East of India

by East of India (retail) (epub)

  ‘And India? No. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Propaganda,’ said Nadine. ‘Whatever they tell us isn’t necessarily true. Conquered peoples are obedient people.’

  ‘That’s what they believe, is it?’ whispered Peggy. ‘Well, are they in for a surprise!’

  Nadine bowed her head to hide her amusement which seemed out of place in their grim predicament. Despite everything, Peggy and Betty were still defiant and she welcomed that. Bravery was going to be needed in big portions in the coming months. So was resilience. So was cunning.

  As they lined up in front of the sleekly gorgeous woman and her car, the interpreter repeated his mantra.

  ‘Very easy life.’

  Nadine doubted it but pretended subservience, all the while glancing around her in case at some point she had the chance to escape.

  Chapter Eleven

  At first glance it resembled paradise. In the distance the blue of the sky melded with that of the sea and the beach was a ring of gold dividing one from the other. Palm trees grew straight and stark around the perimeter of the stockade like stakes dug in the sand to keep the jungle at bay. Beneath the trees, buildings made from wood and woven matting with palm-frond roofs clustered defensively together.

  The temperature was another matter. It was hot and humid because they were surrounded by jungle and it was hard to concentrate. Sweat dripped into their eyes, sapped their strength. All anyone wanted to do was move as little as possible. Nadine did her best to take in the details, but her heart sank. She had contemplated escape and determined to note specific landmarks, but there were none, just miles and miles of dense tropical forest, moisture and greenery going on for ever.

  There were two British, Caroline and Rosalyn, Betty and Peggy the two Australians, Lucy and Nadine. The Chinese girls had gone elsewhere. Hopefully they were still alive.

  All of them were taken by truck through a barbed-wire gate into a compound ringed with huts. For the most part the huts were flimsy, built for short-term occupation; it was becoming common knowledge that the Japanese were contemplating a swift victory.

  The cone-shaped hats of labouring coolies, the name given to Oriental labourers, bobbed about over various tasks. Tired eyes glanced as stonily as a bullock or mule, without emotion, their wills broken, backs bent to the task.

  At the end of the compound a bamboo bridge had been built linked to a small island set by itself in the water. On the island was another hut, larger than the others and seemingly newly built.

  The day was hot, the journey had been long and they were stinking, stiff and glad to tumble down from the truck.

  Appearing unscathed from her car, the woman in the red suit urged them to be quick.

  Once their feet were on solid ground, she introduced herself.

  ‘I am Madam Cherry.’ Tired though they were the name raised a few titters. Madam Cherry clapped her hands. ‘Quiet, please. Line up, please. Line up.’

  Lucy’s icy fingers reached for Nadine’s.

  ‘Your hand is so cold,’ Nadine whispered.

  ‘So is yours. Like ice.’

  Flanked by two Japanese soldiers, the small woman with the huge presence clapped her hands. ‘No talking, please.’

  There was a sound of swishing silk as Madam Cherry lit up a cigarette, her lips staining the holder bright red and perfectly matching her dress.

  Once she’d taken a puff, she walked up and down, inspecting their hair, their features, and even their fingernails.

  She smiled all the time as she tweaked necklines or tidied hair.

  ‘You will all be happy,’ said the smiling woman, cupping Nadine’s cheek. ‘You will work hard for the Japanese army. In time you will work off what I have paid for you, and then you may go home – if the war is over.’

  Nadine’s smile fell from her face. She sensed the apprehension in the other girls, but kept her eyes fixed on the Indo-Chinese woman. Two yen. That was what Lucy had said. Two yen for every soldier. Did officers pay more? And how much had Madam Cherry paid for her? She had to know for sure that Lucy was right.

  She braved asking a question. ‘What work are we to do? Laundry was mentioned.’

  Madam Cherry spun round on her three-inch heels. The lips that had smiled so easily became a straight line. Now when she cupped Nadine’s face, the tips of the long, red fingernails dug sharply into her cheek.

  ‘You are to be of service to the Japanese army, but only to officers. There is another place for ordinary soldiers. Rejoice that you have been especially chosen.’

  Despite the sharp nails, Nadine persisted.

  ‘How much have you paid for us? How much have I to work off?’

  The features of many Indo-Chinese women resembled fine porcelain. Madam Cherry’s features hardened to glass. She narrowed her eyes as though marking her for close observation.

  ‘I will tell you when you have worked it off.’ She spoke with a slight French accent and her tone was more than worrying.

  Her fingernails dug deeper. Nadine winced.

  Madam Cherry’s face came close to her own. ‘In future you will bow and ask permission to speak before addressing me. You will bow at sunrise to the rising sun and at sunset to the setting sun. You will also bow to all soldiers and officers of the Imperial Japanese Army. Is that clear?’

  The sharp nails were removed. Nadine ached to rub at the soreness on her face, but wouldn’t. Madam Cherry, she realized, was far from being a smiling friend and to show fear or even pain would be a mistake. There would be no pleading to her better nature. In all likelihood she didn’t have one.

  The cut-glass voice continued. ‘There are some here who speak French, others English. Few of the Japanese know French, but some do speak English and that is what Colonel Yamamuchi, the commandant, wishes us to speak. This is to prepare everyone for the time when all the British Empire is under Japanese control and they have been taught Japanese. Is that clear?’

  No one answered at first, everyone unsure of what to do. If they had thought Madam Cherry was just a porcelain doll, their opinions changed very quickly when she grabbed the hair of the girl closest to her, dragging her to her knees.

  The tendons of the girl’s neck pulsated as she fought the urge to scream, her head bent unbearably backwards.

  ‘Now,’ Madam Cherry said, a self-satisfied smile on her face. ‘This is what you do. Bow!’ She jerked the girl’s head forward with such force that Nadine thought she heard a bone crack. ‘Bow,’ said Madam Cherry, her face stiff with intent.

  The girls left standing bowed their heads.

  ‘Lower!’

  They bowed from the waist, arms held against their sides just as they had been taught back on the beach.

  A trio of officers descended the steps from a building immediately behind Madam Cherry and sauntered across the yard, smiling and making jokes, smoking and staining the air.

  ‘Bow,’ barked Madam Cherry. ‘Bow to the officers.’

  All the women, including the one who was to be the bane of their lives for some time to come, knew the importance of kowtowing to the victorious enemy.

  Like reeds before a breeze, they bowed.

  An officer appeared and addressed Madam Cherry in Japanese. ‘Good. They are respectful.’

  ‘I will ensure that they always are,’ she replied.

  Still bowing, she also hurried to assure him that he would be pleased with the women she’d chosen.

  Her voice barely a whisper, Lucy interpreted as much as she could. Nadine felt her shiver.

  The officers brushed the girls’ new owner aside. ‘Now I will inspect,’ said one who carried two swords in his belt.

  Madam Cherry ordered everyone to stand straight.

  ‘No slouching. And smile. Smile for the officers.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ muttered Betty in a disbelieving New South Wales twang.

  ‘With your mouth, not your eyes,’ whispered Nadine.

  Peggy winked and immediately stepped forward. ‘Madam! M
ay I ask a question?’

  Elegant French-made shoes stopped in their tracks. Madam Cherry’s simpering expression snapped swiftly to hostile.

  ‘What question?’

  Her voice flew straight as an arrow.

  Peggy winced, but kept her nerve.

  ‘One or two of us are suffering from malaria. Will there be medical supplies available? Quinine, for instance?’

  Madam Cherry’s smile was as tight as her skirt. ‘Yes. You will be charged three dollars per tablet and the amount will be added to the sum I paid for you.’

  Peggy looked horrified. ‘But that’s exorbitant!’

  Face like thunder, Madam Cherry retraced her steps and looked up into Peggy’s face. Peggy was quite a bit taller. It gave those watching great satisfaction to see the ‘madam’ having to crick her neck.

  ‘You will pay. You will pay for everything and only when you have paid off the debt you owe me will release be considered. Now. You will stand straight.’

  The sun beat on their backs as the three officers inspected each woman, Madam Cherry following discreetly behind, explaining who each one was, where she was from and why she had been chosen. They stopped in front of Kochi, the Indian nurse who had arrived on a separate transport. A faint smile trembled on her lips as Madam Cherry looked her up and down.

  ‘You are Indian?’

  Kochi nodded.

  ‘Good. Then as a woman from a conquered nation you will be willing to serve the mighty Japanese Empire who have pledged to free her country from its British masters.’

  Kochi stared at the ground. She had earlier told Nadine that she was marrying a doctor, a pilot in the RAF.

  They moved on. One of them stopped to touch Peggy’s hair. It was blonde, curly and framed her heart-shaped face. She wore a sarong like the rest of them and had ample hips; one leg was bare to mid-thigh. Like most of them, she had lost most of her possessions to the sea.

  The officer glanced down at her exposed flesh. There was no need to guess what was on his mind.

  Madam Cherry caressed the redness on Nadine’s cheek. ‘She has lovely eyes. See their colour? So unusual. And she is so young, perhaps even a virgin? Where were you born?’

  ‘India.’

  ‘Occupation?’

  Nadine thought swiftly. They’d been brought here to entertain. Perhaps she could emphasize her credentials and thus protect herself in some way – if possible.

  ‘Dancer.’

  Madam Cherry raised her eyebrows. ‘A British memsahib dancer?’

  ‘My father was British. My mother was Indian and a professional dancer.’

  The officers smiled, nodded and exchanged comments.

  Nadine looked beyond them, seemingly mesmerized by the staunch tree trunks skimming the boundary fence.

  The party moved on, stopping in front of Lucy.

  The elegantly dressed woman spoke and indicated the lovely Lucy Lee van der Meer.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Chinese mother, Dutch father.’

  Nadine saw the look that passed between the three officers. On the boat they had all seen how the Japanese had viewed and treated the people of China. This might be a special place, but Lucy was still partly Chinese. The two nations had been enemies for centuries. Hate was imbued in every vein of the Japanese body.

  Lucy was dragged from the line-up.

  Madam Cherry addressed her. ‘You are to go with the officers once they have finished their inspection. They wish to speak to you alone.’

  The smell of damp, thick forest was muted by the smell of fear. Lucy’s porcelain complexion bleached deathly white. Her lips pouted into a silent plea, help me. Nothing could save her. She was led away.

  No one was in any doubt of what would happen.

  Nadine stepped forward. ‘May I ask a question?’

  Madam Cherry’s smile had stagnated on her face. ‘Yes?’ She spoke through clenched teeth.

  ‘As prisoners of war we should be treated as such.’

  ‘No, you are not. You were given an option. You decided to come here. You are now under contract to me.’

  ‘But surely Japan…’

  ‘Nothing to do with Japan. You are under contract to me.’ Madam Cherry’s eyes blazed with anger.

  It occurred to Nadine that to push the matter would be suicide. Instead, she bowed, every fibre in her body wanting to hit the woman, kill the Japs and set Lucy free. But she was helpless. Totally helpless.

  Nadine had been fully expecting a beating, but got away with her questions; perhaps because Madam Cherry was in a good mood, calculating how much money she would make from her new investment.

  ‘Come now!’ She laughed and clapped her hands. The sound was like a thunderclap to break their fear. ‘There is no need to be afraid as long as you do everything that is asked of you without complaint. Disobedience will be punished. You will do as you are told. Now. You will wait here while officers make inspection.’ Her tone was as sickly and sweet as syrup.

  ‘This way,’ she ordered.

  They followed where she led, all afraid, all feeling an emptiness inside that had nothing to do with hunger.

  The small party passed towards where a sentry and a tree stood sentinel each side of a bamboo bridge.

  The beautifully dressed woman from French Indo-China was supplied with a chair, a cool drink and a coolie with a palm-leaf fan whilst they waited. Everything was placed on a shady veranda.

  ‘Sit,’ she cried, waving one perfectly manicured set of fingers.

  The guards gestured with their rifle butts. The women sat on the dusty ground. The sun was hot. Their throats were dry.

  An hour passed. The flies buzzed. Scorpions and centipedes scurried between them, pausing in the shadows they threw on the scorched dust. No sound came from the other side of the bridge. Each woman averted her eyes from the place, preferring to stare at the ground. It was as though a spell had been cast, as if looking in that direction might tempt fate.

  ‘I’d murder for a sip of water,’ said Peggy. She was perhaps the most audacious member of their troop. On the transport coming here she had declared she was from Melbourne and had six brothers all serving in the forces. ‘I’ve got a seventh, but he’s still in short pants. Hope this bloody war’s over before he’s old enough to get killed.’

  ‘I’d murder that bloody woman,’ said Caroline, who had fancied herself as a bit of a Florence Nightingale so joined up. ‘It was the uniform,’ she’d explained on the journey here.

  ‘The one you wore or the one that came with a bloke inside it?’ said Betty.

  Peggy nudged her arm. ‘Shhhh! She’s listening.’ She jerked her chin towards the shade.

  ‘No, she’s not,’ said Nadine, who had not entered the earlier conversation. Instead she had been scrutinizing Madam Cherry sipping her drink while writing something on a pad resting on her lap. ‘She’s counting.’

  ‘Counting what?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘Her money.’

  ‘I can’t see any money.’

  ‘That’s what I mean,’ said Nadine. ‘We work. She earns.’

  Kochi whispered, ‘Is that what your friend Lucy is doing? Earning her money?’

  Nadine stared at the trees.

  Kochi hid her face against her folded arms. Nadine didn’t need to answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  The hot day did not lose its heavy sense of foreboding: the feeling that hell was on earth and no one was going anywhere else.

  Nadine closed her eyes and sucked at her dry lips. No matter that they were women, they had entered a battle zone. No matter that Lucy was going through hell, she must not dwell on it. If she – and others – were to survive this place, her mind must be clear.

  The Australian girls were muttering.

  ‘Wonder who’s next.’

  ‘Any chance mine might look like Clark Gable?’

  ‘Any chance I can join a nunnery?’

  Someone laughed derisively. ‘It’s too late for that.’
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  ‘I just want to get in the shade. What do they think we are? Coolies?’

  Their questions and answers were going round and round in circles and getting on Nadine’s nerves.

  She kept her gaze fixed on Madam Cherry. Her voice was calm and low. ‘Do you realize how close we came to being shot? It’s thanks to Lucy that we’re still here. I bet she wishes that being thirsty was her only problem.’

  Even the Australians fell to silence. It was a few minutes before anyone said anything.

  ‘Wouldn’t mind one of their hats,’ groaned the irascible Peggy.

  Where Peggy went, Betty followed. ‘Then get one.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. How?’

  Nadine intervened. ‘By shamming.’

  ‘Shaming?’

  ‘No, shamming. The beggars in India are past masters at getting what they want.’

  ‘Including hats?’

  ‘Yes. Including hats.’

  Ensuring no one saw her, she rubbed dust over already parched lips and then slowly, feeling the earth hot beneath her palms, she got onto all fours.

  ‘Water,’ she said, barely audible, a rehearsal for the act to come. Tottering like a drunken man, she staggered to her feet.

  A guard shouted and raised his rifle.

  Hearing the commotion, Madam Cherry looked up, frowned and got to her feet. ‘What are you doing? You have been told to sit down.’

  Nadine was as one in a dream. Tottering from side to side and holding her hand against her forehead, eyelids fluttering.

  ‘Water,’ she whispered, tottered a little more and then fell to the ground.

  Caroline attempted to get to her feet and go to her.

  Betty stopped her. ‘Don’t rock the apple cart,’ she whispered. ‘We’ve been told to sit, so sit. Let’s see what she’s up to.’

  Madam Cherry sprang from her chair and shouted orders to a gang of nearby coolies who were attempting to erect yet another hut.

  The language was foreign to her, yet Nadine was sure she knew what would happen next.

  She kept her eyes tightly closed as they rolled her over onto her back. Instructed by Madam Cherry, one of the coolies forced water into her mouth, washing away the dust from her lips and the dryness from her throat.