“And then after that, I tried to walk. I fell on the floor, gasping for air, unable to move, weary and overwhelmed. But I dragged myself up and tried again. Then finally, I was able to walk in a very cumbersome way with braces.
“I was a teenager by then. Everyone else was playing rugby and cricket. I watched them from a window. So my next battle was getting those braces off. That took years too. But I didn’t give up. I prayed each night and woke each and every day and tried. When I failed, I tried again. Eventually, over the course of years, I learned to walk. Then I learned to run. But I still have trouble breathing, and I’m still not strong.”
When I finished, Lady Jane wiped the last remnants of tears from her cheeks. “George, I think you may be the strongest man I know. If I can see that, why can’t you?”
We were quiet then, absorbed in our own thoughts as we headed back to the city. We drove a mile through farms, the plantings bordered by rows of trees, and then entered the outskirts of the city, past the Singapore Cricket Club and onto a more heavily traveled road. Although soldiers were visible at the clearings on the side of the road, they were British units, primarily assigned to the eastern half of the island to thwart any Japanese assaults from that direction.
“Why is this so hard?” Lady Jane asked. “It’s a small island.”
“They have to be assigned just east of the city,” Thomas said. “Chin saw them yesterday. They couldn’t have been relocated that quickly.”
I pointed to an Indian soldier who was standing at an outdoor fruit vendor. “Let’s ask him.”
Thomas guided the car to the side of the road. “Excuse me,” he called. “Do you know where the Twelfth Infantry Brigade is?”
The soldier turned, looking at us curiously. “I’m with the Twelfth.”
“Where are you stationed?”
He pointed north. “About two miles up Nelson Road.”
“Do you know Captain Patel?” Lady Jane asked. “He’s of average height, black hair and eyes, with a black beard.”
“Yes, I do. He’s at the field hospital.”
“Where is that?” Thomas asked.
“Down that dirt road about a mile.”
“Thanks,” Thomas called.
He guided the car where the soldier pointed. The road led through a wooded area, the trees and vegetation interrupted briefly by fields of flaxen grass. A short distance later we found a clearing where a handful of tents were pitched beside a stream. He stopped the car beside the road. Soldiers were scattered about the entrances to the tents, some with bandages on their faces or upper bodies, others with arms in slings. They were the walking wounded, probably removed from the Malay Peninsula. I suspected those in the tent were in worse condition.
“We’re looking for Captain Patel,” Thomas said to a group of soldiers standing by the road.
“Yes, he’s here,” said a soldier on crutches, his right leg bandaged and bent at the knee. “In that tent near the stream.”
“Is he all right?” Lady Jane asked anxiously.
I realized how difficult this must be for her. She cared deeply for this man, so much that she had traveled across the Indian Ocean to find him, enough that she had forsaken family and friends. Just to be with him. But he had vanished. With no explanation. He might be injured. Or he might be dead.
“I don’t know,” the soldier said. “But I think the nurse is in there now.”
We entered the tent. It was cramped, housing a dozen soldiers who lay on cots, neatly arranged in two rows. They were in various states of injury, some sitting up in their cots with bandages on arms or legs, while a few lay motionless, gauze covering their heads. Some of the bandages were stained with blood. The smell of disinfectant, mixed with sickness, drifted in the air.
Thomas and I stood by the entrance while Lady Jane studied their faces. She had reached the end of the first row when a petite Asian nurse, dressed in a crisp white uniform, intercepted her.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Captain Patel. Balraj Patel.” “I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “I can’t help you.”
“But we were told that Captain Patel was here,” I said, intervening on her behalf.
“That’s true,” the nurse said. The expression on her face showed compassion, as if she could feel our disappointment. “He is. Captain Deepak Patel is on the last cot in the next row.”
Lady Jane sighed; her face mirrored despair. “Can you tell me where Captain Balraj Patel is?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “The regiment is somewhat scattered right now. Some are stationed in the eastern edge of the city, but others are farther west.”
“Where is the commander?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” she said. “I’m sure you understand.”
We returned to the car, somewhat dejected.
“At least we know the general area,” I said. “We’ll have to keep searching.”
“I just hope he’s all right,” Lady Jane said. “I hate to think of the horrible things that might have happened.”
“Then don’t,” I said. I lightly touched her arm. “Think of the wonderful things yet to come.”
CHAPTER 10
I went to theTimes office after breakfast the next morning. The main room was empty, with typewriters abandoned, telephones in their cradles, and pens and paper lying unused on the desks. The silence was disturbing; the room should have been loud and boisterous and chaotic, filled with questions and conversation. In the back office, Alistair Duncan sat behind his desk, his anemic frame somehow seeming even thinner than it had the day before. He was hurriedly tossing papers from his desk into a brief case. His hair was frazzled; his face was flushed. An unfolded map lay sprawled on his desk, wrinkled and stained with coffee.
“Adams, it’s every man for himself. Do what you can to get out of here. The Japanese are almost at the airport. And they’re poised to attack from Ubin Island in the east.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I’m leaving tonight. I’m going with a friend, an RAF commander. His division is going to India. That should tell you something. The air force is leaving so they don’t get captured. What are we still doing here?”
“How about the others in the office?”
“They left this morning. What are you going to do? Do you want to come with me?”
“I have a chance to leave tomorrow.”
“For where?”
“Batavia.”
“Good, take it,” he said. “There’s aTimes office there. It’s right across from Hotel Duncan. You can work from there. Batavia will be the front line in a few weeks anyway. The Japs are unstoppable. Tell the editor I sent you. He’s an old friend. I can’t remember his name right now. Give me a minute, I’ll think of it. How are you escaping?”
“Cargo plane,” I said. “It’s in a barn a few miles east of the city.”
He briefly looked at the map. “Maybe you better leave today. Before you lose your chance.”
I studied his face and the anxious fear that had crept upon it. If he was that rattled, maybe I should be too. He was right. I had to escape. And soon.
I returned to the hotel lobby, walking across the lawn scarred by the plane that had crashed on the day of my arrival. I stopped for a moment and thought about the dead pilot, twisted in the cockpit, barely old enough to shave. And then I thought about Maggie.
Thomas pulled up in his friend’s car just as I reached the hotel entrance. The distant sound of explosions erupted, although it was difficult to determine who was firing. Echoes produced by the massive guns seemed like they came from the north, but no shells landed nearby. For the moment, the noise was only a nuisance.
Lady Jane emerged from the hotel a moment later. “Thank you for borrowing the car,” she said as she climbed in.
“Let’s hope we find him,” Thomas said. “Then we need to focus on our escape.”
“Everyone in theTimes office left today,” I told them. “W
ith the exception of the editor. He leaves tonight. He strongly urged me to leave as soon as possible. What can we do to get out of here?”
“We can leave at any time,” Thomas said. “But I think we’ll be safer with the fake passports. I just checked; they’ll be ready tomorrow morning. We should wait for them. They might prove useful.”
We motored towards the eastern edge of the city to the area where we thought the Twelfth Infantry Brigade was located. After driving up and down a few blocks, we came to a side street filled with vendors selling their wares and mobbed with potential customers.
“Let’s park here,” Thomas said. “We’ll ask some of the soldiers mingled in the crowd.”
“I don’t know how people are shopping when the Japanese are so close,” Lady Jane said. “Even soldiers. You would think they’d be attacking the enemy, or at least getting ready to. No wonder we’re losing the war.”
The narrow cobblestone alley led to a network of similar paths, all wrapped by tenements constructed of whitewashed limestone. Laundry was hung out to dry from open windows, and small children played on the buildings’ back steps. An elderly man stood on a third floor balcony, wearing a sleeveless undershirt and smoking a cigarette, watching people wander by.
Rows of tables displayed fruit, crafts, old pots and pans, used books and clothes. A handful of soldiers walked among the crowds, none of whom seemed concerned with the distant rumble of guns that continued unabated. We paused to watch one woman haggling with a vendor over the price of some fruit.
Thomas stopped an Indian soldier that was walking by. “Are you with the Twelfth Infantry Brigade?”
The man nodded his head. “Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”
“We’re looking for a Captain Balraj Patel,” I said. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“Captain Patel?”
“Yes,” I said.
“There is a Captain Patel with the regiment, but I don’t know his first name. He was camped on the outskirts of town yesterday, just off Vanguard Road.”
“How do we get to Vanguard Road,” Lady Jane asked.
The soldier pointed north. “Take that road a half mile. Pass the rugby field. There are a few shops on your left. One sells jewelry, I think. They are camped next to a restaurant.”
“Thank you,” Thomas called as we headed for the car.
We quickly found Vanguard Road and then followed the directions provided by the soldier. Soon we saw the rugby field and found the shops next to the restaurant. Tents were staged in fields on both sides of the road, covering any ground not claimed by trees, vegetation, and buildings. Thomas guided the car to a stop, and we walked up to a soldier standing in the parking lot.
“Excuse me,” Thomas said. “Can you tell me where Captain Balraj Patel is?”
“Captain Patel?” he asked, caught off guard by the question.
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Of course,” he replied. He pointed to some tents next to the restaurant tucked under the shade of a large tree. “He’s right over there.”
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. If Balraj Patel was alive and well and only a few miles from the Victoria Hotel, there was no valid reason why he hadn’t contacted Lady Jane.
“Can you wait for me in the car, please?” she asked. She sounded tense and annoyed.
She walked across the dirt parking lot, anxious but determined, and approached a man who stood beside the tree, his back to her, smoking a cigarette. Just as she reached him, she called his name.
He turned at the sound of her voice, his face showing shock and surprise. He recovered quickly and walked towards her, holding his arms out as if happy to see her. She remained where she stood, her hands on her hips.
Her back was towards us, so we couldn’t see her face. But her arms moved as she talked, energetic and animated. She seemed to be pleading, questioning, and trying to understand. Balraj Patel’s expression was a mask of feigned happiness.
“She must be asking what happened,” I said.
“Wouldn’t you?” Thomas asked. “She gave up her life for this man, travelled across the Indian Ocean, and made her family disown her. She at least deserves an explanation.”
We watched their body language, unable to hear the conversation. Lady Jane now stood with her arms folded. Balraj Patel looked like he was pleading, probably begging for forgiveness.
“Do you think they’re engaged?” I asked.
He arched his eyebrows and looked at me like I was insane. “Of course,” he said. “Why else would she do what she did? And why would he plan to desert? Neither are easy decisions to make.”
“But what makes a titled Englishwoman fall in love with a man from another race and culture who’s so far beneath her social status?”
“The same reasons anyone else falls in love, I suppose,” he said.
“I’m not so sure,” I replied, studying the scene unfolding before us. “She is so unconventional, so daring and defiant. I wonder if she fell in love with him to spite her family.”
He shrugged. “We’ll probably never know. But one thing is certain. I don’t think that’s a pleasant conversation.”
“He may have a good explanation. She seems to be listening to him.”
“For now,” he said. “But before the conversation is over, I think she’ll be devastated. She is a vulnerable woman. But she hides it well.”
I disagreed. “I think she is strong. Like she said yesterday. I wouldn’t want to be Balraj Patel right now.”
The discussion continued for several minutes. They kept their distance, never getting any closer to each other. We could see Balraj’s expression, changing from a smile to indignation and back to a smile, and Lady Jane’s gestures, sometimes soft and caring but more often demanding and defiant. Then Balraj approached her, reaching out his arms as if to hug and kiss her.
She swung her right fist in a mighty arc, punching him in the face. He never expected the blow, and he staggered backward, his hand on his nose. Blood started to ooze between his fingers.
“You win,” Thomas said. “She is strong.”
“Don’t say anything,” I hissed. “She’ll be embarrassed.”
She walked back to the car, strutting angrily across the dirt. When she arrived, her face was pale, as if shocked, but her lips were taut, locked in a defiant glare. There wasn’t the slightest trace of a tear. She really was strong. I admired her and found her spirit attractive, I couldn’t help it. She climbed in the car, closed the door, and stared forward with no expression.
“Can we leave, please?” she said.
I knew she was hurt, but she looked even more confused and shocked, as if she’d chased a dream but found a nightmare.
“I feel like a fool,” she added. “I followed this man to Singapore. I thought he loved me. And I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
“Life would be pretty dull if we never made mistakes,” Thomas said. “At least you were brave enough to try. Most would have never done that.”
She raised her right hand, shook it, and then clenched it as if to stimulate the blood flow. “I think I broke the cad’s nose.”
Back in the city, I returned to my room and again tried to reach the military contacts that Alistair Duncan had provided. None answered. Not that it mattered. The Singapore office of theTimes no longer existed. I had no way to post articles, no method of distributing information.
I replayed the scene of the afternoon in my mind. Lady Jane must feel horrible, humiliated and foolish. I was determined to make her feel better, to help her forget and move on, to start life anew. But first and foremost, we had to get out of Singapore. The dangers increased with each minute that passed, each foot that the Japanese advanced. We had to escape.
We met at the hotel lounge that evening. I was still anxious about our departure, as were many of the patrons, and the invasion and how to escape dominated the room’s discussions. I looked around at the worried faces and wondered how many would be sitting in the same
chair the next night.
Lady Jane wandered in after Thomas and I had finished a snack or two. She strolled across the floor, the aura of perfection shattered, the light that seemed to surround her dimmer. The confidence that was so apparent previously reduced to a shadow. I ordered her a glass of wine and she sat beside me.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Hurt and confused but fine.”
“In time you’ll reflect on this as one of the shining moments in your life,” Thomas said.
“And why is that?” she asked with a hint of irritation.
He looked at her with the utmost seriousness.
“Because it led you to George and me.”
She smiled and then slowly shook her head. “I feel like such an idiot. If you had any idea what I gave up in India, you would think that I am certifiably insane. I lost family, friends...” She hesitated, and a look of anguish crossed her face. “...and loved ones.”
“You lost them temporarily,” I said. “You know where to find them.”
“It’s not like that,” she said. “What I did was inexcusable. It was scandalous. And I will never be forgiven by anyone. And for what?”
“Lady Jane,” I said. “The hurt will fade. And in a few weeks’ time, this will be nothing more than a bad memory.”
I was sickened by the statement as soon as I’d made it. Heartache does not always make you stronger; bad decisions don’t always make you learn. I should know that more than anyone. I lost Maggie, and, after four months, hardly an hour passed when I didn’t think about her, when I didn’t miss her smile, her touch, her laugh, and her love. Who was I to preach to Lady Jane about what it took to be a better and stronger person? I certainly didn’t know.
“I was able to get our passports,” Thomas said. “Then we need to leave as soon as possible,” I said. “Remember what they said at theTimes office: If the air force is evacuating, we should too.”
“We’ll leave in the morning,” Thomas said.
To Parts Unknown Page 7