The Secret Years

by Barbara Hannay

  From her post, she looked down to the deserted, smoking wharves, and across to a distant hill where timber houses with deep verandahs climbed the gentle slopes. One or two of the houses looked damaged and at the very top of the hill, anti-aircraft guns were positioned, partly camouflaged by rocks and sandbags.

  She wondered if she was going to die here on an alien island in the South Seas. Like Robert Louis Stevenson, she thought, although she didn’t find the thought comforting. Strangely, she felt more frightened now than she had in London during the Blitz. Of course, it had helped to be living in a large solid house with a basement and to be surrounded by familiar things. Now, if Japanese Zeroes suddenly appeared out of that bright blue sky, a mango tree wouldn’t be much protection.

  The major reappeared on the verandah and Georgina could tell at first glance that he wasn’t happy.

  ‘No need to hang about out there in the heat, Lenton. You may as well come inside.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Colonel Scanlan?’

  ‘No.’ He gave a shake of his head for emphasis. ‘It doesn’t look like I’ll get anywhere near him.’ An irritated sigh escaped him. ‘I knew they weren’t going to roll out the red carpet for us, but —’

  He hesitated, and seemed to change his mind about finishing the sentence. ‘Anyway, there’s a group of young mid-rank officers in here, and they seem pretty professional. Come with me. We’re going to have to intrude and demand a few answers. Get the job done, one way or another.’

  Georgina almost smiled at his stiff-upper-lipped British bravado as she followed him into the hall where soldiers were busily transporting boxes through a side door to a waiting truck. Three or four officers were grouped at a table, absorbed in a low-voiced, tense conversation as they sorted through documents.

  The major promptly marched to these officers and introduced himself. ‘Hello there. I’m Major Duffy of the British Army. You should have received a signal that I was coming.’

  Georgina remained at a discreet distance, looking around her at the hall, which was no more than a large room with a stage at one end, as if it had once been used as a theatre. Maps had been hung on the walls, but there was also a photo of King George VI, looking somewhat incongruous in this antipodean setting. A field telephone sat on a separate desk next to the officers, its cable lines running outside through an open window.

  At another table in the corner, a lone officer was leaning over a map spread on the table. He was tall and wore a khaki beret at a rakish angle. His hair was dark and he looked so much like Harry that her heart did a somersault.

  Oh my gosh.

  It was Harry. Thinner than before and more suntanned than ever, but every bit as handsome.

  In shock, Georgina could only stand there, staring, while her knees threatened to give way. She glanced again at the major. He had interrupted the Australian officers in the midst of their heated discussion and he didn’t seem pleased by their polite but rather curt responses.

  With a frustrated harrumph, the impatient major turned back to frown at her, then concern spread across his reddened face. ‘My God, Lenton, what’s the matter? You’re as pale as a ghost.’

  ‘I think I’ve seen someone. Someone I know.’

  ‘Who?’ Major Duffy looked understandably puzzled.

  ‘Harry. Harry Kemp.’

  The major’s eyes widened and he scanned the hall. ‘You know one of these men?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Georgina’s voice was trembling with shock. With fear. With joy. ‘The tall fellow in the corner with the beret. I – I met him in London, before he was sent to Tobruk.’

  ‘And now the poor sod’s here,’ the major muttered, almost beneath his breath. Then, ‘You said his name’s Kemp?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Right, that’s handy. These other fellows are busy, so he’s our man.’

  With that, the major zeroed in on Harry.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Kemp?’

  Harry’s head jerked up. He looked first at the major and then at Georgina. Shock flared in his grey eyes. His mouth opened but he was clearly lost for words. He swallowed. Blinked. Looked around him, as if somehow this would provide an explanation. When he looked at Georgina again, his gaze seemed to burn her.

  Major Duffy intervened. ‘I believe you know my subaltern, Lenton.’

  Harry stood stiffly, his eyes now drinking Georgina in and she longed to launch herself into his arms, to press her face to his chest, to cling to him. Claim him.

  Somehow she managed to restrain the inappropriate impulse. She held out her hand. ‘How are you, Harry?’

  ‘George.’ He sounded as shaken as he looked and his hand gripped hers tightly. ‘What in God’s name are you doing here?’

  ‘I can explain,’ Major Duffy said, smoothly overriding the tense undercurrents. ‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?’

  Harry nodded towards the door. ‘The verandah’s as good a place as any.’

  Abruptly he excused himself from the group of men at the next table, who were so intent on their discussion, they scarcely paid any attention to the interruption, and Georgina and the major followed him outside.

  There was no time for small talk.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ the major said quickly. ‘I represent the British forces out of Canberra and I’m trying to assess the situation here.’

  ‘I’m on a similar mission,’ said Harry. ‘With the 1st Independent Company, based on New Ireland.’

  ‘You’re a commando?’ Major Duffy was clearly impressed.

  Harry acknowledged this with a curt nod. ‘Selected for commando training after we left Tobruk. Came over here this morning by boat for a quick reconnaissance.’ He spoke civilly enough, but his gaze kept flicking to Georgina and he looked angry.

  ‘I regret that Lenton’s involved,’ Major Duffy said, clearly sensing the immediate source of Harry’s disquiet. ‘We hadn’t realised the situation was so desperate.’

  ‘Desperate is the word all right.’

  ‘Does this mean the defences here are as bad as they appear? From what I can see, there aren’t enough heavy weapons and artillery to stop an invasion.’

  Harry scowled at the blazing tropical sunlight and at the guns in place on the distant promontory. ‘It’s a mess,’ he said with quiet resignation. ‘Every bit as bad as it looks. The artillery is antique. Lark Force has a few mortars and machine guns. That’s it. Basically, they only have small arms.’

  ‘I see.’

  The men eyed each other solemnly and Georgina could easily guess what they were not saying. Rabaul would fall and Lark Force would be annihilated.

  Despite the heat, she felt cold. Cold with dread, with fear for the men, for herself, for her aunt and uncle.

  ‘You should both leave here now,’ Harry said next, his eyes flashing to Georgina as he rasped the words between gritted teeth.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the major. ‘I’ve got to report back. I can’t afford to be caught. We’ll get straight out on the next Catalina. I’ll organise our departure immediately.’

  Panic surged through Georgina. Surely she couldn’t be turned away without even trying to make contact with her aunt and uncle? ‘But I’ve got to get to Kokopo.’

  Harry’s gaze was as fierce as it was horrified. ‘Jesus Christ, George. Why?’

  She explained as quickly as she could about Cora and Teddy. ‘That’s why I’ve come here. I can’t leave without trying to see them.’

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘I’m sorry. It’s too late. They should have evacuated by now.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re still here. They’re stubborn, Harry.’

  He seemed to grind his teeth as if he was biting off an expletive. After scowling into the distance for several long, nerve-racking seconds, his gaze finally softened, but his throat worked as if he was dealing with a difficult emotion.

  ‘You’ll have to go with Corporal Palmer,’ he said finally, nodding to the vehicle that had broug
ht them from the harbour. ‘I presume you’ve sanctioned this, sir?’ he added, addressing Major Duffy.

  ‘Yes, yes, as long as it’s quick.’

  Harry nodded grimly. ‘Palmer’s taking a delivery to the Three Ways and Kokopo’s not much further. He can drop you off. But you’ll have to do some very fast talking with these relatives of yours.’

  ‘I will,’ Georgina assured him.

  ‘And one other thing.’ Harry spoke more gently now and his grey eyes shone extra brightly in his suntanned face.

  ‘Yes?’ Georgina almost took a step closer. She longed for him to touch her. Just a brush of his hand, a tiny kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Make bloody sure you’re back quickly and on that Catalina,’ was all he said.

  15

  ‘So you need to get to the Harlow’s plantation.’ Corporal Palmer was now wearing a helmet as Georgina climbed into the car beside him.

  ‘Yes, please. Do you know it?’

  He gave a curt, tight-lipped nod but then he frowned and, for a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something else. By the curl of his lip, Georgina suspected that he wanted to comment on the stupidity of her mission, but he must have thought better of it, for he suddenly took off, roaring along the road out of town.

  In no time they were heading through thick jungle where the air smelled dank and the tree branches, roped with dangling vines, met overhead. The road climbed through this tunnel of greenery until the forest eventually broke away and they were in open country. Here the road hugged the ridge and below she could catch views of the jewel-bright sea, looking deceptively serene and harmless.

  They passed a cluster of little thatched bamboo huts that must have belonged to natives. A similarly structured but larger building with a cross was clearly a church. Georgina saw a group of women in grass skirts with babies on their hips. Nut-brown children, naked and laughing, chased each other. Georgina had only just taken these sights in when the corporal took a sharp turn down a narrow track between lines of forest fringed by rows of coconut palms. Finally, the track opened out onto a plateau lush with spreading green lawns and gardens.

  In the middle of the gardens sat a low, sprawling bungalow, pristine white against the bright green of the vegetation. Beyond the house, natives were digging deep holes that Georgina decided must be trenches.

  ‘I’ll be back in twenty minutes to collect you,’ her stern young driver warned. ‘You’ll have to leave then, no matter what.’

  ‘Yes,’ Georgina told him. ‘I understand. Thank you.’

  So.

  Here she was – standing on the damp lawn outside a house that was different from any she’d ever seen. It appeared to be completely open, with floor-to-ceiling shutters that folded back, and the house flowed all the way into a garden filled with glossy-leaved shrubs and bright exotic flowers – bougainvillea and frangipani.

  It was appalling to think that war might destroy such a peaceful scene of natural beauty. Somehow it seemed even worse than the Nazis’ bombing of London.

  As Georgina made her way along a path made of crushed shells and pebbles, she could see the smooth-tiled floors of the house’s interior. There was an elegant cane dining table and chairs, upholstered cane lounges, huge pink pots filled with ferns and palms.

  ‘Hello?’ she called uncertainly when she reached a doorway and, just like that, a woman appeared.

  Aunt Cora. Her dark hair streaked with white, but looking as elegant as ever in an aquamarine silk blouse and slim white trousers, her feet encased in beautifully embroidered gold cloth slippers.

  Oh, God love you, Georgina thought with a fierce rush of affection. Here was her aunt, about to be invaded by a fearsome enemy, and she looked almost as glamorous as she had in her tiara and diamonds at Buckingham Palace.

  But although her aunt was keeping up appearances, she didn’t look calm. There was high colour in her cheeks and her eyes were extra bright and, when she saw her visitor, she stopped abruptly, pressing a shaking hand to her throat.

  ‘Georgina?’

  ‘Hello, Aunt Cora.’

  ‘Good heavens.’ Cora’s mouth trembled, as if she was on the verge of breaking down. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to tell you that you have to leave. There’s room on a seaplane. You can go to Australia, but you have to get out now.’

  ‘You haven’t come all the way from England?’

  ‘I was posted to Canberra and I’ve come here to New Britain with Major Gerald Duffy.’

  ‘Good heavens.’

  Now her aunt seemed to recover from her shock and she was suddenly her old self, smiling warmly, holding her arms out in greeting. ‘Darling,’ she said, pressing kisses to Georgina’s cheeks and hugging her. ‘How wonderful to see you.’ As if Georgina had arrived as a long-awaited house guest. ‘Would you like some tea? Come and sit down. I’ll get Flo to make us a fresh pot.’

  Cora gestured for Georgina to sit in one of the deeply cushioned cane armchairs.

  ‘Aunt Cora, we don’t have time for tea. The Japanese fleet is almost here. You do understand how urgent this is, don’t you?’

  Her aunt’s smile was somewhat bewildered.

  ‘The Japanese are going to —’ Georgina broke off in mid sentence as the boom-boom of an explosion sounded in the distance. ‘See!’ she cried, panic flaring in her chest.

  ‘They’ve been doing that for weeks now.’ But her aunt looked worried, even as she dismissed the explosion with a wave of her hand. ‘You’ve been through the Blitz. You know what it’s like.’

  ‘This is different, Aunt Cora. I have it on good authority. The Japanese mean to take Rabaul. It will become an important base for them. And there aren’t nearly enough Australian forces here to defend the island. I only have twenty minutes to get you out of here.’

  As Georgina said this, there was another explosion and, after it, the menacing drone of planes and the snapping of gunfire.

  Her uncle appeared from one of the house’s inner rooms. Looking very suntanned and thin, he was dressed all in white, with the loose sleeve of his open-necked cotton shirt casually knotted below the stump of his missing arm.

  ‘I heard gunfire in the distance. Sounds like things are hotting up again,’ he said, and then he stopped and stared at Georgina. ‘Good God.’

  ‘It’s all right, Teddy,’ said Cora. ‘You’re not hallucinating. Geor­gina’s come to help us.’

  ‘Good God.’ It seemed to be all her uncle could manage.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Teddy.’ Georgina crossed the room and gave him a kiss, which he returned almost absent-mindedly.

  ‘There’s a car coming back soon,’ she told him. ‘And you have to leave, Uncle. There’s a huge invasion fleet on its way.’

  With a worried frown, Teddy walked to the edge of the open verandah where he stood, his one hand sunk in the pocket of his white trousers, and looked out to the edge of the lawn where the natives were busily digging the trenches and lining them with sandbags. Beyond this, there was a gap in the trees that offered a view of the distant harbour. As he stood watching, a dark wave of planes appeared, like an enormous flock of menacing birds. Then there were streaks in the sky as bombs began to fall, followed by explosions and thick clouds of black smoke.

  Teddy turned back to them. ‘We were going to leave last week,’ he said, directing his words to Georgina. ‘There was a Burns Philp freighter, the Herstein, willing to take evacuees, but then the Australian government in its wisdom insisted they take a full load of copra. No person was to take the place of copra.’

  Georgina was so appalled she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Tears glittered in her aunt’s eyes.

  Teddy’s face twisted in an attempt to smile at her. ‘My dear, the time has come. Georgina has brought us another chance.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Cora asked him softly.

  He looked again to the natives digging the trenches and lugging sandbags, and his throat worked. A tremor seeme
d to run through him.

  Another wave of planes arrived, zooming out of the blue, arrowing straight for Rabaul.

  With a shaky smile for Georgina, Teddy said, ‘How could I not be sure when our dear little goddaughter has come all this way from England to save us?’ He gave Georgina a faint nod. ‘We’re ready. We do have a small emergency bag packed, you know.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness.’ Awash with relief, Georgina rushed to hug him.

  Teddy accepted her hug, but quickly broke away. ‘I have to tell my workers to flee. They should head for the bush.’ With that, he hurried out of the house and across the lawn to the natives working on the trenches.

  Watching, Georgina saw him speak to them, saw him patting their backs, shaking one man’s hand and then another. Her throat ached on a painful knot of emotion as one of the men hugged her uncle and wept on his shoulder.

  ‘Oh, dear Lord,’ her aunt said softly from behind her. And then, ‘I’d better get changed into something more suitable for travelling.’

  The bombing over Rabaul grew louder and the pall of black smoke plumed thickly. From time to time, there were ghastly explosions in the sky as planes were hit. The terrible thump and crump of bombing grew closer.

  ‘They’re probably attacking the airfield at Vunakanau,’ said Teddy.

  Georgina was afraid it was already too late to try to fly off the island, but she didn’t give voice to these thoughts as she sat with her aunt and uncle, drinking tea and eating Flo’s coconut biscuits, while they waited for the return of Corporal Palmer’s vehicle.

  ‘When did you say the soldier would come back?’ her aunt asked.

  Georgina looked again at her watch, dismayed to see that almost three-quarters of an hour had passed. ‘He should be here any minute.’ She tried not to sound as anxious as she felt.

  She was terribly worried, though. For all she knew, Corporal Palmer’s car had been bombed, or he might have been given orders that overrode his earlier instructions to collect her.