The Forgotten Pearl

by Belinda Murrell

  Mark leant over and kissed Poppy on the forehead. ‘Why don’t you pop across and see how Maude is going with that packing?’ he suggested. ‘She can’t take much, so she may need help working out what to leave behind. It might make both of you feel better to have a chat before the ship leaves tomorrow.’

  Mark smiled at her.

  Poppy thought a moment, then jumped up from her chair and raced to the stairs, Honey chasing.

  Next door, she found Maude sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, surrounded by clothes, books, papers and shoes. A small suitcase lay open with a few items folded neatly in the bottom.

  ‘Oh.’ Maude tossed her head and busied herself with folding a navy dress.

  ‘Hi, Maude.’ Poppy twisted her pearl nervously. ‘I just wanted to come by and say sorry . . . I’m sorry about what I said the other day.’

  Maude bit her lip and shook out the dress, folding it again more precisely.

  ‘I just didn’t want to think about leaving Darwin . . . leaving home,’ Poppy confessed. ‘I didn’t mean what I said about Sydney. I guess I’m scared . . . ’

  Maude nodded, placing the dress in the bag. ‘Me too. I guess we’re all scared.’

  Poppy made a space on the floor among the clothing and plopped down next to Maude.

  ‘Of course I’d love to come and visit you in perfect Manly sometime,’ joked Poppy, pulling a comic face. ‘Just so long as you’re not embarrassed to introduce me to all your city-slicker friends.’

  Maude grinned. ‘Apology accepted. My friends would love you – as long as you don’t wear those horrible gumboots of yours.’

  Poppy leant over and gave Maude a quick hug. ‘Now, what are you going to take? We don’t want all your fancy city friends to think you’ve lost your sense of fashion up here in the wilderness – you’d be ostracised!’

  Poppy picked up one of Maude’s straw hats and perched it on top of her own unruly curls, pouting as though she was a sultry film star.

  ‘Good point,’ agreed Maude. ‘I’ll take that, but I don’t think I’ll be needing my gumboots anymore.’

  Poppy laughed, tossing the hat in the suitcase.

  The girls chatted about film and music and what they’d like for Christmas as they sorted through Maude’s clothes.

  ‘I guess you’ll be having Christmas on the ship?’ asked Poppy. ‘That won’t be much fun.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ agreed Maude. ‘Look at this.’ She held up a soiled white dress. ‘It’s the dress I wore the very first time I met you. Mrs Murata could never get the mud stains out of it!’

  ‘What a shame. Leave that behind.’

  ‘No.’ Maude folded the dress up carefully and lowered it into the rapidly filling suitcase. ‘I’ll keep it – it’ll remind me of you and all the adventures we’ve had together in Darwin.’

  Poppy grinned and squeezed Maude’s hand.

  ‘By the way, Poppy, Dad mentioned something today. The Japanese internees are being sent south tomorrow on the Zealandia as well. The Muratas should be on that ship. I thought you’d like to know.’

  Poppy winced at the reminder of the Murata family, who had been arrested just eleven days ago. ‘Where are they going?’

  Maude shrugged. ‘An internment camp somewhere down south – probably New South Wales.’

  Poppy tried to close the now overflowing suitcase. Maude sat on top of the case, squashing it down. It still wouldn’t fasten. Poppy pushed Maude off.

  ‘Sorry, old girl,’ Poppy sighed, ‘I think we’re going to have to unpack and start again.’

  At dinner that night, Bryony made an announcement. She stood inside the dining room door, wearing a floral cotton dress, her hair pulled back into a green velvet snood. She looked pale and determined, her hands twisted together nervously.

  ‘Mum and Dad, there’s something I want to tell you,’ she declared. ‘I’ve decided that I’m going to sail on the Zealandia tomorrow.’

  ‘What?’ cried Poppy. ‘Are you insane?’

  Cecilia breathed deeply.

  ‘Are you sure, Bryony?’ asked Mark. ‘What are you planning to do?’

  Bryony stood up and squared her shoulders.

  ‘I’ve decided I want to go to Sydney and train to help in the war effort.’

  ‘But you’re only sixteen,’ Cecilia objected. ‘Sydney is thousands of miles away. And you can’t stay with Phoebe – she’s living in the nurses’ quarters.’

  Bryony swallowed hard and stood firm. ‘I’ve talked to Mrs Tibbets and she said I can stay with them until I get organised. Phoebe says there are lots of girls even younger than me, training to be mechanics, telegraph operators, drivers or munition factory workers.’

  Poppy thought of her glamorous sister in filthy, oil-stained overalls, her head inside the bonnet of a car, wielding a wrench. ‘A mechanic?’ asked Poppy with a chuckle. ‘You might break a fingernail!’

  Bryony flushed. Cecilia frowned at Poppy.

  ‘I’d like to try to join the Australian Women’s Army Service,’ Bryony said.

  ‘You have to be eighteen to join the AWAS,’ objected Cecilia. ‘Why don’t you stay here and help at the hospital? That would be assisting the war effort, and you could stay at home with us?’

  ‘I don’t want to be a nurse,’ Bryony insisted. ‘I know I come from a long line of Cornish healers, but I can’t stomach the blood and gore and seeing people in pain. No, I’ve made up my mind. I could use Phoebe’s birth date and say I’m eighteen. People always say I look older than I am.’

  Cecilia searched Bryony’s face carefully. Mark glanced between his wife and daughter, noting the tension thick in the air.

  ‘What about George?’ asked Poppy. ‘I thought you were madly in love?’

  ‘George is great fun, but I’m too young to get married just yet,’ replied Bryony. ‘I want to do some things for myself before I spend the rest of my life married and having children.’

  Poppy felt surprised. She thought she knew her sister but Bryony seemed to have changed.

  ‘Bryony, I think you’re too young to go to –’ Mark began.

  ‘No.’ Cecilia interrupted him. ‘She’s not too young. Wars mean everyone has to grow up sooner than in peacetime. We know that from the last war.’

  Cecilia smiled at her husband, her eyes brimming with tears. She blinked rapidly.

  ‘Bryony, if you really want to do this, then I think you should go,’ decided Cecilia. ‘I’ll talk to Mrs Tibbets tonight and work out the details. You’ll need to get packing if you’re going on that ship tomorrow. It’ll be quick – you can’t take very much. Poppy, perhaps you’d like to help your sister?’

  Poppy stared down at her half-eaten plate of shepherd’s pie. She suddenly felt sick in her stomach. Images of disaster tumbled through her head.

  Bryony is leaving too. Bryony . . . Maude . . . Shinju . . . Mrs Murata . . . Mrs Tibbets. All these neighbours and friends on board the Zealandia. What if the Japanese bomb it? What if it is torpedoed by the Germans like HMAS Sydney just a few weeks ago? What if I never see any of them again?

  The next day the Darwin wharf was a chaotic scene as hundreds of women and children of many different nationalities were farewelled by husbands and fathers. Soldiers patrolled, supervising the embarkation. There were wails of grief, tears, hugs, lost children and scolding officials.

  Poppy searched the crowd frantically. She waved and nodded to many neighbours and school friends. Beside her, Cecilia was giving Bryony last-minute instructions and advice in a brave, bright voice. Mark checked once more that her bags were properly secured.

  At last, Poppy spied Maude and her parents. Mrs Tibbets was struggling along, carrying what appeared to be a heavy suitcase that could hardly be described as small. Mr Tibbets carried Maude’s bag, while Maude carried the pile
of blankets and calico bags.

  ‘Hurry up, Harold,’ urged Mrs Tibbets. ‘We want to make sure we secure a good cabin.’

  ‘You seem to be having trouble with that bag, dear,’ replied Mr Tibbets. ‘Would you like me to take it for you?’

  ‘No, no,’ insisted Mrs Tibbets, hefting the bag higher. ‘It’s not heavy at all.’ She jammed her oversized hat down on her head to stop it blowing away.

  ‘Maude! Maude!’ shouted Poppy. ‘I’ve come to wave you all off.’

  Maude rushed forward, dropping all of her parcels on the wharf.

  ‘Maude, pick those up,’ scolded Mrs Tibbets. ‘The blankets will get dirty.’

  Maude ignored her mother and flung her arms around Poppy’s neck. ‘I wish you were coming with us,’ Maude cried. ‘Are you sure you won’t come?’

  Poppy shook her head, her voice choked with tears. The crowd ebbed and flowed around them. Mark shook hands with Mr Tibbets and traded news about the war.

  ‘Come on, we need to get on board,’ Mrs Tibbets said, hefting her bag. ‘Hurry up, Harold.’

  ‘Keep moving, ladies,’ instructed a nearby soldier.

  ‘Make sure you write lots,’ begged Maude.

  ‘Make sure you don’t cause any trouble for the Tibbets,’ Cecilia reminded Bryony for the tenth time. ‘Give Phoebe a big kiss from me.’

  ‘Let me know if you need any more money, Bryony,’ said Mark. ‘Don’t rush into anything. Make sure it’s what you really want to do before you sign up.’

  Bryony nodded, fighting back tears as she hugged her mother. ‘I love you,’ she said, breaking into a sob. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘Be careful of strangers in the city,’ warned Cecilia, brushing the hair back from her daughter’s forehead. ‘It’s not like Darwin. Did you remember to pack your toothbrush?’

  ‘I love you, too, sugar pea,’ croaked Mark, hugging Bryony in turn. ‘Thank you, Mrs Tibbets, for looking after our Bryony. I hope she’s not any trouble.’

  ‘Goodbye. Goodbye,’ said Bryony.

  Bryony hugged Poppy, and then she was swept away with the Tibbets up the gangplank.

  ‘Love you, darling,’ called Cecilia, waving frantically. ‘Write as soon as you can.’

  Poppy stood bereft in the surging river of humanity. Belatedly, she waved up at the ship.

  ‘Bye. Take care. I’ll miss you . . .’ she whispered.

  11

  Letters

  8 April 2012

  Nanna paused, a tear trickling down her wrinkled cheek as she remembered that long-ago parting.

  Chloe sat forward, hands clasped together, mesmerised by Nanna’s story.

  Nanna pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. She smiled wanly at Chloe. ‘Sorry, darling,’ she apologised. ‘I can see it all as though it were right in front of me. I felt like a little part of me shrivelled up when Bryony and Maude sailed away on that ship.’

  ‘Oh, Nanna,’ sighed Chloe. ‘I had no idea. I’ve never heard you talk about any of this. It must have been terrifying.’

  Nanna shook herself and rose to her feet, pushing on the arms of the chair. ‘I’m getting stiff and cold sitting here. Why don’t we go out into the autumn sunshine and get some fresh air?’

  Chloe obediently stood up and stretched. She hadn’t realised how tense she had been, sitting while Nanna told her story.

  Nanna picked up the photos and yellowed letters and packed them away in the biscuit tin. Chloe was itching to read them.

  ‘Would you mind bringing down some cushions for us, please, Chloe?’

  ‘Sure, Nanna. Would you like a rug or anything?’

  ‘No, no. I’ll be fine.’ Nanna led the way down the stairs and into the garden to a love seat under a large gum tree. Chloe placed down the cushions she had brought, tucking one behind Nanna’s back.

  ‘Are you feeling better, Nanna?’ asked Chloe.

  Nanna smiled and squeezed Chloe’s hand. ‘I’m absolutely fine, thanks darling. Let’s take a look at those letters now, shall we, Chloe?’

  Nanna set the opened tin on the bench between them. She picked up the letters, flicked through them and pulled out a few.

  ‘Can you read the handwriting, Chloe? That looks like my messy handwriting, speckled with ink splotches and written in a hurry, as always! It has faded somewhat and my eyes aren’t quite what they used to be.’

  Chloe took the letter that Nanna handed her and started to read it out loud.

  Sydney

  January 1, 1942

  Dear Mum, Dad and Poppy,

  Happy New Year! How are you all? As you can see, we made it safely to Sydney this morning. The journey so far has been terrible. The ship was crowded and filthy, with not enough food or lifeboats – or even water. There were eleven people in our cabin that was only designed for four. At least we had a cabin – the Chinese women and children were crowded on the open deck, while the Japanese internees were kept locked in the hold. So many people were seasick, and we were constantly terrified that we’d run into Japanese submarines. It has been a total nightmare.

  Maude and I managed to see the Muratas down in the hold. They are all right and sent their best wishes to you all. I felt so sorry for Shinju and all the other Japanese children locked in that stinking hold with nowhere to play or run.

  Mrs Tibbets was devastated because one of the soldiers threw her silverware overboard. We were only supposed to have clothing in it up to a maximum of thirty-five pounds, and they checked each bag. Mrs Tibbets tried to argue that the notice had said we could take eating utensils and hers just happened to be silver, but the soldier threw it all over the side anyway. She has been very seasick and miserable but is much happier now that we are on dry land once more.

  We were shocked to hear that Hong Kong fell to the Japanese on Christmas Day. Who would have imagined that a British colony would be taken so easily, but apparently they were vastly outnumbered. Did you hear that the first American troops arrived in Brisbane on Christmas Eve? I laughed because we were told that the first question some of the soldiers asked was, ‘Do you speak English here?’

  It was a beautiful sight sailing into Sydney Harbour this morning – and a great relief to feel that we are finally safe. I had my first glimpse of the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. It certainly is impressive! We cruised the harbour twice today. Once coming in on the Zealandia, then again on the ferry to Manly.

  Tomorrow Maude has promised to take me into the city to explore, which will be fun. Anyway, I’ll post this now and write again soon.

  Much love to you all,

  Bryony xxx

  Myilly Point, Darwin

  January 2, 1942

  Dear Bryony,

  Merry Christmas. I hope your Christmas was more cheerful than ours.

  There were no presents. The dining room table seemed lonely with just Mum and Dad and me. Mum and I tried to cheer the place up with frangipani flowers and the best china and silverware. But it didn’t work. Mum roasted a chook with a few vegies and everyone tried to be cheery. Dad has been mooching around, looking worried. I think he really misses you and Edward and Phoebe.

  Mum has thrown herself into nursing at the hospital. She’s working long days – I think she’s trying to forget things by keeping busy. I’ve been helping at the hospital, too – making beds, emptying bedpans (yick), feeding patients and running errands for the nurses. Poor Daisy has had to work harder without us to help around the house.

  Dad is thrilled because the new hospital is nearly finished at Myilly Point. He says the operating theatres and obstetrics wards will be the best in Australia. It will certainly be a change from the ramshackle old hospital at Doctors Gully. He can’t wait for the move.

  You wouldn’t recognise the view from the verandah now. I don’t l
ike it. All the trees have been bulldozed along Fannie Bay, and hundreds of soldiers spent Christmas and New Year’s laying down rolls of barbed wire entanglements along the beachfront. They’ve built machine-gun emplacements everywhere and dug lots of funk-holes, super-funk-holes and super-duper-funk-holes! The place is full of American troops – they seem friendly but there has been some antagonism between the American and Aussie soldiers.

  There have been shortages of both beer and petrol which, as you can imagine, has made the locals very cranky. Food is getting scarce, so soldiers have been banned from the cafes and restaurants, which led to a fight where nearly all the windows in the main street were smashed again. There’ve been more problems at the wharves with strikes, and on top of that all the air-raid wardens have resigned after fighting with the Administrator. Darwin’s a mess!

  We had another air-raid warning on New Year’s Eve and spent two hours squelching in the mud of our own super-funk-hole. Apparently, a Japanese sub was detected in Darwin Harbour on New Year’s Day – scary to think they came so close! Dad says he’s going to build another shelter under the house with sandbags so at least we can stay dry. There’s no doubt everyone is getting jumpy about whether or not we might be invaded.

  Hope you enjoy your stay with the Tibbets. Give Phoebe and Maude a big hug from me.

  Much love, your sister,

  Poppy xxx

  January 9, 1942

  Malaya

  Dear Mum, Dad, Bryony and Poppy,

  Thanks for all your letters filled with wonderful, ordinary news from home. Thanks, too, for the care package. The Christmas cake and biscuits were very welcome. Poppy, did you really knit those socks??

  We received a Christmas present from the Red Cross, too, with chocolate, biscuits, barley sugar, chewing gum and cards – amazing how small things can make such a difference over here.

  Well, it’s happened – we have finally partaken in face-to-face combat with the enemy. They are like wraiths – eating nothing, disappearing in the jungle, then attacking us from nowhere. They are riding thousands of bicycles, if you can imagine it, so they cover vast distances quite quickly and silently. The cheeky chaps captured the radio station in Penang and have been broadcasting messages urging us not to fight. The monsoon is in full swing now, so it’s muddy, swampy, hot and damp. The mosquitoes are vicious but morale is still high.