East of India

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East of India Page 30

by East of India (retail) (epub)


  Reaching down, she took the baby from Nadine’s arms, careful not to wake her. ‘Come to Auntie Marjorie,’ she said softly.

  Nadine’s arms fell into her lap. Her eyes remained closed.

  Genda also remained still and sound asleep.

  ‘Let’s go for a little walk,’ Marjorie whispered to the painfully thin child. Like Shanti’s mother, she wished the baby would take more nourishment.

  Sand warm beneath her bare feet, she set off along the beach. Raising her eyes to the treetops, she noted the whereabouts of ripe coconuts. Some had fallen to the ground. Satisfaction flooded over her. They would need them and other food on their journey. Perhaps Genda would be lucky with his fishing line. She beamed at the thought. Coconuts and fish, not much better than they’d had at the camp. It just seemed more. Freedom made you feel like that. And Genda used every ounce of strength to keep them going: she could almost forget that he was Japanese.

  The sound of trickling water led her to a narrow gully. A small stream had carved its way from somewhere inland and onto the beach. She dipped a big toe in and gasped at its coolness. Fresh water. They would need plenty of that too.

  The sun was getting hotter. Beyond the stream the shade was deeper and promised coolness.

  She was getting hot and Shanti’s cheeks were turning red, the child fretting.

  ‘I know, I know,’ she said, jiggling the skinny baby against her own scrawny frame. ‘Let’s cool down, child.’

  She followed the stream. The shade deepened, the dampness falling over her like a cold mist.

  The source of the water tumbled from a fissure in a rocky outcrop into a small pool. Grass and tropical flowers grew around its edge. Sighing happily, she set the child on the grass and lay down beside her.

  ‘This is nice,’ she said; she folded her arms beneath her head and closed her eyes. ‘And your mummy could do with a rest.’

  Behind her closed eyelids a vision of the beach came to mind. Genda and Nadine still asleep, the sand littered with branches, the supplies and the boat…

  Her eyes flashed open. The boat! The boat was gone!

  Suddenly worried, she picked up the baby and got to her feet. She had to get back. If the boat was gone then they were trapped here. But where was the boat? Not properly secured, she told herself. It was probably miles out to sea by now. Hopefully not: hopefully the sea had taken it and the current had deposited it in some nearby cove. As she headed back to the beach, she told herself that was indeed the case.

  * * *

  ‘Wake up! Wake up!’

  Nadine blinked into wakefulness and the realization that Genda was shaking her shoulder.

  She became aware immediately that her arms were empty and that Shanti was gone. It wasn’t the first time Marjorie had taken her so she was not unduly worried.

  ‘Where’s Marjorie?’ she asked.

  Genda, on the other hand, looked very worried indeed. ‘Never mind Marjorie. The boat’s gone.’

  Instantly awake now, Nadine struggled to her feet.

  She looked out at the sea. ‘Where do you think it will be?’

  He wiped his hands against his hips, his eyes fixed seaward. ‘It could be miles away, but I’m hoping it just bobbed away on the wind and once the wind dropped, the current took it into another bay.’

  A terrible thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘You don’t think Marjorie sat in it with Shanti…’

  ‘And fell asleep…’ He shook his head and pointed at the trail of footprints leading off along the beach. They set off after her.

  The storm of the night before had completely abated. The turquoise sea lay like silk, the surf a frill of tumbling lace.

  A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the coconut palms. It turned cooler when they began following the same stream Marjorie had followed. Once the sand ended and the vegetation took over, all trace of her footsteps disappeared.

  A flock of birds took off from the treetops somewhere to their left.

  Nadine and Genda exchanged looks. Without a word being said, they set off in that direction.

  Nadine cupped her hands around her mouth, ready to call out.

  ‘No,’ Genda whispered, and stopped her.

  He didn’t look at her.

  ‘I hate it when you do that,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not looking at me. You’re looking straight ahead. What is it? Why can’t I call Marjorie?’

  Genda swallowed. Even now he couldn’t look at her. He knew his eyes would betray his fear. If they were careful… All the same, she had to know.

  Carefully, he took a step back. Using both hands he divided the low-growing vegetation that surrounded them.

  Nadine frowned. What was she supposed to do?

  She looked down and saw what Genda had seen: the firm print of a heavy boot.

  Genda signalled her to cower down. She did so.

  His heart was beating so fast that the sound of his own blood thudded in his ears. Sweat trickled into his eyes. He swiped it aside. He had to see. He had to hear. And smell. Soldiers in a war zone seldom had a chance to change their clothes. Uniforms stank. He knew that from experience.

  He got down onto all fours and signalled for her to do the same.

  They crawled forward. Every ten yards or so he paused and listened.

  The earth was dark and damp beneath their hands. He stopped abruptly at one point as a snake slithered across his fingers.

  Nadine held her breath. He shivered like a man in a fever before fixing his eyes forward and moving on.

  Their sight grew accustomed to the differing depths of shade and shadow. The sounds of birds, insects and chattering monkeys filled the air.

  The trees were black silhouettes against the red glow of the rising sun shining through them. The path was wet beneath their feet.

  Ahead of them a shaft of sunlight poured through a gap in the treetops like the spotlight on a Broadway stage. Rather than bathing the area with a better light to see by, it formed a fierce glare, too bright to see through.

  Genda urged her to keep down and move forward.

  Giant leaves formed a frame around the light. If it weren’t for those leaves quivering suddenly, he would have straightened and walked forward. As it was he hesitated, listening as the sound of a baby wailing carried through the forest.

  And such a strong cry!

  Shanti?

  She tugged at his arm.

  Genda nodded.

  He wanted to say that the baby was the least of his priorities. Let’s get through this. Let’s see if we can stay alive.

  Army training and an instinct for survival handed down through the generations came to the fore.

  He checked in all directions: forward, each side and behind. Behind was where he saw something move.

  He pushed her down and held a finger in front of his mouth in warning.

  Carefully, so as not to be seen, he peered through the ragged leaves of a large forest plant.

  They came slowly, pale grey shadows at first creeping out of the glaring brightness.

  Nadine listened for the sound of a baby crying, not exactly sure where it had come from. She promised herself she would go in that direction if she heard it again.

  Genda had read her thoughts and was gripping her arm very tightly.

  By way of protest she screwed up her face and wriggled.

  He could smell her fear seeping from her pores and feel it trembling in the tendons of her wrist, the quaking of her hip against his.

  The sound of parting foliage and twigs snapping underfoot became louder.

  With his elbow he forced her to the ground.

  The sound of bodies pushing through bushes came closer. Her heart was in her mouth. Her face, like Genda’s, was pressed into the earth. She breathed in the scent of earth and dead leaves.

  Something moved much closer than the patrol; she felt Genda tense and looked at him in time to see a snake – a thin, green one – slither across his ne
ck.

  Joseph Smith Junior the Third hates snakes.

  Silly, but the thought eased her tension and almost made her giggle.

  Fixing his gaze with her own, she held onto his hand, willing him to cope, not to move until the creature’s tail had whipped like a leather cord over his shoulder and away.

  A twig snapped nearby before their attention reverted to the greater threat.

  Genda’s hand was flat out on the earth ten inches away from the crown of his head. Nadine’s was on top of his.

  A boot, then another, appeared; a rifle was laid down on the ground. A cloud of dust drifted from a pair of dirty trousers being pulled down to ankle level.

  Genda managed to slither to a more respectable distance, Nadine tight to his side.

  Suddenly an order was shouted.

  Swiftly the trousers were pulled up over the muscular calves. Earth kicked up from his hurrying boots scattered over them.

  The sound of the patrol receded.

  Nadine looked questioningly at Genda.

  He said nothing, not until it was safe. The sound of a disturbed forest vanished with the patrol.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘Marjorie, darling, you have no sense of direction whatsoever.’

  The words her husband had said to her long ago popped into her mind. They’d been staying at their estate in Devon and had gone for a walk in the copse to check on the pheasant chicks being raised there.

  Whilst he’d chatted with the gamekeeper, she’d wandered off in search of wildflowers to press between the leaves of her journal. Two hours later she’d realized she was lost.

  There’d been servants to search for her back then. In the here and now she could only rely on Genda and Nadine coming to look for her; hopefully it wasn’t that far back to the beach. But she wasn’t sure.

  Somehow she’d taken a wrong turning. Trees and bushes surrounded her and nothing looked familiar.

  Bushes rustled to her right. Wild boar? Weren’t they dangerous? God, but her limbs were weak enough, too weak to run for her life, that’s for sure!

  ‘Hide. That would be best,’ she said to the restless baby. ‘Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’

  It suddenly occurred to her that Shanti hadn’t cried for quite a while. Hopefully she would remain merely grumbling for a while longer. Funny, but she couldn’t hear her doing that either.

  She looked around her for a place to hide. There was nothing but trees and shrubbery.

  ‘Here,’ she murmured, unable to stop talking to herself even though she knew that the boar, or whatever, might hear.

  The tree’s broad trunk provided something to rest against as well as somewhere to hide.

  She slid down against it, the baby caught between her body and her folded legs.

  ‘We’ll be all right,’ she whispered. Her gaze lingered on the little face. Not as bonnie as my babies were, she thought worriedly. They had had round, plump faces. Shanti had a thin face, a little pointed chin like some old people – herself included. Her limbs and torso were scrawny.

  The small fists were not clenched like those of most babies. Her hands hung loosely. Marjorie frowned and pursed her lips. ‘You’re a very sick baby. I wonder whether your mother knows how sick you are. You’re not even crying. You used to cry a lot.’

  Panic overtook her. Shanti had cried almost incessantly. And she was so thin, she thought as she wrapped the piece of cloth around the baby’s tiny body again. In her heart of hearts she knew the baby was dying. Surely it was best if she died in her mother’s arms? A sense of duty overtook her. She must find Nadine. She must.

  Putting aside her fear of a wild animal, she got to her feet, her old joints crackling like kindling as they knotted into place.

  She heard a sound. That rustling again!

  ‘Don’t you come near me,’ she shouted, still convinced she had a wild animal to contend with.

  The bushes parted and her old heart missed a beat. She blinked hard when her cataract got in the way. ‘Damn my eyes,’ she muttered. ‘Never had them before I came here. Bloody Japs!’

  The bushes divided. Uniforms! Japanese!

  They pointed their rifles at her and said something, a word she recognized but couldn’t quite place. Now where had she heard that word before?

  She’d picked up a few Japanese words in the camp. Back there she would have understood and responded immediately. But here, the urge to get the baby back to her mother overruled both her fear and her memory.

  She lifted Shanti up and attempted to explain.

  ‘The baby! The baby is dying.’

  They barked another order and jabbed their rifles in her direction.

  ‘Damn your foul language,’ she muttered peevishly. The fact that they were thrusting their bayonets at her failed to register. As well as having cataract trouble, she was feeling tired and confused. Old age was catching up with a vengeance. Her mind was set on a course of action and nothing else mattered.

  She eyed them disdainfully, just as she had back in England when she’d had a house full of servants at her beck and call. ‘I can’t stay here chatting to you. I have to get back.’

  She made a move to hurry away.

  Again they barked orders.

  Back in the camp she would have recognized the words for ‘stop’ and ‘stay where you are’. The journey had taken its toll.

  She chattered to the baby as she hurried back the way she thought she’d come. ‘We’ll get you back to your mother, my sweet.’

  The earth was soft and sprigs of groundcover grabbed at her clothes. Not that it mattered. Even what she called her best sarong – a pale green with a silver frieze – hung in tatters around her lean limbs.

  In her fear and determination to reunite mother and child, the enemy were forgotten.

  Even a shot fired over her head failed to make her reconsider. Instead it made her more single-minded; only the baby mattered. Still running, she shouted over her shoulder.

  ‘The baby is dying. Do you hear me? I have to take her to her mother.’

  The order to shoot cracked out before the two shots hit their target.

  She spun like a top when the bullets hit her, a look of surprise on her face. Overhead, a flock of birds took off screaming in panic.

  The Japanese stood over her. Marjorie lay face down and quite still, Shanti’s small body trapped between her and the ground.

  * * *

  Genda pressed Nadine’s body tightly into the earth, his hand across her mouth. Her heart was breaking. Her eyes were streaming with tears and she was shaking. It was an hour before he allowed her to move. It no longer mattered that the snakes and centipedes slithered around them.

  They had crept carefully through the undergrowth. Nadine had obeyed Genda’s signals. Genda himself had been thankful that his eyesight was excellent. He’d seen the footprint. Now it was his ears rather than his eyes that he was depending on.

  He listened for the slightest rustle of leaves, the snapping of a twig beneath a clumsy footfall, the sudden scattering of birds.

  The moment they’d spotted Marjorie, Nadine had attempted to cry out but Genda had slapped his hand across her mouth and dragged her to the ground. She had not heard what he had.

  Keeping his hand tight over her mouth, he looked deeply into her fear-filled eyes, willing her to understand that whatever happened was meant to be. They heard Marjorie cry out that the child was dying and had to be with her mother.

  The shots cracked out like breaking bones.

  Nadine struggled. Genda tightened his grip and shook his head.

  Not until he was sure the soldiers had gone did he take his hand away.

  Nadine’s face was soaked in tears. She shook her head at him. ‘Why?’ she mouthed almost soundlessly. ‘Why?’

  He failed to offer any logical explanation. ‘Karma. What will be, will be.’

  Genda felt as though his insides had been ripped into shreds. Much as he wanted to give her solace, he knew there was no t
ime.

  ‘Come on,’ he whispered, hauling her to her feet. ‘But be quiet. All right?’

  She attempted to run to where Marjorie lay. Genda jerked her back.

  ‘No! I will do this,’ he whispered.

  She looked at him before jerking her chin in an abrupt nod.

  Slowly, he walked over to Marjorie and turned her body over. Her lifeless eyes stared skyward. Genda shut them.

  He thought about trying to prevent Nadine from seeing Shanti’s body: an absurd thought. How could he?

  She stood silently. To his eyes it seemed as though her cheeks suddenly had more acute angles and the sparkle had left her eyes. Up until this moment she’d looked weary as indeed so was he, but now she looked devastated.

  ‘She’s dead,’ he said. Again he thought how absurd to say that, but his mind was in turmoil. He’d feared hysterics, but this was worse. There was a vacant look in Nadine’s eyes.

  ‘I heard her. I heard her just now.’ Her voice was as sombre, disbelieving.

  Genda shook his head. ‘No. You didn’t hear her. You couldn’t have. It was just wishful thinking.’

  He didn’t admit it, but he also thought he’d heard her cry, but he was tired; they both were. The timing of seeing the patrol and hearing the first shot were muddled.

  Nadine fell to her knees and began to scrape at the ground with her hands, her tears forming damp dots on the dry earth. ‘At least I’ll give her a decent burial.’ Her face was tear-stained; her nails broke and bled as she scratched at the earth.

  Genda attempted to snatch at her hands. ‘No! There’s no time.’

  In vain she attempted to fight him off. ‘Leave me alone! Leave me to bury my baby.’

  Catching her flailing hands with one of his, he clasped them to his chest. With his other arm he held her close, his face close to hers.

  ‘Brutes!’ she sputtered. ‘All Japanese are brutes.’

  She might just as well have stabbed him. He knew what she meant and felt her despair throbbing through her body.

  ‘I hate you.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I may look as they do, but you know I am not as they are. The culture of centuries is ingrained in their minds. They cannot think any other way. In time things might change. But not now and now is what we have to deal with. Remember, Shanti was my child too.’

 

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