesser officers. I’m used to chairing committees.’
The British girls shrugged their acceptance. The Australians were less compliant about it. The newly arrived Malay girls agreed out of ignorance: holding ballots and creating management committees was not part of their culture.
Earlier that morning Madam Cherry read out a list of rules and regulations plus the punishments if they were not adhered to.
Nobody uttered a word in protest though they knew better than to do that.
After she’d gone they voiced what they’d been feeling.
‘That bloody woman. We might as well be slaves.’
‘We are slaves.’
East of India Page 12
