The doctor held up Jimmy’s arm. His fingers moved as if he were playing a piano.
‘Classic symptom. St Vitus’ dance. It’s rheumatic fever, there is no doubt.’
Father wrung his hands.
‘How bad is it?’ Mirabel asked.
The doctor looked grim. ‘It can be fatal,’ he said. ‘But there’s a new drug called penicillin that helps. The problem is getting some. Most of it goes to the soldiers.’ He packed his instruments away in his bag.
At the door he paused and looked back at them. ‘I’ll do my best. Keep him in bed and give him aspirin for now. That will stop the aching.’
After the doctor left, a cloak of sadness fell over the house. It’s strange how bad things always happen together, Mirabel reflected, as she got ready for bed. And Eva said bad things always come in threes. She began to worry. It wasn’t like JJ to not show up. Something must have happened.
Lola walked into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow, crying.
For once Lola’s not thinking about herself, Mirabel thought. Then doubt crept in. It was a lot of tears for Jimmy.
‘Bill’s split up with me,’ Lola said, through loud sobbing.
Maybe she didn’t know about Jimmy yet?
‘He said I was selfish and never considered his feelings. But he’s wrong, I think about him all the time. It’s so unfair.’
Unfair? Really? Mirabel wanted to say. Thank goodness Bill woke up to the truth at last. ‘I’m sure he’ll change his mind,’ she said, sitting down on the bed and handing Lola a handkerchief. ‘And besides, isn’t he being shipped out any day now? You would have had to split up some time.’
Lola glared up at her through her tears. ‘You heartless little bitch. We were going to elope next week and then I was joining him in America. But what’s the use of talking to you? You never think about anybody but yourself. Leave me alone. I hate you.’
Mirabel could no longer keep it in. She exploded. ‘Do you even know what’s going on? Jimmy is sick. He’s lying in his bed, feverish and in pain, and you couldn’t care less. I’m glad Bill has dumped you. He would have been miserable for the rest of his life.’ She stood up and walked to the window, her shoulders tight.
Lola was silent for a moment when she heard about Jimmy, but anger ruled her tongue, as usual.
‘Hmph! You’ve always been jealous of me because I’m the prettier one and I’ve had loads of boyfriends whereas you haven’t had a single one. Something must be wrong with –’
‘Stop, Lola, just stop.’ Mirabel was breathless with rage. ‘Jimmy might die!’
The last word hung in the air.
The Other Girl
Mirabel heard the car revving in the backyard. Mama and Father were going to church but she didn’t want to talk to the aunts and uncles and the other people of the congregation who were constantly asking after Jimmy, or hear the minister say another prayer for her family. She would pray for Jimmy at home. She would pray for JJ, too.
Why hadn’t he shown up? What if he was sick and needed her? Concern gave way to anger, and the anger gnawed at her insides.
JJ had told her never to visit him at the boarding house where he lived with Frank Shen. He said it was to avoid gossip. But surely this was an emergency.
She reached for her coat.
Standing across the road from the boarding house, she looked at the two-storey terrace. There were the frayed curtains JJ had told her about, and there was the front door. All she had to do was walk over.
Mirabel felt ashamed to be spying on him like this. She had always been such a sensible girl – always ruled by her head, never her heart.
She was about to step out from the shadows when the door opened. It was JJ. Relief flooded her. She’d been tormented by the thought that he might have been sent away. But there he was.
And then her heart sank. A girl followed him out – a Chinese girl. Mirabel recognised her as the one from Margo’s party. They stood close together outside the door, talking. Then the girl laughed and laid her hand on JJ’s arm briefly.
Emotions raged within Mirabel. Part of her wanted to slink away in shame. Another part of her wanted to confront him: How dare you two-time me.
Before she could stop herself, she was crossing the road.
JJ had his back to her, but the girl’s face changed when she saw Mirabel approach. It was a look of curiosity, nothing more, and JJ turned around to see what she was looking at.
He seemed surprised, and then he smiled. ‘Ni lai le. You’ve come.’
The girl stepped to one side and JJ gestured towards her. ‘Let me introduce Miss Shen, Frank’s little sister. She came down from Sydney to see her brother.’
All of this was in Chinese, and Mirabel could see the girl wasn’t following very well. She was just about to say something when the girl spoke quickly in English.
‘So you’re Mirabel. I’m Dora,’ she said, cocking her head to one side and extending her hand. ‘JJ keeps talking about you, although a lot of it is in Chinese.’ She dropped her voice. ‘He’s such a dish. You’re very lucky.’ She arched her eyebrows. ‘And have you heard him play the Chinese violin?’
Just then her brother struggled through the door carrying two suitcases. ‘What do you have in these bags, Dora? Oh, hi, Mirabel.’
Mirabel greeted him, and they stood around talking for several minutes before Dora gave a sudden dismayed squeal. ‘Look at the time! My train.’ She grabbed her brother’s arm and he lifted the bags into the back of an olive-green army car and climbed in beside his sister. Dora gave a wave from the window, and they were gone.
JJ shared an amused glance with Mirabel. ‘She is a bit nutty, in a nice sort of way,’ he said.
Mirabel stood on the footpath, her hands in her coat pockets. ‘Why didn’t you come the other night? I waited for an hour.’ She heard the anger in her voice. She never wanted to sound possessive like Lola was with Bill.
‘I’m truly sorry, Mirabel. The situation in the Pacific is getting worse. They called an urgent meeting. I was caught up and didn’t know how to contact you. Since then it’s been impossible to leave.’
‘I was so worried. And Jimmy …’ Mirabel felt the tears spring to her eyes.
JJ took a step closer. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened to Jimmy?’
Mirabel took out her handkerchief. ‘He’s got some dreadful illness. The doctor said he needs a special new drug.’ She sniffed. ‘He called it … I don’t know how you would say it in Chinese but in English it’s called penicillin. He said there isn’t much and they keep it mainly for the soldiers. Jimmy could die … Oh, JJ, I don’t want him to die.’ Mirabel couldn’t control herself any longer and she buried her face in her hands.
‘This new drug, I think I know where I can get some.’
She looked up at him.
‘It might take a day or two. Don’t worry, Mirabel, everything will be fine.’
He drew her slowly towards him. She felt his arms around her, felt the heat of his body against hers. A magpie warbled in the gum tree above, a breeze caressed the back of her hair and all the hurt and anger and worry blew away. He tilted her face up towards his and they kissed. Mirabel felt like a river of velvet, melting into his arms.
Scattering Winds
Mirabel and JJ saw each other as often as they could.
Each week she visited Great Auntie May and when JJ was free, he went with her. The old lady never breathed a word to Mama or Father about their secret meetings. ‘It our secwet,’ she said the first time JJ came over.
This time, as she opened the door, her impish eyes smiled at him.
‘Jut like my Neng Bo, so hansum!’ She rubbed JJ’s cheek with her knobbly fingers, then led him to the sofa. As she couldn’t speak Mandarin and JJ couldn’t speak Cantonese, they spoke in broken English together.
‘Lei An, how Jimmy?’ she asked.
‘The doctor says he is going to be fine, thanks to JJ.’
Mi
rabel went on to tell Great Auntie May how JJ had pulled some strings to get the penicillin.
‘He goo man, Lei An. Now sit. Gweat Auntie May make tea.’ She tottered off towards the kitchenette on her lily feet. ‘I make zhongzi, JJ,’ she called out.
‘I did not know it that time of year,’ JJ replied.
‘Not Autumn Moon, jut I like!’ she called back.
Mirabel smiled and took JJ’s hand, resting it in her lap. Father had invited him over several times for a meal but they could never display their affection openly like this, always hiding it in quick glances across the dinner table. The freedom to be themselves was exhilarating.
Great Auntie May unwrapped the steaming rice cakes, leaving the bamboo leaves on the sink. ‘Let’s eat,’ she said, bringing the plate to the table.
The sweet aroma filled the room, reminding Mirabel of how happy life could be.
Later that day, they walked through the city, heading towards the river. JJ carried a bamboo picnic basket that Great Auntie May had packed for them. A crowd had gathered at the corner of Bourke and Swanston streets to watch a trio of singers. They stopped to listen. One man played a piano accordion while the other two sang the love song from her favourite movie, Casablanca.
JJ put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. It was as if the song was being sung just for them.
They strolled along the river, then crossed the road to the Royal Botanical Gardens. Inside, the air was cool and still. Bellbirds chimed. They wandered past the rotunda, amongst the ferns and trees, stopping to admire a flowering bush or a gnarled trunk, and eventually came to the ornamental lake. They sat down on the grass, watching the black swans paddle and dip their beaks into the water.
Mirabel remembered, so long ago it seemed now, when she and Rose had celebrated her graduation on this very embankment. How young she had been then.
JJ sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, looking across the lake. She linked her arm into his and touched his face. They kissed, the sun warm on their backs.
Listening to the dreamy sounds of the day, they lay staring up at the patches of blue sky through the branches of a Moreton Bay fig tree.
‘What was it like growing up in China?’ Mirabel asked. She knew so little about JJ. He only told her snippets now and then.
He put one arm behind his head. ‘We were so poor, my brother and I only had one set of clothes each that would have to last the whole year.’
Mirabel lifted her head to look at him. ‘But what happened when they needed to be washed? Or there was a hole?’
‘My mother hardly ever washed our clothes, only in summer when the weather was warm, and she would patch them if they got torn. In the end they were just patches upon patches all sewn together.’ He laughed at the thought. ‘Jin Yu had it worse than me. He had to wear the ones I’d grown out of.’
A cool wind whipped up the waters on the lake. Mirabel snuggled into JJ’s body. How different their worlds were. His had been full of hardship. No wonder he was so determined to change his situation.
The ducks waddled up from the lake, shaking their tails, fluffing their feathers. They preened themselves, revealing iridescent blues and greens underwing.
Mirabel listened to the sounds of her perfect world – a train whistle, the bark of a dog, the rustle of leaves in the poplars and JJ’s soft breath beside her. As she watched him sleep, she could not bear the thoughts creeping up on her. He was in the Chinese army and his mission in Australia would one day be over. Then she would be just like the others, a girl left behind in the wake of war. Was it wrong of her to want the war to go on?
‘I’m afraid for us,’ she whispered. She rolled over onto her stomach, rested her chin on her hands, forcing back tears.
He stirred. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘When the war ends … what’s going to happen?’
He put his arm around her and stroked her face, but remained silent. She knew he could not answer that question. But she wanted him to lie, to say that he would take her with him, that they would be together always. She turned away.
‘Hey, everything will work out,’ he said gently.
She looked into his eyes. ‘Hold me. I want to remember this moment.’
Paradise
TASMANIA
JUNE 1945
They stood on the open deck. There was an icy chill to the wind that blew straight from the South Pole. Mirabel kept her eyes on the horizon, trying to calm the seasickness that had dogged her since they sailed out of Port Melbourne. She had lied to her parents, told them she was visiting an old school friend in Tasmania. Rose and Great Auntie May were the only people she trusted with her secret.
‘All I know is that I have orders to return to the headquarters in Chungking,’ JJ said.
‘I’ll write to you every day. Even if I don’t know where you are, I’ll write.’ She shivered. ‘It’s so cold.’
JJ held her silently as they stood watching the grey waves rise and fall.
‘Do you think … that when the war’s over …’ she hesitated, afraid to ask. ‘I might be able … to join you in China?’ They had not talked about this possibility, although she had thought about it often.
He pulled back, his face serious. ‘China is no place for you, Mirabel. It’s a mess and will be for a long time to come.’
This was not the answer she had hoped for. He was meant to say something like, ‘I can’t live without you, Mirabel, and I will send for you as soon as I can.’ Doubts about his love began to circle like sharks around a flimsy raft.
The winds between the mainland of Australia and Tasmania could blow up a tempest. And so it was that night. As the boat pitched and rolled, they huddled together under a blanket on deck, watching the stars turn.
In the moments when the clouds blew apart, Mirabel could not believe her eyes. She had never seen such a star-laden night. She wondered if JJ would be able to see the same stars back home. Maybe not. But the moon, definitely. That slip of a new moon would be the same for him as well. And maybe he would be looking up at exactly that moment and they would be together, their two hearts beating in rhythm.
Back in the cabin, JJ took out his Chinese violin.
As dawn lit the horizon, rising and falling through the ship’s porthole, he played a folk song set on the windswept plains of China. The strings sang a slow homesick tune, in which each note breathed a nostalgic longing. She wept.
Tasmania was a forgotten corner of the world.
Mirabel had booked Wisteria Cottage, a small guesthouse on the outskirts of Hobart. A wooden verandah with cane chairs allowed guests a sweeping view across the bay. And the trees in the garden suffused the air with the sweet scent of lemon, peppermint and myrtle. In such a beautiful place it was hard to imagine that war existed anywhere.
As they stood at the front desk, she was aware of an older couple staring at them from the lounge room. Guilt tapped her on the shoulder.
When JJ called her his wife she couldn’t help blushing. The words sounded so sweet and true. And throughout the week that followed, she would often say them to herself over and over again.
They were shown to a room at the back of the house with a view of the garden. She unpacked her small suitcase then stood looking out through the bay window as a pair of magpies stalked the lawn. They stopped, cocked their heads, listening, then moved on.
Mirabel felt JJ behind her. He caressed her gently, kissing the back of her neck, then he reached across and pulled the curtains closed. The light in the room was tinged with a golden glow.
She was trembling as he touched her, as he led her to the bed. Then, turning her to face him, he began unbuttoning her chiffon blouse. She helped him take it off, pulling her arms through the sleeves one by one. He kissed her forehead, her hair, her cheeks, her lips.
‘You are so beautiful, Mirabel,’ he whispered.
She felt his breath on her shoulder as he reached around and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She was shivering
as she sat down on the bed and took off her stockings. Fear, anticipation and excitement all merged, consuming her body as she slipped under the starched white sheets. Drawing them up under her chin, she watched JJ undress and felt herself grow warm. He was so handsome, lean with smooth skin and just enough muscle on his body to make him manly. He was perfect.
When he slid into bed beside her, the sensation of skin against skin took her breath away. How comfortable their bodies felt together. They belonged to each other. He held her until she was ready, kissing her ears, her nose, her elbows, her stomach so that she wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. Abandoning herself to him, she felt herself being swept away on a rushing storm.
Leaving the mainland for the island seemed to unburden them of their old selves.
Mirabel experienced every minute as if it were her last. This was the only way she knew of keeping the future at bay.
They took long walks through gentle countryside of rolling hills, past quaint cottages and down to the harbour’s edge, where grey-winged gulls wheeled in the sky above the wharf, and yachts skimmed the ice-blue water. Next door to a cafe that sold delicious Devonshire tea, they found a professional photographer, who placed them on red velvet chairs against a backdrop of a European autumn.
Most of their time was spent around the house, though, soaking up the winter sunshine in the garden or on the verandah. They would stare into the fire at night and into each other’s eyes in their small room later. They laughed and joked and talked and made love.
‘One day we will be together again,’ JJ said.
She put a finger on his lips. No, they could only talk about this room, this bed, their love, and the sad note that lingered on the strings of the Chinese violin.
But a tiny seed of hope had been planted.
China, land of her ancestors. She had always wanted to visit there. Now she had more than one reason to go.
She stood up from the bed and crossed to the window. The oracle bone lay before her in its blue silk bag.
Little Paradise Page 9