by Sue Lawson
My phone buzzed in my hand.
‘You could have sent me a text,’ I whispered.
Mum laughed. ‘It’s quicker if I call. Predictive text drives me nuts.’
‘I’ll teach you how to use it, when you get home.’
‘That’d be great, Darce.’ Mum’s voice was like sunshine. ‘I’m leaving now, so I should be home after seven.’
‘Great,’ I groaned.
‘What?’ asked Mum, an edge to her voice.
‘That’s three-and-a-half hours. Misery’s filled her basket with cleaning stuff.’
‘Bad luck for you, Darce, but great luck for me.’ Mum sounded more relaxed.
‘In case you don’t recognise me, I’ll be the exhausted Cinderella type.’
Mum laughed. ‘See you soon, Darce. I can’t wait.’
‘Me either.’
I took one last look around Boof ’s room before lugging my gear to Misery’s car.
Misery turned into a cleaning cyclone, which wouldn’t have been bad, except she had me cleaning everything, even the window frames, too. It seemed a complete waste of time. Mum had scrubbed the place before she left for Melbourne.
While we’d finished cleaning, Batty cut flowers in the garden. By the time we’d finished she had vases of roses, daisies and lavender in every room, even the toilet.
Misery wrinkled her nose when I lit a stick of Mum’s sandalwood incense.
‘Smells like that hippy shop on Riverside Road. Dreadful smell wafts all the way to the supermarket.’
Batty sniffed.
‘I don’t mind it, actually.’
After eating crispy fish and chips, my first take-away meal since Mum had left, Misery and Batty collapsed in front of the ABC news.
I decided to finish unpacking. As I took the photo of me and our old dog, Licca, who died last year, from a frame, replacing it with the photo of Charlie and Alby, the lights of Mum’s car filled my room.
Through my open window, I could hear waves breaking on the shore.
Mum lay beside me, on top of the doona. The shadows from the lamp on my bedside table made her look tired. Her hair smelt of flowers. ‘I didn’t think they’d ever go, Darce.’
Batty had drunk tea and eaten yo-yos, ignoring Misery’s loud sighs. Batty would have had a third cup of tea if Misery hadn’t announced it was time they left and stalked to the door.
‘Turns out Batty loves a chat,’ I said to the ceiling.
‘I knew something good would come out of me being away. You and Grandma have developed a lovely relationship. Though, I’m not sure about calling her Batty.’
‘It’s her idea, Mum.’
‘So, what’s going on with Grandma?’
‘What do you mean?’ I glanced at Mum.
‘She looks at your face now, Darcy, and she stayed awake while we were talking. She laughed, really laughed and she was wearing lipstick. Do you think she’s found a man?’
‘Mum!’ I squealed. ‘That’s horrible.’
‘It’s not horrible. She’s changed.’
I grinned. ‘Maybe she’s feeling better since staying with Misery. That was the point wasn’t it?’
‘I notice you aren’t calling Mum Misery to her face.’
I blushed. ‘I like living.’
‘Darce, apart from the fight with Mum, has everything been okay while I was away?’
If I looked into her eyes, she’d know I was lying. ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘So nothing big has happened?’
Mum’s questions wrapped around me like one of those massive snakes, only instead of trying to squeeze life from me, she was trying to squeeze answers.
‘Just the usual. You know, Neanderthal calling me names.’
‘Amazon again?’
‘Nothing I couldn’t handle, Mum.’
She frowned. ‘Maybe it’s time I spoke to Father Erwin about that.’
I groaned. ‘Mum, please. It’s nothing. Anyway, I’m not supposed to know, but Misery dealt with it.’
‘Mum dealt with it?’ Mum just about yelled. ‘Darcy, it must have been bad.’
‘It was nothing. Seriously.’
I wished I’d not gone there.
Mum leant closer. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’
‘Give it a break.’ A thought niggled in my head. ‘Actually, there is something. When you were away … Why didn’t you ring more? I know Misery said not to at first, but after that … I mean, you even bought me a mobile.’
‘Why didn’t you text or phone me?’
I glared at her. ‘I asked first.’
Mum’s breath in was slow. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘Darce, whenever I heard your voice, I wanted to come straight home. I thought it would be easier if I just, well, didn’t call much.’
‘Easier for who?’
Mum placed her hand on my arm. ‘For me. And you.’
‘It sucked, you know. It was as if you’d forgotten me. Or were punishing me.’
‘Wonder who I learnt that from?’
My face felt hot. ‘Mum!’
‘I admit I was mad with you. Hurt. But that wasn’t why I didn’t ring.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘Darcy, you’ve lived with Mum now … She…’ Mum wriggled. ‘Darcy, I did a Mum. I stuck my head in the sand and pretended everything was fine. I was wrong and I’m so sorry.’
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. ‘I’m sorry too, Mum, for being—’
She caressed my cheek. ‘Darce, we’ve both stuffed up. Let’s just learn from it, okay?’
I nodded. ‘Mum, tomorrow, Batty, Boof and Misery are coming with me to the RSL opening. Will you come, too?’
‘Of course. I’d love to. Do you have to do anything?’
I shook my head. Real honesty and openness could wait until after tomorrow. ‘Just be there.’
Mum hugged me. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you, too, Mum, but ease up on the hugging. The blankets on Misery’s bed crushed my ribs.’
Mum laughed and hugged me again. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too, but I’m not joking about my ribs.’
Mum laughed as she walked to the door. ‘See you in the morning, Darcy Jane.’ She switched off the light.
‘Mum,’ I said, hoping Mum’s ‘Darcy radar’ wouldn’t work in the dark. ‘Tomorrow, after the opening, can we go down to Mavin Point? For a walk on the beach. It’d be good for Batty.’
‘As long as she’s up to it,’ said Mum.
‘She will be.’ I grinned into the darkness.
Chapter Forty
Instead of waking feeling fantastic after sleeping in my own bed for the first time in ages, I woke feeling drained and unsettled. All night, strange dreams kept waking me. By the time I woke I could only remember one. I was in the cubby decorating mud pies with gum nuts for Maddie and Dec. When I placed the pies on the table, instead of Maddie and Declan, a man sat on the red chair, his face hidden by a hat. He took off his hat as I placed the pie on the table. It was Charlie, his hair and clothes saturated. I sat on the chair beside him. When I looked at his face again, it wasn’t Charlie, but Dad.
The dream stayed with me until we arrived at the RSL, then nerves swamped it, washing it from my mind.
At church, school ceremonies or anywhere there were heaps of people, I’d try to sit somewhere discreet and hidden. Clearly they were two words Batty hadn’t heard of.
While Laura and I checked in with The Newt, Batty led the charge, or limp, to the front row. Boof, wearing his pink shirt, jacket and jeans, Misery and Mum, wearing a puzzled expression, followed.
Batty winked at me across the room and patted the empty chair beside her.
‘Girls, this is the slideshow I’ll run while you present your projects,’ said The Newt, opening a file on his laptop.
Laura’s slides included maps of Japan, the Pacific and New Guinea with arrows marking the areas where her grandfather lived, trained and fought. There were photos o
f Laura’s great-grandfather, Shigeru, in army uniform and of him when he returned—missing his left arm. Pictures of the diary he kept and an explanation of terms like bushido, seppuku, and banzai.
The last photo reminded me of the photo I found in Batty’s drawer—the photo of Charlie, Batty and their children, under the gum tree.
Shigeru, dressed in army uniform, stood rigid behind his seated wife. His wife held a baby. Beside her stood a little boy wearing shorts.
When the photo of 2/22 Battalion’s C Company filled the screen, my stomach flipped out in a major way.
What if Batty cried?
What if Misery stormed out?
What if Mum lost it?
What if no one came to the beach afterwards?
I watched images fill the screen. Photos of Charlie and Alby, the Montevideo Maru, the beaded belt, the prisoner of war letter, the newspaper article that told Batty that Charlie was dead, the official telegram she received months later and a map of Rabaul and New Britain.
Again, seeing how close Rabaul was to Australia, my mouth became dry. Charlie had been so close to home, and still there was no withdrawal or extra troops sent. And there had been no rescue.
‘Cool job, Mr Newtown,’ said Laura, as the slideshow finished.
I croaked in agreement.
The Newt frowned. ‘Are you all right, Ms Abbott?’
I nodded. ‘Fine.’
A woman in a navy suit and holding a clipboard bustled over. ‘We’re ready to start, Marshall.’
‘Ms Tanaka, you stay with me.’ The Newt placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘You sure you’re all right?’
‘I’m fine, Mr Newtown, truly.’
‘Then let’s begin. Your contrasting histories will make this a special presentation. Very emotional.’
He had that right.
‘Sit with your family, Ms Abbott. I’ll call you when it’s your turn.’
As I walked away, Laura grabbed my school dress. ‘You okay? You’re white.’
‘I’m okay. Just worried how Misery will take this. And Batty.’
‘They’ll love it Darce. But they probably won’t talk to me again.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You said it, there are two sides to this story.’ I squeezed Laura’s arm.
‘Hard to imagine we’d have hated each other sixty years ago.’
‘Sure is. But it’s not hard to imagine Misery hating anything, then or now.’
The Newt waved for Laura to join him by the stage.
‘Looks like you’re up, Loz.’ As I hugged her, her father, Hal, strolled over.
‘Break a leg, Laura-Li,’ he said, squeezing her shoulder.
My stomach pinched. I looked away.
‘You too, Darcy. I’m very proud of my two girls.’ Hal wrapped his other arm around my shoulder. ‘Darcy, did Laura tell you everything is set?’
‘Oops! Darce, everything’s set,’ said Laura.
Hal rolled his eyes at me.
‘Thanks. You’re both legends!’
‘Meet you at Mavin Point after this.’ Hal grinned and nodded to The Newt, who was turning inside out to attract our attention. ‘Laura, go, before The Newt has a stroke.’
I held Batty’s papery hand through the introductions, official speeches, the string quartet performance and Laura’s presentation.
‘That was so moving,’ said Batty, when Laura had finished. ‘I didn’t realise … well, war’s a dreadful business.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course, our project is better.’
I expected her to wink, but instead, she sat head high, face serious. There was something else—eagerness.
At the end of the row, Mum looked like she was sitting on thumbtacks. As soon as the official stuff had started, she’d twisted and turned, giving me weird looks. I just gave her a ‘don’t-speak-this-is-an-official-function’ look.
Batty squeezed my hand, hard. The pain opened my ears. The Minister for Defence was introducing me. From the side of the stage, The Newt nodded.
‘Batty, what if Misery and Mum disown me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She held my face in her hands. Darcy, if I was any prouder, I’d explode.’
She kissed me and shoved me forward.
The Newt handed me the folder containing my project. ‘You’ll be sensational, Darcy.’
I stepped up to the lectern. If only I’d tuned out for the entire official ceremony, instead of hearing one piece of information. That the refurbished Port Avenel RSL could accommodate 800 people. I’d say there were at least 1000 squished into the place today. Every seat was filled and people lined the back and side walls.
My heart thudded somewhere between my chest and mouth. My ears buzzed. My left leg shook. I clutched the lectern to steady myself, focusing on Laura and her parents who beamed at me.
Behind them, Neanderthal and his dad leant against the wall. I swear Neanderthal smiled. Not a sneering smile, but a ‘good luck’ kind of smile.
In the front row, Boof wiggled his eyebrows at me. Misery appeared detached, as though her mind had left her body. Mum looked set to explode.
Batty, who’d moved to my seat, sat straight, chin lifted and eyes on me. She twisted her wedding ring around and around her finger.
My shaking leg steadied. This was my chance to tell Batty and Charlie’s story. The story of the 2/22 Battalion.
I opened the folder.
Charlie and Alby, arms around each other’s shoulders, beamed at me.
I looked at the audience. ‘I’m Darcy Abbott, and this is the story of my great-grandfather, Darcy Charles Fletcher…’
Mum’s gasp was loud enough for me to hear from the lectern.
‘…the men of the 2/22nd Battalion, Lark Force, and the largest maritime disaster in Australian history, the sinking of the prisoner of war ship, the Montevideo Maru.’
And just like that, I told the story. Not reading like Laura, but talking about Charlie, the Japanese invasion of Rabaul, how Lark Force was abandoned by the Australian Government to face the Japanese without reinforcements or rescue and about Charlie’s capture and his death aboard the Montevideo Maru.
I told of Batty’s long wait and about children who never knew their father. I read Charlie’s last letter to his family and part of the newspaper article that had told Batty of Charlie’s death.
I didn’t notice if people fidgeted, stared into space or listened without moving. My attention was on one person—Batty.
Her expression changed from sad, to angry to peaceful, but the whole time her eyes shone with pride. A tear trickled down her cheek when I spoke about the controversy surrounding the Montevideo Maru and the theories about how the men might have died.
‘I hope that in sharing Charlie’s story with you, what happened to him and the other men aboard the Montevideo Maru will be heard and remembered at last. More than that, I hope we remember the men who fought and died for us as real men—men with families who loved them, men who punched cows in fury and whose favourite colour was the emerald of the Port Avenel hills in spring.’
I met Neanderthal’s eyes. ‘Finally, I’d like to thank Nathan Thackery and his dad, Scott, for their help. Most of all, I need to thank my great-grandmother, Betty Fletcher, for her courage in sharing Charlie’s story with me, and for letting me share it with you. Thanks, Batty.’ I closed my folder.
Applause thundered over me. Pride and grief gathered in my chest, swelling until it hurt. Batty sticking her fingers in her mouth and whistling, released the pressure. I laughed.
Boof beamed and clapped. Beside him, tears streaming down her face, Mum clapped, too. Misery stared at the screen. I turned to see what had transfixed her. It was the photo of Charlie, in uniform, standing under the gum tree with Batty, Misery, Alice and Art.
I stepped back from the microphone, allowing the woman in the navy suit to wrap up ‘official proceedings’.
Off the stage, Mum rushed me. ‘You broke your promise.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And I’m so
glad you did. I had no idea what they went through. It explains so much.’
‘Doesn’t it,’ I said, watching Batty shuffle over with The Newt.
‘Darcy is a determined young lady,’ said The Newt.
‘Yes,’ said Batty, tears dancing in her eyes.
Doubt charged through me. Maybe my beach plans would be too much for her.
A whistle made me look at the back of the hall. Laura and Hal motioned they were leaving.
I couldn’t pull out now, not after all they’d done.
‘Mr Newtown, we’re going down to the beach for a bit. Want to come with us?’
‘Thank you, Ms Abbott, I appreciate the offer, but I have matters to attend to here.’ He looked from me to Laura. ‘Enjoy the beach.’
‘Where to Darce,’ asked Boof.
‘Mavin Point.’
Chapter Forty-one
On the beach, Boof stood in the sunshine with Batty, Misery, whose face had been twisted all day, and Mum.
Hal and Laura placed the cardboard boxes on the sand at my feet.
‘Good luck,’ whispered Hal.
‘You’re not going,’ I hissed, my courage bolting.
‘Darcy, it’s a family thing.’
I so needed to vomit. ‘Hal, you guys are my family, too. I don’t think I can do this without you. Please stay.’
Laura pulled her best pleading face at Hal.
Hal melted like ice in the sun. ‘We’d love to, Darcy.’
Hal and Laura being here was meant to make me feel better. It didn’t.
This was worse than presenting my project at the RSL. In this circle with me were the most important people in my life.
‘So, what’s going on, Darce?’ asked Boof.
I clenched and unclenched my fists. ‘The thing about me wanting us to walk on the beach together? Well, it was kind of a lie.’ As I spoke, I stared at the pebble sticking out of the sand. A twitch of an eyebrow or a curl of a lip would have shattered my courage.
‘This term I’ve learnt heaps about my family, Charlie, and about me. Even though Granny and I were both young when our dads died, it was so different for her. I um…’ My courage started to fade. The waves crashed and sighed. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.
Laura stepped closer to me.
I lifted my head. ‘My dad had a funeral, not that I remember much about it, except for the big hole and…’ My breath out was long and loud. ‘I thought we should farewell Charlie, properly.’