Page 86 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘Of course, it’s pavlova! We invented it,’ Betty says.
‘No, you didn’t. It’s a New Zealand dish; everyone knows it was invented there. It was created for the Russian ballet dancer who was touring at the time, Anna Pavlova,’ Audrey counters, standing firm.
‘You lot might have named it, but it was invented in Melbourne. Isn’t that right, Bully?’ Betty says, equally belligerent.
‘I don’t know about Melbourne, but everyone knows it’s Australian,’ Vivian states.
‘Invented in New Zealand, named in New Zealand, it is a Kiwi dish.’
Norah and Ena watch the argument play out, back and forth like a tennis match.
‘What do you think, Norah? It’s a New Zealand dish, isn’t it?’ Audrey says.
‘No idea,’ she replies. ‘Can’t you say it’s from both countries, or just choose another dish that you don’t have to fight over?’
‘One day the argument will be settled,’ Audrey says, one final parting shot as they leave.
Many of the Englishwomen are unable to provide the recipes for their favourite dishes. After all, they were prepared by their cooks. For Norah, reading the recipes isn’t enough. And one day, she goes to the guards’ hut. She doesn’t crawl underneath, but instead heads for the back of the building where the Japanese throw out their rubbish and it is here she finds scraps of paper. She smooths out the scrunched pieces and creates a notebook, held together with a piece of wire she punctures through the sheets.
Sitting quietly in a corner of the hut if it is raining, or outside, leaning against the back fence, if it is not, she tries to imagine her life back in Malaya with John and draws up a budget, with no idea of the value of anything. She allocates her husband a sum of money to buy season tickets to the theatre, or a sporting club he might like to attend. She dreams up the cost of newspapers, how much to spend at the butcher, the baker, train tickets, meals eaten out. She designs her perfect home, puts a price on furniture and furnishings, nominating the colours she wants for curtains, for carpeting. She allocates a monthly allowance to buy a growing June new shoes, dresses and, of course, school fees at the best school. Norah puts together a weekly menu, describing in detail the ingredients needed to make roast duck and apple stuffing;pâté de foie gras; roast potatoes; coffee and chocolate. She escapes from her prison into an unknown world, one which comes easily when she closes her eyes, picturing every detail of every room, every dish on the table at mealtimes. In the distance, she can almost hear June practising at the piano in the drawing room.
With her passion for things domestic, Norah asks if she can be put in charge of the cooking. A shortage of fuel for the open fires has resulted in communal cooking shared between several huts. With the combined cooking comes the need for combined meal preparation. Squads form for the rice sorters to hand over the weevil-plucked rice to the washers. Vegetable choppers hand over to vegetable cooks. Others carry water and collect firewood; some serve, some wash up. Even with so little to prepare and cook, the women still turn up for their allocated chores.
‘Can you pass me the meat, please?’ Norah says to Betty, who is busy sorting the rice from the insects. ‘It’s time to add it to the vegetables and sauce.’
‘Of course, Chef. Prime rib of beef coming up,’ Betty says, handing her a small quantity of rice in a banana leaf.
‘Excellent. If you would now lay the table? Use the silver cutlery, won’t you? It goes so well with my fine china. I’ll serve up.’
‘Yes, Chef. June, can you please run and tell the others dinner is being served,’ Betty says.
June giggles and skips away, returning with a line of women and children each carrying their own small bowl or banana leaf. From Norah, they accept their scoop of rice before sitting down together and eating with their fingers.
‘Inchi, Inchi? Where are you, Inchi?’ Ah Fat calls, running into Mrs Hinch’s hut.
One of the women, prone on the floor and suffering from the heat, casually points to the backyard before rolling over and closing her eyes.
‘Inchi, I need you,’ Ah Fat says, spying Mrs Hinch sitting under a tree at the far end of the yard.
‘Really? What now?’
‘You come with me; we have to talk to the nurses.’
‘What about?’
‘Come with me. I will tell them.’
Putting her hand out for Ah Fat to help her up, Mrs Hinch leads him to the nurses’ hut. Finding Nesta at home, she tells her Ah Fat has something to share.
‘So, go on, man. Say what you want to say,’ Mrs Hinch instructs him.
‘OK, Inchi. You have to make room for men. Captain says they are to stay with you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ says Nesta. ‘What’s he talking about, Mrs Hinch?’
‘Whatareyou talking about?’ Mrs Hinch glares at Ah Fat.
‘Local men coming here for us to train, and the captain says they have to live here with you.’
