‘Ah!’ we all cried out together.
‘Come,’ said Natasha, opening the bench door. ‘Almost everyone has been fed now. Eat with us in the kitchen.’
I followed her into the back room, which not only smelled of beetroot and cabbage but bleach and bicarbonate of soda as well. Two men were busy washing down the walls and Natasha introduced them as her father, Lev, and her husband, Piotr. Mariya filled my bowl to the brim with the fresh borscht while Natasha found me a chair and poured us all cups of tea.
‘How is Raisa?’ I asked them.
‘She’s not bad,’ said Lev. ‘We were worried that she wouldn’t make the trip but she’s tougher than we thought. She’s in a hut with Natasha and the children and seems happy there.’
I told them about Ruselina and they shook their heads in sympathy. ‘Give Irina our love,’ said Mariya.
On the shelf next to me was a bunch of the blue flowers I had seen earlier. I fingered the tubular petals and the elegant stems.
‘What are these?’ I asked Natasha. ‘They’re lovely.’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I think they’re Australian. We found them on a little track down past the tent section. They are pretty, aren’t they?’
‘I like the trees here,’ I said. ‘They are mysterious, as if they are hiding secrets in their trunks.’
‘Well, you’d like this walk then,’ said Lev. He put down his scrubbing brush, sat at the table and began drawing a map for me on a piece of brown paper. ‘The track is easy to find. You won’t get lost.’
I swallowed a spoonful of borscht. After what I had been eating the past few days, it was liquid heaven. ‘This is delicious,’ I said.
Mariya pointed with her chin to the dining hall. ‘I’m sure we will have a lot of complaints about Russian food. But it’s better than what the Australian chef was serving. It’s good nourishing work food.’
Some more people came to the window and held up their plates, asking for seconds. Lev and I exchanged smiles. I watched Natasha and Mariya attend to them. When I had seen the family’s tent on Tubabao, for some reason I had thought they must be rich. But now I realised there was nothing in that tent which they hadn’t created themselves from the materials available to them. If they had funds they wouldn’t be in a migrant camp. I realised that they must simply be industrious and hardworking, determined to make the best of whatever life handed them. I watched Mariya point and make faces with the diners, trying to communicate with them. I was full of admiration.
I returned to Colonel Brighton’s office just before two o’clock. I was surprised to hear voices arguing and hesitated before pushing open the door. Dorothy was at her desk and smiled when I slipped inside but cut the expression short when she recognised me. I was confounded by what I had done to inspire such dislike in her so quickly.
The Colonel and Ernie were standing in the doorway of the Colonel’s office. A woman was with them, her gloves and hat poised in her hands. She was in her fifties and had a pretty face and lively eyes. The group turned to look at me when I said, ‘Good afternoon.’
‘Ah, there you are, Anya!’ said the Colonel. ‘Just in time. We have toilets that are a threat to our health, food going bad in the heat, and people who can’t speak any of the languages in which we have been trying to communicate with them. Nonetheless, my wife has decided that what we need most urgently is a tree-planting committee.’
The woman, who I took to be his wife, rolled her eyes. ‘People take one look at this camp and feel depressed, Robert. Plants, trees and flowers will take away the starkness and make people feel better. We should try to make the camp more of a home. That’s what a lot of these people have been missing for years. A home. Anya will tell you.’
She nodded her head at me. I sensed I was about to be used as a tie breaker and was careful not to speak too soon.
‘It’s not a home,’ said the Colonel, ‘it’s a holding centre. The army didn’t mind the way it looked.’
‘That’s because if it was beautiful they would never have gone off to war!’
Rose folded her arms across her chest, bouncing her hat in her hand. She was short and feminine but her arms were muscular. She had made a good point, I thought, and I wondered what the Colonel would say in reply.
‘I’m not saying your idea is a bad one, Rose. I’m just saying that I have to get these people fed first and get them speaking some sort of English. I have hundreds of doctors, lawyers and architects who must be taught some manual skills if they and their families are going to survive in this country. The professional jobs will go to the British immigrants, whether they are better qualified for them or not.’
Rose sniffed at this and pulled a notebook from her handbag. She flipped it open and began reading from a list. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘this is what the Dutch ladies suggested we could plant: tulips, daffodils, carnations…’
Colonel Brighton glanced at Ernie, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Rose looked up at them. ‘Well, if you don’t like flowers, other people have suggested cedars and pines for shade.’
‘Good gracious, Rose,’ said Ernie. ‘We’d have to wait twenty years for those trees to grow.’
‘I think Australian trees are beautiful. Wouldn’t they grow quickly in their own climate?’ I asked.
They all turned to me. Dorothy stopped typing and looked over a letter, pretending to proofread it.
‘Apparently there’s a forest walk near here,’ I continued. ‘Maybe we can find some seedlings and plant those.’
Colonel Brighton was staring at me and I thought that I had made an enemy of him by siding with his wife. But his face broke into a smile and he clasped his hands together. ‘Didn’t I tell you I had found a smart one? That’s a brilliant idea, Anya!’
Ernie coughed into his fist. ‘Colonel, if you don’t mind me saying…I think it was Dorothy and I who found Anya’s file.’
Dorothy threw down the letter she was reading and resumed typing. She must have regretted finding my file, I thought.
Rose slipped her arm around my waist. ‘Robert thinks it’s a brilliant idea because it will save him money,’ she said. ‘But I think it’s a good idea because while the roses and carnations will remind people of Europe, the native plants will help them remember that they now have a new home.’
‘And they will attract more native birds and wildlife to the camp,’ said Ernie. ‘And hopefully fewer rabbits.’
I remembered the animals I had heard on the hut roof last night and grimaced.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ernie asked.
I told them about the scratching and asked if that was why the gaps between the walls and the ceilings were covered with chicken wire.
‘Possums,’ said Rose.
‘Oh!’ said Ernie, lowering his voice and looking around him. ‘Very dangerous. Bloodthirsty little creatures. We’ve lost three Russian girls already.’
Dorothy sniggered.
‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Rose, clenching my waist tighter. ‘Possums are little furry creatures with fluffy tails and big eyes who love nothing more than to break into our kitchens and steal the fruit.’
‘Well, you win then,’ said the Colonel, shooing us out of his doorway. ‘I’ll lend you Anya to help with your tree-planting committee. Now go away all of you. I have serious work to do.’
He made a sulky face and slammed his door. Rose winked at me.
Irina was unwell for the rest of the week but the following Monday, when she was feeling better, we set out on our seedling-finding mission along the bush track near the camp. Rose had lent me a field guide to Australian wildflowers, and although I found the book difficult to follow, I took it with me anyway. Irina was in a good mood because she had started working at the crèche and enjoyed it, but also because she had received a telegram to say that Ruselina had arrived safely in France and, despite the taxing journey, was already showing signs of improvement.
‘Arrived safe. Fee
ling better. Tests good. French men charming,’ the telegram read. Ruselina had learned English and French at school, Irina told me, but those words were the first her granddaughter would learn to say in English. She brought the telegram with her and read the message over and over again.
The track started past the tent sites and wound its way into a valley. I was thrilled to see the eucalypts up close and breathe in their oily scent. I’d learned from Rose’s book that many Australian wildflowers bloomed year round but it took me a while to spot them in the underbrush. I was used to picking roses and camellias but after a while I began to see that some of the hardy plants had fruits like rollerbrushes or flowers twisted into what looked like Art Deco flourishes. Then I began to find lilies with exquisite petals, and bell-shaped flowers in every colour imaginable. When I had told some of the other migrants that I was going to plant native flowers around the camp, they had screwed up their noses. ‘What? Those ugly withered things? They’re not flowers,’ they said. But the deeper Irina and I moved along the track, the more I saw that they were wrong. Some of the plants had feathery flowers, berries and nuts all on the one stem, while others looked as graceful as seaweed floating in the ocean. I thought about what a modern artist once said about his art: ‘You have to train your eye to see things in a fresh way. To see the beauty of the new.’ That artist was Picasso.
I turned to see what Irina was doing and found her tiptoeing behind me and whacking a stick into the leaf matter.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked her.
‘I’m scaring the snakes away,’ she said. ‘They said in the camp that the ones in Australia are deadly. And fast. Apparently they chase you.’
I thought about the trick Ernie had played on me about the possums and was tempted to tell Irina that I had also heard that some of the snakes could fly. But I decided against it. It was too early for me to start adopting the Australian sense of humour.
‘You should speak in English to me,’ Irina said. ‘I must learn it quickly so that we can get to Sydney as soon as possible.’
‘All right,’ I said in English. ‘How do you do? I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Anya Kozlova.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you too,’ said Irina. ‘I am Irina Levitskya. I am almost twenty-one years old. I am Russian. I like singing and children.’
‘Very good,’ I said, reverting back to Russian. ‘Not bad at all for only one lesson. How were things at the crèche today?’
‘I loved it,’ she said. ‘The children are cute. And well behaved. But some have such sad faces. I want to have a dozen children when I get married.’
I spotted some of the flowers I had seen in the dining hall and squatted down to dig them out with my spade. ‘A dozen?’ I said. ‘That’s taking “populate or perish” very seriously.’
Irina laughed and held out the sack for me to drop the plant inside. ‘Only if it’s possible. My mother couldn’t have any more children after me and Grandmother had a stillborn baby before she gave birth to my father.’
‘She must have been very happy when he was born,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ said Irina, shaking down the plant to the bottom of the sack. ‘And even sadder when he grew to thirty-seven and was killed by the Japanese.’
I looked about me for some other plants. I thought about Mariya and Natasha and how I had been wrong about them being rich. I might be wrong about them being blessed too. Where were Natasha’s brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts? Not all Russians had one-child families. They must have lost loved ones in the revolutions and wars too. It seemed no one could escape pain and tragedy.
I pointed to a patch of purple and white violets. They would make a good ground cover. Irina followed me and I began to dig the plants out with my spade. I felt sorry to be taking them away from their home, but I whispered to them that they would be well cared for and that we were going to use them to help people feel happier.
‘By the way, Anya, I never asked you how you learned to speak such good English. Was it while you were working as a governess?’ Irina asked.
I looked up at her. Her eyes were wide and interested, waiting for my answer. I knew then that Ivan had never told her the truth about me.
I turned back to my digging, too ashamed to face her. ‘My father liked reading books in English and taught me. But he approached it more as an exotic language than a practical one, like Hindi or something. At school we had classes so I learned how to speak. But I became much more fluent in Shanghai because I had to use it almost every day.’ I glanced up at Irina before continuing, ‘But not as a governess. That was a lie.’
Irina’s face twitched with surprise. She crouched down next to me and looked straight into my eyes. ‘What’s the truth then?’
I took a deep breath then found myself telling her all about Sergei, Amelia, Dmitri and the Moscow-Shanghai. The more I talked the wider her eyes became, but there was no judgement in them. I felt guilty that I had been deceitful but relieved to be finally telling her the truth. I even told her about Ivan’s proposal.
When I’d finished, Irina stared into the forest. ‘My goodness,’ she said after a while. ‘You’ve surprised me. I’m not quite sure what to say.’ She stood up, wiped the dirt from her hands and kissed the top of my head. ‘But I’m glad you’ve told me about your past. I can understand why you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t know me. But from now on you must tell me everything because we are like sisters.’
I leaped up and threw my arms around her. ‘You are my sister,’ I said. Something wriggled in the scrub and we both jumped back. But it was only a lizard catching the last rays of afternoon sun. ‘My God!’ laughed Irina. ‘How am I ever going to survive this country?’
Irina and I stopped in our tracks when we reached our hut and heard shouting in several languages coming from it. We pushed open the door and saw Aimka standing between Elsa and a Hungarian girl with short black hair.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Irina.
Aimka pursed her lips. ‘She says Elsa stole her necklace.’
The Hungarian girl, who was built like a man, shook her fist and shouted at Elsa. The old woman, far from looking afraid as I would have expected, tossed her head arrogantly.
Aimka turned to us. ‘Romola says that Elsa was always watching her whenever she took the necklace off and put it in the pocket of her suitcase. I tell them all the time not to leave precious things in the huts.’
I glanced at my matroshka doll sitting on the shelf I’d made with a piece of wood I’d found on a rubbish pile and thought about the jewels hidden in the hems of the dresses in my suitcase. I hadn’t expected people would be stealing from each other.
‘Why does she assume I’ve taken it?’ Elsa said in English, presumably for my benefit. ‘I’ve been here for weeks and nothing’s gone missing. Why doesn’t she ask the Russian girls about it?’
The blood rushed to my face. I’d been making an effort to be friendly to Elsa since we arrived and I couldn’t believe she was saying such things. I translated what she had said to Irina. Aimka didn’t translate what Elsa said for the other girls but the Hungarian girl who could speak English did. Everyone turned to us.
Aimka shrugged. ‘Anya and Irina, let’s satisfy everyone by searching your things.’
The skin on the back of my neck prickled with anger. It wasn’t difficult to understand how people might come to hate Elsa. I strode over to my bed and ripped the blankets off and flung aside the pillow. Everyone except Romola, Elsa and Aimka turned away, embarrassed at what I was being made to do. I opened the lid of my suitcase and gestured that they were welcome to rummage through it, but I promised myself that once they had, I was going to keep my dresses in the administration office. Inspired by my indignation, Irina flung open the lid of her suitcase then grabbed the sheets off her bed. She picked up her pillow and pulled the slip off it. Something tinkled. Irina and I stared down at the floor to see what it was. Neither of us was able to believe it when we saw a silver chai
n with a ruby cross lying at our feet. Romola climbed over our sheets and snatched up the necklace, staring at it with joy. Then she glared at us, her eyes burning into Irina.
Elsa’s face was flushed. Her hands under her chin were like claws.
‘You put that necklace there,’ I said to her. ‘You liar!’
Her eyes widened and she laughed. The nasty laugh of someone who believes they have won. ‘I don’t think I’m the liar here. Aren’t you Russians famous for it?’
Romola said something to Aimka, who was looking as frazzled as we were. But I was worried to see the frown forming on her forehead. ‘Irina,’ she said, taking the necklace from Romola, ‘what’s the meaning of this?’
Irina looked from Aimka to me, speechless.
‘She didn’t take that necklace,’ I said. ‘Elsa did.’
Aimka glanced at me and then straightened her back. There was a change in her face. Her expression was a mix of disappointment and disgust. She pointed at Irina with one of her pianist’s fingers.
‘This doesn’t look good, does it?’ she said. ‘I expected better from you. We are very strict about these things. Pack your bags and bring them with you.’
Irina wobbled on her feet. She had the dazed look that honest people get when they are accused of something they couldn’t even imagine doing.
‘Where are you taking her?’ I asked Aimka.
‘To the Colonel.’
The mention of the Colonel’s name was a relief. He was a reasonable man who would get to the truth of the matter. I kneeled down to help Irina with her bag. It didn’t take us long to collect everything because she hadn’t had time to fully unpack.
After we’d fastened the clasps on her suitcase, I folded my blankets and started to pack my own bag.
White Gardenia Page 27