‘You were caught between two worlds.’
He nodded.
She wanted to say that she knew very well what he meant, but she held back. He was still wearing the uniform of the army that had killed her husband. She hadn’t loved Martin but like many others he had met a brutal death.
‘You won’t tell anyone – you know – about the balloon plan.’
He shook his head and smiled. ‘Yamamuchi will swallow it. You look like a virgin.’ His smile faded and a more worried look entered his eyes. ‘But be careful. He’s a dangerous man.’
‘All Japanese are dangerous.’
He didn’t retaliate or offer to be her friend.
‘You were married?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I was married. Now I’m a widow.’ She didn’t give any details, but sensed he guessed that Japanese soldiers had killed her husband.
He narrowed his eyes against the smoke from a freshly lit cigarette and looked out of the window.
Nadine dared to join him. Even though he had promised to say nothing of her plan to hoodwink the commandant, she reminded herself again that he was Japanese.
‘What’s so interesting?’ she asked, looking in the same direction as he was.
The question seemed to amuse him: just one note of laughter.
‘Sad. Not interesting. You and I and millions like us are caught up in this war. No one asked us whether we were in favour of it. No one really explained the reasons why.’
‘Japan attacked Pearl Harbor.’
He nodded. ‘Sure. We are told to fight, to give our lives in the name of the emperor.’
‘So you disagree?’
He smiled. ‘I think I am like most people. All I want is to deal with the small stuff of life. The rest of it – politicians, wars and all – can go to hell!’
* * *
As Nadine and Shamida continued to meet for her dancing, he revealed more insight into the situation between Yamamuchi and Madam.
It had been eighteen months since her arrival here. Singapore had fallen in February 1942. They were now halfway through 1944.
‘The colonel has been called back to headquarters so you have respite until he gets back. I understand he has paid Madam Cherry a deposit so she does not offer you to anyone else.’
‘He seems to be away quite a lot.’
‘Orders from his superiors. He’s not much of a soldier, ideal in fact for being a camp commandant.’
Nadine sighed. ‘So I’ve been lucky. I certainly didn’t foresee this. Somebody up there loves me.’
She dashed to the window, rested her hands on the rough edging of palm leaves, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
‘Or somebody down here.’
There was something about the major’s voice that made her turn her head and seek his expression. Her eyes met his.
‘I have influence. Or rather my grandfather, the general, has influence.’
Amazed at what she was hearing, Nadine stared at him open-mouthed.
‘Don’t ask how I did it,’ he said, pressing his finger to her lips. ‘Let us just hope that a particularly poisonous snake bites him and he never comes back.’
Nadine could hardly believe what he was saying. He had pulled strings in order to keep her safe. However, he’d forgotten one thing.
‘Even if the colonel never comes back, Madam Cherry will still want a return on her investment. I’ll be on the auction block again.’
The major touched her shoulder, at the same gazing out into the thick jungle beyond the fence.
‘Then I would have to act, and if I did that we could both endanger our lives.’
The weight and warmth of his hand on her shoulder made her blood race. She told herself she shouldn’t be responding like this, but she couldn’t help it. Neither had yet stated the obvious; they were kindred spirits and couldn’t help being drawn to each other.
The rest of the day passed in something of a haze. She couldn’t get Major Shamida out of her mind. He was Japanese and the enemy, and yet something more human had reached out and touched both of them in this awful place.
She was humming happily to herself as she picked out a few items of medicine, another tablet of sweetly scented soap and even a canister of lilac-perfumed talcum powder when the sound of car tyres scrunching on gravel sounded from outside. Madam Cherry was back.
Nadine secreted the stolen things beneath her mattress. Madam Cherry was shouting for her.
‘I have news!’
She sounded exuberant, but there was a tight-lipped set to her mouth, and her jaw gave the impression that she was in two minds about what she was about to say.
Nadine went out to greet her, bowing deeply.
‘Madam.’
‘The colonel has directed me to have you ready for him two days hence. He is back.’
Chapter Nineteen
Two days afterwards when dusk was falling the two Australian nurses, Betty and Peggy, were attempting to fulfil their promise to help hoodwink the colonel. Tonight he would finally claim her non-existent virginity. They were Nadine’s only hope.
‘Relax. I’ll be as gentle as I can. Betty? Put a bit more of that Vaseline on my fingers. And relax. This won’t hurt a bit.’
Nadine was lying with her knees bent and her legs apart on a makeshift table made from a few wooden planks and two oil drums. The top of Peggy’s blonde head was just visible between her legs. Betty assisted. ‘Peggy Parker, you said the same to them soldiers we gave jabs to before coming away.’
Peggy laughed. ‘Wrong! I said, it won’t hurt me like it’s going to hurt you, sport.’
Despite the seriousness of the occasion, Nadine giggled. Betty peered at her from between her legs. ‘This is serious stuff, you know.’
‘I can’t help it. A party balloon, chicken blood, three hags and not a cauldron between us.’
‘What?’
‘Like the three witches in Macbeth,’ said Lucy who was guarding the door.
Typically, the Australian nurses kept up the light-hearted banter.
Nadine steeled herself. It had to be done. The banter continued.
‘The rice rations have been cut. Do you think you can get us some eggs to mix in with it?’ said Peggy.
Nadine swallowed and managed to nod. ‘I suppose so. I’ll sneak out when it’s dark. When this is over.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t want to pinch them when it’s light,’ laughed Betty.
Nadine managed a grin.
Slowly and carefully, Peggy pushed the greased balloon and her equally greased fingers into Nadine’s vagina. Nadine herself had crept round to the hen house and taken an eggcup full of chicken blood which Peggy had syringed into the neck of the balloon.
‘Lucky I still had my trusty pen knife.’ She made a slitting motion across her throat. ‘No. I didn’t slit its throat, just stuck it in enough to get some blood out.’
‘Getting back to important stuff, why’s the rice ration been cut?’ asked Peggy. She said it casually as she might over afternoon tea complete with jam tarts and fruitcake, certainly not whilst shoving a blood-filled balloon up a young woman’s vagina.
‘I expect their supply ship was torpedoed.’ Nadine gritted her teeth in response to the tightening across her groin.
‘Sorry, sweetheart. Just hit the lower pelvis,’ Betty explained, having seen her wince. ‘That’s the top end of the vagina where your hymen used to be.’
Nadine felt the pressure of Peggy’s hand on hers. ‘Nearly over,’ she heard her say.
She opened her eyes long enough to focus on Lucy’s face. She looked concerned. Nadine wanted to say to her that she should save her concern for herself. She was thinner, her complexion pale and her skin stretched too tightly over her cheekbones. A little rest would do her good. Perhaps she might persuade Madam Cherry to let her rest.
Peggy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘You’ve got good reason to smile.’
Nadine opened her eyes to see Peggy wiping her hands over her hip
s.
‘Operation Spring Chicken is over!’
They all laughed at the joke and the interior of the comfort house became lighter, despite the seriousness of the event.
After that there was silence, the women looking at each other and then away when eyes met eyes. Nadine sat up, brought her legs together and pulled her sarong down over her knees. ‘It won’t fall out?’
Peggy shook her head, sighed and sat back on her haunches. ‘Not for some time. I’d say it should stay in place for roughly twenty-four hours.’
Nadine calculated how long it was likely to take from initial greeting to final thrust. ‘That should be enough.’
Her heart was thudding. In a way it was like getting married all over again. She didn’t know whether the penetration would be rough or gentle and whether she would bleed very much or nothing noticeable. Only it wouldn’t be her blood, it would be that of a chicken.
Peggy read her mind.
‘Don’t worry. There should be enough of a show for him to think he’s achieved something.’
‘It would be better if you spent some time lying down,’ Betty advised.
Nadine looked down at her feet, half-expecting to see a Vaseline-smeared balloon fall between them. There was only a short time to go before it happened… ‘I can’t. Madam wants me to help her with some new stock she’s got hold of.’
Of late the She-Dragon had insisted on having things recorded in English as well as Chinese, never in Japanese.
Lucy suggested that it was because madam didn’t want the colonel to see exactly how much she was worth and how much stock she was carrying.
Some of the new stock had been looted from the civilians newly arrived at the internment camp, though God knows they didn’t look to have much. They were ragged and thin, their feet sore from forced marching, their skin blistered and raw.
The tattered women on one side, and the better dressed and fed on the other, all stared through the criss-cross of wire and guard-posts. The girls chosen for the Bamboo Bridge House lived within a compound and were guarded. But not like chickens; not restricted to an acre of dusty, bare ground and dressed in rags. The expected insults came thick and fast.
‘Whore!’
Nadine hung her head as she made her way back to Madam Cherry. If only they knew, she thought to herself. She’d eaten less than usual over the last two days. Her skin had an icy clamminess and her nerves felt like fine wires running through her flesh.
A newly arrived column of women and children were being shepherded into the camp. Nadine raised her head and slowed down. There was something familiar about one woman… From a distance it was hard to tell but Nadine was certain it was Doreen – and William and Wendy too! Before Nadine could cry out she was interrupted by an insistent murmur close at hand.
‘Nadine.’
She heard his voice and knew Shamida was behind her. Snatched moments dancing to the sound of his flute usually raised her spirits, but not today.
‘Look at those women! Have you seen the state they’re in? You should be ashamed of yourself!’ She couldn’t bear to turn round and look at him.
Flute tucked beneath his arm, he followed her to the cool room where usually he would play and she would dance. Madam Cherry was nowhere in sight.
Nadine clenched her fists and went to the window, dropping the blind against the glaring light.
Shamida came and stood beside her. He blew a few mournful notes.
Nadine had hit the flute away with a backward swipe of her hand.
‘I don’t care about your music. I saw those women. They looked worn out.’
He gave a curt nod of his head. ‘They had to walk from their last camp. It was bombed.’
‘Good,’ she said, her eyes glowing fiercely. ‘I hope more bombs fall and blast every Japanese soldier to hell.’
He looked hurt, then angry. A chill passed over her as she remembered him wringing the chicken’s neck. She told herself to tread carefully.
They glared at each other like beetles with locked horns until Genda seemed suddenly to come to a decision.
Lovingly, almost reverently, he placed the flute on a small japanned cupboard inlaid with mother-of-pearl birds and flowers, a beautiful object that had only appeared a few days ago.
She tensed, expecting him to deliver a slap or a punch. Nothing happened except that a mix of emotions crossed his face.
His voice was soft and sad. ‘We should all be ashamed. We are all doing what we can to survive against overwhelming odds. Even you, Nadine.’ He paused, his expression tensing as he fought to remind her of the night ahead. ‘I hear you will give yourself to the colonel tonight.’
His comment sent the blood rushing to her cheeks.
‘I have to. I don’t want to. I have to!’
He nodded. ‘War makes monsters of us all. We are no longer the people we were. We do what we have to do to survive.’
Nadine hung her head and for the first time in a long time her tears flowed freely.
Her head rested on his shoulder. His arms were around her.
‘I want to kill him. One day I will. I know I will.’
Nadine could say nothing, but instinctively knew that he meant it.
Chapter Twenty
The tropical night was alive with insects and long-tailed monkeys chattering in the trees. Nadine’s mind was closed to these sounds, and despite the humid heat of early evening, she felt as though she was covered in snow.
Two guards came to escort her to the Bamboo Bridge House where a room at the far end of the building had been reserved for this momentous event.
Inside the Bamboo Bridge House the atmosphere was smoky and warm, the air heavy with spices and perfume. She noticed little of this and was still chilled to the bone.
All eyes were upon her as she walked through the open part of the house into the curtained-off area at the far end of the building. It was pleasant enough having a balcony overlooking the thick greenery outside.
There was a mirror in one corner. Naked beneath the soft silk of a loosely fitting kimono, she eyed her reflection and saw not the Nadine of India or of Britain. The reflection was Japanese in style, an odd covering for someone and something she couldn’t possibly be. She let the kimono fall to the floor and viewed her nakedness.
A battle raged inside her; a respectable white woman would kill herself rather than submit to such an ordeal, a shame that would stay with her for ever. The voices in her head were those of the memsahibs back in colonial India. She reminded herself that she was only half-British. Was her Indian half telling her to depend on her wits and even her body to survive?
Madam Cherry’s dark shadow fell over her. She’d glided in silently like a preying tiger on padded paws. ‘Drink this.’
She did as ordered. Whatever it was it made her light-headed. ‘I’m not sure I can go through with this.’
‘Too late.’ Madam spat the words like shooting bullets. Her face with its hard expression came close, almost touching Nadine’s shoulder and reflected in the mirror. ‘The colonel has paid me only half of what I demanded. I hope for your sake you have not lied to him. He will kill you. If you refuse, he will kill you. In fact, if you do anything to upset him, he will kill you.’
Madam’s hand pushed her downwards until she was kneeling on a woven bed mat. Her hair was bundled up into an elaborate design that madam had teased over padding and fixed into place with bone and tortoiseshell ornaments.
She sat like a stone; her hands were folded in her lap and her face very white, her eyes outlined with charcoal, and her top lip bright red, her bottom lip as pale as the rest of her face.
Her reflection was that of a biscuit-thin china doll, a fragile cover of the true person beneath.
The cloying stink of cooking and bat dung drifted through the open shutters.
She was sitting on a white cloth; that too was as requested, a trophy for Yamamuchi to boast about once it was stained with her blood. Her blood? The truth could get her killed.<
br />
‘Lie down.’
Nadine lay with her eyes closed, clenching her pelvic muscles against the threatening slip of the blood-filled balloon. Whatever it was that madam had given her was doing the trick.
‘You are afraid?’ asked Madam Cherry.
‘A little.’ The drink was causing the room to spin, making her unsure of what was real and what was imagined. In her mind she danced and the palace was pink and a man with dark, secretive eyes was playing the flute. As she danced around and around the floor, she saw his eyes following her.
‘I will help you relax.’ In reality it was Madam Cherry’s voice but for some strange reason she was reminded of Shamida about to play his flute.
She felt a soft tickling between her legs. Madam Cherry was smiling at her.
‘This is pleasure. This is a man.’
The sensation continued and moved higher, eliciting a response she tried hard to resist.
All the pressure of the past few months seemed to burst out of her in a single nerve-tingling explosion. People were sick, hungry and dying all around her; there was a chance she wouldn’t last too long herself. In the receiving of pleasure, her body was telling her that she was still alive. Among all this ugliness there was still life.
When she opened her eyes Madam Cherry was smiling. ‘Good. Good.’
Her head was still swimming after the She-Dragon had left. Her thoughts were hazy and the room spun around her.
Sounds came from beyond the bamboo screen, loud laughter and Japanese words interspersed with comments from the girls.
There was ribald laughter, shouts of protest and the bamboo screen bulged as someone fell against it. A drunken young officer thrust through the gap brandishing a bottle of sake. With his other hand he was yanking hard on Lucy’s glorious hair, so tightly that she was bent double, one side of her face flat against his hip. Her mouth drooped sideways with pain; one eye pleaded for help.
As his eyes feasted on Nadine’s nakedness, his grip on Lucy’s hair loosened. She gasped and sobbed, then crumpled to the floor falling forward onto her hands. For a moment she was indecisive. It passed. She disappeared, glad to escape her tormentor – at least for the moment.
East of India Page 19