Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  Jane hadn’t been at all fazed about the reason for their move south. In fact she’d been delighted that she wouldn’t have any more schoolwork, and had got quite excited at the prospect of seeing some of her friends again. She had her bedroom in disarray as she pulled things from her wardrobe and chests of drawers for Amah to pack, and badgered her mother and sister constantly with questions about England.

  Neither of them had been any help, as they’d never been there, but Sarah managed to find an old school primer which had pictures of country cottages with thatched roofs, of narrow lanes and rolling hills, and sheep and cattle grazing amid patchwork fields. There were pictures of the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, one of Buckingham Palace, and others of Westminster Cathedral, Piccadilly Circus and St Paul’s. But as there was very little information alongside these black-and -white photographs, Sarah couldn’t answer many of Jane’s questions – and Jane had made it quite clear that she felt rather short-changed.

  As there had only been one minor air raid on Singapore since the beginning of the month, and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders seemed to be holding back the Japanese north of Kuala Kangsar, it was decided they would celebrate Christmas at home and start their journey south the day after Boxing Day.

  Christmas was a strange affair, for the Chinese cook had fled along with his countrymen, and they were left only with Pan the Burmese driver, an elderly houseboy and gardener, and Amah, who’d vowed to stay with them for as long as she was needed.

  There was quite a bit of laughter as Sybil and Sarah struggled to decipher recipes from a book and cook dinner in the bamboo-roofed kitchen which was set apart from the house. Neither had even boiled an egg before, and they didn’t know the first thing, but with Amah giving advice and Jane chattering non-stop as she chopped fresh vegetables from the garden, it turned into quite a jolly affair.

  After a supper of stir-fried vegetables with noodles and a slightly charred spit-roasted chicken, there were presents to be opened and admired, and glasses of imported champagne to raise in a toast to the King and to the end of the war. But underlying the laughter was the fear for Philip who had not yet returned – and the dread of the unknown, for the future looked very bleak.

  They had planned to leave two days before, but it was agreed it would be best to wait, for Sybil had gone down with flu-like symptoms, and she wasn’t well enough to travel. Luckily it was only a forty-eight-hour bug, and on the third day Sybil declared that she was absolutely fine and didn’t want to waste any more time.

  It was now the twenty-ninth of December, and Sarah closed and locked the shutters over her window before turning to regard the room she’d slept in since she’d left Amah’s nursery. The linen and soft furnishings had been carefully laundered and packed away in a large cedar box. The wardrobe and chest of drawers were empty, and her silver-backed brushes and dressing-table set had been stowed away with her clothes in one of the trunks that her father had strapped into the back of the plantation lorry. Apart from the ornately carved bed, the room was bare of everything familiar, and Sarah felt a pang of sorrow.

  She picked up her broad-brimmed hat, tucked her handbag under her arm and took advantage of having the house to herself for a while to walk through the silent rooms.

  As Jock would be returning here on his own to keep an eye on things, the dining-room furniture had been covered in dust sheets, and the expensive glass, silver and china all packed away in yet another trunk along with Sybil’s collection of delicate ornaments. There were no more family photographs on display and the gaps on the shelves showed where favourite books had been taken away to be packed. The Christmas tree was gone, the tinsel and baubles boxed and stowed in a cupboard for next year. But the patches of damp were visible now, for the gardener had shifted all the house plants out to the veranda where they could be watered by the monsoon rains and the humid mists that floated down from the nearby mountains.

  Sarah’s footsteps disturbed the silence, but each empty room echoed with memories, images of happy times, of laughter and tears and love. She blinked back the tears as she moved out onto the veranda. Breathing in the smell of the jungle, she listened to the sounds she’d heard since birth and tried to absorb them so she could carry them with her until she returned.

  She would have to be strong – have to justify her father’s faith in her to look after her mother and sister, no matter what they might have to face. But oh, how she ached to see Philip, to be in his arms again knowing he’d made it safely through with his father.

  She turned on her heel as the treacherous tears threatened again, locked the doors and headed to the front of the house. Without hope she was already defeated – and she had to keep believing that they would all come through this nightmare and return to this home that they all loved so dearly.

  On reaching the front veranda, Sarah looked down to the clearing. Sybil was organising their smaller cases in the boot of the big car, while Jock and the two elderly servants strapped down the trunks and boxes and spare petrol cans in the flatbed of the plantation truck. Sarah’s own car was parked beneath the veranda, for it wouldn’t be needed in Singapore.

  Amah stood with a small bag at her feet, her bright blue sari stirring in the warm wind and her silvery hair glinting in the early sun. She was trying to coax a mutinous Jane into leaving her favourite bright green lizard behind. ‘You must leave Azirah here,’ she said quietly but firmly. ‘She would not like it in Singapore, and you will be taking her away from her family.’

  Jane held fast to the little cage. ‘But she’s my pet, and I don’t want her getting killed.’

  ‘Better to be killed with her family, than all alone in Singapore,’ said Amah. ‘Let us find them a nice cool spot to hide.’

  Sarah came down the steps and watched as the gentle Malay woman coaxed Jane into opening the cage and releasing the lizard and her babies. The lizard family shot off into the undergrowth and out of sight, and Jane burst into tears.

  ‘Come on, Jane,’ Sarah called. ‘You can help me cover my car with the tarpaulin so it doesn’t get too dirty while we’re away.’

  Jane sniffed and brushed away her tears. ‘I know I’m being silly,’ she said, ‘but saying goodbye to Azirah sort of makes everything a bit too final.’ She glanced across at her parents, who were still packing their things away, and then longingly up to the house.

  ‘It’s difficult for all of us,’ soothed Sarah, ‘and I think we’ve all shed a tear or two today, so you’re not alone.’

  They hauled the tarpaulin over Sarah’s beloved car and she gave the bonnet a pat and turned away. Like Jane, she’d said enough emotional goodbyes for one day.

  ‘Right,’ said Jock. ‘Everything’s stowed away and tied down. We’d better get going.’ He nodded to the gardener and houseboy who’d been helping him, and they clambered into the back of the lorry with their bundles, pulled down their conical straw hats and settled as best they could amid the luggage for the long journey.

  Sarah climbed into the back seat of the large car and sat next to Sybil, who was already looking a little wan as she fanned her hot face. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  Sybil nodded. ‘I’ve brought a flask of iced tea and some dry crackers in case I feel queasy, and Pan has promised to drive carefully so we aren’t thrown about.’

  Pan waited for Jane and Amah to climb into the front beside him, the expression on his round brown face inscrutable as he started the engine.

  The truck led the way down the track, and as Pan followed the trail of dust, Sarah glanced over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of the house. And then the car followed the bend in the track and it was lost from sight.

  They had finally left the relative shade of the plantation and were following another, wider track which would take them to the main road which went directly south to Johore Bahru and the causeway to Singapore.

  Sarah could already feel the perspiration gather in the small of her back as the plush leather seats warmed up, but this wa
s a small inconvenience compared to the heartache of leaving her home and the fear for Philip. She glanced at her mother, who was sleeping peacefully in the breeze coming through the open window. Sybil still looked very pale, with dark shadows under her eyes, but she’d eaten a good breakfast – cooked by Amah – and seemed quite comfortable.

  The truck led the way and they kept some distance from it so the dust stirred up by the wheels didn’t come in through the open windows. It had been a relatively smooth journey so far, with only a few coolies and Malay families plodding down the track laden with children, carrying poles heavy with filled baskets, and carts piled with household furniture, elderly relatives and more small children.

  But as they reached the main road leading south, the truck came to a grinding halt and Jock climbed down. He stood beside the lorry and took off his hat to scratch his head in bewilderment. Sybil slept on, so Sarah and the others went to see what the matter was.

  Sarah gaped in amazement, for the stream of humanity filled the road and straggled into the jungle that ran alongside it. The faces of those fleeing the north were Chinese, Indian, Malay, Burmese and Siamese, with every combination mixed in as well. Barefooted children carried cooking pots and bundles of firewood; donkeys pulled carts heavy with furniture, wizened grandparents and grizzling toddlers; and rickshaws were laden with caged chickens and more elderly people. Coolies’ poles were sagging from the weight of the things they carried in their baskets; women were bent almost double beneath rolls of bedding and sacks of rice; and cyclists weaved in and out of this melee with their wives and children perched precariously on the handlebars and crossbars as the drivers of cars and lorries hooted impatiently. It was an orderly rush to safety, but the fear in every face was clear.

  ‘Edge in where you can,’ Jock ordered Pan, ‘and watch out for the children. We don’t want to run them over.’

  They slowly moved off again, edging inch by inch into the never-ending, dense stream of displaced humankind. Within seconds there were cheeky-faced urchins clinging to the running board and clambering over the bonnet, and Pan scowled as he hooted the horn and tried to wave them away – but they simply ignored him and continued to enjoy the brief respite from their long trek.

  Sybil woke and found she was staring into the face of a particularly sweet little girl with the biggest brown eyes and glossiest black hair. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, ‘how pretty. Do we have anything we can give her?’

  ‘I wouldn’t, Mem,’ said Pan flatly. ‘Give to one, and you’ll be swarmed by them with their hands out.’

  Sybil sighed as she regarded the endless, plodding river of the dispossessed. ‘Such a shame we can’t give them all a ride. They look very tired, and these children are far too young to be making such a terribly long journey.’

  Sarah took her hand as the car inched along behind the truck, the children continued to clamber over both vehicles, and the adults trudged stoically alongside them. They had been travelling for almost three hours, a cloud of dust hovered above them all, and it was stifling in the car now they’d had to close all the windows.

  ‘We will have to stop soon, Mem,’ said Pan. ‘The engine is getting very hot and must have more water.’

  ‘Pull over somewhere in the shade if you can find any,’ said Sybil, ‘and then you can rest while the engine cools down.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she murmured. ‘The baby is playing havoc with my bladder.’

  Pan tooted the horn and indicated his intentions to Jock, and half an hour later they’d managed to edge out of the crush and find a bit of shade under the trees of the encroaching jungle. Having rested for an hour and topped up with water, oil and fuel, they set off again.

  It was getting dark now, and they had taken eight hours to do a journey which would normally only take two. They were all hot, tired and uncomfortable, especially Sybil. ‘The baby’s pressing on my bladder again, Sarah,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t hold out for much longer.’

  ‘Pan, would you pull over? Mem needs to get out for a minute.’

  Pan flashed the headlights to tell Jock he was stopping and gradually pulled to the side of the road. Sarah helped her mother out of the car and Amah hurried to her side, clearly guessing the reason for the stop. ‘I take Mem,’ she said firmly. ‘You take Jane – Pan go over there,’ she ordered, pointing further down the road.

  Sarah and Jane found bushes to hide behind. ‘I never imagined we’d be doing this sort of thing,’ said Jane moments later. ‘And I can’t believe how many people there are on their way to Singapore – wherever will they all live when they get there?’

  Sarah was about to reply when she heard a noise that made her blood run cold. ‘Get down,’ she ordered, grabbing her sister’s hand.

  ‘What is it? What’s happening?’ cried Jane as she was yanked to the ground.

  ‘Keep very still,’ Sarah urged as the noise of the planes came closer and closer.

  There were screams from the street and the scurrying and trampling of panic as the refugees scrambled to find shelter. People flung themselves beneath the trees, hauling their children and belongings with them, babies cried and small children wailed in fear, but all sound was lost in the gigantic roar of Japanese planes.

  The bullets came hard and fast as the plane engines screamed overhead, their downdraught blowing people off their feet and scattering possessions. They hit indiscriminately, catching women, children, men, animals and the elderly as they fled from the terror. The bullets whined and spat, hitting trees and earth with a dull thud, kicking up dirt and dust and showering those hiding beneath the trees with falling branches and leaves. The metallic strikes zinged and whined against cars and lorries, shattering windscreens, and the agonised bray of injured mules, cattle, goats and donkeys added to the horror of it all.

  Sarah held Jane close, shielding her with her body as they tried to flatten themselves into the ground and away from the onslaught. As the shriek of the enemy planes finally faded into the distance, the wails of anguish rang out, echoing again and again through the jungle and all along the road.

  ‘Have they gone?’ asked Jane fearfully as she got to her knees.

  ‘I think we should stay here,’ Sarah replied as she desperately looked round for sight of their mother and Amah.

  ‘But they’re all leaving.’ Jane pointed to the stream of people who were trying to gather up their children and possessions to search for their missing loved ones.

  Sarah didn’t know what to do. Should she risk going back into the open when the Japs might be on their way back to strike again? Or had they done their worst? ‘Let’s wait until Pops calls for us. He’ll know when it’s safe.’

  ‘Sybil,’ shouted Jock from further down the road. ‘Sybil, are you and the girls all right?’

  ‘We’re fine,’ shouted Jane. ‘So are we,’ called Sybil.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered. ‘I’m coming to get you.’

  Jane scrambled to her feet and ran towards his voice before Sarah could stop her. ‘I’m here, Daddy. Me and Sarah …’

  Sarah reached her before Jock and quickly pulled her away from the terrible sight that had frozen her to the spot. But one glance had been enough, and Sarah knew they would have nightmares for a long while after today.

  Pan’s bloody body lay slumped on the road, his protective arm still covering the remains of the little girl who had so enchanted Sybil, and close by lay a dead mule and three more children. A woman was sitting in the road cradling her dead baby as she rocked back and forth and howled with grief. The limp, shattered body of an elderly man was being lifted reverently from beneath a fallen cart while the bewildered, terrified survivors gathered their belongings and their children and slowly continued their journey as if in a trance.

  ‘They’re all dead, aren’t they?’ Jane’s face was ashen, the tears rolling silently and unheeded down her cheeks. ‘The Japs killed Pan and those little children. How could someone do that?’

  ‘Because we’re at w
ar,’ said Sarah, her voice shaking with rage and despair. ‘And people get killed in war – even though they’ve played no part in it.’

  Jock came and put his arm round both of them, his face drawn. ‘Take Jane to the truck and give her some tea out of the flask. I need to find your mother.’

  ‘I’m here,’ said Sybil, who had blood trickling down her cheek, ‘and don’t fuss, Jock, I scratched my face on something sharp in the grass. Amah and I are fine but for the mosquito bites.’

  ‘Stay here then, and wait while I help to move the bodies and clean up back at the car. ‘You’ll have to drive it, Sarah. Think you can manage?’

  She nodded and kept a tight hold on her sister and mother as Jock strode back to the road, calling for the cowering gardener and houseboy to come and help him. She felt sick with fear, for they were nowhere near Singapore yet, and once they’d left the jungle behind for the open road and the causeway, they would be sitting targets for a brutal enemy who clearly regarded helpless women and children as fair game.

  Chapter Eight

  Cliffehaven

  It had been a quiet Christmas in Cliffehaven, for the strict rationing had meant they’d had to scrape together what they could to put a half-decent meal on the table on Christmas Day. Presents had been necessarily small and practical as there wasn’t enough money to splash out on luxuries – and even Peggy’s snooty sister, Doris, had confessed that the bath salts she’d brought for Peggy had been an unwanted gift she’d had in her bathroom cabinet for some time.

  It was on occasions such as this that Peggy felt the absence of her other children most keenly. The house didn’t feel the same without Bob and Charlie charging about at four in the morning to show everyone what Santa had brought – or Cissy and Anne singing away as they stirred the Christmas pudding and helped put up the decorations in the dining room. This room had been deserted in favour of the kitchen since the boys had gone down to Somerset, and was now a depository for bits of furniture and things that might come in useful, but it had been decided that the paper chains would remain there until the boys’ return, and they looked rather dusty and forlorn now.