Finding Darcy

by Sue Lawson

  ‘Hey guys, did I tell you I taped Gramps talking about the war last night?’ asked Lily, dribbling up the court.

  ‘Can we concentrate on the game, please?’ I asked, jogging on the spot.

  ‘For the SOSE project?’ Dylan walked beside Lily now.

  I gritted my teeth. ‘This is basketball, not at a social outing.’

  Lily continued as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Yep. It was amazing. He told me about the air-raid drills, blacks-outs in case of air-raids, that sort of stuff.’

  ‘Blackouts in Port Avenel?’ Bailey sounded impressed.

  ‘Great.’ I said, hands on my hips. ‘Now, can we get back to the game?’

  Laura pulled a face. ‘Darce.’

  Lily tucked the ball against her side. ‘His mum knitted and baked for Red Cross parcels.’ She bounced the ball from hand to hand.

  ‘Double dribble. That’s our ball.’ I snatched it from her.

  ‘Bloody hell, Darce. What’s up with you?’ said Bailey, looking at me as though I’d bitten the head off a kitten.

  Dylan stood beside them, frowning. ‘Yeah, settle, Darcy. We not playing for money, you know.’

  ‘But this is fun,’ I said, looking from one angry face to the next.

  ‘Oh yeah. Uh huh. This is fun,’ said Ava, her face more purple than red.

  ‘You know what, Darcy. Enough.’ Lily walked off the court.

  ‘I need a drink and a sit down,’ said Ava, following.

  I smiled at Bailey. ‘So, you and me against Loz and Dylan?’

  Eyes clouded, Bailey opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘How about we forget it for today?’ said Laura.

  Dylan, the most competitive of all of us, nodded. ‘Too intense for me, mate.’

  ‘Tomorrow then?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Dylan, heading for the drink taps.

  At lunchtime The Newt caught me while I was eating my lunch. ‘Ms Abbott. A moment of your time,’ he called out

  I walked towards him, uneaten sandwich in my hand.

  ‘How’s your religion, Ms Abbott? What was is it? Pacifistism?’

  ‘Something like that. It’s okay.’

  The Newt smiled.

  ‘Good. Ms Abbott, I wanted to talk to you about your project.’

  ‘I’m gathering heaps of stuff,’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t realise I was exaggerating.

  ‘Good,’ he nodded. ‘I’ve given your approach much consideration, and in fairness to the rest of the class, I’ve decided you must include memorabilia, photos. The things I discussed in class.’

  I thought of the photo and newspaper clipping. ‘I have a few things, Sir, but don’t expect much. It’s not like I can ask. Grandma Betty gets the shakes and Granny just goes off if I even look like mentioning the war.’

  The Newt frowned.

  ‘I’ll do more than the others, Sir, I promise. It’ll be better, longer.’ Place of Death at sea rolled through my mind. Time to gamble. ‘I’ve already done heaps. I know my great-grandfather fought the Japanese and died in the Pacific.’

  ‘Well done, Ms Abbott,’ said The Newt smiling. ‘That’s more than I expected you to have at this stage.’

  ‘So, you won’t fail if I only have a few pieces of memorabilia?’

  ‘Your mark would be better if you worked with your family.’

  ‘But you won’t fail me?’

  ‘No, Ms Abbott, if your project is thorough, I won’t fail you.’

  ‘Thanks heaps, Mr Newtown.’

  ‘One more thing, Ms Abbott,’ said The Newt before I could leave. ‘This name-calling, the Amazon nonsense. They’re hormonal twits, ignore them.’

  ‘I’m trying, Sir.’

  ‘What was that about?’ asked Bailey, when I returned to the group.

  ‘The current obsession—SOSE projects.’

  ‘That reminds me. Did I tell you that people drove with their car lights off at night during the blackout?’ asked Lily.

  While Lily and the others swapped war stories, memories flooded my brain.

  Misery’s fury when Mum bought the Honda Accord to replace her battered Holden.

  Misery’s tantrum at the Goodman Electrical salesman over Japanese-made products in the store.

  Misery’s refusal to eat Mum’s sushi.

  Misery’s going off during an ABC news story about a Japanese princess giving birth to a boy.

  Misery calling Asian people ‘Nips’ and ‘Japs’.

  Until now, I’d thought these incidents, and a thousand more like them, were Misery being … well, Misery. I hadn’t thought Misery had a reason for carrying on like that.

  Laura! Misery was okay to Laura’s mum, Julie, but scathing to her dad, Hal. Misery hated Laura because her dad was Japanese.

  What had happened to Misery’s dad to make her so filled with hate?

  ‘Darcy?’

  ‘Earth to Darcy?’

  My friends’ faces were puzzled. Worried.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Laura.

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  Dylan raised his eyebrows. ‘We’ve been talking to you.’

  ‘Sorry, my ears are kind of blocked,’ I said, poked the left one for effect.

  Laura didn’t look convinced.

  VX23813 D C FLETCHER 2/22nd BN, Rabaul 7th January, 1942 Dearest Betty and Babes, This is just a quick note to let you know I am safe and well. The yellow Bs visit daily now, but they are nothing to worry about. They buzz overhead like mossies. Nothing we can’t handle. I hope you are well. My love and hugs to you all. Stay strong—it won’t be long till I am home. All my love, Charlie

  Chapter Twenty

  Dodgy green filling oozed out the sides of Dylan’s sandwich. He noticed my screwed-up nose. ‘Gherkin spread and cheese. Don’t knock it until you try it,’ he said.

  ‘Whatever,’ I said, nose still scrunched. ‘Three-on-three today, guys?’

  Dylan glanced at Bailey who gave Laura a strange look.

  ‘What?’ I said, rewrapping my untouched Vegemite sandwich.

  ‘How about we give basketball a miss, Darce?’ said Laura.

  I looked from her to the others. None of them would meet my eyes.

  ‘Actually, I forgot. I have this thing I have to do.’ I leapt to my feet. If I couldn’t exercise, burn fat, I might as well do more research for my project. ‘Catch you later.’

  ‘Darcy, you must book Internet time,’ said Ms Farrow, the librarian, with a shake of her head. It was hard to tell if the rattling sound was the bones in her thin face or the beaded cord hanging from her glasses.

  ‘I know, Ms Farrow, and I would normally. But it’s kind of an emergency.’

  ‘Darcy, have you neglected your homework?’

  I hadn’t noticed before now how low and slow her voice was.

  ‘It’s not homework. It’s … Well, I’m staying with Granny and she doesn’t have the Internet, or even a computer. And I have this stuff I have to look up for Mr Newtown.’

  ‘Mr Newtown, oh, I see.’ It was as if a burst of energy had zipped through her. ‘Just this once, Darcy.’ She motioned for me to come behind the library desk. ‘Use my computer.’ She led me to her office and pulled out the computer chair. ‘Be sure to let Marshall know I arranged it for you. Is it the Vietnam war you’re after?’

  ‘Umm, no Second World War, actually,’ I said.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Vietnam’s later in the semester.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Ms Farrow.’ I sat down and watched her trot back to the front counter. The pens on Ms Farrow’s desk were the same brand and all had caps. None were chewed. All the pencils were yellow, with erasers on top and the four in-trays were labelled ‘Notes’, ‘To Do’, ‘File’ and ‘Post’.

  ‘Weird,’ I said, typing in my school password.

  Where did I start? On the spur of the moment I typed in the word Vietnam and scrolled through to find out that there had been over 500 Australian casualties during the conflict.

  I shook my head. This wasn’t
helping my project at all. I followed the same thread that had led me to Rabaul—The Fallen website.

  Rabaul. What was that? An army term? A place? A tropical disease?

  That’s where I’d start.

  Rabaul returned 571,000 hits. The first, about a volcano, didn’t help me learn anything about the 2/22nd Battalion or D C Fletcher, but it did tell me about Rabaul.

  Rabaul

  Situated on the northeast corner of New Britain, Rabaul (ra’boul) overlooks Simpson Harbour, a natural harbour created by volcanic explosions.

  Prior to World War II, Rabaul was a thriving town and port, acting as the administrative capital of New Guinea territory from 1920 to 1941. Its chief export was copra, dried white coconut flesh from which coconut oil is extracted.

  The town was nearly destroyed in 1937, after a volcanic eruption, and suffered severe damage during World War II when it became Japan’s major naval and air base for its intended invasion of Australia.

  Rabaul means ‘mangrove’ in Kuanua, the language spoken by the Tolai people of New Guinea.

  After saving the information to a word document, I checked Rabaul on a map web page.

  Rabaul was at the top of New Britain. The town curled around the bay, but wasn’t big or important enough to have roads marked on the satellite map. New Britain was small, too, smaller than New Zealand. I zoomed in and out, repositioning the map until I could see how close Rabaul was to Australia. It was a little north of Papua New Guinea. My skin tingled. So close to Australia.

  I decided to look up the places where my great-grandfather had trained—Trawool and Bonegilla – on the map page too. Trawool was a tiny town near Seymour. Close to Melbourne, but a long way from Port Avenel.

  Bonegilla was even further north, near Albury/Wodonga, on the edge of the Hume Weir. Mum and I had spent a weekend in Albury when I was in Year 4. I remember the trip took forever and that it had been seriously hot when we arrived.

  With the cursor, I traced the road between Trawool and Bonegilla, the Hume Highway, wondering what it would be like to march that far.

  My computer time was ticking away. I closed the map page and returned to the results of my Rabaul search. The next hit was Rabaul—Paradise and Hell. It sounded like the title of a TV show Mum would watch, but I was desperate too. I opened the page. Across the banner were three links—Volcanic Activity, Paradise and Japanese Invasion—1942.

  ‘Please,’ I whispered as I clicked on Japanese Invasion.

  Japanese Invasion of Rabaul, New Britain

  With the threat of attack by the Japanese Army growing, the Australian Army sent the 2/22 Battalion (Lark Force) to Rabaul, New Britain, to protect the thriving port and to work on the town’s airfields.

  The 1200 men of Lark Force arrived in Rabaul in March 1941, supported by the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles, an Air Force Squadron and a small shore-based Naval Detachment.

  On 4 January 1942, Japan began air attacks on Rabaul, culminating in a seaborne invasion on 23 January, 1942. The invading Japanese forces quickly overwhelmed the small garrison.

  While some men escaped, the Japanese captured most of Lark Force.

  In June 1942, the Japanese loaded the prisoners, comprising 850 enlisted men and 200 civilians, on to the unmarked Japanese prison ship, the Montevideo Maru, to be shipped to Hainan Island. The Montevideo Maru was hit by an American submarine torpedo and sunk off the Philippine island of Luzon. There were no survivors.

  The sinking of the Montevideo Maru remains the largest maritime disaster in Australian history, with more Australians dying in this single incident than died during the Vietnam War.

  Rabaul became the major centre of Japanese naval and air operations in the South Pacific, finally being freed from occupation in August 1945, after the Japanese surrender.

  My hands shook and my scalp prickled. D C Fletcher must have been a prisoner of war and he must have died aboard the Montevideo Maru. That would explain the lost at sea. But it didn’t explain the presumed. And if more people died on the ship than in the Vietnam war, why hadn’t I ever heard of it before?

  ‘Darcy, the bell is about to go.’ said Ms Farrow, poking her head through the open door.

  ‘Thanks, Ms Farrow.’ My voice sounded strange. ‘I’ll just save this.’

  ‘Where were you?’ asked Laura, waiting outside the classroom.

  ‘The library.’ I glanced through the window where the others were in Neanderthal formation.

  ‘The library? Bailey and I were sure you’d found some other suckers to exhaust.’

  ‘Nah, just catching up.’ I leant against the wall. ‘Not having a computer is a pain in the butt.’

  ‘Darce, you look pale.’

  ‘It’s the lack of exercise.’

  Laura nodded. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘What else would it be?’ I hadn’t meant to snap.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just…’

  ‘Time for class, ladies,’ said Broady, lurching down the path.

  I pushed off the wall. ‘Hooray.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Laura, jerking her head at the milk-crate-like thing Broady wheeled behind her.

  ‘That, ladies, is a cart to transport textbooks. An occupational health and safety initiative. Nifty, isn’t it?’

  Laura rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘Nifty?’

  My laugh sounded more like I was choking.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I shook out Misery’s undies and pegged them to the line. How could she wear such massive knickers? Then again, if I didn’t start doing more exercise, I’d be wearing undies that size by the end of term, too.

  Up until the past few weeks, I’d not given my body much thought. I’d always figured I was tall and shapeless. But since Neanderthal and Sarah had started with the names, I couldn’t help wonder if I was delusional. Maybe I did look like a man—a large man at that.

  ‘Margaret should plant more roses out here.’ Batty’s voice startled me.

  She leant on her walking stick behind me. ‘How did … Did you walk down here alone?’ I asked, looking at concrete steps leading from the back porch.

  Batty smiled. ‘I’m not as feeble as Margaret makes out, Darcy.’

  ‘But your hips.’

  ‘Ahhh.’ She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

  As if I didn’t have enough to deal with. Someone had stolen my great-grandmother and replaced her with an alien. Either that or Batty was flipping out.

  ‘Darcy, I wanted to talk to you…’

  My stomach iced over. She knew I’d been snooping.

  ‘…about your school work.’

  Relief washed over me. ‘Which bit?’

  ‘The subject where you’re learning about the war.’

  Japanese, Rabaul, Prisoner of War, Montevideo Maru —these words danced in my mouth.

  A magpie carolled in the gum tree.

  ‘Mr Newtown’s got a war bug.’

  ‘Mum, for heaven’s sake,’ yelled Misery from the back steps. ‘What are you doing down there? If you fell…’

  ‘Here we go,’ muttered Batty.

  I grabbed the empty washing basket and slipped my free arm through Batty’s.

  While we walked to the back door, Misery paced and raved. ‘Do you think I have time to visit you in hospital if you fall and break your pelvis?’

  I thought about warning Batty not to answer.

  ‘Great meal, Mum.’ Boof shovelled lamb laden with mint sauce and gravy into his mouth.

  ‘Thank you, James,’ said Misery.

  ‘It’s delish, Granny.’ This morning, wedged between Misery and Batty at church, I’d decided to try harder with her.

  Misery sucked air in through her teeth. ‘Darcy, the word is delicious.’ She shook her head. ‘And stop wolfing your food.’

  My face burnt.

  ‘It’s great to see a girl with a normal appetite,’ said Boof, shifting in his seat. ‘That stuff in the paper about eating disorders is terrible.’

  ‘Eating
disorders?’ Misery snorted. ‘Darcy?’

  Batty prickled beside me. ‘How’s the new milk vat, Boof?’

  Misery’s fork clanked against the plate. She hated Boof’s nickname more than conversations about the farm.

  ‘Bloody thing is huge, Grandma, but it’s great. Did I tell you it came with a holiday to the Gold Coast for two adults and two kids?’

  ‘Cool,’ I said, trying to regain my new try-harder attitude.

  Misery looked up, her eyes glittering. ‘And just who would you be taking, James?’

  I pressed peas, the colour boiled out of them, onto my fork, imagining Misery’s face on each one.

  ‘Maddie and Declan, of course, and Darce, if she’d like to come.’

  ‘Serious?’

  Boof smiled, his eyes softening. ‘Absolutely, Darce. If Max is okay with it.’ He looked up at Misery, who scowled at the opposite end of the table. ‘Tough, Mum.’

  ‘Darcy, hold your fork properly,’ barked Misery, her face flushed.

  ‘For God’s sake.’ Boof tossed his napkin onto his plate. ‘Give the kid a break.’

  ‘A break?’ Misery clucked her tongue. ‘I’m trying to help the child.’

  ‘Help?’ Boof leant forward. ‘You’re being a pain in the … Do have any idea how lucky you are to have Darcy living with you?’

  ‘This is my home—’

  Batty’s voice ripped through the tension. ‘This family has suffered enough. Must we be so harsh with each other?’ Her hands, either side of her placemat, shook. ‘Boof is right. We’re lucky to have Darcy with us.’

  ‘How dare…’ Misery stood, knocking her chair to the lino. ‘I will not put up with this in my home.’ She marched from the room.

  Boof gathered our plates and slammed them on the kitchen bench. ‘You two should stay with me.’

  ‘There’s enough going on at your place, Boof. Darcy and I are fine.’

  Doors slammed down the hallway.

  Boof gripped the sink. ‘Are you sure? Because it’s no problem.’

  I wanted to burst into tears and beg Boof to take me with him.

  ‘Of course,’ said Batty.

  ‘Darce?’ Boof’s dark eyes reminded me of Mum.

  ‘It’s okay, Boof, honest.’

  Boof came back to the table and squeezed my shoulder. ‘Darcy, you only have to call. You too, Grandma.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Better spread that fertiliser before it rains. If it rains.’