by Emma Fraser
The biggest drawback to living in Singapore was that essentially it was a small community. Everyone knew each other’s business and gossip, amongst the men almost as much as amongst the woman, was one of the main sources of amusement. Georgina had no doubt she had been the main topic on more than one occasion and that bothered her less than perhaps it should have. But she was damned if she were going to have her difficulties with Edith dissected over that evening’s gin slings. Edith, she was certain, wouldn’t breathe a word at her end.
‘I have plans for this afternoon, remember?’ Georgina said. ‘It’s good of you to take such an interest but really there is nothing to tell. I’m seeing Edith tomorrow and we’ll iron out any differences then.’
‘You’re still coming to the dance tonight?’
Georgina sighed inwardly. It was the last thing she felt like doing, but if she didn’t, Eleanor was bound to make more of the meeting with Edith than she’d done already. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Normally Georgina loved strolling through Chinatown’s labyrinth of narrow streets, with its gaudily painted shop houses selling porcelain and jade, silk and ivory, the locals’ washing draped on poles sticking out like flags from upstairs windows, the glittering temples, the junks and sampans packed tightly together along the muddy river, the satay stalls offering delicious snacks, the hawkers with their wares swinging from bamboo sticks bent across bony shoulders. But today, even its delights couldn’t distract her.
Although she did order a new dress her heart wasn’t in it. It had been easy to excuse Edith’s long silence, at least in part, to her working abroad and being unable to write, but it was clear her sister still hadn’t forgiven her.
She hailed a passing rickshaw, and sat deep in thought, hardly noticing as the narrow streets of Chinatown were replaced by wide avenues with cropped grass verges, flame-of-the forest and frangipani trees.
Edith had always been stubborn. Once she picked a course it was difficult, if not impossible, to get her to deviate from it. But with that stubbornness came a fierce loyalty. To Edith, loyalty, whether it was to King and country, to friends, or to family, was paramount. And Georgina had been as disloyal as it was possible to get.
But it had been over two years unless – alarm spiralled through her – did Edith know the whole truth? No, there was no way she could. The continuing rift was far more likely due to Edith’s stubbornness. And that couldn’t be allowed to continue. When she saw her tomorrow, she would make Edith see that.
Her journey back to Beach Road took her past St Andrew’s Cathedral with its slim spire on its island of carefully tended green lawn, the Supreme Court and the gentlemanly government offices, separated from the waterfront by the green rectangle Padang and the cricket club. If they could make up, Edith might spend some time with Georgina in Singapore and she could show her all the sights. She smiled. It would be just like old times and Singapore would be a different place with Edith in it.
She forced herself to go to the dance at Raffles that night. She and Lawrence swept up to the front door, passing the door that was guarded day and night lest those not permitted inside the hotel tried to sneak in, and into the familiar wide bar with its potted palms and white-coated waiters. It was difficult to be despondent at Raffles – there was always such a cheerful atmosphere. Tonight it was even more crowded than usual, mostly because of the troops – all officers naturally. The other ranks had their own places. Although Lawrence appeared to have accepted she would never marry him, he’d insisted they stay friends and she was only too happy to agree. She might not love him but she liked him enormously.
She’d returned to her seat after dancing a particularly energetic quickstep with Lawrence, tapping her foot to the rhythm as the band immediately swung into a foxtrot.
‘You look unusually pensive tonight, darling,’ Lawrence said, clicking his fingers for another round of drinks. ‘Is anything the matter?’
For a second she was tempted to tell him about Edith and their estrangement – but only for a second. If she told him she’d also have to reveal her part in the row and she shrank from doing that. Lawrence’s good opinion of her was one of the few that mattered.
‘I’ve been thinking about the war. I’m worried. Do you really think we’re safe here?’
Instead of laughing off her worries, he frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You truly believe the Japs could never capture Singapore?’
‘My dear, man has as much chance of landing on the moon.’ As the foxtrot segued into a waltz he reached for her hand. ‘Come on, let’s dance those blues away.’
The next morning, feeling unaccountably nervous, she studied her wardrobe. What to wear for her meeting with Edith? She picked out a dress, then tossed it on the bed. It was too low cut. A skirt and blouse ensemble landed on top of the dress. Skirts and blouses were all very well for workwear, but simply wouldn’t do otherwise. She wanted to appear repentant, not frumpy.
The best part of an hour had passed and clothes were heaped on her bed and floor before she settled on a simple cotton frock with pearl buttons that reached almost, but not quite up to the neck, and which was inoffensively bland, without being too matronly. There was, however, no way she was going out without the full make-up; foundation, deep red lipstick and blusher. When her face was made up to her satisfaction, she wound her long hair into a victory roll. She picked up her white cotton gloves, pinned her wide-brimmed straw hat into place and slipped on a pair of heels. Pleased that she struck the exact note she intended, she told the houseboy to call for a rickshaw.
Outside, the combination of heat, noise and smells was intense; rickshaws jamming the narrow streets, locals crouching over fires cooking meals to sell to passers-by, little yellow Ford taxis scooting about, tooting their horns at ponderously slow-moving bullock carts getting in their way, the smell of dung merging with spices, the dazzling shimmer of the sun on the sea,
The British military hospital was a modern, large, three-storey white building with red-tiled roofs and verandas, surrounded by lush, tropical gardens.
Georgina stopped a nurse who was heading back to the hospital having wheeled a patient towards a waiting ambulance.
‘I’m looking for Sister Guthrie. Might you be able to tell me where I can find her?’
The nurse looked at her blankly. ‘Sorry. Don’t know the name. There’s so many nurses coming and going these days, it’s difficult to keep track.’
She was about to turn away when Georgina grabbed her arm. ‘Is there anyone who might know?’
‘Home Sister, probably. You’ll find her in the sisters’ mess. Those buildings over there.’ She pointed to a group of bungalows on the edge of the hospital grounds.
Georgina made her way through the benches and chairs occupied by patients, following a path that led to the bungalows. There were three in a row. She chose the middle one and found Home Sister in the hall.
‘Excuse me, Sister, but I’m looking for Sister Guthrie.’
‘Sister Guthrie? I’m not sure I know that name.’
‘She’s with the 21st Combined Unit.’
‘Oh, them! They were sent up north. They left last night.’
‘They can’t have done! My sister said she wasn’t leaving until this morning.’
‘Orders can change at any moment. Let me check and see if she left a message for you.’
She left Georgina kicking her heels in the corridor. It seemed an age before she returned.
‘Found this.’ She handed Georgina an envelope with her name written on it in Edith’s elegant writing and waited while Georgina read it. It didn’t take long.
Georgina,
I’m afraid my unit has been sent up north sooner than we expected. I would have sent you a note but I really don’t think us meeting up would serve any purpose, except to embarrass us both. Everything we have to say to one another has already been said.
Despite everything, I wish you well.
Edit
h.
So there was to be no reconciliation. It had been so long and with Harriet’s death there was only the two of them. Surely with the war raging, no one knowing how long they might survive, Edith might have let bygones be bygones?
‘Is there anything else?’ Home Sister asked. ‘Because I have a sick nurse to see to.’
‘No, thank you.’
Home Sister opened the door and Georgina stepped out and back into the oppressive heat.
Damn Edith and her stubbornness. She would write to her one more time, but really she’d done enough grovelling. It was up to Edith now.
Chapter Thirty
Charlotte
1984
The grandfather clock in the hall struck seven and Georgina looked at me, a startled expression on her face, as if she’d forgotten I was there. ‘Goodness me, is that really the time? I need to freshen up before dinner.’
There had been no sign of Edith while we’d been talking. I’d hardly seen her. The house seemed to swallow her up only to spit her out at indeterminate intervals.
‘I’ll go and start preparing it, shall I? Perhaps you can continue with your story afterwards?’ I was seething with impatience for her to get to the crux of why they’d invited me here, although I still couldn’t see what the continuing breakdown of the sisters’ relationship had to do with what Georgina wanted to explain. They had clearly repaired their relationship since then.
I left Georgina at the foot of the stairs and went to the kitchen. I removed the trout from the pantry and a large frying pan from the shelf, almost dropping it as I did. My upper arms were aching slightly from rowing and the thing had to weigh a ton.
I set the pan on top of the stove to heat. The trout had been boned and filleted so it was ready to fry. All I needed to do was boil some potatoes – even I could manage that – and make a salad. It was no restaurant meal but it would be tasty enough.
As I cooked, my thoughts strayed back to Jamie. I had rarely, if ever, felt such an instant attraction to someone. However, I was down and anxious and bound to feel drawn to anyone who showed me a smidgen of kindness, but I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about him that drew me. It was almost as if I knew him – as if I’d always known him. I shook my head. I wasn’t usually prone to such flights of fancy. Greyfriars and its atmosphere was clearly getting to me. Moreover, losing Mum had left a chasm inside me as big as a canyon waiting for something to fill it. I couldn’t remember feeling this vulnerable and I hated it.
The aunts joined me a few minutes before everything was ready. As they had the previous night, they’d changed into fresh clothes and had done their hair.
When the fish was ready I removed the plates I had placed in the warming part of the oven earlier and set them on the worktop. Georgina rose from her chair and took a large tureen from the shelf of the Welsh dresser and set it down on the table. ‘For the potatoes. I’ll get you another one for the carrots.’
‘And what has Georgina been telling you this afternoon?’ Edith seemed to have recovered from this morning’s distress.
Georgina was watching her closely, almost as if she were ready to leap in to stop Edith in mid-sentence if necessary.
‘Why don’t we talk about Charlotte while we eat?’ Georgina said firmly. ‘Tell us more, Charlotte. Why did you become a lawyer?’
I gave them the potted version of the one I’d given Jamie.
‘Do you think right and wrong is always black and white?’ Georgina asked.
‘No, I believe that justice and the law aren’t always the same.’ More than believed, I knew they weren’t the same. Lucy had been the one really on trial, not Simon. Not wishing to mention Lucy, I told them about the Curtis case. ‘She had committed a crime – a very serious one – but it seemed to me, and thankfully the jury, that she had no choice.’
‘But shouldn’t she have to pay for her actions?’ Georgina asked, delicately disecting her trout.
‘I believe she has. I doubt the events of that night will ever leave her, or her son. I suspect she’ll be paying for what she did, one way or another, for the rest of her life.’
‘What about restitution?’ Edith asked, giving her sister a sideways glance.
‘Restitution?’
‘Is making restitution the same thing as paying for one’s sins?’
‘I’m not certain I believe in the concept of sin.’
‘What about evil?’ This time the question came from Georgina.
‘Are you asking whether I believe in evil?’
‘Yes.’
I thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. Certainly people can commit evil acts. But I also think what some people think of as an evil act might, in some cases, be attributed to mental illness – the mother who kills her child, for example.’
‘What about Hitler?’
‘Yes. There’s no doubt he was evil. I believe evil people are rarer than we think, however. And I don’t necessarily go along with the belief that the ordinary German was evil too – I’m talking about those who knew what was going on yet did nothing. I’m not sure any of us know what we would do when in fear of our lives.’
Georgina seemed pleased with my response. ‘Who was it who said “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing”?’ she asked.
If she’d wanted to pick a quote to pierce my soul she couldn’t have chosen a better one. Of course she couldn’t possibly know how meaningful it was for me.
‘It was Edmund Burke. And yes, I can see why he would say that.’ I’d finished my supper and laid my knife and fork down. ‘What did you two ladies do with your day?’
‘More questions!’ Edith muttered.
Georgina placed a hand over her sister’s. ‘Charlotte is only being polite, darling.’ She turned back to me. ‘Our days are rather uneventful. We’d much rather hear about you.’
‘I’ve agreed to meet someone tomorrow.’
Georgina frowned. ‘I didn’t realise you knew anyone in this part of the world.’
‘I only met him today.’
‘You’re meeting someone you don’t know?’
I was amused and touched by the concern in her eyes. If only she knew the low-lives I dealt with on a daily basis. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be safe enough. He’s a policeman.’
Her head snapped up. ‘A policeman! How did you meet him?’ She seemed annoyed and I bristled. Concern was one thing, this quite another. She had no right to question me as if she were responsible for me.
‘There was an incident with Tiger. She went in to the sea and got caught in a current. We had to be helped ashore.’ I held back from saying rescued and who had done the rescuing. ‘Jamie took me into his house to dry off. He’s visiting for a couple of weeks, apparently. He said he’d collect me from the pier on the other side.’
While I’d been talking, Edith had leapt to her feet, collected our supper dishes and taken them away. I heard a clatter coming from the scullery as if she’d just dumped them in the sink.
‘I really wish you wouldn’t invite anyone to Greyfriars,’ Georgina said.
‘Oh, he’s not coming here. I said I’d meet him at the pier on the other side.’
She appeared to relax.
‘I’ll row myself across and back,’ I added.
Edith returned to the kitchen. ‘When are you going? When will you be back?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll leave after breakfast and return sometime in the afternoon, I imagine.’
‘Can’t you be more precise? We have our routines, you know, and they mustn’t be upset.’
I shook off my irritation. ‘If it helps, I’ll make sure I’m back in time for supper.’
Edith looked at Georgina as if seeking her support. Georgina gave her a slight shake of her head, before turning back to me. ‘You must feel free to come and go as you please. Have a lovely time and we’ll expect you when we see you.’
After dinner, when Georgina and I had washed and put away the dishes,
that had, as I’d suspected, been abandoned in an untidy heap in the kitchen sink, we retreated to the library. Georgina offered me a sherry. ‘I don’t know about you but I think I’ll need one.’
When I nodded she filled two crystal sherry glasses from a decanter on a silver tray. She poked the fire and added some more coal. When it was blazing to her satisfaction she sat down and sighed. ‘I’m getting to the difficult part.’ She took another sip of sherry and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you know what the Japanese did in 1936?’
I shook my head.
‘They invaded China and murdered hundreds of thousands of the local population in a place called Nanking. They raped women and children in front of their relatives – daughters in front of mothers, wives in front of husbands, often out on the street – sometimes several times over and then when they were done, when their victims were half-dead anyway, they bayoneted them where they lay – laughing as they did so.’