Page 14 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
Once the singlet is too thick with oil to be of any more use, Norah and Ena sit with John and June, looking at the human mass on the pier.
‘I don’t recognise anyone here. But they have their luggage and clean clothes. I’m guessing they’re from another ship,’ Norah says.
‘How about I go and talk to some of them?’ Ena suggests.
‘Girls, please don’t do anything dangerous,’ John pleads.
‘Of course we won’t,’ Ena says. ‘There’re no soldiers near us – and the ones over there aren’t paying anyone much attention. I’ll be quick.’
A new group of soldiers arrives and Ena hurries over to the nearest group of prisoners. Norah watches her speak to them briefly, before she returns with the news that their ship,Mata Hari, had been attacked, her passengers loaded into the ship’s launches and brought here. Men, women and children sit, lie down, stand to stretch their legs, surrounded by their belongings.
‘Do any of them know what’s going to happen to us?’ Norah asks.
‘They don’t know any more than we do, which is nothing. Wait and see, I guess.’
‘John needs medication, I’m so worried about him,’ Norah says, looking at her now-sleeping husband. His head is in her lap and she strokes his hair tenderly. ‘He’s burning up and being under this sun is making everything worse.’
‘Do you want me to ask one of the soldiers if we can get a hat or something?’
Before Norah can reply, June, who is also fast asleep, grabs their attention.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’ she cries.
Ena takes her in her arms, whispering soothing words, rocking her, holding her tightly as the little girl awakes, disoriented. Soon, her screams become sobs and then she falls asleep again.
‘What should we do with her?’ Ena asks, stroking the girl’s arm.
‘Care for her, love her and hopefully we’ll find her mother shortly.’
John stirs at June’s distress, but not for long.
‘I don’t know if he is sleeping or unconscious,’ Norah says quietly.
Ena looks at him; his breathing is ragged but regular. ‘He’s sleeping, don’t worry,’ she tells her.
The sisters fall silent; the sun is relentless in its attempts to burn them alive. They can see that others on the pier have hats and spare clothing to cover and protect their skin and faces. The unspoken looks the sisters exchange confirm they feel the same despair.
Norah reaches out and takes Ena’s hand and lies back to doze. But within minutes, there is a commotion, and they start awake; both instinctively checking on June and John, who are still asleep. Japanese soldiers are pacing down the pier, yelling, and stabbing at the survivors with their bayonets. The message is clear: stand up, it’s time to move on. Being at the very end of the pier, Norah and Ena have time to gently nudge John and June to their feet. While others struggle with their possessions, they walk unencumbered.
‘Where are they taking us?’ Nesta wonders aloud.
Nesta and Phyllis are escorted from the Customs House to join the hundreds of men, women and children exiting the pier.
‘Looks like a cinema,’ says Phyllis. It is a cinema, a single storey made of timber and iron. Inside, there is just one large room and a small projection pod.
‘Stay close,’ Nesta says, taking Phyllis’s hand as the survivors vie for space. ‘Hey!’ she calls. Across the room, she has spied several of her colleagues. They rush into each other’s arms and begin to share stories of their survival.
‘Water!’ Phyllis cries as the soldiers move amongst the survivors handing out banana-leaf pouches filled with rice and cups of water.
They are heartened that, throughout the rest of that day and into the night, more survivors are pushed through the doors. Friends and families separated when theVyner Brookesank reconnect in emotional scenes that affect all around them.
Norah, Ena, John and June have claimed some wall space. There is no room to lie down, but at least they are out of the punishing sun.
As night falls and the room grows dark, Norah can no longer make out the other figures in the room, but she can still hear the babies and small children crying with hunger. It feels like a long time since they were given a handful of rice. Norah can’t get comfortable, can’t shut out the noise and constant motion all around. When sleep comes, it is brief and full of dreams of Sally.
As daylight finally breaks, Norah looks into the faces of the survivors and knows they feel just like her: lucky and grateful to still be alive. As she and John and Ena and June struggle to their feet, stretching limbs and muscles assaulted by days of punishment, the doors are flung open.
‘Thank God,’ she says. ‘We can finally get out of here.’
