by Katie Flynn
Snowy took a deep drag on his cigarette, then puffed the smoke out at the cloud of mosquitoes which surrounded the entire platoon. Thinking of leeches made him remember some of the other disadvantages of jungle warfare. There were enormous scorpions whose sting was death, huge pythons which could squeeze the life out of a national serviceman before he could shout for help and, when the rivers were in spate, saltwater crocodiles which had been known to exceed twenty feet in length. Then there were the countless malarial mosquitoes, so that the men were forced to take anti-malaria medication which turned their skin yellow and was much hated. And there were bushes whose thorns could cause nasty wounds, upon which myriad flies would feast. In fact, Snowy thought, as they broke cover and approached the lorry, their eyes wincing at the bright sunlight, it was no wonder that the British troops loathed and feared the jungle and consequently disliked not just the animal inhabitants but the human ones too.
Incredible though it seemed, Snowy told himself as he and Capper climbed aboard the lorry, there were actually tribes of Malays living in that jungle, yet the troops never got so much as a sniff of them. Silent as the other creatures which were all around them yet seldom seen, the natives of this incredibly hostile habitat did not seem to have any permanent abodes but moved invisibly from one place to the next.
But we know they’re somewhere, somewhere quite near, Snowy reminded himself, because even in the impenetrable dangerous darkness the troops could feel eyes on them. They were not necessarily hostile eyes, because had they belonged to communist bandits the insurgents would have attacked already, wiping out the platoon whilst they slept. No, these eyes were curious, doubtful, and had as little desire to meet these heavy-footed intruders as the heavy-footed intruders had to meet them.
Now, Snowy and Capper were first aboard the truck and settled themselves on the narrow seats which ran along either side of the vehicle, where they were presently joined by the rest of the platoon. Cigarettes were handed round, men began to grin, to anticipate what they would do with the week’s leave that was coming to them. Snowy and Capper joined in.
When they reached the camp they dispersed to the rooms that had been allocated to them. Snowy and Capper went straight to the showers, had a meal and then went back to their room. They would sleep uninterrupted for twenty-four hours and then, having changed into civilian clothes, they meant to take their place on the truck heading for the bright lights. Despite their clothing, they knew they were immediately identifiable as soldiers, but that did not worry them. What was worrying were the prices; a soldier’s weekly pay was small and, as Capper remarked, they could only window-shop, astonished by the variety of goods which had been unobtainable in Britain before they left, and here were being bought by rich Chinese in their flashy American cars. There were enormous cinemas showing the latest films as well as five-star hotels and classy nightclubs, the enjoyment of which was far beyond the means of any lowly member of the British army.
Because Snowy and Capper were both nearing the end of their time they had been saving up so that they might buy small gifts for those at home. Snowy had his eye on a delicate silver filigree necklace for Tess, some pau shell earrings for his mother and a half-bottle of gin for his father. Capper meant to splash out for his girlfriend on a bottle of perfume and some of the brightly coloured bangles which the local girls valued and bought in large quantities in what the men termed the bazaar, but was really Chinatown. Here were shops selling cheap merchandise, and a restaurant run by a Chinese who spoke excellent English – he had lived in London before the war – and catered almost exclusively for British soldiers, for the military presence was enormous.
As the truck drove along the narrow road the next day, Snowy caught glimpses of the jungle they had so recently left and felt a deep shudder within him at the thought of returning there, for despite the fact that there was not long left before he would go back home he knew he would have to do more patrols before that happy day dawned. That meant nights spent in his basha, the hut the army provided for jungle patrols, lying beneath his mosquito netting and trying to sleep, trying to tell himself that the horrible cacophony of sounds which made a jungle night hideous held no threat provided one lay still and quiet and waited for morning. But of course it was at night that the bandits were most active . . .
The truck, jerking to a stop just outside the Capitol Cinema in the heart of the city, brought Snowy back to the present. He and Capper descended on to the pavement and exchanged delighted grins. The street was lined with stalls, each one brightly lit and containing mouth-watering displays amongst which were affordable gifts for those back home. The two men plunged into the crowds already milling along the pavements and proceeded to wander, stopping every now and then for the sheer pleasure of not being in the jungle but back in civilisation. Snowy found the necklaces and Capper began to compare bangles. Snowy had actually picked up a necklace which he thought would suit Tess, paid for it, and slipped it into his shirt pocket, when he noticed a girl coming towards him. She was slim and straight-backed, with gleaming black hair and skin the colour of honey, and she came over to the stall, picking up a couple of bangles and eyeing them wistfully before replacing them, with finicky care, on the stall.
Snowy stared at her, a frown creasing his brow. She looked familiar; in fact he was sure he had seen her somewhere before. But she was a local girl, what the other men on his patrol would have called a ‘bint’, so unless she worked at base camp . . .
As though his glance had been intense enough to be felt she rearranged the bangles and turned towards him, her delicate brows rising. Snowy felt his face grow hot; she was a respectable girl, no matter that she was a Malay, and it was rude to stare, he remembered his mother telling him so as a small boy. She might think that because she was in the bazaar and looking at bangles he might assume her to be a bad girl. She might think he was ‘pricing her up’, as his fellow soldiers would say. But as she turned back to the array of jewellery on the stall, he realised why he had thought her familiar. There was something in the way she moved, straight-backed and slim, and in the way she bent her head over the display, which reminded him of Tess. He was so surprised that he was unable to stop himself from smiling; how could he possibly think this girl was like Tess Williams? But it was not her face, or her hair; it was the way she moved, even in the delicate way she touched the many-coloured bangles. And this decided him that he had been right. She was what his mother would describe as a ‘real little lady’ and it was this that had reminded him of Tess, not the golden skin or the gleaming, coal-black hair.
Snowy had never even considered approaching a local girl, but now he put out his hand towards the bangles and smiled. ‘I was wondering which one to take home,’ he said. ‘I am going to buy one or two for my girl. Would you be very kind and help me to choose the most suitable?’
Even as the words left his lips he was shocked at himself. Here he was, a British soldier soon to be repatriated to his homeland, trying to pick up one of the local girls! She probably didn’t speak a word of English, had not understood what he said. He began to apologise but she put a slender hand on his arm, nodding as she did so. ‘Of course I will help you to choose,’ she said in only slightly accented English. ‘But you will have to tell me a little more about your young lady, if you please. Is her hair light or dark? Are her eyes blue or brown? Perhaps she likes bright colours, or would prefer gentler shades . . .’
‘She’s little, dark,’ he began, and then realised that the bangles would not do for Tess. He was going to give her the necklace. But Marilyn had been his girlfriend once, and she would love the brilliant, gaudy trinkets. The girl was waiting. Snowy rushed into speech once more. ‘Only the bangles are for my – my sister,’ he said. ‘I’ve already bought a necklace for my girl.’
The girl nodded understandingly. ‘And your sister? She is like you – fair, blue-eyed?’
Snowy nodded. ‘She’s got a – a – curvy sort of figure, she’s quite tall, taller than you, she likes
bright colours, sparkly stuff – oh, I can’t describe her . . .’
But the girl was rapidly selecting bangles, pushing them over her slender hand on to her wrist, and Snowy saw at once that, despite his fumbling attempts at description, this little Malay had chosen exactly what Marilyn would like.
‘All right?’ she asked, slipping the bangles off and handing them over to Snowy. ‘They will please your sister?’
Snowy was beginning to say they were just right and pulling his wallet out of his shorts pocket when he saw that the girl was laughing. ‘I think you have two girlfriends,’ she said gaily. ‘Two girlfriends and no sister!’ And Snowy, whilst shaking his head and laughing too, knew that she was right. He had never got over his hunger for Marilyn . . . but when he saw Tess again . . .
A minute or two later Capper, who had wandered some way ahead, suddenly realised he was alone, and came back. He looked a little puzzled when Snowy introduced him to his companion. ‘This is Lyana. She’s helping me to choose bangles,’ he said. He turned courteously to the girl. ‘Lyana, this is my friend Capper.’
The two exchanged rather awkward smiles and shook hands and Capper said: ‘But I thought you were going to buy your Tess that silver necklace?’
‘Oh yes, I’ve bought that. But there’s another girl I need a present for,’ Snowy said quickly, scowling at his pal. ‘The necklaces are pretty but they wouldn’t be suitable for her.’ He held out the bangles he and Lyana had chosen, paid for them, saw them popped into a brown paper bag and turned away from the stall to address the girl beside him. ‘Care to come along with my pal and myself to the Shackles for a meal? They have a band and a dance floor . . .’
The girl looked up at him and Snowy could read her doubts. ‘It’s all right, honest to God it is,’ he said quickly. ‘We’re dead respectable, Capper and me. We’ve both got girlfriends back home and it won’t be all that long before we get sent back to the UK. So you see, all we want is your company . . .’
He was looking down into the girl’s small, heart-shaped face and saw it suddenly lit by laughter. ‘No strings,’ she said. ‘That’s how you say it: no strings, no ropes, no shackles, just friendly company. Have I got it right?’
Snowy laughed with her. ‘That’s it exactly,’ he assured her. ‘No strings, no ties, no handcuffs, no nothing, just a nice meal and maybe a turn or two around the dance floor. Let’s go!’
Chapter Twelve
IT WAS THE evening before Tess was due to leave for Bell Farm. She had bought her train ticket, packed her haversack, got out her working overalls and stuffed her best dress into her case. Then she poured lemonade into a bottle, made a packet of sandwiches in greaseproof paper and chose a couple of apples. She thanked everyone who was helping out, kissed Albert and Gran and went to bed early, for she would have to be at Lime Street station at seven o’clock in the morning to set out on the first leg of her long journey.
As she set the alarm for six and climbed between the sheets, she reflected that she would not be surprised if, when she returned, it was to find that Gran and Albert had come to an understanding, if not actually got engaged. The thought gave her a little stab of pain. Rejection – was it going to happen to her all over again? Memories of those first unsuccessful attempts to find a foster-home for her could never be entirely forgotten, nor her own mother’s indifference to her plight. Yet there could be no doubt that marrying was the right thing for Gran and Albert. Gran managed beautifully now despite her injuries, but Albert would positively love spoiling her, seeing that she got the best of everything. And in her heart, Tess knew that it was she who was standing in the way of their happiness. Not deliberately, not out of selfishness, but because she was so afraid of being once more on the outside, looking in. It would all be different once Snowy was home, of course. She did not know whether he would ask her again to get engaged or whether they would simply marry, but she was pretty sure it would be one or the other. As the time for his release from the army drew near, Snowy’s letters had become more and more affectionate. He talked freely of the life he was leading, the ten-man patrols which penetrated deep into the jungle seeking the enemy. From reports she read in the newspapers, Tess knew that this so-called ‘emergency’ was a very real war, and a bloody and beastly one at that. There had been a photograph in the Daily Mail of a grinning national serviceman holding up the severed head of a bandit, which had roused horror in everyone who saw it and had resulted in an order that the men must, in future, bring the whole body of a dead enemy back to base camp to prove a ‘kill’.
Lying in bed now, waiting for sleep to claim her, Tess realised that she was no longer thinking of Jonty as a possible mate. Now he was simply her dearest and best friend, a young man for whom she would do anything in her power. Gran often said that she and Albert were just very, very good friends; well, that could apply equally to herself and Jonty, Tess thought; they were indeed very, very good friends. When the chips were down and storm clouds gathered it was to him that her thoughts turned, but that did not mean that they might become lovers. Satisfied that she had their relationship sorted out, Tess turned her face into her pillow and was drifting into that pleasant state between waking and sleeping when another thought occurred to her. Jonty had told her that Pamela Davies was a nurse, a sister in charge of a ward where her patients received intensive care, and that must mean that she was almost certainly older than Tess and indeed Jonty himself. Even in her sleepy state, Tess felt her mouth curve into a little smile. And it would do Jonty good to take orders now and then, instead of always being the one giving them. It will be grand to meet her at last, and forewarned is forearmed, Tess told herself just before she fell asleep. I wonder what she’ll think of me? She’ll be earning a proper salary, and she’ll be used to responsibility. She may despise me as a mere pet-shop girl. Or we may become firm friends, which would be nice. And if there was a little stab of pain at the thought of being just Jonty’s wife’s friend and having no other claim on him it soon passed, and Tess fell asleep at last.
Two days later Albert decided to chance his arm with Edie as soon as the opportunity arose. He often mentioned how well they got on together, how he enjoyed the practice which had now evolved of taking it in turns to cook Sunday lunch, how pleasant it was to finish off most days with cocoa and biscuits and a great deal of talk, either in Edie’s place or his own. When he had first hinted at marriage, however, Edie had slapped him down at once. Sitting behind the counter of the tobacconist shop now, Albert pulled a rueful face. Slapping him down was an unfair way of putting it because Edie was too kind to slap anyone down. She had merely said that whilst Tess was so dependent on her other relationships would always have to come second. She had explained, as though he did not already know it, that Tess desperately needed a family and that she, Gran, was all the family available.
‘But if you were to marry then Tess’s family would expand, wouldn’t you say?’ Albert had said hopefully, but Edie had shaken her head.
‘No, because Tess would feel that she had been supplanted and that we had shut her out. Oh, I know you’ll say her relationship with me would be quite separate from the relationship shared by us as a married couple, but that wouldn’t be how Tess would see it. She would see it as yet another rejection. It will be different when she has a man of her own.’
Now, however, Albert glanced at his wristwatch. It was five-thirty, time to close for the day. He slid off his stool and went across to the door to hang up the closed sign. It was high time, he considered, to have another go. Tess had a thriving business, which was enabling her to save a good sum of money in her post office account. She was happy and fulfilled; she and Snowy were in love and meant to marry, which meant that as far as Albert could see there was no good reason for delaying his proposal any longer. This time, he thought hopefully, he would be able to counter any argument that Tess would be made unhappy by such a move. Why on earth should she? All young things leave the nest at some stage in their development, and it was about time Tess be
gan to flutter her wings and let her gran do the same.
Every Friday Albert and the Williamses took it in turns to buy fish and chips. Tonight it was Albert’s turn, so when he had satisfied himself that all was in order in the shop he put on his coat and set off for Pownall’s, wondering whether this evening might be the right time to broach the subject nearest to his heart. However, when he presently joined Edie in the flat above the pet shop, two steaming parcels of haddock and chips in his hands, he saw at once that his proposal would have to wait. With Tess away, Edie had been working hard all day, and was clearly too tired to be confronted with yet another dilemma to resolve.
When the meal was over and they had talked companionably through the day’s business, Albert returned to his own flat, where he put the kettle on and got out the tin of shortbread biscuits Edie had made for him. He had never told Edie how lonely he sometimes felt here, but now he decided he would do so. It would have to be quite soon, however, because when Tess came back from the farm he and Edie would not have many chances to be alone.
It was a shame, he thought, that Snowy would not be home for the New Year, but Tess had said that Mrs White intended to save their Christmas, turkey and all, as a surprise for their only child. There would be crackers, a tree laden with tinsel and small gifts, a pudding flaming with brandy, and of course presents, gaily wrapped, and all at the end of January.
Albert, with his own preparations well advanced, had asked apprehensively whether they too should put off Christmas, but to his relief both Tess and Edie had shaken their heads. ‘Put off Christmas?’ Tess had said, sounding downright shocked. ‘No, indeed! Mitch and Elsie are coming round to us for a grand Christmas tea . . .’